DFG

he owned his own mechanics company, the biggest in the city, which meant he worked like a dog but he earned good enough money to spoil you rotten. nothing had really changed after the divorce other than a formal understanding. he paid for your entire lifestyle, making sure you used his card for the groceries, the upkeep of your once shared home, your stupid skincare orders and of course, your sweet children.

jungkook’s only rule pending the divorce was made incredibly clear to you. he was the sole provider. him and only him.

you genuinely wondered whether his personal nightmare consisted of you working a shift with the way he’d get angry at you spending your own money, queuing another heavy argument that had you all but icing him out for a full day. enough to have him kissing down your neck in apology, all whilst groping your ass the way you secretly loved.

truthfully, he had never known how not to provide for you.

it lived somewhere deep inside of him, carved into his very being and instinct, so much so he thought it defined him as a man. once you had birthed your twin children, it was like something had switched in his brain to amplify it all that much harder. despite no longer being his wife, he supported you and the children, telling you it was the one thing he wouldn’t let you fight him on.

you were a princess to the core. manicured nails, weekly blowouts and a shopping addiction that only spurred jungkook on to work harder - you were his polar opposite, never having worked too hard a day in your life and he wanted to keep it that way. even your children were a gift from above, so well behaved and sweet that you had never struggled with them, loving nothing more than to pamper and shower them with all of your love.

you were an odd family unit, even you could recognise that, with your coparenting dynamic meaning he had unrestricted access to your home. he was over multiple times a week after work, always using the excuse of wanting to see the kids which of course was half true, but really, any access to you was worth making the journey over. you kept his stomach full and his annoyance high, just how he liked it.

no matter how well you were together, being married just didn’t work. he worked too hard, you pushed too much - you both wanted things from the other that seemed impossible, leaving you in limbo where all you’d do is argue. it would always end with him inside of you, but sex could only fix so much. somehow, not being together had only strengthened the tension between you as you made it your life mission to keep him on his toes, and he made sure you’d feel his presence no matter what.

in theory, you were perfect for each other.

because the thing about jeon jungkook is he liked his woman difficult.

liked when you bitched at him with glossy lips and french tips all curled onto your hips, scoffing at whatever he was telling you before taking his card to online shop. it was even better when you’d stomp around the house in your flimsy little pyjamas, pretending to be annoyed at him over stupid things he knew had no merit - it had him hardening beyond words.

you were his little minx, and he fucking loved it.

—

“mamma, daddy said i could stay up until nine today.” your son, minjae, giggled from his seat beside his sister on the couch, their favourite show playing on the screen.

“daddy’s stupid, baby. we don’t listen to him.” you cooed back as you handed them their snacks, the sound of your kids giggling enough to put a grin on your face.

“heard that.”

the deep voice came before you actually saw him, followed by the sound of heavy work boots by the door of your home. within seconds, you watched as he appeared by the doorway, in all of his obnoxiously masculine glory.

jeon jungkook practically swallowed your doorway whole as he stepped into the living room. broad shoulders were the first thing you saw as they stretched the material of his work t-shirt, his brand logo clear on his chest, the navy a fitting contrast to his tanned skin. his hair was messy, pulled back from his face, faint traces of grease still staining his forearms where he had scrubbed clean just minutes ago.

he was just so big. big hands, big biceps, big thighs - his muscles were something that you could never really get over, something he was very much privy to. he was the sort of man who reached for things on the top of the shelf without thinking, carrying both children with such ease that it had you malfunctioning in real time. his voice was low, gruff. the type that had people listening as though he was a natural leader.

a beast of a man.

“daddy!” minji, your little girl, squealed as she carefully placed her plate next to her before scurrying away to launch herself at him.

jungkook’s entire face softened, letting out a soft laugh as he picked her up, all whilst minjae copied his older sister, instead cupping his legs, much shyer than his overexcited sibling.

he cooed at them, his voice dropping low whilst he ruffled his hair affectionately. your children absolutely adored him, both sweet little things that glowed whenever their dad would appear.

you could never get over how good of a father he was, and despite your relationship not always being the best, he prioritised your children the way you wanted. even the way he provided for you, as the mother of his children, was beyond generous and underneath the bitchy attitude, you were grateful tenfold. he treated you three like you were a natural extension of him.

but unfortunately for him, you were simply unable to let him live in peace.

“you’re late.” you murmured casually from the couch, going back to filing your nails.

jungkook’s eyes lifted to yours. narrowing. he lingered, looking you up and down openly, hungrily, as though the prospect of you getting on his nerves whilst looking the way you did was straight out of a fantasy.

“traffic.”

“mm.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?” he scoffed a little.

“nothing.” you hummed again, all too casual, but he could see what you were doing.

that didn’t stop him falling victim to it.

“been here three seconds and you’re already being bitchy.”

you gasped dramatically, pointing your nail file in his direction as it became your turn to narrow your eyes into slits. “watch your mouth in front of the children!”

“but mamma, you called daddy stupid.” minjae, your sweet angel inquired with a tone of genuine confusion, the two words falling into the same category in his mind.

jungkook watched as you cooed at him, getting up from your seat to plant a big kiss to his cheek, before reciprocating it with his sister too who giggled.

“that’s because your daddy is stupid, my love.”

he scoffed again at you with a shake of his head, muttering something under his breath that earned him a hefty glare from yourself. he put minji down finally, his hand still on minjae’s head affectionately only for the pair to grab at his hands in a shared babble, leading him over to the couch to show him the cartoon they had just been watching out of excitement.

and despite being exhausted, jungkook was utterly weak at the knees for his kids, and thus, followed along immediately.

you watched him, having moved to the kitchen where you got a clear view of them from your position near the doorway. his big body sunk into the couch whilst minjae shuffled closer, settling into his father’s side. the entire vision was enough to tug at your heart as you fought down your cuteness aggression - especially with the way he just looked too large for the area he was sat in, with all the cushions surrounding him, his two kids. he looked silly.

particularly with the way minji was now climbing all over him whilst explaining the plot with deadly seriousness.

“and then she lost her crown.” she informed him sadly.

“shit,” jungkook remarked with raised eyebrows. “that’s bad.”

“daddy!”

“sorry. shoot.”

you rolled your eyes as he looked up, meeting your gaze momentarily with a sheepish grin, before you looked away, settling over the stove once more.

it happened every time.

you’d spend all day mentally preparing yourself to be annoyed at him only for jungkook to walk in through the door and utterly transform. he became so soft, so gentle when it came to your pair and it was a constant reminder that the one good thing that came out of this situation was you had picked the perfect father.

he’d listen to them properly - never offering them a half assed version of himself, especially since you had both come from such broken homes. always listening properly, no distractions, despite the fact he would work gruelling shifts that had him using his body for hours on hours. even now, he’d always have his hand rubbing up and down minjae’s back as his sister yapped and yapped, knowing he was the quieter one of the two and therefore the shyer one.

your chest squeezed at the thought.

“you feedin’ me tonight, or what?”

you swore if you rolled your eyes any more that night, they’d pop out of your skull.

“you’re so romantic.”

“been thinking about your food all day.” he grunted, walking into the kitchen properly to allow the kids their time on the tv, and of course, his time to terrorise their mother.

“that’s because you eat like an animal.”

“worked twelve hours today.”

“who’s fault is that?”

he couldn’t help the smirk on his face. he loved you bratty. “yours. you’re milking me dry.”

you narrowed your eyes, stirring his food in the pot, though you’d never admit you cooked solely for him and his taste, despite it being more than clear. behind you, you could hear the soft sounds of the familiar cartoon playing mixed with the twins’ occasional giggle, though it wasn’t long until the heavy sound of jungkook’s footsteps became louder and louder, souring your mood.

of course. the man couldn’t survive without being near you when given the option.

“you’re extra bratty tonight.” he observed casually, leaning against one of the counters, though his voice was twinged in exhaustion.

“you’re projecting.” you hummed back.

“am not.

“are too.”

“you text me a thumbs up earlier.”

“and?”

jungkook scoffed before coming to the counter closest to you, leaning, despite your refusal to look at him.

“you know i hate that fucking shit.”

instead, you chose to feign ignorance, going so far as to prettily turn your back to him with a flick of your hair. you couldn’t help but wind him up, it was genuinely your favourite thing to do considering his reactions were always just so worth it. a man you knew could ruin you in seconds holding back because he knew he truly didn’t have access to you anymore, and until you gave him the green light needed, he was stuck in limbo.

lord knew whenever you gave him a faraway nod, he’d have you up on the counters and in between your thighs in seconds, always telling you it was the only way he felt satisfied anymore despite not being touched.

your hand reached upwards to grab a plate from the cabinet above your head. before you could even touch it, your feet on their tip toes, a large arm reached over your head instantly.

his chest brushed your back in the process in a way that felt accidental at first, but immediately, you found yourself pressed almost harshly into the stove, his front pushing your back against him cheekily.

fucking ridiculous.

jungkook grabbed the plate effortlessly, barely having to raise his hand whatsoever. instead of handing it to you immediately, he merely pressed against you further, your eyes widening just a fraction as you felt every inch of him behind you, warmth bleeding through the very thin material of your tiny pyjama top.

he was always so warm after work, it made your head spin.

“could’ve got it myself.” you murmured under your breath, cheeks hot.

“yeah?” he dipped his head down, lips grazing your ear. “looked like you were struggling.”

you hated how much you loved it - how big he was compared to you, how he towered over you. jungkook made you feel tiny in a way that genuinely fucked with your head, all broad muscle and rough hands, and sheer overwhelming man. even now, one of his thighs nudged between yours absentmindedly as he reached around you to place the plate down for you.

“you’re in my space.” you shifted, pretending like you weren’t enjoying it.

he could read you like an open book.

“your space?” he let out a small laugh.

you wanted to push him away, annoyed at his amusement at your words and even more annoyed at the way he so casually touched you, especially considering he knew what it did to you. it made you weak everywhere, to the point where you were utter putty in the palm of his hands and he relished in the feeling - the woman he obsessed over equally as ruined by something he did without thought.

you opened your mouth to speak only to feel his too large hand suddenly slide over to your stomach, digits digging into your skin before yanking you back into him. you were no longer pushed against the stove, now completely entirely into him, meaning you could feel every inch, including the harsh bulge that had begun to form just by speaking to you.

a squeak nearly left you before your eyes fell into slits, huffing as you smacked his hand meanly. fucking brute.

“jungkook!” you immediately snapped at him, but it did nothing to deter him as his fingers spread wide, practically covering every inch of the skin on your stomach all whilst he held you to him like he had every right.

“stop moving.” he muttered against your ear.

“ugh, you’re such a brute!”

“hard to do that when you’re walking around our house looking like this.”

your mouth fell open.

“our house?” you hissed, though he couldn’t help but realise the way your shoulders had dropped a little, almost at ease at his words despite your words. “i divorced you, this is my home.”

“stupid divorce.” he huffed a little under his breath, face dropping into your neck as he breathed in your scent. “worst fucking decision of my life.”

the words came out flat - immediate, as though they were plain fact. it constantly knocked you of breath whenever he talked like that, knowing that deep down you agreed too, that despite the problems between you, the divorce was also a big regret of your own. perhaps that was why neither of you acted like it had actually happened, simply playing house as though you were still together.

“you wear these shorts on purpose?”

you hummed at him then, looking over your shoulder at him just as he pulled away from your neck, your eyes connecting. “they’re just pyjamas.”

his hand, however, slid over to your hip with a grunt, squeezing.

“you’re killing me walking around like this.”

you rolled your eyes so hard, your head hurt. “just had a twelve hour shift and it’s my shorts that are killing you?”

“yeah,” jungkook replied instantly, with no hesitation whatsoever, eyeing you almost meanly. “you know what you’re doing. cut the innocent shit.”

you scoffed dramatically despite the heat travelling up and down your body. “you’re so embarrassing!”

“you’re a fucking minx.”

his teeth grazed the curve where your shoulder met your neck before he bit down, teeth sinking into your skin just enough to have you jolting. immediately, you smacked him on his arm with a hiss despite the utter mess between your legs, your brain growing hazier by the second.

“ow! you dog!”

“keep being mouthy,” he muttered against your skin, gently sucking on the area he bit, planting heavy kisses before dragging his lips to your ear once more. “watch what happens.”

the threat settled low in your stomach.

you could feel it everywhere, deep between your thighs and in the thump of your heart, all whilst your mind malfunctioned in real time. jungkook watched you slump against him, knowing how badly you were affected when he spoke like that. vulgar. nasty. all heavy hands and filthy promises he’d whisper into your skin like they belonged there. you couldn’t help how your body reacted to him, not when he was the only living thing that knew exactly which buttons to press to have you fall on your knees for him, to shut your pretty little mouth up with ease.

you twisted in his hold, finally managing to part from him just enough to actually turn in his hold, trying your best to glare at him despite the hazy look in your eye. he wanted to devour you, head dropping low to properly meet your gaze, feeling his breath against your lips.

“you’re disgusting.” you weakly rebutted at him.

“you like it.” his mouth curled.

he could take you now, right here, and he knew you’d let him - knew you’d open up your pretty little legs for him to give way for all of the things he had wanted. he also knew you weren’t ready for it, and despite the heavy tension between you and the thick want that clouded every conversation, he’d never push until you were the one that initiated.

that was the rules afterall.

you had told him as much, plainly. he could eat you out as much as he wanted, and lord knew he did with absolute glee, but no sex, no kisses. you simply used him to get off, grinding on his hardened cock through his work trousers late in the evening, his hand on your mouth to muffle the loud moans you couldn’t keep inside. he was a mere toy, happy to be at your disposal.

the smug bastard let out a low hum before finally releasing you, his fingers squeezing your stomach one last time to remind you of his hold on you, before grunting lightly, stepping back. you watched him, openly, one hand going down to adjust the growing bulge that had formed whilst he took a seat at the table, just like you had wanted him to at the beginning, still palming himself as he watched you as though it was perfectly normal.

you turned, plating his food despite your warm cheeks, all whilst your ex husband sat there, massaging his cock at the sight of your ass openly. you knew that to anyone else, the dynamic was batshit crazy, but to you? this was all you wanted, all you ever needed - a fucked up lover who managed to match you, none of that sappy shit. you wanted a man, and a man you had gotten indeed.

you turned, placing it in front of him, already turning to walk away before a large arm darted out, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you down onto his lap, against the very bulge that was growing and growing and growing. he knew how messed up you’d get just from grinding on him, and he had every intention of making you cum tonight, multiple times hopefully. the thought thrilled him.

“get off!”

his hand flattened against your back as your legs came up onto the side of him, your core nestled so perfectly against his clothed cock that it pulled a tiny gasp from your throat, a hitch of breath that had him openly bucking his hips into you so you could feel it more prominently. the man was obscene, genuinely obscene and the worst thing was that you were equally as sick, capitalising off of the interaction by grinding right back down on him, as though his food wasn’t there, as though he wasn’t exhausted from the day he’d just had.

“always fucking mouthing off.” he muttered darkly, lips now grazing your jaw in sweet kisses. “then look at you..” another grind, heavier now. enough to have you whimpering a little, the friction of his heavy duty trousers delicious against your barely there shorts. “get so sweet when i put you on my lap like you belong.”

at that, you shut your eyes, unable to rebut or saying more when you knew it was the truth.

no matter how mouthy you were, jungkook always put you in your place the same way each time. a roll of his hips, a thrust of his tongue - you were his girl through and through, no matter what you told him. it was his obligation, his duty, to satisfy you in the ways you’d let him and god did he exploit the fuck out of those decisions.

heat flooded your entire body, just as you spread your legs for him properly, straddling him the way he liked, your head on his shoulder, hands on his chest. you watched him eat, eyeing his adam’s apple half in hunger yourself, only for him. only ever him. he was filth personified, what with his obsessive and controlling tendencies but it was what made you want him so badly - even now, he found himself feeding you from his own plate despite being starved, always putting your comfort in front of his.

all whilst forcing your clothed cunt down on him harder.

you spent the next few minutes like that, in a state of bliss like you hadn’t just spent the last ten minutes being mean to him for no apparently reason, but he loved it, holding you tight to him as he indulged in your needy tendencies. he didn’t care what you did, or how you chose to use him as long as it was him you selected.

you were his fucking girl, and he’d never let you forget it.

—

shopping had easily become one of your favourite hobbies after the divorce.

that wasn’t to say you didn’t indulge prior, but having jungkook’s debit cards in your pink chanel purse post divorce meant you could spend as frivolously as you wanted with full knowledge that he couldn’t complain or you’d revoke all access to yourself. it was pure evil coming from you, that much you could agree, but it wasn’t like you cared to be honest - he wanted to give you his money, who were you not to spend it at dior?

it was his fault, really, considering jungkook had managed to make the separation somehow more beneficial than the actual relationship.

his cards sat so pretty in your bag, begging, yearning to be used by you and you, of course, were never one to deny your soul of what was so easily accessible to you. how could you deny a gift when given with so much love, so freely as though it was what he had intended in the first place.

and so, you found yourself on your weekly shopping spree, humming under your breath. dressed in your cute little skirt, top accentuating your breasts in a way you know would have jungkook passing away if he saw you, all whilst your big heels clicked and clacked on the pavement; you indulged in the strip of shops that had become home to you.

fendi, gucci, louis, hermes, chanel, prada - you knew them all, and oh, how they knew you.

you had already spent an ungodly amount.

a new perfume just because the bottle was pretty, alongside some high end skincare you secretly knew was utter bullshit. two sets of expensive heels that accentuated the length of your legs so deliciously, you’d be a fool not to purchase them. countless dresses and cute little jumpers for your sweet babies too, things you knew that they would love and feel comfortable in all whilst sporting a hefty price tag.

the best thing about all of this? jungkook didn’t give a fuck.

if anything, you were the sure he had something clinically wrong with him considering the way he would ask you what you had purchased, notification after notification plaguing his phone and despite seeing the ridiculous price tags, it never deterred him from making sure he worked hard enough to accommodate you. ex wife or not, you were his to provide for - you just came with a specific price.

you knew he was genuinely crazy when you had bought a whole new wardrobe full of clothes after a horrible day, needing some retail therapy more than anything else, spending an ungodly amount only to see a single text from him in response.

“good girl.”

god, you had nearly moaned.

spending his money seemed to satisfy something deeply primitive in him. the bastard was everything you had ever wanted.

still, despite being an utter bitch to him any chance you got, even you recognised that there were rules and boundaries.

you knew that jungkook would let you buy whatever you wanted, to your hearts content no matter how stupid, but your heart still ached whenever he would come utterly exhausted after a particularly gruelling shift at the shop. being a business owner was one thing, having the largest mechanic shop was another - being the head mechanic, and actually getting your hands dirty each and every waking day from morning till night? that was a whole different ballpark, and you often found yourself returning things secretly, or putting things down whenever you’d get the familiar feeling of guilt.

unfortunately for you, said feeling was no where to be seen when all you could think about was how pretty the pink bag in front of you was.

it was ridiculous, completely and entirely - even you knew that.

the second you saw it, your hands darted out, fingers gently grazing the gold hardware, pink leather soft against your touch all whilst your heart began to beat in that all familiar way. you wanted it. needed it.

oh, how your chest fluttered at pretty things. you had always been this way, no matter the price tag, and jungkook had done nothing but absolutely untrue it throughout your relationship so really, you had no one else to blame but him.

and so you stood, bottom lip jutted out slightly as you tapped your manicured finger against your chin in thought, humming lightly before looking over to the sales assistant. even she knew this was out of your typical budget, which wasn’t to say you couldn’t afford it because with jungkook’s work ethic, you could do whatever you wanted. this was just a large amount, all at once, all on one thing.

with a little huff, you pulled out your phone.

god this was humiliating. never a day in your life had you asked jungkook for permission on anything, especially not when it came to your shopping purchases, but that horrible gnawing feeling all too similar to guilt was already finding home in your stomach. you were simply going to inform him because you were so nice.

you weren’t even sure why you were feeling this way when he had never even uttered the word no in your presence.

your eyes dragged to the price tag one last time before letting out another huff, finding his contact and pressing the ring button all whilst grumbling.

the phone rang.

once.

twice.

three times.

your mouth fell open. nothing.

you immediately called again, now suddenly feeling even more humiliated, and more annoyed with each passing ring. once the second call rang out too, your eye officially began twitching.

you were the love of his life, the mother of his children - the only person he could cum to the thought of and yet here was, not answering your calls? what, did he have a new girl? someone else to keep him company? was that it? spoiling another girl with his bank card so he could get hard?

the deluded thought had you almost shaking as you took your furious fingers over to your messages, texting out immediately.

‘hello?????’

silence.

‘i need you’

silence again - you were starting to feel seriously pissed off. who cared about a job this much?

‘answer your phone, dickhead’

your eye was fully twitching in annoyance at the consistent blue messaging bubbles in front of you, all decorated with a single word at the bottom. delivered.

then, because you knew nothing else other than being a natural nuisance to him, you began spamming.

‘jungkook’

‘jungkook’

‘jungkook’

‘jungkook’

still nothing. the audacity of it all.

you wanted to sit and deflate before the very bag of your dreams, heart half hurting over it not already being in a shopping bag with your name on it and other half straining at the thought of jungkook not providing the attention you so desperately needed from him to live. he always had his phone on him, you thought, mind going into a million different conclusions that each felt as warped as the next.

you couldn’t remember a single instance where he hadn’t answered you - meetings, working, mid shower, mid wank. no matter the inconvenience, he’d be quick to hear your voice even if it was so you could bitch at him because even you knew he was down bad when it came to you. the man could have been elbow deep in an engine and somehow still find a way to have the phone on speaker next to him.

you could physically feel yourself growing more and more irritated the more you demanded for his attention, all whilst each message sat unread, until you let out a small whine. you had never done this before - never begged for him to look at you, focus on you and now? you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel a horrible twinge of anxiety in your stomach at the thought of you dropping in his priorities.

he was your jungkook, afterall.

in that hazy train of thought, you put your phone away, turning sharply on your heel and towards the door, making your way outside with your multiple bags on your arms. the shop was only a few streets away, and you were quick on your feet. you wouldn’t usually walk so much in these heels, but these were trying times and you didn’t have a moment to waste.

it wasn’t even about the bag anymore. it was the principle.

at least, that was what you kept telling yourself.

-

the horrible mixture of irritation, brattiness and insecurity swirled deep inside your chest as you practically marched over to the mechanics shop, your hair bouncing with each step all whilst your insane heels clicked loudly. your multiple shopping bags were beginning to hurt your arms, another thing you were sure to take out on jungkook despite the fact it was a self inflicted problem.

your shoes, ones you never really had a problem with, were beginning to dig into your feet and you were sure it was because you were already annoyed. they had long stopped looking cute and started feeling devilish, but unfortunately for you, your pride well outweighed the hassle of it all.

you marched right inside, only to be hit with the all too familiar smell of oil and metal. it lived permanently in the walls and into your ex husband’s clothing, and no matter how much you denied it, it felt like home - comforting beyond means, so much so that you found yourself craving to be wrapped in it whenever you would see him.

the large workshop was busy despite the afternoon dragging on with engines high in the air, toolboxes scattered on each section, concrete floors muddied and dirtied whilst you could hear someone on the far end of the room call out about a missing wrench. again, it felt like home.

a few heads lifted immediately upon your arrival, with all six raising as you stepped forward a little. the move instantly changed, as all of them greeted you warmly, some waving, sweet jin even going so far as to take the bags off of your arms and put them in jungkook’s office.

you knew them all personally, of course. you had been here for years, when your ex had first opened the shop, hiring all of them. you had brought lunches, been pregnant with your babies here, waddling around whilst they all debated baby names with you. a family dynamic that resulted in there being no sense of awkwardness whatsoever, despite the divorce.

your gaze swept around the garage, looking, searching, finally finding him.

your breath caught. annoyingly.

because, unfortunately for you, no matter how many years had passed between you, no matter how many arguments where you’d poke and prod, and certainly no matter how many times you pushed him to brink of genuine desperation; the sight of him was always enough to have butterflies erupt in your stomach as though it was the first time.

your heart skipped a beat as you watched him, lowered over an engine with a tool in hand, grease and something dark smeared on his hands all whilst his work t-shirt stretched around his torso unfairly. his biceps were bulging, your kryptonite, all whilst he seemed completely focused on what he was doing.

it wasn’t until he could hear everyone greeting you that had him looking to the side, where you stood, giving you full access to his face. the same dark substance was smeared slightly on his jaw, his dark hair pushed out of his face all whilst his tatted frame turned to fully face you.

if you thought you had been undone by a mere look at you, it was jungkook who felt his entire life stop.

you, his minx of a girl, dressed in a skirt too tiny for his liking with a cute matching top, one that pushed your breast up, giving him the perfect view despite the distance between you. the way your hair sat, your lips plump with lip gloss he longed to kiss off of you, and your high heels that still couldn’t match his height.

he was assessing you hungrily, a darkened look on his face as he admired you head to toe over and over, openly for everyone to see. he had no shame, he didn’t give a fuck when it came to you - you might have divorced him but you were every inch his wife and you knew it too.

you recognised that look, and with each heavy step towards you, it simply expanded to every one of his limbs. he was a man starved, hungry for one thing in his life and that was you. he still looked at you like it was the first time seeing you, even after all these years.

his jaw was harsh, tightened, as though your presence here had fucked him.

good, you thought bitterly, still annoyed. you wanted him to suffer.

he grabbed a rag on his way to you, cleaning his hands of clinging grease before shoving the cloth over his shoulder. once he was in front of you, you readied yourself, lips parting to no doubt spit some venom at him over your own insecurities but he offered no time. instead, jungkook grabbed you by your waist and pushed you firmly in the direction of his office, no words exchanged.

“jungkook!” you hissed, turning a little as your body was all but forced to walk in a direction, the click of your heels heavy on the dirty workfloor.

he didn’t respond, eyes meeting yours in heavy warning, a reminder that this was his workplace, where he was a working professional, where his rules reigned first and foremost. you hated how badly the thought swirled in your stomach, coaxing you out of your negative thoughts and straight back where you felt most at home.

once you were in his office, he turned to close the door. with a single flick of his finger, the lock turned, confining you into the space, all whilst you narrowed your eyes at him. with a small huff, you turned around, flicking your hair at him before walking over to his large seat behind his mahogany desk, sitting down on it as though it belonged to you.

it was laughable, really, how easily you managed to rile him up. just the sight of you, bare legs crossed and high heeled feet - he wanted to fucking ruin you just to remind you that you were all his.

“you should clean up.” you huffed once more, fingers pushing the stacks of contracts away from your space, annoyingly mixing up important papers.

he simply stood in front of the door, before walking over to the desk, resting on the corner of it, eyes meeting yours. he didn’t bother even looking at what you were doing, despite it no doubt causing him problems in the future - he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you.

“you walked here.”

it wasn’t a question. a loaded statement no doubt used to coax you into revealing your full emotions.

your eye twitched. “i have legs.”

“your heels are new.”

“and?”

his lips quirked up slightly. “they’re hurting your feet.”

“no they aren’t.” you snapped back, despite your toes hurting slightly.

his eyebrows lifted. you were such a liar, dressed in sin. he wanted to kiss you.

jungkook pushed off of the desk, walking past the pile of bags that jin had placed in the office for you no longer than a few minutes ago, his eyes still trained on you as he refused to look away. your own eyes faltered, dropping onto the bags momentarily as that familiar feeling of guilt wrapped around your stomach before it returned to his gaze, insecurity wrapped in anger only coming back harder.

he looked like he was approaching a skittish animal, as though he was trained to deal with you entirely. unfortunately for him, you had claws.

“don’t.” you hissed.

“don’t what?”

“do that.”

“do what?” he was fighting a dimpled grin.

you grit your teeth. you extended your hand, finger pointing at him harshly, accusatively, all whilst he walked over to you, until your digit was actually pressing into him. your nail dug into his stomach, not by your own doing, but his as he pushed his skin harsher against you, the sting a healthy reminder of how much he yearned for your touch.

“real scary, baby.”

you nearly shuddered, his voice heavy and loaded.

“i’m serious.”

“yeah, i know.”

you hated when his voice did that, low and certain all whilst his eyelids drooped just from looking at you. you retracted your finger, only for his own hand to dart out and grab a hold of your own until it was pressed against his stomach completely flat.

“you ignored me.” you murmured in annoyance, all whilst you let him manoeuvre you. “did i?”

“mhm.”

he nodded, half condescending and other half fucking enamoured by you. “and that’s why you’re here?”

“don’t act stupid.”

your hissing had his eyes narrowing.

“careful.”

the single word landed heavy, your mouth snapping shut. if anyone was to ask you your favourite quality about jungkook, it would always be the sheer dominance he radiated without even trying - all man, half assertion and other half brute, he plagued your every thought and yet it still never felt enough.

his grip on your hand harshened, as though he needed to feel you on him in a way that hurt, with fingers digging into his skin through his t-shirt. you gulped a little at the feel of his warmth.

“walked into my garage wearing this shit, your feet hurting, and you’re not gonna tell me what’s got you so bratty?” he muttered down at you, voice low.

your eyebrows pulled at his choice of words, peering down at your outfit. this was the exact clothing choice that had you guys arguing so often, what with your breasts accentuated and your ass barely hidden by the cute skirt - you couldn’t help the fact that you liked things on the shorter and tighter side, especially when they’d rile him up so bad.

“you ignored me.” you repeated, with a frown imbedded into your skin.

“never ignored you a day in my fucking life. what you talking about?” he scoffed a little down at you, all whilst your head had to tilt just to look at him from your seated position.

“called you twice, jungkook, and i text you.” it was your turn now to push your finger into him willingly. “you ignored me, so don’t pretend like you didn’t. i’m not an idiot.”

“i was under a car.”

“you always answer.” you rebutted.

his eyes narrowed. there really wasn’t any winning with you, he knew that better than most, but he also wasn’t an idiot. you wouldn’t have marched here for no reason, especially over a missed call or two whilst he was at work considering he never really had his phone on him. he had a receptionist out front, practically hired for the sole reason of being able to inform him whenever you needed him. you knew that, so why was this so upsetting to you now?

“don’t look at me like that.” you huffed.

neither of you mentioned the way his hand on top of yours began to caress your skin, intertwining your fingers as he continued to press further into himself.

“not looking at you like anything.”

“yeah you are, like i’m being stupid.”

he cursed under his breath as he took his other hand and rubbed it up and down his face, as though this was the cherry on top of a long and stressful day. you could feel your blood pressure rising in annoyance at the thought - he had no right to be annoyed with you, not when you were too busy being annoyed at him. how dare he?

“y/n.” he warned lightly. “this shit is pissing me off. you ignore me every chance you get, so why the fuck are you so upset?”

you felt your cheeks begin to heat, half in embarrassment and other in deeper annoyance at being called out. was it your fault that you rolled your eyes whenever he text you, too busy grumbling to actually respond? the nasty feeling in your stomach only grew as he watched you swallow harshly, too humiliated to tell him the real reason all whilst he refused to read between the lines until you actually said something.

the office felt too small, and for the first time during the entire interaction, jungkook swore he could read genuine discomfort on your face.

it was as though the conversation at hand was something you weren’t expecting, simply assuming this was another instance where he’d bow down and allow you to be bratty but, alas - he could see this time that this was different. you weren’t annoyed, you weren’t even upset; you looked hurt.

it was an emotion he couldn’t quite understand, knowing fully he had absolutely done nothing wrong, not having even seen his phone since lunch time. rationality mattered little between the both of you, especially whenever it concerned you, but this was strange even for you. your sudden silence, your lips pressing into each other as you looked away from him, eyes unsure, gaze confused - it had his stomach dropping.

the humiliation was heavy in your frame as you realised how stupid you were being. you had marched here in these heels, a pair that were currently ruining your feet as you spoke, wincing a little as you shifted your toes to make it more comfortable. twenty minutes of amping your own emotions up only to arrive and realise the disgusting, simple fact of jungkook had been divorced by you.

you. you alone.

you had made the decision.

you had chosen to kick him out, break up the marriage over petty arguments that were a norm if anything.

you had done that, with the full expectation of him still fulfilling his husbandly duties as though you had any right to him, any access.

that alone was a horrible pill to swallow.

unfortunately for you, if anyone knew you inside and out, it was the very man in front of you. he reached over to you, tilting your chin forwards, and then up, so that your unsure eyes met his, all whilst you maintained your bratty nature by keeping your mouth shut. he wanted nothing more than to ruin your lips for even starting with him today, with that sleek gloss covering each inch of surface.

you hated when he looked at you like this, as though he was able to dismantle the corners of your feigned disdain, softening them, eroding them until all that was left was you. only you.

before you could look away, you watched as your hunk of an ex husband, all muscle and all tattoos, dropped to his knees in front of you. his arms came around your waist, yanking you forward until either of your legs were around him, his hands heavy on your back. your skirt rode up naturally, allowing him to slot in against you, forcing you to maintain eye contact despite the intimate position.

you flailed for a moment, gasping, everything happening so suddenly but his grip on you was harsh, mean even.

“you thought i was with someone else?” he immediately challenged.

his eyes were narrowed, scowl evident on his lips as he looked at you harshly, as though the notion was enough to genuinely piss him off. despite his nature, he wasn’t one to ever get angry with you, usually directing his annoyance elsewhere but in moments like this, you exasperated him enough that he had no option but to tell you.

“jungkook-“

“missed two fucking calls,” he hissed at you, pulling you closer, harsher. “and you’re already mapping random shit in your head? you trying to piss me off on purpose?”

heat flooded your face in embarrassment, already feeling heat in your chest with the way he looked so annoyed. you hated how attractive he was.

“that’s not what i said.”

“yeah?” he scoffed at you openly, one hand moving to the side to grip your waist instead. “you walked over here in those heels over nothing?”

you hid the insecurity on your face underneath a layer of annoyance, bratty to the core even when you knew you weren’t in the right.

“what’s it to you? if you don’t want me visiting, i won’t come again.” you huffed, pressing him by his shoulders to push him back and away from you.

unfortunately for you, jungkook was made half from stone - unmovable, with biceps thicker than your head, chest and shoulders so broad that it often had your eyelashes fluttering up at him even when you didn’t realise.

“don’t try that shit with me, y/n. you’re in your own head about something that isn’t real, and you’re taking it out on me.”

his tone was laced with something that had your throat swallowing a lump, your eyes struggling to maintain eye contact due to the heavy, and intense heat in his gaze. he was openly pissed off, and you wished you weren’t battling so many emotions at the same time, instead wanting to capitalise on it.

instead of responding, you huffed a little, looking away despite it all. you lifted your chin slightly, ignoring your wandering fingers that were already tracing his tattoos out of habit, grumbling a little under your breath. you hated that he had managed to figure you out so easily, as though he knew the ridges of your brain far more than you yourself, able to peel apart each nasty thought that occupied your thought simply because he could.

you couldn’t let him win. you wouldn’t.

“maybe i wouldn’t think like this if you just answered your phone.” you huffed back at him, returning the eye contact once you had finally settled into your usual bratty self. “god forbid i assume my ex husband might actually move on one day. how am i supposed to know what you get up to all day here?”

you laughed once. sharp. mean. defensive.

“wouldn’t exactly be shocking, would it?” you hissed once more. “we’re divorced.”

for a moment, silence filled the room, all whilst jungkook remained awfully still in front of you.

a sick part of you felt rewarded in thinking you had managed to hit him right where it hurt, to act as a reminder that despite everything, you were the one in control, but that emotion completely slipped away once you watched him stand up.

he stood to his full height, causing you to tip your head back to maintain the eye contact from your sat position. instead of moving back, his hands dropped from your back and waist.

his left hand rose, fingers immediately darting until they reached your throat, wrapping firmly. enough to push your head towards his, and not enough to hurt, his darkened eyes showcasing the same scary, obsessive streak that had you moaning into your pillow every night.

you could feel dampness between your legs, your heartbeat quickening immediately at the showcase of such dominance above you, your eyelids growing almost hooded whilst he leaned down until your breaths were mingling.

“careful.” he reminded, for the second time that night, long fingers digging into either side of your neck.

you, who had never learnt a lesson for long enough to actually make a difference a day in your life, couldn’t help the look of utter petulance on your face.

“or what?” you spat at him.

within seconds, you were put in a state of vertigo as you were yanked up from your seat. before you could realise what was happening, jungkook had you in his lap, yanked forwards so that your ass was jutted out into the air. your skirt had been pushed up, leaving your tiny panties on show.

“j-jungkook!” you squeaked but he took no notice, your arms going up to wrap around his neck all whilst he planted his palm heavy against your now bare ass.

smack.

you squeaked louder.

he didn’t bother saying anything, soothing your ass cheek as though he hadn’t just smacked it. that was, until he repeated his action, the noise sounding off of the walls of the office.

smack.

over, and over, and over, and over.

he didn’t stop, repeating his action of soothing your ass only to slap it harder, all until you were a mewling mess, whimpering at him like a wounded puppy, his eyes harsher than you’d ever seen him. you felt sore, both of his hands now massaging you despite his growing annoyance.

the office was silent apart from the sound of your shaking breath, all whilst you clung to him, your eyes still matching his in a heavy, tension filled gaze that neither of you could look away from. he wanted to coo at you, wanted to hold you, kiss it better but fuck; he wouldn’t have you thinking like this ever again.

“the problem with you is you think a piece of paper changed shit between us.” he whispered down at you suddenly, voice meaner than you’d ever heard him. your eyelashes fluttered. “makes you think a judge signing off on some fucking divorce means you’re any less mine.”

“kook..” you whined quietly, causing him to massage deeper.

“that’s not how this works, baby. get that through your thick skull before i fuck it back into you, you understand me?” he warned, all whilst pushing his head against yours.

your noses touched, rubbing together almost romantically as he nuzzled against you, positioning you better on his lap despite the incessant sting on your ass. he slid your legs over his legs as he brought you closer and closer, his intensely large frame entirely engulfing you.

“we’re not together though..” you whispered at him, the horrible insecurity that remained deep in your bones, the same one you refused to ever show him, bleeding into your tone. “it’s only a matter of time before you meet someone new. even i know that.”

your admission was raw, honest - far more than you’d ever been in a very long time. he knew that, he could see it, especially with the way you felt utterly scared at even letting the words leave your mouth, nibbling on your lip immediately after as though you almost regretted being so truthful.

“what you want, y/n? want a ring? i’ll marry you today.” he scoffed down at you, as though your words were utter bullshit, anger still heavy in his veins. “you are my girl. you hear me? you. you’re mine, every bit of you, and i’m yours.”

you swallowed down the lump in your throat, as he began to kiss at your cheek, your nose and jaw, planting promises deep into your skin so that you’d absorb them as truth. he didn’t care that you guys weren’t together due to a technicality - you were his wife, entirely, fully. no one would ever be able to take that away from him.

the next few hours were spent in a way that felt like home.

he had first spent the first hour just holding you, watching you trace the tattoo peaking from his chest, the colours up and down his arm all whilst nuzzling deeper into him like you hadn’t been a bitch to him for no reason. his hands had roamed up and down you, cupping you warmly, touching you at times inappropriately just to have your usual brattiness shine through.

alas, work called, and so he placed you onto the couch in the office, murmuring something about ordering you food before kissing your head, turning to leave. the whine you let out was enough to have him curse under his breath, knowing he spoilt you far too often and that’s why you were doing what you were.

it wasn’t until you were dragging him back to you that he understood exactly what you wanted.

it had been two years since the divorce - no intimacy beside him going down on you here and there, but apart from that, it was all hidden kisses down your neck and gropes on your ass whenever he’d walk past.

that didn’t stop him from leaning down, one hand on the head of the sofa beside your head and pressing his lips to yours.

the breathy sound that escaped you from being kissed by him was truly enough to drive a man like jungkook wild, his lips moving, guiding, encouraging you to catch up with him. you did exactly that, hands yanking him further down until you could wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him as though this was the most natural thing you knew how to do.

he was your husband, after all.

parting from his lips, you both watched as a thin string of saliva separated you.

standing up tall had your eyes falling to the evident bulge in his utility trousers, your eyelashes fluttering up at him as you pretended to be indifferent to it. you hummed a little, raising your hand. “you can go now.”

the corner of his lip lifted.

such a fucking minx.

the rest of the day had him popping into the office, bringing you food, spending time with you whenever it was quiet. you gave him a haul at one point, showing him all the things you had bought with his hard earned money, even mentioning the bag you had eyed up earlier.

his response?

he had tilted his head in confusion, asking you why you didn’t buy it despite you telling him the price tag.

you had never been wetter.

by the time the garage was closing, he had you in the car, bags already put into the boot, whilst a heavy hand sat on your thigh, driving you home.

it felt like something had completely shifted between you now the unspoken had been spoken. it made you feel good, but you wanted more, craved it - you had spent so long pushing him away, even when you were married, that you had forgotten what it was like just to give into his affections. even slightly, it felt fulfilling in a way that left you hungry.

once your driveway came into view, you already knew he was gonna stay the night. it was common enough, usually forcing him to stay in the guest room like you wouldn’t be up all night wishing he would just come in already. alas, you had married, and divorced, a respectful man.

“kids coming back tomorrow morning?” he asked as he parked up, both of you walking to the door, all of the bags in his hand.

“afternoon.” you corrected over your shoulder, eyes meeting his. you watched as his eyes lifted from your ass in your tiny skirt, cheeks already slightly bruised and red from your earlier spankings, only for his gaze to lift back up to you.

he didn’t respond, simply following you in, locking the door behind him as you slipped off your heels.

“my feet hurt.” you huffed a little to yourself whilst flexing your toes a little.

he let out a slight laugh, placing your bags down on the kitchen table before grabbing you by the waist, lips attacking your neck almost immediately. your back hit his chest as he took a hold of your personal space, breathing in your floral scent now that you were all alone, with no one to interrupt.

no kids.

no garage.

nothing but the two of you and the dying tension between you.

“ugh!” you huffed, brattiness at an all time high, despite tilting your head so he could kiss you further. “you stink.”

“yeah?” he continued his kisses, fingers digging into your hips. “gonna join me in the shower?”

you rolled your eyes, just as he twirled you, towering over you so easily that you found yourself tilting your head just to be able to meet his gaze. his hardened jaw, the feel of his abs where your hands sat on his stomach - you hated him.

“you wish.” you retorted, just as his hands drifted down to your ass.

a large hand smoothed your ass, causing you to wince up at him a little, falling further into his chest causing him to laugh. you swatted his chest with a huff, hissing at him.

“meet me in there in two.” he whispered into your ear, squeezing once more before you huffed again, walking upstairs to your own room.

within the next five minutes, the water had been turned on, and jungkook had pulled his t-shirt off, grunting a little as he undressed in what he had always deemed to be a too small bathroom. it wasn’t until the door opened and he watched you walk in, just as the water had begun to spray down onto his chest, that he felt his stomach tighten.

he watched as you undressed, clothes pooling at your feet, your bra and panties dropping in seconds all whilst you joined him in the shower, almost paying him no mind as though he too wasn’t here. it wasn’t until you stepped back into him, letting the water hit your body instead of his that he properly yanked you back, bodies suddenly flushed against each other.

he tilted your head for the millionth time that day, lips grazing over your pulse, kissing as though he truly couldn’t get enough. he hummed against it, tongue tracing over it as his hands openly began running up and down you, clutching your breasts, your thighs, your stomach.

he loved when you acted like this. all snooty, as though he was beneath you despite your legs parting just as his hands drifted down. his, bratty girl. what a dream.

“missed this.” he whispered into your ear, just as you reached for the body wash.

“need to wash my body.” you huffed back, looking over your shoulder at him in that familiar bitchy way, only for him to lean downwards towards your face.

he grinned, twisting you properly in his arms so that you were actually facing him. the glare you gave him was enough to have his cock twitching against you, causing you to look down momentarily.

you could have sighed out of content, feeling it against you, so, so thick. so large, pressed against his stomach as he openly admired you, his own hands roaming over you as though he had every right.

the last time you had both hooked up was after you had signed the divorce papers. he had pounded you in the courthouse bathroom, with a hand over your mouth, and a hiss in your ear reminding you that no matter what, you still belonged to him, to which you had nodded, promising him. you were both so fucked for each other it was unreal.

queue two years later, you hadn’t actually seen his cock in so long despite having craved it for what felt like eons. despite what you felt, you knew you couldn’t bring yourself to cave in, yearning for something more than just sex and you couldn’t afford to get attached without it.

here you were, with that exact thing.

you were both so fucked in the head when it came to one another, with jungkook even going so far as to make a dildo for you that replicated his cock, just so you could pleasure yourself the exact way you wanted. it killed him inside to know you used it every night instead of using him, but with you in his arms right now, he hardly gave a fuck.

he watched as you lifted one of your hands, fingers brushing against the tip, all whilst your big eyes fluttered up at him in a sort of faux innocence. he cupped your hand, bringing it to his lips, before wrapping it around his cock properly.

you let out another sigh of content as you pumped him, up and down, all whilst water cascaded down onto both of your bodies. his head pressed against yours, lips brushing against one another so naturally it felt innate to the both of you.

his breath hitched just slightly as you used both hands, your heart fluttering at the feel of him so intimately against you.

“my pretty girl.” he pressed sweet pecks to your lips, whilst you tilted your head up at him, his hands openly massaging your ass again.

“so big.” you whispered back at him with a little sigh, thumb tracing over his slitted tip. “yeah? been stretching yourself out every night on your own?”

“trying to.” you mumbled back. his hand cupped yours, guiding you faster. “just too big sometimes to do it on my own.”

his eyes closed at your words, letting out a shaking breath, gripping you so much tighter before opening them up once more. he nudged his nose against yours, before pressing his lips harshly to yours.

your lips immediately moved in unison, bodies aligning as you both pumped his cock as though you couldn’t get enough of one another. tongues wrapped until they became one, your soft moans gliding through the falling water as jungkook pushed, and pushed and pushed until you were pressed against the wall.

by the time he was parting from your lips, you were a panting mess, your chest rising and falling. your hand dropped from his cock as he lifted you in his arms, your back pressed against the cool tile whilst he took your left breast in his mouth. sucking, biting, moaning - he was a mess against you, your hands pulling at his long strands that were growing damper by the second from the falling water.

the moan of his name on your tongue had him hissing, moving to your right breast. you had become a mural, a physical manifestation of his morbid love as he decorated you in purple bruises, your big eyes closing in sheer pleasure.

“don’t wanna wait anymore.” you whimpered at him, shaking your head as you began to pull his hair off of you.

he hissed a little from the shot of pain, not afraid to admit his cock twitched from the shock of it. at that, he gave your ass another smack, watching the way you squeaked before narrowing your eyes at him with a loud huff.

“need to stretch you out before i fuck you.” he grunted at you, both of your cheeks flushed from the steam of the shower.

“i don’t care. want it now.”

“stop being a fucking brat.” he hissed again, spanking you for the umpteenth time, your poor ass bruised.

you slid down from his arms, narrowing your eyes at him as you cheekily turned away. he stuck his tongue deep into his cheek as he watched you, soap suds washing down your body before you reached for a towel, sliding out before he could even stop you, only to watch you slip out of the bathroom immediately.

he wanted to curse. his cock had never been so hard in his life, and oh, the things he wanted to do to you - he felt like a born again virgin, having been celibate the second you had pushed him away after the courthouse fiasco. he matched your movements, washing his body before grabbing a towel, drying himself off and walking to your room.

the sight of you on the bed, sat, still in the towel, huffing a little as you checked your nails, pretending to be completely disinterested in him had his jaw ticking again. such a fucking brat.

you opened your mouth, no doubt to spew some utter bullshit to rile him up, but he didn’t give you a chance. within seconds, he had his hands on you, dropping you fully onto the bed, hovering over you, both towels on the ground almost immediately.

the sight of him on top of you, inbetween your legs had you rendered speechless for the first time in eons, a shaking gasp leaving you. it was the feel of his cock running up and down your already weeping pussy that had you actually letting out loud whimpers and whines, rotating your hips in hopes you could finally get what you wanted.

“spoilt rotten. that’s your fucking problem.” he hissed at you, grabbing your face with one of his hands, forcing you to look at him. “always get what you want.”

“because you always wanna give it to me.” you whimpered back at him, grabbing onto his shoulders before raising your legs higher, begging for more.

he hated how true your statement was.

before you could think, jungkook lined himself and began to push inside, all whilst watching your eyes widen only for them to shut tightly.

euphoric. that was the only, single emotion he could describe the feeling of his cock being hugged by your velvet walls after so long, your pussy clinging to him almost as desperately as he pushed and pushed until he was entirely inside of you. you couldn’t breathe, not when you swore you could feel him inside your stomach, your fingers digging so deeply into his shoulders you swore you’d scar him.

even when you masturbated on your own with the dildo, you struggled to take him fully, but having him all but bullying his cock inside of you, making sure you took it all? nothing had never felt better, with his sheer size stretching a home deep inside of you, one that you had missed more than anything else.

“jungkook.” you mewled out, lip already about to quiver.

god.

he had dreamt of this exact situation.

you, underneath him, chest rising and falling whilst your tits were decorated in bruises, symbols of his devotion to you. his cock, thick and heavy, deep inside of you as he watched you quiver trying to accommodate for him despite knowing it was all too much. god, he had dreamt indeed and yet it paled in comparison to what he was seeing.

two years.

two years of being denied this, and here he was, finally claiming his girl once more.

instead of letting you adjust, jungkook grabbed the bottoms of your thighs, lifting them slightly before beginning to thrust.

had you been a normal girl, he would have been gentler, kinder, maybe even sweeter but he knew you better than anyone else. you were a slut for him, through and through - couldn’t cum unless he was mean to your pussy.

and so, he did what any good ex husband would do.

he pounded.

your moans turned into loud whines of pleasure, back arching as jungkook set out a pace that you certainly couldn’t keep up with, scratching over his shoulders and biceps almost desperately. the chant of his name echoed around the room, only adding to his pace, his head pressing against yours.

“look at you.” he grunted loudly, hips slapping against hips, skin smacking against skin. “needed this so bad, didn’t you?”

“so bad.” you whined, with a shaking nod.

“that’s my girl.” he kissed your nose almost romantically, only making you whimper as he pushed your thighs against your chest, before pressing down on you.

the new position had your back curling upwards as you somehow managed to feel him so much deeper, your hands now shaking in the confinements of his hair. you couldn’t stop thrashing, as though all of the begging to get him to fuck you without actually prepping you were all stupid ramblings now that you couldn’t take it.

he loved the sight. there was nothing jungkook loved more than watching you grow more cockdrunk by the minute, what with the way your eyes were rolling to the back of your head, drool beginning to drip by the corner of your mouth.

he had never been more in love with you.

he pounded you over and over, coaxing orgasm after orgasm out of you until you were an overwhelmed mess, sobbing in his arms whilst trying to shut your legs around him, the overstimulation only gripping you by the throat meanly. by your fourth orgasm, you were babbling utter nonsense, a mixture of tears, mascara and drool all over you.

he had tapped your jaw with his hand, only for you to open up, watching him spit in your mouth. you clenched around him hard just as you swallowed, the sight something he knew he’d replay for time to come over and over over.

“so fucking tight.” he hissed down at you.

your positions had changed, with the both of you on your sides as he thrusted into you, his lips attacking the side of your face and shoulder all whilst you clung to the pillow in front of you, poor pussy leaking on either side of him. you were being ruined in real time.

“gonna get you nice and round baby. you’d like that, hm? like it when kookie fucks his cum into you?” he cooed down at you, condescending enough to have your brain begging for mercy. all you could muster was a loud moan, back arching into him at the promise of another baby. “please. want it so bad.”

“yeah?” he hissed, thrusts only getting meaner. “fuck…gotta put a ring on your finger first.”

at that, your legs began to shake.

“gonna take you out tomorrow morning. gonna cum nice and deep inside of you, and take you ring shopping so you can get what you want, hm?” he hissed down at you through his heavy breaths. “gonna be a good girl for me?”

“mhm..i’ll be so good, k-kookie. promise.” you whimpered.

jungkook gave you a hard thrust. he knew it was a lie.

“should’ve never let you go, baby. been missing my girl so much. should’ve kept you nice and full like you deserve.” he bit down on your shoulder. “but jungkook’s gonna fix it. just need you to cum for me, sweetheart.“

it was like he had control over your mind and body. your orgasm erupted through your body, clamping harshly onto his cock, causing him to choke as his thrusts faltered, already on the edge. waves of excruciating pleasure ran through you, grabbing you at every angle all whilst you coaxed him into his own orgasm, his loud grunts echoing off of the walls.

you could feel his hot cum reach all the way into your womb - a promise of what was to come, an assurance for the future. the thought of having more of his children only stretched out your orgasm as you cried out his name, his large fingers harsh on your clit to really force you over the edge.

by the time you were both settling down, you were a shaking mess.

cum plugged inside of you as he refused to pull out just yet, your bodies both sweating, hair a mess, makeup utterly ruined. jungkook had never seen you look so pretty, wanting nothing more than to propose to you right then and there, but even he knew you deserved far better than that.

it was when only ten minutes later, he turned you fully after pulling out, did he plant soft kisses to your face, all whilst fingering his cum back inside of you. you cried in oversensitivity, only causing him to coo at you, whispering sweet nothings about how good you had taken him, about how he needed the cum to stick to get you round and pregnant.

you could feel your eyes drooping as he took care of you, manoeuvring your body until it was utterly engulfed by his, your body sore and mind free.

for the first time in two years, you felt like you were home.

—

true to his promise, you were both out of the house by the early morning.

also true to his word, you were currently stuffed with cum, littered in an array of hickeys both from the previous evening and that morning, causing you to choose an uncharacteristically modest outfit for the day. you had hissed at him all the way to the shop, huffing at having to hide your body in full length clothing only for him to smirk quietly to himself.

he couldn’t get enough of you.

still bitching, still whining - he had stopped pretending like he didn’t like it, especially when you could see right through him. he was yours, yes, but oh how you were his. he had woken you up to his mouth on your clit, coaxing you to a sweet orgasm before fucking you with the promises of a life even grander than the one you were currently living. that alone had gotten three orgasms out of you.

now, you were in the ring shop, frowning, flicking your hair and rolling your eyes at him with every ring you were shown, rudely grumbling over how it just wasn’t the one.

the one you had on was beautiful, which only irritated you more.

you made the effort of moving your hand in three separate angles, turning it to the light, turning your wrist away. the diamond caught every flicker, as it shon and sang to you, all whilst you pursed your lips.

“i don’t like it.”

the jeweller openly frowned at you.

this had been the tenth ring he had shown you, and none of them made you happy. none were the ring you had envisioned, wanting something different and yet something classic, the oxymoron killing you from the inside out.

whilst the man behind the counter was quite startled by your behaviour, jungkook was certainly not.

he stood beside you, t shirt stretched over his figure deliciously, arm heavy around your waist as he maintained you flushed against his figure no matter how bitchy you were being with him. it only had him tightening his fingers on you.

you continued your comments to the jeweller as he showed you more and more rings, before he sensed the growing tension, leaving you both be for a moment. once you were alone on the shop floor, jungkook nudged you a little so you’d look up at him.

“enough.”

the word was quiet. commanding. enough to have your pussy clenching despite how sore you already were, not that it was enough to stop you wanting him in every single way. unfortunately, despite your lapse in demeanour the night before, you weren’t willing to let it show easily again.

you huffed. “none of these are right.”

“you’re being nitpicky on purpose.”

“maybe i just have standards.” you rolled your eyes at him, making a show of crossing your arms across your chest.

it was his turn to make his eyes narrow down at you meanly.

“you done?” he asked, with a small hiss. “your ass not sore enough, y/n?”

you grit your teeth as you willed yourself to be quiet, wanting nothing more than to rebut at him but even you knew jeon jungkook was certainly not above spanking you in a jewellery shop, especially if it meant you’d actually shut up. so, instead, you found yourself huffing a little at him again, picking at your manicure.

“just don’t wanna pick the wrong one.” you admitted in a much smaller voice, refusing to meet his eyes as you ruined your french tips, frown heavy on your face.

the admission was quiet, barely above a mumble but it hit jungkook right in his chest, knowing that despite the rushed nature of everything, this symbolised something so much bigger. starting again when the first time around had been a rush in itself was scary, especially when the stakes were so much higher this time. sure, you had been divorced once and you were marrying him again but you knew this meant you guys would actually have to work through your annoyances with one another.

the thought honestly scared you.

his devotion, his obsession, his incessant need to have you in his arms whether you liked him or not was reciprocated heavily by yourself, only masked with an air of indifference.

“baby.”

he pulled you out of your thoughts, making you look up through your lashes.

“buy as many as you fucking want. you want seven, huh? all days of the week?” he narrowed his eyes down at you. “there isn’t a wrong one, so get that out of your head.”

for the first time in that interaction, you properly turned into his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck with a soft sigh of content at his words. good answer, you thought, as you nuzzled into his neck, all whilst he pushed you against the jewellery counter.

by the time the owner had come back, you had finally made your selection, feeling almost shy as you watched jungkook pay for it. sure, you spent his money without thinking, but you were quickly realising how much better it felt with him beside you actually taking charge of the transaction part. the thought began to fester all over you as he signed the receipt, turning to walk you out as the jeweller began sizing the rings immediately.

unfortunately for him, you pressed your lips to his cheek in the sweetest action you could muster. judging from the flip in your eyes, the way affection swirled in them, he knew you wanted something.

“what?” he grunted.

“so..remember that bag?”

—

my babies!! i’m back!!

my first fic / one shot since the mature label got slapped on my page which means half of my followers won’t see this but i’m keeping optimistic!!

as usual, let me know your thoughts, i loveeeee reading your guys’ comments and asks so feel free to keep me in the loop with what you’re thinking

if you wanna support a bad b pay her london rent, my kofi is here <3

Beauty had always been your burden as much as your blessing. Tales of it traveled farther than merchants and faster than ravens, crossing borders until even distant courts spoke your name with a mixture of admiration and longing. Princes penned verses in your honor without ever meeting you. Even seasoned knights, men hardened by war and duty, often found themselves disarmed by nothing more than a smile.

With your coronation fast approaching, the kingdom stood on the brink of celebration. It would be the grandest event seen in decades, drawing princes, dignitaries from every corner of the continent. Some would arrive seeking alliances. Most would arrive seeking you.

The prospect amused you more than it excited you.

“Protecting my daughter is not merely a matter of strength,” your father’s voice boomed through the hall. “It demands unyielding discipline and absolute loyalty. You will each face three trials. The princess herself will accompany you, so that you may prove your worth in her presence.”

Your eyes swept slowly across the line of knights standing before the throne, a faint mask of boredom kissing your beautiful face, certain that none of them would truly be able to handle you.

For years, entertaining yourself at the expense of knights had become something of a pastime. A lingering touch against a gauntleted hand, a mere whispered compliment that left disciplined warriors suddenly forgetting their own names. Watching them struggle to maintain their composure was endlessly amusing.

You had notoriously toyed with men like this, living wildly beneath the weight of your royal title, and your father knew this better than anyone. That was precisely why he had designed these trials.

He wasn’t simply looking for the strongest sword arm. He wanted a knight with sharp intellect and the rare ability to withstand your constant attempts to live life on your terms rather than as a perfectly mannered princess.

A small, intrigued smile played on your lips when the first few knights stepped forward. They were impressive in brute force, but you could already tell they would crumble the moment you decided to play.

Then he stepped forward.

Sir Jeon Jungkook.

Even fully armored, with only his dark, piercing eyes visible through the narrow slit of his helmet, once his unflinching gaze met yours for a brief second, a strange spark ignited low in your belly. You tilted your head, studying those dark eyes with growing interest.

The first trial took place that very evening in the smaller banquet hall. Only a select few courtiers were present. You sat at the high table beside your father, sipping from a jeweled goblet.

Unknown to the competing knights, the King had arranged for one of the wine pitchers to be laced with a powerful sleeping draught. Harmless, but potent enough to leave the princess disoriented and vulnerable. Only the King, a few trusted advisors, and the princess herself knew of the plan.

The knights had been given only one instruction: protect the princess. No further details.

As the evening progressed, the effects of the draught began to take hold. Your thoughts grew pleasantly hazy, movements slower. The jeweled goblet nearly slipped from your grasp once before you caught it. A second time, you laughed at something that had not been particularly funny.

Several knights noticed. Some were too busy trying to appear vigilant, eyes constantly scanning the room for imaginary assassins.

A few noticed your condition and drew dangerously close. One insisted on helping you stand despite the fact that you had not asked for assistance. Another rested a hand against your lower back almost inappropriately while guiding you through the room. One knight even smiled when he realized how heavily you leaned upon him after stumbling.

The courtiers watched everything. So did the King.

You were beginning to feel genuinely annoyed when a tall figure stepped silently between you and yet another overeager knight.

Sir Jeon Jungkook.

Unlike the others, he had not hovered around you all evening. He had remained where a royal protector belonged, close enough to intervene, distant enough to respect your space.

Dark eyes studied your face through the narrow opening of his helmet. “The princess has had enough wine,” he declared.

The knight beside you scoffed. “She seems perfectly fin—”

“She does not.”

You watched surprise flicker across the other knight’s face.

Sir Jungkook’s hand briefly closed around your forearm as you swayed, steadying you before immediately letting go the moment your balance returned.

Within moments he had summoned two ladies-in-waiting to accompany you back to your chambers. When another knight offered to carry you himself, Sir Jungkook declined on your behalf before you could even answer.

“Her reputation is as important as her safety.”

For the first time all evening, genuine curiosity stirred within you.

Most men saw opportunity when they looked at you. Some saw beauty, a few saw a future crown. Yet somehow, Sir Jeon Jungkook seemed to see only his duty.

As the ladies guided you toward the doorway, you glanced back over your shoulder.

“How noble of you, Sir Jungkook,” you teased, voice softened by the draught. “Are you always so resistant to temptation?”

His gaze never wavered. “My duty is to protect Your Highness.”

For reasons you could not quite explain, that response lingered in your thoughts far longer than any flirtatious remark ever had.

The final trial was, by all appearances, the simplest.

After weeks of staged attacks, hidden tests, the remaining candidates expected one final demonstration of skill. Some anticipated a duel. Others believed they would be sent to defend the princess from another fabricated threat. Instead, the King announced that the last trial would consist of a single week of personal duty beside the princess. No further explanation was offered.

The knights were disappointed.

You, however, knew exactly what your father was doing.

The trial was not designed to test strength or intelligence. It was designed to test restraint.

Most of the candidates failed within days. Some became overly eager whenever you requested their company.

Others ignored palace protocol the moment you suggested bending the rules. One knight allowed you to wander through the city market without informing the royal guard because he was too eager to please you. Another accepted an invitation to share wine in one of the palace balconies despite knowing perfectly well how improper it appeared. Every failure was carefully observed and quietly recorded.

Only one knight remained infuriatingly impossible.

Sir Jeon Jungkook.

The more you watched him, the more determined you became to discover his weakness. Surely he had one. Everyone did.

At first, your attempts were harmless. During walks through the palace gardens, you lingered beside him instead of remaining ahead as protocol dictated. During meals, you directed most of your conversation toward him. More than once, you deliberately brushed your fingers against the steel of his gauntlet while speaking. Other knights would have turned crimson. Some would have stumbled over their own words.

Sir Jungkook merely stepped aside and continued his duties as though nothing had happened.

Perhaps it was the way every other knight had spent the past weeks attempting to impress you, the King, or the court.

Where others sought favor, he sought only to fulfill his duty. And thus, when the day of the final judgment arrived, the outcome surprised absolutely no one.

Your father rose slowly from his seat.

“Sir Jeon Jungkook,” he declared, voice echoing through the hall. “You have successfully completed all trials. You have shown not only strength and intellect, but the rare ability to anticipate danger and resist… temptation.” His gaze flicked briefly to you. “From this day forward, you are hereby appointed as the princess’s personal royal knight and protector. Guard her with your life. And may the gods help you.”

A murmur rippled through the court.

You turned toward Sir Jeon Jungkook, stepping just close enough that your crimson gown brushed his armor.

“Welcome to my service, Sir Jungkook,” you whispered so only he could hear. “I do hope you’re prepared. Resisting me may prove to be your greatest trial yet.”

His dark eyes held yours with unshakable strength. “I was under the impression I had already passed that one, Your Highness.”

—

Having Sir Jeon Jungkook follow you around all day wasn’t ideal.

It had not even been three months since his appointment as your royal knight, yet his constant, silent presence had already begun to grate on your nerves. He was always a towering shadow in dark armor, never more than a few steps behind. What annoyed you most was his utter lack of reaction.

No matter how boldly you flirted, no matter how you tightened your corset in front of him until your breasts nearly spilled over, no matter how many times you “accidentally” brushed against him, he remained perfectly composed.

What bothered you most of all was that you still had no idea what he looked like. Only those dark, intense eyes visible through the narrow slit of his helmet. The rest of him remained hidden behind steel, a constant, frustrating mystery.

The journey to the neighboring kingdom for the grand alliance celebration had been long and stifling. You rode in the royal ornate covered carriage borne by four strong horses and guarded on all sides. The extravagant gown you wore was beautiful but suffocating, the tight corset pressing against your ribs and making every breath feel like a struggle. Boredom weighed on you like lead.

Your dearest friend, Lady Isolde rode beside you in her own litter. She was to be wed in a month, and the two of you had spent the journey giggling like girls again, whispering behind silk curtains.

“He’s so tall,” Isolde teased, peeking through the gap toward where Sir Jeon Jungkook rode steadily beside your litter. “And those eyes… I wonder what the rest of him looks like under all that steel. Do you think he’s handsome, or just another brute?”

You laughed softly, though your gaze lingered on the narrow slit of Jungkook’s helmet, where those dark, intense eyes remained fixed forward.

“As if,” you replied, laced with mock boredom. “He’s far too proper. I could tighten my corset until my breasts nearly spill, and he wouldn’t even glance.”

Isolde giggled. “You should try. For science.”

Sir Jungkook’s eyes flicked toward the litter for the briefest second before returning forward. You smirked. Annoyed as you were by his constant, unflinching presence… you were also undeniably intrigued.

That night, after the feasting and music had died down and the royal party made camp near the forest’s edge, you slipped away, desperate for even a moment of peace, and determined to test just how far his restraint could stretch.

The air had grown chilly, carrying the faint bite of early autumn as you made your way to the forbidden stretch of the deep bend where the river water ran swift and dangerously deep. No one was permitted here after dark, especially not the princess.

You knew he would follow.

The heavy footsteps of armor soon echoed behind you on the rocky bank.

“Your Highness,” Sir Jungkook’s deep voice rang out, firm. “This area is strictly prohibited at night. The currents are treacherous and the water is far too cold. We must return to the palace at once.”

You barely looked at him. Your eyes were fastened upon the vast expanse of the river, moonlight dancing across its dark surface like scattered diamonds. You wanted nothing more than to feel the cool waves kissing your bare skin, to swim freely under the moon with no eyes judging you in, except his.

A small, unusually kind smile touched your lips as you turned toward him.

“Why don’t you join me, Sir Jungkook?” you asked softly, your voice carrying on the gentle night breeze. “Just for a little while. The water looks so peaceful tonight.”

Sir Jungkook stood like a statue in his dark armor. “Your Highness… that would be highly improper,” he replied, voice low. “I am here to protect you, not to… bathe with you.”

You let out a soft, melodic laugh and began walking toward the river’s edge, the hem of your gown brushing the grass.

“Well, I suppose then…” you bit your lip, your fingers moving to the laces of your gown with aching slowness. “I shall swim, and you will stand guard like the loyal knight you are.”

You could feel his intense eyes watching through the narrow slit of his helmet as you loosened the ties. The rich fabric slid from your shoulders like liquid silk, pooling at your feet.

Completely bare under the moonlight, you wore nothing beneath. Your skin glowed luminous and your full breasts rose and fell with each breath, nipples already stiff from the cold night air. The curve of your waist flared into soft hips, and the smooth, delicate skin between your thighs was on full display.

Sir Jungkook immediately turned his head sharply away, staring fixedly into the dark trees.

“Your Highness!” His voice was strained. “This is highly inappropriate. I cannot allow—”

“You don’t have to allow anything,” you cut him off, dripping with defiance. “You’re not permitted to touch me while I’m bare. So you’ll just have to stand there.”

You waded into the river with a soft gasp. The icy water bit into your skin, but the thrill of rebellion pushed you forward. You swam out deeper, the cold making your body hypersensitive.

You glanced back at the bank. Sir Jungkook stood like a statue, head turned away, refusing to look at your naked form even once. His armored fists were clenched tightly at his sides.

A thrill of satisfaction ran through you.

You felt exhilarated. Free. And wickedly aware that the most disciplined man in the kingdom was standing on the bank, fighting not to look at you.

“Are you really going to stand there all night, Sir Jungkook? The water feels wonderful… and I’m all alone out here.” You swam further out, the cold water caressing every inch of your bare skin. A soft, content sigh escaped your lips.

It would be a plain lie if you said you weren’t at least a little relieved that he had followed you. The deep bend was no joke. its treacherous currents and deadly depth were feared even by The King. Yet here you were, aching to tear down the walls of the knight who refused to bend to your charms.

You floated lazily on your back, letting the moonlight kiss your bare skin. Then, with a mischievous glint in your eyes, you took your chance.

Once a subtle current tugged at your legs, you gasped dramatically, flailing your arms and letting out a soft, helpless cry. “Oh—!”

You fought back a giggle, pretending to be a damsel in distress, knowing the current wasn’t strong enough to truly endanger you. You wanted to see if you could finally crack his composure.

But the gods had other plans.

Without warning, a far more treacherous undercurrent slammed into you like a living beast. It dragged you under violently, twisting your body, filling your mouth and nose with icy water. Real panic surged through you as you lost your breath and sight in the black depths.

“Jungkook!” you screamed, the sound barely coherent as water rushed into your lungs. This time, it was no act.

Sir Jeon Jungkook did not hesitate for even a fraction of a second. He plunged into the river fully armored, cutting through the violent current with powerful strokes. His strong arms wrapped around your waist, yanking your naked body against his steel chest as he fought the river with raw, expert strength. You clung to him desperately, coughing and gasping as he dragged you back to the rocky bank.

The moment he pulled you ashore, his helmet caught on a low hanging branch and was ripped clean off.

You lay on the grass, gasping for air, when your eyes finally focused on the man hovering above you.

And you forgot how to breathe.

Sir Jeon Jungkook was devastatingly, unfairly handsome.

Wet raven black hair clung to his forehead and sharp, sculpted cheekbones. Water droplets traced the strong line of his jaw and dripped from sensual lips. His dark eyes, now fully exposed, were intense and beautiful, framed by long lashes and thick brows. A faint scar graced his left eyebrow, adding a rugged edge to his otherwise perfect masculine beauty.

Before you could speak, he swiftly grabbed his crimson cloak and draped it over your naked body, covering you completely with careful reverence. His gaze remained locked strictly on your face, never once drifting to your exposed skin.

“Are you okay, Your Highness?” he asked, voice rough with concern. A faint blush colored his cheeks as he noticed the way you were staring at his now-bare face.

You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came. The combination of the dangerous current, the shock of nearly drowning, and the overwhelming sight of your knight’s true face left you dizzy and speechless.

Your vision blurred. You passed out in his arms.

Sir Jungkook pulled you closer against his armored chest, one large hand gently brushed your wet hair away from your face, his touch surprisingly tender. He lifted you effortlessly, cradling you like a warrior carrying his lady, your head resting against his broad shoulder, body wrapped securely in his cloak, legs draped over his arm as he carried you back to his mare.

He mounted carefully, keeping you nestled safely against him as the horse began the journey back to the palace through secret paths.

You woke briefly as he laid you down on the thick rug before the hearth in your royal chambers. The fire was already roaring. You were still wrapped in his cloak, beneath it only a thin silk bandeau now clung to your body, the delicate material barely containing your breasts, pressing them together in a deep, soft cleavage that rose and fell with each shaky breath.

You trembled from the cold and the lingering shock of the river.

Sir Jeon Jungkook remained kneeling by the fire, his movements precise as he stoked the flames. Water dripped from his raven hair onto his armoured shoulders. Then he rose to his full, imposing height, towering, broad shouldered.

Without a word, he reached for his helmet, which rested upon a nearby oak chest, clearly intending to conceal his face once more.

“No,” you whispered, your voice soft yet commanding as you pushed yourself up on one elbow. “Do not put it back on.”

The knight paused, gloved hand hovering above the helm. His dark eyes met yours, intense and conflicted.

“Your Highness… it is not fitting for me to stand before you unveiled,” he said, his voice carrying the formal cadence of a sworn knight. “I must maintain the dignity of my position.”

You sat up fully, the cloak slipping slightly from one shoulder, revealing the smooth curve of your skin and the edge of the silk bandeau. Despite the cold still clinging to your bones, warmth bloomed low in your belly as you gazed upon his face, truly beheld it for the first time.

“Come closer,” You rose to your knees on the rug, the cloak parting further as you reached for him. “Let me see you properly.”

He hesitated, every line of his powerful frame taut with restraint. Yet he obeyed, lowering himself once more to kneel before you. Even on his knees, he remained nearly at your eye level, so tall and broad was he.

You lifted a delicate hand and brushed your fingers through his damp raven locks, pushing them back from his forehead. A contented sigh escaped your lips.

“You are far too pleasing to look upon, Sir Jungkook,” you whispered, almost in awe. “I had wondered what lay beneath that steel. Never did I imagine such a face.”

Sir Jungkook remained perfectly still on his knees before you. His hands rested tensely on his armoured thighs as he fought to keep his gaze fixed on your face and not the way your breasts strained against the thin silk bandeau.

“You flatter me, Your Highness,” he replied, voice low. “But I am your knight. Nothing more. Please allow me to restore my helmet.”

You shook your head slowly, refusing to let him hide again. Instead, you leaned closer, your fingers still buried in his damp raven hair.

A new, overwhelming wave of admiration and obsession washed over you. This man... this mature, hardened, breathtakingly handsome knight was kneeling before you like a devotee. The realization sent a fresh rush of heat between your thighs.

“You’re older than me, aren’t you?” you murmured softly, continuing to caress his hair with gentle strokes. “Hardened by battles and years I haven’t yet seen.”

You wondered how many more scars he carried beneath that heavy armor hidden across his broad chest, his strong back.

“I am twenty eight, Your Highness,” he answered quietly, his deep voice carrying that disciplined tone you were growing addicted to.

“Tell me something personal,” you said, your voice turning playful yet curious. Your fingers trailed from his hair down to trace his cheekbone once more. “Have you ever been with a woman, Sir Jeon? Truly been with one?”

His jaw tightened visibly. The question crossed every boundary a knight was sworn to respect.

“Your Highness… such questions are not appropriate for me to answer,” he replied. You leaned in even closer, still stroking his hair tenderly, your breath brushing against his skin.

“But I want to know,” you whispered. “Have you ever touched a woman the way a man touches a lover? Ever kissed one?”

Jungkook’s breathing grew slightly heavier. His dark eyes stayed locked on yours with iron discipline, though you could clearly see the storm brewing behind them.

“I have not, Your Highness,” he finally answered, voice low and honest. “My duty has always come first.”

A thrill ran through you at his confession. You let your fingers drift lower, brushing along his sharp jawline. “And if a woman wanted you… desperately?” your voice dropped to a near whisper. “If she wanted your mouth between her thighs… your tongue tasting her, would you deny her?”

The impure question hung heavy in the air between you. You shocked even yourself with how boldly it slipped out, but the vivid image, his devastatingly handsome face trapped between your legs, mouth glistening with your arousal made the heat bloom even more slick between your thighs.

Sir Jungkook’s hands clenched tighter on his armored thighs. A faint flush colored the tips of his ears and neck, but he remained on his knees.

“Your Highness,” he said, reverently, “I am sworn to protect you. Not to… indulge in such thoughts.”

You smiled softly. Then you leaned back on the bed, letting the crimson cloak fall open completely. The thin silk bandeau was the only thing left covering you, and even that felt too much now.

“Then I command you,” You looked down at him, this powerful knight on his knees before you, and felt a rush of pure need. “I want your mouth on me, Jungkook. Right now.”

“Your Highness, I—”

“Touch me,” you breathed, cutting him off. “Please, Jungkook…”

You reached down and grabbed his gloved hand, bringing it to your chest. Slowly, you pressed his large palm over the thin silk bandeau, letting him feel the soft, heavy weight of your breast. Your nipple was already painfully hard beneath the fabric.

Sir Jungkook’s breath hitched sharply. His entire body tensed, the muscles in his arm flexing under the armor as he fought against every instinct.

You didn’t stop there, dragging his hand lower, sliding it down your stomach until his fingers rested between your thighs. You were soaked. your petals slick and hot against his gloved fingers.

“Feel how damp you make me,” you whispered, voice shaking with need.

Sir Jungkook let out a low, strained groan. His dark eyes were fixed on your face, but you could see the violent war happening behind them.

The most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on — the princess, the future queen, was laid out before him in nothing but a flimsy silk bandeau, legs spread, pressing his hand against her dripping cunt.

“Your Highness…” he rasped, albeit desperate. “This is beyond forbidden. You are royalty. I am sworn—”

“I don’t care,” you whimpered, grinding slowly against his gloved fingers. “I need you. I’ve never felt this way before. Touch me now, my knight. Please.”

His hand trembled. For a long moment, he simply rested there, feeling your wetness soak through the leather of his glove. Then, with a broken exhale that sounded like surrender, his fingers moved.

He stroked along your soaked folds, parting the delicate petals of your most secret flower. And what a flower it was... a lush, glistening rosebud blooming only for him. Your outer lips were soft and swollen with need, flushed deep, delicate like the first blush of dawn.

As he gently spread you open, the inner petals revealed themselves: silky, and impossibly tender, layered like the finest rose in full bloom after a summer rain. At the center lay your sweetest nectar, dripping and honeyed, flowing abundantly from your aching entrance.

The knight didn’t know what came over him, but your pulsing heat and slick, puckering folds had him utterly entranced. His breathing grew ragged. You could see the way his throat worked, the way his tongue unconsciously darted out to wet his lips. He was drooling.

“May I lick you, Your Highness?” he asked hoarsely, voice thick with barely contained hunger. “Please… allow me to taste you.”

The desperate plea from such a disciplined man sent a fresh wave of arousal flooding through you.

“Yes,” you breathed, spreading your thighs wider for him, your voice trembling with raw need. “Use your mouth on me, Jungkook. Lick your princess until she cannot think.”

The moment the words left your lips, something in him broke. Sir Jungkook leaned in and dragged his hot, wet tongue slowly up your soaked slit. The first full taste of you pulled a deep, guttural groan from his chest. You were intoxicatingly sweet and dripping with arousal. He licked you again, slower this time, savoring every slick fold as if he were drinking the finest wine in the kingdom.

You cried out sharply, back arching off the bed as overwhelming pleasure flooded your body. The sensation was brand new, so intense it made your legs twitch violently.

“Oh... Jungkook!” you moaned, fingers digging into his raven hair.

The knight’s tongue circled your swollen clit before sucking it gently into his mouth, then plunged inside your tight heat, ravishing you with slow, deep strokes. The wet, filthy sounds of his mouth eagerly eating you echoed through the chamber, obscene, and shameless.

The most beautiful woman he had ever known, the future queen, was thrashing beneath him, legs shaking uncontrollably around his head, soft whimpers and loud moans spilling from her pretty lips.

Your hips rolled desperately against his face, coating his tongue, lips, and chin with your sweet release. Sir Jungkook drank every drop you gave him, groaning against your cunt as his own cock strained painfully against his armor.

He had never tasted anything so addictive.

You were already twitching, gasping, legs trembling so hard they threatened to close around his head. The pleasure was too much, too new, too overwhelming for your body.

Suddenly, Sir Jungkook pulled back slightly, his lips glistening with your juices. His dark eyes looked up at you, breathing ragged.

“Should I continue, Your Highness?” he asked hoarsely, voice thick with lust and devotion. “Tell me… do you want more?”

You could barely form words. Your body was shaking, pussy throbbing, dripping onto the mattress beneath you.

“Please don’t stop,” you whimpered desperately. “Keep licking me... please...”

The knight obeyed instantly. He buried his face back between your thighs and attacked your clit with relentless strokes of his tongue. Two thick fingers pushed inside you, curling perfectly against that sensitive spot while he sucked hard on your swollen pearl.

The pleasure hit you like a storm.

Your entire body seized up. A loud, broken scream tore from your throat as your orgasm crashed over you violently. Your thighs clamped around his head, hips bucking wildly against his mouth as you gushed on his tongue. Wave after wave of intense pleasure ripped through you, leaving you shaking uncontrollably, vision blurring at the edges.

You nearly passed out from the sheer intensity of it. body twitching, chest heaving, soft cries still falling from your lips as the pleasure refused to let go.

Sir Jungkook stayed between your thighs through every tremor, drinking down every last drop of your release like a man who had finally found salvation.

When your body finally went limp, trembling and oversensitive, he gently kissed your inner thigh before pulling back, his handsome face flushed and glistening with your arousal.

You could barely speak, still catching your breath as you stared at the sight of your proud, disciplined knight with your release shining on his lips.

—

“The Princess requires her knight’s escort to the eastern tower for stargazing.”

The message was innocent enough on paper. But the court had begun to notice how often you summoned Sir Jeon Jungkook for these private “duties.” Some whispered that the Princess trusted no one else. Others envied the knight who had earned such unwavering favor from the realm’s greatest beauty.

They had no idea what really happened once the tower door was bolted.

In the eastern tower under the stars, you would push Sir Jungkook against the cold stone wall and demand his mouth on you again. He always hesitated at first, “Your Highness, we mustn’t…” but the moment you looked at him with those wide, needy eyes and whispered “Please, Jungkook… I ache for you,” his resolve crumbled.

He would drop to his knees in full armor, push your skirts up to your waist, and bury his face between your thighs. The sounds he made while devouring you were filthy and desperately loud. wet slurps and deep groans as he drank every drop of your arousal. You quickly learned to muffle your loud moans against your own arm or his shoulder, thighs shaking violently around his head as he brought you to shattering orgasm after orgasm.

He never asked for anything in return at first. But one night, after he had made you come so hard you saw stars, you dropped to your knees in front of him, hands trembling as you freed his thick, aching cock from his breeches.

You had never seen the knight fully bare, but you had tasted him.

You took him into your mouth with clumsy but eager hunger, sucking and licking until he was groaning your name like a prayer, his gloved hand gently cradling the back of your head. When he spilled down your throat, you swallowed every drop, looking up at him with wide, adoring eyes.

The tension between you only grew hotter, more forbidden.

You began creating excuses just to be close to him.

You “accidentally” wandered into dangerous parts of the forest during hunts. You “lost” your way in the palace corridors at night. You deliberately teased foreign dignitaries until they grew too bold, all so Sir Jungkook would have to step in, pull you protectively against his armored chest, and hold you there while scolding you with his low voice.

Each time, you nestled your head against his chest plate, breathing in his scent, feeling safe in a way you had never felt with anyone else.

One quiet afternoon in the royal rose gardens, while the other knights kept their distance. The summer blooms were at their peak, rows upon rows of crimson roses spilling over marble trellises in a riot of color and fragrance. Courtiers often compared them to you. You had heard the comparison so many times throughout your life that it had long since lost all meaning.

Your attention was elsewhere when Sir Jungkook paused beside a rose bush heavy with crimson blooms. Reaching out, he selected a single flower and turned it thoughtfully between his fingers before approaching.

“A gift?” you asked.

“If Your Highness would accept it.”

The answer surprised a smile from you.

He stepped forward and tucked the rose behind your ear. His gloved fingers lingered only for a second before withdrawing, but even that brief touch seemed to affect him more than he wished to admit.

When you looked up, his gaze was fixed upon the flower. “Beautiful things are dangerous,” he said quietly.

You laughed. “I believe roses are dangerous for everyone except gardeners.”

His expression didn’t change.

“I wasn’t speaking about the rose.”

Your heart fluttered so violently you had to look away. it was becoming impossible to deny how deeply you were falling for him.

The kisses grew sloppier, more desperate with every stolen moment.

In the abandoned library, your knight would press you against the bookshelves, helmet removed, and kiss you like he was drowning, tongue sliding against yours, hands gripping your waist as if afraid you might vanish. You kissed him back just as hungrily, tugging at his hair, moaning softly into his mouth while your hand palmed the hard bulge in his breeches.

Your hunger for him was insatiable. You ached for his presence constantly. The court noticed how you lit up when he entered a room, how you instinctively moved closer to him during gatherings. They saw devotion, they saw trust.

They never saw the way you both held each other’s eyes like lovers who knew their time was stolen.

The relationship was utterly forbidden. Your father would banish him, or worse, if he ever discovered the truth. But neither of you could stop. Something real was blossoming between you.

The knight admired your wild, rebellious spirit. You admired his quiet strength and unwavering honor. In the darkness, you were no longer just princess and knight. You were becoming each other’s secret salvation. And it was only a matter of time before the tension finally snapped.

—

The Coronation.

The kingdom was in full celebration. Banners of the finest gold flew from every tower. The greatest event in decades had arrived, your coronation as Queen.

Princes from across the realms had come in droves, each more eager than the last to win your hand and the throne beside you. They brought lavish gifts, performed in grand tournaments, and showered you with compliments. The entire court watched with bated breath, waiting for you to choose.

You sat upon the raised dais in a breathtaking gown of white, looking every bit the ethereal queen-to-be. But your eyes kept drifting to the tall, armored figure standing silently behind your throne, Sir Jeon Jungkook.

He had become even more composed in public, yet you could feel the storm raging beneath his helmet. Especially when you decided to play your cruel little game.

Prince Min of Veina leaned close during the feast, whispering sweet nothings about your beauty. You laughed brightly, placing a hand on his arm, letting your fingers linger, leaning in just enough for your neckline to offer him a generous view of your breasts.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Sir Jungkook’s gloved hand tighten around the hilt of his sword until his knuckles turned white.

Another prince, a golden haired lord from the eastern isles, offered you a rose during the garden promenade. You accepted it with a coy smile, twirling it between your fingers while glancing toward your knight.

Sir Jungkook’s dark eyes burned behind the helmet. You could feel his jealousy like a living thing, hot and barely contained.

That night, after the feasting and dancing, you summoned him to the eastern tower under the usual pretense.

The moment the door closed, he was on you.

The knight pinned you against the cold stone wall. The single rose you’d been idly twirling between your fingers, a gift from one of the many princes, fell forgotten to the floor.

Sir Jungkook’s dark eyes burned with something almost feral.

“You will be wed off soon?” he growled dangerously, breath hot against your ear.

You looked up at him, heart racing. Your long, wavy hair had finally been let down after the long day, cascading over your shoulders and hips like dark silk. The tight corset of your white coronation gown was already loosened, the fabric slipping slightly off one shoulder, revealing the smooth curve of your skin.

“What do you think about Prince Min?” you asked sweetly, tilting your head. “I think he’s quite lovely. So charming. He even said he would worship me every night once we’re wed.”

Sir Jungkook’s jaw clenched so hard you heard it crack. The jealousy that had been simmering all day threatening to explode.

“Doesn’t it drive you mad, Sir Jeon?” You leaned in closer, letting your breasts brush against his armored chest. “Knowing your princess, the one you’ve been secretly devouring every night, is wanted by so many powerful men? That they all dream of putting a ring on my finger and taking me to their beds?”

“It is exquisite torture, Your Highness,” he growled, eyes burning. “Watching them look at you like they have any right to you. Knowing I’m the only one who’s ever tasted you, the only one who’s ever made you scream.”

His raw honesty sent a sharp thrill through you. You bit your lip, loving the way jealousy sharpened his features, making his dark eyes appear even more intense. He was possessive and barely holding himself back. And you wanted to push him further.

You stepped away from the wall with a teasing smile, walking over to the tall, gilded mirror that stood near the fireplace. The white gown still clung to your body, hair cascading in long, wild waves down your back. You picked up a silver brush and began slowly running it through it, watching him in the reflection.

Sir Jungkook followed you like a shadow, stopping just behind you. His tall, powerful frame loomed in the mirror, twice your size, radiating heat and restrained fury.

“Does that bother you, my knight?” A teasing smile played on your lips. “Knowing that soon I might have to let another man—”

You didn’t get to finish. Sir Jungkook’s large hand closed around your wrist, stopping the brush mid stroke. He plucked it from your fingers and set it down with a deliberate clack. His other hand gripped your hip, pulling your back flush against his armored chest.

Your breath hitched. The playful boldness you’d been wielding all night vanished in an instant.

“Enough,” he growled low against your ear, “You’ve teased me enough tonight, Your Highness.”

His dark eyes burned into yours through the mirror. The intensity there made your knees weak. This wasn’t the restrained, obedient knight anymore. This was a man who had finally reached his limit.

He reached around you and slowly began unlacing the rest of your corset. The white gown loosened further, slipping down your shoulders. You watched in the mirror as he tugged it lower, exposing your full breasts to the cool air and the warm firelight. Your nipples were hard, flushed, and sensitive.

Sir Jungkook’s hand cupped one breast possessively, squeezing it as his thumb brushed over the stiff peak. You gasped, arching into his touch.

“Look at yourself,” he ordered quietly, voice rough. “Look how beautiful you are. How perfect. And yet you let them think they could ever have this.”

He pinched your nipple, rolling it between his fingers until you whimpered. His other hand slid down, gathering the fabric of your gown and pulling it up to your waist, fully exposing your bare cunt in the mirror.

Your face bloomed bright red as you instinctively tried to close your legs, suddenly overwhelmed with shyness at the sight of yourself so lewdly displayed, flushed and completely bare in the golden firelight.

But Sir Jungkook wouldn’t allow it. His large hand gripped your thigh firmly, spreading you open again as he pressed his body harder against your back.

“Don’t hide,” His dark eyes met yours in the mirror, intense and commanding. “Look how filthy and wet you are for me.”

You shivered, unable to tear your eyes away from the reflection. The contrast was obscene, your ethereal white gown bunched around your waist, breasts exposed and heaving, legs spread wide while his armored body loomed behind you like a dark, possessive shadow.

Sir Jungkook’s hand returned between your thighs. Two thick fingers slid through your slick folds, parting them slowly so you could see everything in the mirror. You whimpered at the sight, embarrassed yet unbearably aroused.

“So beautiful,” he breathed as he circled your swollen clit with his fingertip. “This is what belongs to me. Not to any prince. Not to anyone else.”

He pushed two fingers inside you without warning, curling them deep. Your mouth fell open in a silent cry as he began ravishing you with slow, deliberate strokes that made wet, obscene sounds echo in the quiet tower.

You tried to close your legs again, overwhelmed, but he held them open with ease, his grip firm and unyielding.

“Watch,” he ordered softly, voice dark with lust. “Watch how easily I can make my princess fall apart.”

Your eyes stayed glued to the mirror as his fingers plunged in and out of your soaked cunt, his thumb rubbing tight circles on your clit. Your cheeks were flushed deep crimson, lips parted in shameless moans, breasts bouncing slightly with every thrust of his hand.

The pleasure built fast and merciless. Your legs started shaking, thighs trembling violently as you fought to stay upright.

Sir Jungkook’s fingers curled deeper, stroking that perfect spot inside you while his thumb pressed firm circles on your swollen clit.

You came hard with a broken cry, arousal gushing down his wrist and dripping onto the stone floor beneath you. Your head fell back against his armored shoulder, body convulsing as wave after wave of intense pleasure tore through right after.

The knight dragged his arousal coated fingers from your pulsing heat and brought them to his mouth, sucking them clean while his dark eyes stayed locked on yours in the mirror. The obscene sight made you whimper, legs pressing together instinctively. This time, he allowed it.

You pulled away from him shyly, legs unsteady as you walked toward the wide couch near the fireplace. You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to cover your bare breasts, suddenly overwhelmed with embarrassment.

Sir Jungkook approached you ever so slowly. His heart was pounding. you could see it in the rise and fall of his broad chest. The way your flushed cheeks and shy posture made you look so adorable only made his desire burn hotter.

He stopped in front of you, towering over your smaller frame. Without a word, he gently uncrossed your arms, exposing your breasts again. You tried to cover them once more, but he caught your wrists softly.

“You’re too beautiful to hide, my love.” he murmured, voice low.

He leaned down and took one sensitive nipple into his hot mouth, sucking gently at first, then harder. You gasped sharply, hands flying to his shoulders as overwhelming sensitivity shot through you.

“Jungkook... it’s too much...” you whimpered, lightly pushing at his shoulders, cheeks burning with shyness.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes dark with lust and affection. “You’re so sensitive here,” he whispered, almost in awe. He flicked his tongue over your nipple again, watching your reaction closely. “So angelic when you tremble like this.”

He sucked harder, alternating between your breasts, licking and biting softly until you were a whimpering mess, pushing at him weakly while your body arched into his mouth.

You grew frustrated at the unfairness, nearly naked while he was still fully armored. With a small, determined huff, you pushed him back slightly and began tugging at the straps of his armor.

“It is not fair,” you muttered, cheeks still flushed. “You get to see all of me, but I still haven’t seen you.”

The knight let you undress him, helping you remove piece after piece until he stood completely bare before you for the first time.

Your breath caught.

He was magnificent. Broad shoulders, powerfully sculpted chest marked with old scars, some long and faded, others newer. A few dark tattoos adorned his left pectoral and ribs. His abdomen was ridged with muscle, leading down to narrow hips. His cock hung heavy between his legs, thick and already hard.

You stepped closer, running your hands over his bare chest, tracing every scar with reverent fingers, exploring the strong lines of his back, more scars mapping his battles. He stood perfectly still, letting you admire him, though his breathing had grown heavier.

“You are… so manly, my knight,” you breathed, barely coherent, as your hands returned to his chest, sliding down the hard ridges of his abdomen. “So big… so perfect.”

The room had grown hotter, heavier. The air between you felt charged with months of suppressed longing. Your breaths mingled as you stared into each other’s eyes... yours wide with awe and desire, his dark with barely restrained hunger.

Sir Jungkook’s control finally snapped. He lifted you and laid you down on the wide couch near the fireplace, pinning your exploring hands above your head with one large hand, holding them there firmly before his body hovered over yours, powerful and imposing, thick cock resting heavy against your inner thigh.

“Look at me,” he commanded, voice low and rough.

You did, heart hammering.

“Tell me what you want,” he demanded, eyes burning into yours.

You squirmed beneath him, aching and desperate. “Take me,” you pleaded, trembling. “Please, Jungkook… give it to me. I need you inside me.”

Sir Jungkook let out a low groan at your words. He positioned himself at your entrance, the thick head of his cock pressing against your soaked folds. He was big, almost intimidatingly so. You felt the stretch even before he pushed in.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Your Highness,” he whispered, voice strained with worry and barely contained lust. His dark eyes searched yours, torn between desire and restraint. “You’re so tight...”

You trembled beneath him, legs parted wide around his hips. “Please,” you begged softly, cupping his face. “Don’t hold back. I need you. All of you.”

The knight exhaled shakily and began to push inside.

The stretch was intense. You gasped sharply as the thick head of his cock breached you, slowly forcing your walls open. Inch by thick inch, he sank deeper, filling you in a way you had never experienced before. It burned sweetly, bordering on too much, making your nails dig into his shoulders.

“Ah... Jungkook…” you whimpered, tears pricking your eyes at the overwhelming fullness.

He paused halfway, breathing hard, jaw clenched tight. “Tell me if it’s too much,” he rasped, rough. “I’ll stop. I swear it.”

But you shook your head, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“Don’t stop,” you pleaded, voice breaking. “I need you deeper… please.”

With a low groan, he pushed the rest of the way in, burying himself to the hilt. The fullness was devastating. You felt so stretched, so completely claimed, that for a moment you could barely breathe.

Sir Jungkook stayed still, letting you adjust, pressing soft kisses to your tear stained cheeks.

“You’re taking me so well,” he murmured, voice filled with awe and lust. “Such a good girl for me.”

When the burn finally melted into aching pleasure, you rolled your hips experimentally.

“Move,” you whispered. “Please… ruin me.”

That was all it took.

Sir Jungkook’s control snapped completely. He pulled back and thrust into you hard, setting a deep, punishing rhythm. Jealousy and months of pent up desire fueled every powerful stroke. The wet, filthy sound of his thick cock slamming into your soaked cunt filled the tower, mixing with your loud, broken moans.

He was a knight sworn to protect the crown, now utterly ruining the very sovereign he had pledged his life to shield.

“Mine,” Sir Jungkook growled, biting down on your neck hard enough to leave a dark mark. “Not theirs. Never theirs.”

He ravished you relentlessly, claiming you, marking you. His mouth was everywhere: sucking bruises into your breasts, biting your collarbone, licking the tears from your cheeks. He pinned your wrists above your head again, hips snapping against yours with raw need.

You came hard the first time, screaming his name as your walls clenched violently around his thick length. But he didn’t stop. He took you through it, then flipped you onto your hands and knees, on the wide couch.

First, he worshipped.

The knight dropped to his knees behind you, his large hands spreading your cheeks reverently. He leaned in and pressed slow, open mouthed kisses along the curve of your royal backside, lingering presses of his lips that made your breath hitch. He kissed lower, then lower still, until his tongue dragged hot and wet over your soaked folds from behind.

“So beautiful,” he murmured against your skin, breath hot and heavy. “So divine. And yet I am going to ruin every sacred inch of you.”

Then the worship turned into ruin.

He rose, gripping your hips with white knuckled force, and thrust into you from behind in one deep, devastating stroke. You cried out sharply at the stretch, the thick length of his cock forcing your walls open, filling you so completely it stole your breath.

You sobbed in pleasure, fingers clawing at the cushions as he drove into you relentlessly. The power he exerted over you was intoxicating. this hardened warrior, dominating you utterly while still worshipping every tremble of your body.

“You belong to me,” he rasped, ruining you with slow, devastating strokes now. “Say it.”

“I’m yours,” you whimpered, voice breaking. “Only yours, Jungkook... ahh!”

By the third round, you were a sobbing, whimpering mess, tears streaming down your face from overwhelming pleasure, body covered in his marks, cunt swollen and dripping with your combined release.

He took you in every way he could: against the wall, bent over the couch, riding him as he sat on the edge of the seat, then finally on your back again with your legs over his shoulders as he drove impossibly deep.

All night long, the tower echoed with your moans, his deep groans, the obscene wet sounds of your bodies joining. He claimed you utterly and completely devoted.

When he finally came for the last time, buried deep inside you, he held you tight, spilling pulse after pulse of hot seed into your womb, filling you until you felt impossibly full, claimed from the inside out.

Sir Jeon Jungkook pressed his forehead to yours, his lips brushing against yours with every word.

“You command the entire kingdom, my lady,” he whispered reverently, “but here in this hidden place… you are mine to ruin.”

You could only tremble in his arms, utterly spent, legs wrapped around his waist, heart pounding wildly as the fire crackled beside you.

The weight of what you had just done, and what it meant for both of you settled uncomfortably in the air. But in that moment, wrapped in his powerful arms, marked and filled by your knight, nothing else in the kingdom mattered.

The days that followed were a delicate illusion of peace.

It was late morning when you found yourself in the secluded royal bathing pool fed by a gentle river, surrounded by floating lily pads and white blossoms that drifted lazily on the current. The water was warm, scented with rose and lavender oils poured in by your maids. Sunlight filtered through the overhanging willow branches, casting soft, dappled light across the surface.

You leaned back against the smooth stone edge, your long dark hair floating around you like ink in water. Your body still carried the secret marks of the previous night, faint bruises on your hips, love bites hidden beneath the waterline, and a persistent, delicious ache between your thighs that reminded you with every shift who had claimed you so thoroughly.

Your maids, Elara, Verra, and old, wise Selyse moved around you carefully. They had raised you since you were a babe, more mothers than servants. They knew you better than anyone.

Elara poured another stream of warm water over your shoulders, her sharp eyes catching the faint flush that still lingered on your cheeks.

“You are glowing again this morning, my lady,” she said lightly, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “One might think the moon itself had kissed your skin.”

Verra, younger and bolder, laughed softly as she massaged oil into your scalp. “Or perhaps a certain tall, dark eyed knight has been keeping you… well attended.”

You felt your face heat, but you couldn’t stop the small, secret smile that curved your lips.

Selyse, the eldest, clicked her tongue but her eyes were soft with affection. “Hush, you two. Our princess has always been radiant. Though…” she tilted her head, studying you, “there is a new light in her eyes these days. And a certain weariness in her step that speaks of long nights.”

You bit your lip, sinking a little lower into the water as lily pads brushed against your skin.

“It is nothing,” you murmured, though the flush in your cheeks betrayed you.

“Nothing?” Vera teased, wading closer, her voice dropping conspiratorially.

“We have seen you grow from a wild little girl into this breathtaking woman. We know your heart. And we know it does not belong to any of those puffed up princes parading through the halls.”

You reached out, squeezing Elara’s hand, then Verra’s, your voice dropping to a shy, trembling whisper.

“It is true,” you confessed, cheeks burning hotter than the midday sun. “I have given myself to Sir Jeon. Body and heart. He is the only man I have ever wanted. The only one who has ever touched me.”

For a heartbeat, silence fell over the bathing pool. Then came the gasps.

Elara’s eyes widened, her hand flying to her mouth. Verra let out a delighted little squeak, nearly dropping the oil vial. Even old Selyse, usually so composed, looked momentarily stunned before her face broke into a warm, knowing smile.

“Oh, my sweet girl,” Elara breathed, scandalized, thrilled. “You wicked little thing! With your own knight? Right under the King’s nose?”

Verra giggled uncontrollably, splashing water playfully in your direction. “And here we thought you were simply fond of him! All those late night ‘stargazing’ trips… you minx! Was he gentle? Was he… big?”

“Verra!” Selyse scolded, though her eyes sparkled with amusement. She turned to you with motherly affection. “Though I must admit, we have suspected for some time. The way he looks at you when he thinks no one is watching… that man is utterly gone for you, my lady.”

You buried your face in your hands, mortified but unable to stop the shy, giddy smile spreading across your lips. Your gaze drifted across the river to where Sir Jeon Jungkook stood guard a respectful distance away, half hidden among the willow trees.

Even from here, you could feel the weight of his stare. He stood tall and imposing in his armor, but his dark eyes were fixed on you with a quiet, burning intensity that always made your stomach flutter.

You bit your lip, still flushed from both the warm water and the memory of his mouth, his hands, his body claiming you so thoroughly the night before.

“He is… everything,” you whispered dreamily, more to yourself than the maids. “Strong. Honorable. And when we are alone… he worships me like I am his entire world.”

Verra let out another delighted laugh. “As he should! Our princess deserves nothing less. Though if the King ever finds out…”

Selyse gently squeezed your shoulder, her voice softening with both love and concern.

“Then we will protect your secret as fiercely as we have protected you all these years,” she said. “You deserve to love who you love, my dear. Crown or no crown.”

You looked back at Sir Jungkook again. He hadn’t moved from his post among the willow trees, tall and steadfast in his armor, but your heart ached with a sharp mix of fear and wonder.

If The King ever discovered the truth, he would not spare your knight. Sir Jungkook would be banished, or worse. And you… you would be married off immediately to seal the wound.

The thought disturbed you deeply.

You turned back to the water, forcing a smile for your maids, but the warmth of the bath could no longer chase away the chill settling in your chest.

—

The rumors had begun to spread like fire through the palace corridors.

A lesser knight claimed he had seen “suspicious movement” near the eastern tower. One of the visiting princes mentioned, with a sly smile, that the Princess seemed unusually attached to her personal guard. Nothing concrete, nor proven. But the whispers were growing louder.

Your maids noticed your distraction immediately. During your morning dressing, Verra fastened the laces of your gown with unusually tight pulls, her voice urgent.

“My lady… you must be more careful,” she whispered. “Some of the king’s men have been asking questions about Sir Jeon. They say he spends too many nights away from the barracks. And one of Prince Min’s retainers swears he saw a tall figure slipping into your wing after midnight.”

Elara’s hands paused on your hair. “The knight is being cautious now. He avoids being seen with you as much. But you… you still look at him like he hung the moon. It is only a matter of time before the King hears something he cannot ignore.”

Selyse placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, her eyes full of love and worry. “You are playing with fire, sweet girl. And fire does not care how much you love it.”

Your heart clenched with fear. You hadn’t seen your knight alone in a week. He had been deliberately distant, protecting you both by keeping his distance. The absence gnawed at you like hunger.

That night, you sent for him under the pretense of needing extra security for a private walk in the inner courtyard.

The moment the hidden door to your chambers closed behind him, you were on him.

You pushed Sir Jungkook against the wall, frustration and fear pouring out of you in a desperate kiss. Your hands fisted in his tunic, tugging him closer.

“Where have you been?” you demanded between kisses, voice shaking. “I was scared. I thought something had happened to you. I thought my father had already—”

“I’m here,” he whispered against your lips, rough with emotion. He pulled you closer, arms wrapping around you. “I’m right here, my love.”

But then he pulled back slightly, forehead pressed to yours. His dark eyes were filled with pain.

“I cannot stay,” he said quietly. The words hit you like a blow. “Your father has ordered me to lead a company to the western borders. There have been reports of raiders. He says it is to prove my devotion to protecting the realm… and you. He also made it clear I can no longer linger so closely around you. The rumors are growing too loud.”

You stared at him, heart shattering.

“No,” you whispered, then louder, “No. You cannot leave me. Not now. Not after everything.”

Tears stung your eyes as the hurt poured out.

“After our first night, you pulled away. You kept your distance like I was poison. And now you’re leaving entirely? What if something happens to you out there? What if I lose you forever? I can’t take it, Jungkook. I won’t survive it.”

Your hands moved frantically, tugging at the straps of his armor with desperate, angry fingers.

“I don’t care about the king. I don’t care about the borders. I only care about you.”

Piece by piece, you stripped him. The armor fell to the floor with heavy clangs until he stood completely bare before you, broad chest, scarred skin, powerful frame looking every bit of the warrior he was. You shoved him back onto the bed and climbed on top of him, straddling his hips.

Sir Jungkook’s hands moved instinctively to the laces of your corset, trying to free you fully, but you slapped his hand away, tears already glistening in your eyes.

But the knight was patient. He sat up slowly, your legs still wrapped tightly around his waist, and gently cupped your face with both hands. His thumbs brushed away the tears on your cheeks with heartbreaking tenderness.

“My love,” he whispered, voice soothing, “Let me worship you. Let me take care of you tonight. Please.”

He leaned in and captured one of your sensitive breasts in his mouth, sucking slowly. His tongue swirled around your stiff nipple, drawing a shaky moan from you. He moved to the other, giving it the same devoted attention, sucking and licking until your back arched and fresh tears slipped down your cheeks, this time from overwhelming sensation and emotion.

Holding you close, then gently but firmly, Sir Jungkook leaned back, gripping your hips and guiding you upward. In one rapid motion, he pulled you over his face, settling you directly onto his waiting mouth. Your soaked folds pressed flush against his lips and tongue, your thighs framing his head as he looked up at you with pure hunger.

“Use me,” he growled against your dripping folds, the vibration sending sparks through your core. “Pleasure yourself on my tongue love. I want to drown in you.”

You hesitated for half a second, still shy and nervous, cheeks burning hot even as your body screamed for more. But the frantic ache between your legs won out. You lowered yourself more fully, your slick cunt sliding over his mouth, his nose buried against your clit. He groaned loudly, the sound muffled and obscene as he immediately speared his tongue deep inside you, licking and sucking at your juices like a man starved.

You started moving almost desperately, grinding down with frantic little rocks of your hips. Shyness still flickered in your chest, making you whimper and bite your lip, but the pleasure overrode everything. Your hands braced on the headboard as wet, filthy sounds filled the room, the slick slide of your cunt over his tongue, his eager slurping and moaning, the way he sucked your swollen clit between his lips and flicked it mercilessly.

“Oh gods...” you gasped. Your thighs trembled around his head as you grew bolder, grinding harder, smearing your arousal all over his face. He gripped your cheeks, spreading them, holding you down so you could use him exactly how you needed. His tongue ravished in and out of your dripping hole, then flattened to lap broad strokes from your entrance to your clit, devouring every drop.

But it wasn’t enough.

You lifted off his face with a wet pop, strings of your arousal connecting you to his glistening mouth. His eyes were dark, lips swollen and shiny with your juices. Before he could speak, you slid down his body impatiently.

You straddled his hips, wrapped your hand around his thick, throbbing cock, and sank down onto him in one frantic motion.

The stretch made you cry out, but you didn’t stop. You rode him hard, bouncing on his length with frantic, emotional need, your breasts bouncing heavily with every harsh drop of your hips.

“Don’t leave me,” you sobbed, riding him faster, tears falling onto his chest. “Please, Jungkook… I can’t lose you. Not after this. Not after you’ve ruined me for anyone else.”

He thrust up to meet you, matching your desperate rhythm, his strong hands gripping your hips to guide you deeper.

“I don’t want to go,” he rasped, voice breaking with the same pain. “But I must. Your father commands it. I have to prove my loyalty… so I can stay by your side.”

You leaned down, kissing him messily through your tears, riding him like you could keep him here forever if you just moved fast enough.

“Then stay inside me,” you begged, voice cracking. “Fill me up. So deep that a part of you stays with me even when you’re gone. I want to carry you with me when they try to take you away.”

Sir Jungkook groaned deeply. His hands tightened on your hips as he suddenly flipped you onto your back, pinning you beneath his powerful body.

He made love to you then, with deep, devastating strokes that reached the very core of you. His mouth never left your skin, sucking marks into your neck, whispering promises between every thrust.

“You are mine,” he breathed against your lips, hips rolling deeply. “I will come back to you. I will fill you again and again until you swell with our future.”

You wrapped your arms and legs around him, clinging desperately as another orgasm built inside you. When it finally crashed over you, you sobbed his name, walls pulsing tightly around his thick cock.

Sir Jungkook followed right after, burying himself as deep as possible with a low, guttural groan. He came hard, flooding your womb with thick, pulsing ropes of his seed, holding you so tightly it felt like he was trying to merge your souls together.

Even after, he stayed buried inside you, pressing soft kisses to your damp forehead, your cheeks, your trembling lips.

“I don’t want you to go,” you whispered, small and broken. “I love you too much.”

Sir Jungkook pressed a soft kiss to your temple, his arms never loosening. “I know, my love,” he murmured. “And that is why I must return to you. No matter what.”

The weeks following Sir Jungkook’s departure had stretched into an endless gray fog.

You moved through your royal duties like a ghost wearing a crown. You sat through council meetings with a straight spine and a hollow smile, listening to nobles bicker about alliances, trade routes while your mind wandered back to your knight’s strong arms. Every night since, your bed felt too large, too cold. You would press your face into the pillow he had once used and fight the ache in your chest.

You missed him with a desperation that bordered on madness.

This morning was no different. You had barely kept your breakfast down before the maids helped you into a heavy velvet gown the color of deep wine for yet another assembly with potential suitors. The princes and lords from neighboring kingdoms were growing impatient. Your coronation was only a month away, and the pressure to choose a consort was mounting like a noose around your throat.

By midday, the nausea returned with a vengeance. You barely made it through the formal greetings before excusing yourself to the private solar, hand pressed to your mouth.

Elara followed quickly with a basin. You retched violently into it, eyes watering.

“Your Highness…” she whispered, rubbing gentle circles on your back.

“I’m fine,” you rasped, waving her away. “Just… something I ate.”

But it wasn’t.

Later that evening, after the day’s obligations were finally over, Vera and Selyse insisted on the usual massage to ease the tension in your shoulders. They helped you out of your gown until you lay on the wide cushioned table in nothing but a thin silk shift.

The moment Selyse’s skilled hands moved over your breasts, the older maid froze.

Verra, who was working on your legs, also stilled.

“…Your Highness,” Selyse said carefully, “Your breasts… they are fuller. Tender, yes?”

Your breath hitched. You had noticed it days ago but had tried to ignore the swelling, the sensitivity. The way even the softest fabric sometimes made you wince.

Verra’s hands gently pressed against your lower belly, not quite a touch, more an assessment. “And the sickness every morning… the fatigue… the way you’ve been crying in your chambers…”

Your eyes filled with tears. You turned your face into your folded arms, shoulders shaking.

Selyse knelt beside the table, taking your hand gently. “My lady… are you with a child?”

You didn’t answer at first. Then a broken sob escaped you.

“I think so,” you whispered. “I… I don’t know for certain, but the timing…” Your voice cracked. “It would be his. Sir Jungkook’s.”

Both maids exchanged a heavy glance. This changed everything.

Verra spoke softly, “My lady... with your coronation approaching. The lords are already circling like vultures, pushing their sons at you. If this comes out before you choose a prince…”

“I know,” you said, voice muffled. Fresh tears slipped down your cheeks. “I know what it means. But I can’t… I can’t just marry one of them. Not when I’m carrying the child of the only man I’ve ever loved.”

You sat up slowly, clutching the silk shift to your chest, arms wrapped protectively around your still flat stomach.

“My dear knight...” you sniffled. “He is out there fighting gods-know-what, and I’m here pretending to be the perfect princess while my body betrays our secret.”

Selyse brushed a strand of hair from your face with motherly tenderness. “We can hide it a little longer, Highness. Looser gowns. Ginger tea for the sickness. But you must decide soon what path you will take. The child… it will not stay hidden forever.”

You nodded, but your heart was breaking all over again. The thought of choosing one of those cold, ambitious princes while carrying Sir Jungkook’s child made you feel ill all over again.

Selyse pressed a kiss to the top of your head, her voice firm with loyalty. “We pray he returns soon, my lady. And until then, we will guard you and this little one with our lives.”

—

The weeks blurred into months as winter settled over the kingdom like a heavy white shroud. Snow blanketed the towers and gardens, turning the world soft and silent, yet inside your chest, the storm only grew louder.

Sir Jeon Jungkook had not returned.

Your belly had swelled noticeably now, a gentle but undeniable curve that marked the life growing within you. With the help of Elara, Verra, and Selyse, you hid it beneath layers of loose, flowing gowns and heavy cloaks lined with fur.

The rich fabrics concealed the truth for now, but you could no longer ignore the way your body changed, the tender fullness of your breasts, the occasional flutter of movement beneath your skin, and the constant, bone deep exhaustion.

You had begun excusing yourself from the suitors’ assemblies more frequently, claiming headaches or matters of state. But the King, grew increasingly impatient.

In the grand throne room one frost laced afternoon, he fixed you with a stern gaze as snow fell outside the tall windows. “You cannot delay any longer, daughter,” he spoke, heavy with royal command. “Prince Min of Viena is a strong candidate. The coronation is weeks away. You must choose a consort soon. The realm needs stability.”

You bowed your head, hands clasped tightly over your hidden belly beneath the voluminous velvet. “Yes, Father,” you murmured, the lie tasting like ash. Inside, your heart screamed for the only man you wanted.

Every few days, with your maids’ help, you sent letters. Verra would sneak them to a trusted rider, sealed with your private wax. You poured your soul onto the parchment; how much you missed him, the way your body was changing, the secret you carried, your love that only deepened with every passing day. Yet no responses ever came. The silence gnawed at you, feeding nightmares of him lying wounded on some distant battlefield or worse.

The worry became unbearable.

One bitter winter morning, wrapped in a thick hooded cloak that concealed your swollen middle, you slipped away from the castle with only Elara and Selyse accompanying you. The three of you rode through the snow dusted forest to a modest stone cottage on the outskirts of the kingdom, the home where Sir Jungkook had grown up.

When the door opened, an older woman with kind eyes and streaks of silver in her dark hair stood before you. Sir Jungkook’s mother. She froze at the sight of the princess on her doorstep, her hand flying to her chest.

“Your Highness…?” she whispered, stunned. “Surely I do not deserve to be blessed with your presence at my humble door. Please, come inside before the cold takes you.”

She ushered you, Elara, and Selyse quickly into the warm cottage, the scent of pinewood and baking bread wrapping around you like an embrace. The fire crackled merrily in the hearth as she helped you remove your snow dusted cloak. Only when you were seated by the fire did her gaze drop to the unmistakable swell of your belly beneath the loose gown.

You took a steadying breath, your hands resting protectively over your rounded stomach.

“I carry his child,” you said softly, trembling with emotion. “Your son’s. Sir Jungkook’s. He does not know yet… he has not returned, and I… I needed to feel close to him somehow.”

Jungkook’s mother, Maera, stood completely still for a long moment, her eyes wide with shock. Then her hand flew to her mouth as tears welled up in her eyes.

“Oh… gods above,” she breathed, her voice cracking. “A grandchild…? From my Jungkook?” Fresh tears flowed freely as she dropped to her knees in front of you, taking your hands in hers with deep reverence. “My lady… my princess. You honor me beyond words. You honor my son. To think that you, a royal daughter, would carry his child… I am stunned. Truly stunned. And so deeply moved.”

She pressed her forehead to your knuckles, weeping quietly with pure joy and emotion. When she lifted her head again, her eyes shone with fierce affection.

“You are already family to me,” she whispered. “Come here, sweet child.” She rose and pulled you into a warm embrace, cradling you gently as if you were made of glass. “You must be so frightened, carrying this secret alone while he is away. But you are not alone anymore. Not while I draw breath.”

You felt safe in her arms, the weight on your heart easing just a little as winter wind howled softly outside the cottage walls.

After composing herself, Maera wiped her tears and fetched a small wooden chest from a shelf. She sat beside you, opening it with trembling hands.

“Look,” she said tenderly, pulling out several treasured items. She showed you a faded sketch of a chubby baby with dark, serious eyes —Sir Jungkook as an infant. Another portrait showed him as a sturdy little boy of four, holding a wooden sword with determination. There was even a lock of his soft baby hair tied with a ribbon.

“He was always so intense, even as a babe,” she said with a watery laugh. “Strong and quiet… but when he smiled, the whole world lit up. Just like I imagine your little one will.”

You traced the portraits with gentle fingers, tears slipping down your own cheeks. Seeing these glimpses of him as a child made your love for the knight swell even deeper. You could so clearly picture your baby with his eyes, his strength, his rare smile. The thought made your heart ache with both joy and longing.

Maera kept one hand over yours, cherishing you openly. “Thank you for coming to me,” she murmured. “For trusting me with this precious news. We will wait for him together, my daughter. And when he returns, he will be the happiest man alive.”

The two of you sat by the fire for a long while — his mother and the mother of his child, talking softly as snow continued to fall outside, bound by love for the same man.

The days after your visit to Maera’s cottage only deepened the ache in your soul. Winter grew harsher, and so did your impatience. Every morning you woke with your hands on your swelling belly, feeling the strong kicks of his child, and the longing became unbearable.

One evening in the royal chambers, you fell to your knees before the King, tears streaming down your face. “Father, please… I beg you. Bring Sir Jungkook back. I need him. I cannot do this without him.”

The King frowned, confused by your desperation. “Daughter, he is leading my forces on the border. The realm needs him there. Why this sudden insistence on one knight?”

You could not tell him the truth. “I just… need him,” you whispered brokenly. “Please.”

He did not relent. The pressure to choose a suitor only intensified.

And then the sickness took hold.

Your body ached constantly. deep soreness in your back, hips, and breasts that made every movement painful. The baby’s kicks, once a comfort, now left you breathless. You grew feverish and weak.

Elara, Verra, and Selyse rarely left your side, forcing herbal teas and bitter medicines down your throat while piling warm blankets over you. For nearly a week you were bedridden, barely able to leave your chambers, hidden away from the court under the excuse of a winter chill.

One cold, silent night, as snow tapped gently against the window panes, you drifted in and out of a fevered haze. The herbs made the world soft and blurry around the edges.

You thought it was a dream when the heavy door to your chambers opened with a quiet creak and a tall, familiar figure stepped inside, shedding his snow dusted cloak. The firelight caught on his sharp jawline and those intense dark eyes.

Strong arms slipped beneath you, lifting you carefully as he climbed into your grand bed. A warm, calloused hand gently cradled your swollen belly. You felt the press of soft, reverent lips against the curve of your stomach.

“My love…” The knight’s deep voice whispered against your skin, rough with emotion. “I’m here. I finally came back to you.”

“Jungkook…?” you murmured drowsily, eyelids heavy, unsure if this was real or another cruel dream born of longing and medicine.

“It’s me,” he breathed, pulling your body flush against his solid chest. He was real. warm, solid, smelling of snow, leather, and the faint scent of campfires. “I’ve been aching for you every single day. Your touch, your voice… it kept me alive out there.”

His large hand stroked slow, soothing circles over your rounded belly, feeling the baby shift and kick beneath his palm. He lowered his head, pressing his lips directly to the taut skin.

You let out a tired, broken sound. “You left me… You promised you’d come back sooner. Look at me… I’m so sore, so heavy with your child, and you weren’t here…”

Sir Jungkook chuckled softly, the sound warm against your skin, even as his eyes glistened with unshed tears. “I know, my princess. I deserve your scolding. I’m deeply sorry.” He kissed your belly again and again, soft open mouthed presses wherever he could reach. Then he trailed his lips higher, attaching his mouth gently to the swollen, aching curve of your breasts, sucking lightly and kissing away the soreness with such care that you whimpered in relief.

His hands never stopped moving, massaging the deep ache in your lower back, cupping and gently holding your heavy breasts to ease their weight, stroking your hips and thighs. He intertwined his fingers with yours, holding your hand tightly as if afraid you might vanish.

“You are unreal, my love.” he murmured, voice hoarse with awe as he looked at you. “Your glow… it’s deeper now. The way pregnancy has changed you… you’re beyond anything I could have imagined. You shine like starlight. Carrying our child has only made you more radiant, more mine.”

You clung to him weakly, drowsy but desperate for his touch. “The baby… it kicks so much. I don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl… but it feels like you. Strong and stubborn.”

Jungkook smiled against your temple, one hand still resting warmly over your belly. “This child is the product of our love. A piece of both of us. I already love them more than life.” He kissed you deeply, slowly, pouring months of aching into it. “Every battle, every cold night, I thought only of coming home to you like this… holding you, feeling our baby move, worshipping the body that’s creating our future.”

He continued kissing every place that ached... the sides of your breasts, the curve of your belly, the inside of your wrist, his mouth soft and devoted. You melted into him, the pain easing under his gentle care as he held you close.

“Stay…” you whispered tiredly, already slipping back into sleep.

“I’m here right now,” he promised, lips brushing your ear. “Sleep, my love. I’ve got you both.”

When morning light filtered through the heavy curtains, you woke slowly, body still aching but strangely comforted.

The bed beside you was cold. No warmth lingered. No cloak on the chair. No scent of him on the pillows. Only the faint memory of strong hands, whispered words to your belly, and soft kisses remained.

You touched your swollen stomach, feeling another firm kick, and tears filled your eyes.

Was it a dream? A fevered hallucination woven from medicine, longing, and love? Or had Sir Jungkook truly returned to you in the dead of night… only to disappear again before dawn?

The herbs and medicines your maids prepared worked their magic. The fever finally broke, the deep soreness in your body eased into a manageable ache, and the constant nausea faded. Though you were still tired, your strength slowly returned. Your belly continued to grow rounder and heavier, the baby’s kicks becoming more insistent and lively.

One quiet winter evening, when the moon hung full over the snow covered palace, your maids turned your chambers into a secret sanctuary.

Accompanied by Sir Jungkook’s mother, they had worked together in absolute secrecy. No one outside your trusted circle knew. They had decorated the large private solar adjacent to your bedroom with soft candlelight, evergreen boughs, and winter white roses. Warm furs and silk pillows were arranged in a luxurious nest near the hearth. Incense of myrrh filled the air, and a small table held gifts wrapped in fine cloth.

They helped you into a loose, flowing gown of the softest ivory silk that draped beautifully over your swollen belly, leaving your shoulders bare. When you stepped into the room, all four women bowed their heads in reverence.

Selyse took your hand and guided you to the center of the soft pillows. “Tonight we celebrate you, my lady. And the precious life you carry. No one else will know of this blessing. It is ours alone.”

They treated you with deep adoration, as though you were sacred.

Elara gently massaged your feet with warm scented oil while Maera brushed your hair until it shone. Verra offered you sweet honeyed fruits and warm spiced milk, foods meant to nourish both you and the baby. Selyse laid her hands lightly on your rounded belly and spoke soft blessings for a safe birth and a strong child.

Selyse, ever wise, placed a small crown of dried herbs and winter berries on your head. “You are the vessel of love and life,” she murmured. “Even in these uncertain times, you bloom. We honor you as our princess… and as the mother of Sir Jungkook’s heir.”

You felt tears prick your eyes as they presented their secret gifts: tiny embroidered blankets, a soft knitted cap in deep green, a small silver pendant shaped like a blooming rose, a symbol of motherhood.

Vera leaned her cheek against your belly for a moment, grinning when the baby kicked in response. “He or she is strong already. Just like their father.”

You placed both hands over your swollen stomach, feeling another firm flutter. The warmth of their love and the secret celebration soothed the constant ache of missing your knight.

“Thank you,” you whispered, “All of you. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Elara kissed your temple. “We will keep you and this little one safe until Sir Jungkook returns. And he will return.”

The warmth of the secret celebration lingered on your skin as you returned to your chambers that night. The maids had just helped you out of the ivory silk gown when a royal messenger knocked urgently.

“The King demands your presence immediately, Your Highness. In his private study.”

You had no time to prepare. Still glowing from the love and blessings of your maids, you wrapped yourself in a heavy velvet robe that concealed your very swollen belly and followed the messenger.

The moment you entered the study, the atmosphere turned icy. Your father stood behind his desk, several of your letters spread before him.

“Daughter,” he spoke, controlled. “I have given you time to come to me yourself. I know you have been sending letters to the front lines. To Sir Jungkook, specifically.” He turned to face you, his expression stern but not yet furious. “I know of your… admiration for him. Speak truthfully now. What is this attachment?”

Your throat tightened. This was the moment. With your belly heavy with his child and your heart aching, you could no longer hide everything.

“Father…” you began, voice trembling as you stepped closer. “It is more than admiration. I love him. Sir Jungkook is the only man I want.” Your hands instinctively moved to cradle your stomach. “And I… I am carrying his child.”

Silence crashed over the room.

The King’s eyes widened, then narrowed sharply as his gaze dropped to the unmistakable swell beneath your gown. His face darkened with shock, then rage.

“You what?” he hissed. “A knight’s bastard? While I have been parading princes before you? While the entire realm waits for you to secure the throne with a proper alliance?”

“Father, please,” you begged, tears filling your eyes. “It is his. Our love is real. If you would only let him return, we could—”

The King’s face twisted with fury. “You dare speak such filth to me? A royal princess swollen with a common knight’s bastard?”

You rebelled, voice shaking but defiant. “It is not filth. It is love. I will not marry Prince Min. I will not let you use me as a pawn for alliances while I carry the man I love’s child.”

“Enough!” The King slammed his fist on the table, making you flinch. “I have been patient with your childish infatuation, but this is treason against your bloodline. You will do as you are told! Your fate is sealed. You will marry Prince Min before the month ends.”

Later that same night, before your maids could even calm you, you found your most trusted rider in the stables. With tears streaming down your face and snow falling around you, you whispered your final message: “Tell him… tell Sir Jungkook that I will wait for him. No matter how long it takes. My heart is his alone. I will wait.”

The rider bowed and galloped into the night. No response ever came.

The next weeks were a nightmare.

Prince Min visited often, his eyes raking over your body with open lust and infatuation. He complimented your “ethereal glow”, clearly aroused by your pregnant form, but his arrogance disgusted you. He spoke openly of claiming the throne through you, of bedding you the moment you were his. You hated him with every fiber of your being.

You fought your father harder than ever, refusing to attend meetings with Prince Min, screaming that you would rather die than marry him. But the King had reached his limit.

One brutal afternoon, he summoned you again and placed a bloodied cloak and a forged letter before you.

“Sir Jeon Jungkook is dead,” he said flatly. “He fell in battle two weeks ago. This is proof.”

The world shattered.

You collapsed to the floor, a guttural sob tearing from your throat. The baby inside you kicked as if sensing your pain. From that moment, you broke completely.

You refused to eat. You barely slept. You stopped speaking, even to Elara, Verra, and Selyse who begged you through tears to think of the child. You lay in bed for days, staring at nothing, your once radiant glow fading into pale exhaustion. Your maids feared for both your life and the baby’s.

Despite how numb you had become, when your maids gently suggested taking you to Maera’s quiet home on the edge of the forest, you agreed without protest. You were taken there in secret under the cover of night.

Maera, a strong but grieving woman with the same dark eyes as her son, took you in without question. She cared for you with quiet hands and even quieter words. You didn’t speak much to her either, but you accepted her care wholeheartedly. After all, she was mourning the loss of her son, and you were mourning the loss of your lover and the father of your child.

The King, despite his fury, still sent guards to watch over you from a distance. You were still royalty, still carrying what he believed might be his grandchild. But you could only think of the protection you once had... the strongest, safest pair of arms that had ever wrapped around you.

You mourned deeply. But you couldn’t be completely selfish with a baby on the way, restless and eager to come into the world.

The labor came on a stormy night.

The pains started suddenly and violently. Maera and your maids worked frantically around you as you screamed and cried, gripping the sheets until your knuckles turned white. The King himself had ridden out in secret when he heard you had gone into labor, standing outside the cottage with a face pale with rare fear.

He didn’t know how to comfort you. He only knew one thing, his daughter was calling for her knight in her delirium.

Even though he viewed the child as the product of a sinful affair, something in him softened at the sound of your broken sobs. He could not lose you.

Inside the cottage, you gave birth to a baby girl.

She was small, chubby, with a shock of raven hair and big, dark eyes that looked exactly like her father’s. The moment the midwife placed her on your chest, fresh tears streamed down your face.

“She looks like him…” you whispered, hoarse and broken. “My little love… she has his eyes.”

You held her close, sobbing softly as the pain and grief mixed with a fragile, overwhelming love. Even in your exhaustion, you couldn’t stop crying. You believed Sir Jungkook was dead. The thought that your daughter would never know her father tore you apart.

Maera wept beside you, gently stroking your hair. “She’s beautiful,” she whispered. “Just like her mother.”

Outside, the King stood in the rain, waiting.

When the door finally opened and the midwife stepped out, he demanded to know if you and the child were alive. Upon hearing they both were, something in his hardened heart shifted.

He turned to his captain without a word and gave the order.

“Send riders to the western borders at once. Bring Sir Jeon Jungkook back. Tell him… his princess has need of him.”

It would take time. The borders were far, and the roads were muddy from the storms. A week, perhaps a month.

In the quiet warmth of the cottage, you held your newborn daughter against your chest, wrapped in soft linen.

You rocked her gently as she fussed against your breast, nursing hungrily. Your maids and Maera moved around you, bringing broth, fresh cloths, and ever soft words. But you barely spoke. The grief had hollowed you out.

“I wish you could meet your father,” you whispered to the baby one quiet night, voice cracking. Tears slipped down your cheeks as she latched on again. “He would have held you so carefully. He would have loved you more than anything in this world. He would have protected us both…”

Maera sat beside you, her own eyes red from mourning. She placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. “He would have been so proud,” she said softly. “Of both of you.”

You could only nod, throat too tight to speak. The emptiness inside you felt endless. Every time the baby cried, every time she looked up at you with those familiar dark eyes, the pain returned like a fresh wound.

The King demanded your return to the palace, as you were still royalty, still bound to your father’s will despite carrying a child out of wedlock. He wrote letter after letter insisting you resume your duties and prepare for the inevitable marriage to Prince Min. You refused to answer most of them.

Your maids tried their best to comfort you, but even they could not reach the depths of your sorrow. The only light in your world was your daughter. Tiny, perfect, with Jungkook’s dark eyes and a tuft of raven hair. You held her constantly, whispering stories about her father, singing lullabies with a voice that often broke halfway through.

You mourned him deeply. The King had not even granted him a proper funeral. No rites. No chance to say goodbye. Just a bloodied cloak and a cold declaration.

One quiet evening, Maera left the cottage to fetch groceries from the nearby village. Your maids had been called back to the palace on the King’s orders, duties they could not refuse. For the first time in weeks, it was just you and your baby in the small, warm cottage.

You sat by the window, cradling her in your arms. She cooed softly, tiny fingers wrapping around yours as you gently rocked her. For a few precious minutes, you allowed yourself to smile a real, soft smile as you played with her little hands and kissed her forehead.

“My baby,” you whispered, “The loveliest babe. Don’t tell the queens and princesses, I think they’d be terribly jealous.”

The baby blinked up at you. “Oh, yes,” you continued solemnly. “Especially of those cheeks.”

You leaned back in the chair as exhaustion eventually won over you, your eyes growing heavy. With your daughter nestled safely against your chest, sleep claimed you quickly.

When you woke, the cottage was awfully quiet.

Your arms were empty.

Panic slammed into you like a physical blow. You shot upright, heart hammering wildly as you looked around the room.

The baby was gone.

“No… no, no, no...” you gasped, stumbling to your feet, voice rising into a broken sob. “Where is my baby?!”

You searched frantically, under the blankets, behind the chairs, near the hearth, terror clawing at your throat. Your mind spun with nightmarish possibilities. Had someone taken her? Had the King sent men to steal her away?

Then you saw him.

A tall figure standing near the doorway, cradling your daughter gently in his strong arms. She was sleeping peacefully against his chest, tiny fist curled into his tunic.

Your knees buckled.

It was Sir Jungkook.

He looked exhausted, travel worn, mud on his boots, shadows under his eyes, but he was alive. Real. His dark eyes met yours, filled with unbearable love and pain.

You stared at him, trembling violently, refusing to believe what you were seeing.

“No…” you whispered, shaking your head. “No, no, this isn’t real. You’re dead. They told me you were dead. This is another dream. You always come in my dreams and then you leave me again—”

Your voice cracked into a sob as you backed away, hands clutching your chest.

“You left me,” you cried, tears streaming down your face. “You left me and our child. I mourned you. I almost died mourning you. Please… don’t do this to me again. I can’t take another dream. I can’t wake up to find you gone again.”

Sir Jungkook’s face crumpled with anguish. He took one careful step forward, still cradling your daughter like the most precious thing in the world.

“My love,” he said hoarsely, voice breaking. “It’s not a dream. I’m here. I’m real. Your father… he lied. He sent me away to the borders to keep me from you. But I came back the moment he allowed it. I rode without stopping.”

You shook your head harder, tears falling faster, refusing to believe it even as your heart screamed at you to run to him.

“You’re dead,” you repeated, voice small and shattered. “You have to be dead… because if you’re not, then you let me believe it. You never answered my letters. Not one. I wrote to you every single day, pouring my heart out, begging you to come back to me, to our child… and you never...”

Fresh tears spilled down your cheeks as the pain twisted deeper.

“You were in on it, weren’t you?” you whispered, voice breaking. “You let my father tell me you were gone. You left me here to rot in grief while I carried your child alone. How could you?”

The knight’s face crumpled with agony. He took a step forward, but you flinched, and he stopped immediately, hands trembling at his sides.

Before he could speak, your daughter stirred in his arms. As if sensing the suffocating tension in the room, she let out a sharp, hungry cry, her little lips puckering, tiny fists waving.

You moved without thinking, reaching for her. Sir Jungkook gently handed her over, his hands lingering for a moment as if afraid to let go. You turned away from him, sitting on the edge of the bed and loosening your dress to feed her. The baby latched on eagerly, her cries softening into small, contented sounds.

The knight stood there, watching you in silence. He looked lost, this battle-hardened soldier, returned from war, now completely unsure how to comfort the woman he loved. He slowly lowered himself to his knees in the middle of the room, head bowed.

“I wrote to you,” he admitted hoarsely. “Every chance I had. Your father… he made sure none of my letters reached you. He wanted you to believe I was gone. I fought every day to come back to you. I almost died trying to get word to you.”

You didn’t look at him. You kept your eyes on your daughter, tears falling silently onto her soft hair.

“I mourned you like a widow,” you whispered, voice thick with pain. “I almost died. And now you’re here… acting like you didn’t abandon me when I needed you most.”

The words cut awfully deep. Sir Jungkook’s shoulders slumped, but he stayed on his knees, silent and respectful, giving you the space your wounded heart demanded.

Your daughter stirred in your arms, letting out a small, distressed whimper as if she could sense the storm raging between her parents. You rocked her gently, pressing a kiss to her soft raven hair.

“Shh, my sweet one,” you cooed softly, “Mama’s here. You’re safe.”

Sir Jungkook’s hands twitched at his sides, aching to reach out, to touch you, to hold both of you, but he remained still, jaw clenched tight. He was no longer in full armor, only a worn tunic and breeches, his appearance shambled from the long ride, fresh bruises blooming across his knuckles and jaw.

You turned away from him, focusing on the small tasks that had become your life in the cottage. The rain outside grew heavier, pounding against the roof like a relentless drum.

You moved about the space, stirring the pot of stew over the fire, folding fresh linens, anything to keep your hands busy and your mind from breaking completely.

Hours passed in heavy silence. When your daughter finally grew fussy again, you nursed her by the hearth until her little eyes fluttered shut. You laid her gently in the wooden cradle Maera had prepared, stroking her cheek one last time before covering her with a soft blanket.

Only then did you notice movement near the door.

Sir Jungkook was standing there, cloak in hand, quietly preparing to leave.

Something inside you fractured. You stepped toward him, voice cracking. “You’re leaving again?”

He turned slowly, eyes filled with torment. “I was only going to check the perimeter. The rain is heavy, and I… I didn’t want to burden you further.”

You stared at him, this warrior who had survived hell just to return to you, and the dam finally broke.

“Come here,” you whispered.

He obeyed without hesitation.

You led him to your bed and with trembling hands, you began removing his tunic, revealing the damage the war had left behind.

New bruises painted his ribs and shoulders in shades of purple and blue. Fresh scars, still healing, cut across his chest and abdomen. He looked harder, a man who had walked through fire and barely returned.

Your lips trembled, but you forced yourself to stay steady. You turned away briefly, gathering clean linen strips, salve, and a bowl of warm water. When you returned, the knight stood perfectly still, letting you see all of him, the bruises, the brutal evidence of everything he had endured just to return to you.

You began tending to him in silence, your hands gentle as you cleaned a particularly nasty cut along his side. But the more you looked, the more the dam inside you cracked.

“What have they done to you, Jungkook?” you whispered, voice breaking. Tears spilled down your cheeks as you carefully wrapped a bandage around his ribs. “You’re… you’re covered in pain. All of this… just to come back to me?”

He stood motionless, letting you care for him, but his dark eyes never left your face.

“I would go through it a thousand times more,” he said softly, “if it meant coming back to you and our daughter.”

You shook your head, fresh tears falling as you pressed a bandage over another wound. “Don’t say that. Don’t you dare say that. I can’t bear thinking of you suffering like this. I thought you were dead. I thought I would never see you again, and now you’re here… broken because of me.”

Sir Jungkook slowly lowered himself to his knees in front of you, even though you were still trying to tend to him. The powerful knight, the man who had survived war, knelt before you like the loyal protector he had always been.

“Your Highness,” he murmured, head slightly bowed, voice thick with emotion. “I failed you. I wasn’t here when you needed me most. I wasn’t here when you carried our child. I wasn’t here when you gave birth. I wasn’t here when they told you I was gone. Forgive me.”

You dropped the bandages and pulled him into your arms, holding his head to your chest. His arms wrapped around your waist instantly, clinging to you like a man who had almost lost everything.

A broken sob tore from his throat.

Your knight, your warrior, the strongest person you had ever known, cried against your chest like a child. Deep, shuddering sobs that shook his powerful frame as his arms tightened around you.

“I thought I lost you,” he choked out, voice muffled against your skin. “Every night on the border, I prayed I would make it back to you. To both of you.”

You held him tighter, fingers threading through his raven hair, your own tears falling onto his head.

“You’re here now,” you whispered, rocking him gently. “You’re here. You came back to us. That’s all that matters.”

For a long time, the only sounds in the cottage were the rain outside, the crackling fire, and the quiet, heartbroken sobs of a knight who had finally returned to his princess.

—

The rain had not eased by the middle of the night. It hammered against the thatched roof like an impatient army. You had fallen asleep in Jungkook’s arms on the narrow bed, your daughter nestled safely in her cradle beside you. For the first time in months, your sleep was deep and dreamless.

A sharp knock on the cottage door shattered the peace.

Sir Jungkook was awake in an instant. He slipped from the bed silently, pulling on his tunic and reaching for the sword he had left by the door. His body was still tense from war, every muscle ready for threat.

“Stay here,” he whispered, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. “I will see who it is.”

But you already knew.

A cold certainty settled in your chest. You rose, wrapping a shawl around your shoulders, and followed him despite his warning. Your daughter stirred but remained asleep.

Sir Jungkook opened the door, sword half drawn, rain pouring behind the figure standing outside.

It was the King.

Your father stood in the downpour, cloak heavy with water, face pale and drawn. Guards waited at a respectful distance, torches flickering weakly in the storm. His eyes moved past your knight and landed on you.

For a long moment, no one spoke.

Then the King stepped inside without invitation, water dripping onto the wooden floor. His gaze softened when it fell on you — his only daughter, still pale from childbirth, carrying the weight of grief and motherhood.

“My child,” he said, voice rough. “You must return to the palace. You are still royalty. Still my blood. You do not belong in a cottage like this.”

You stood straighter, even as exhaustion and lingering pain made your body ache.

“I belong where I choose,” you replied quietly, but firmly. “And I will not return without Sir Jeon. He is my knight. He is the father of my daughter. He stays with me.”

The King’s jaw tightened. He glanced at Jungkook, who stood tall and silent beside you, sword now lowered but ready.

“I know what you are to each other,” the King said heavily. “I have known for some time. Prince Min is a fool and a coward, but his bloodline is strong. The alliance—”

“I will not marry him,” you cut in, voice steady despite the tears gathering in your eyes. “I will return to the palace. I will perform my duties as princess, as future queen. I will be the ruler this kingdom needs. But only if Sir Jungkook remains at my side. As my knight. As the man I have chosen. As the only man with any right to me.”

The King looked at you for a long time. He saw the woman you had become, not just his rebellious daughter, but a figure of quiet strength. The people in the surrounding villages spoke of you with reverence. They told stories of the princess who helped common women, shared food during hard winters, who listened to their troubles as if they mattered as much as any noble’s.

The King exhaled slowly, defeated but not broken.

“Very well,” he said at last. “Sir Jeon will return with you. He will remain your personal knight. But this… affair… must remain hidden from the court. For now.”

You nodded once, relief flooding through you.

The King’s gaze drifted to the cradle where your daughter slept. He had not yet seen her. You had kept her away from him, protecting her with every fiber of your being.

He took one hesitant step toward the cradle, then stopped, as if afraid.

The King’s shoulders sagged. For the first time in years, he looked truly old.

“Bring her home,” he said quietly. “Both of you. We will find a way.”

When the heavy door of the cottage finally closed behind your father, you let out a huge, shaky sigh. The weight of the conversation pressed on your chest like a stone. You turned and walked to the cradle, gently lifting your daughter into your arms. She stirred but settled quickly against your chest.

Sir Jungkook followed silently behind you, his presence warm.

“I would not trust him,” you whispered, voice laced with bitterness. “My father lied. He did all of this, told me you were dead, kept us apart, made me believe I had lost you forever. How can I believe a single word he says now?”

Jungkook stepped closer. He gently wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on the top of your head as you held your daughter.

“Petal,” he murmured softly, the old endearment slipping out like a balm. “Your father is a hard man, but he is not as cold as he pretends to be. He sent for me the moment he learned you had gone into labor. He could have kept me away forever. But he didn’t.”

You turned slightly in his arms, eyes wide with disbelief.

The knight continued, low and calm.

“There was one night… when you were still heavy with our child and very sick. I rode through a storm to reach you. Your father allowed it. He let me see you. I held you while you slept, fevered and restless. I whispered to you. I kissed your forehead and promised I would return. But I had to leave before dawn. He made me swear not to wake you. He said it would only make the pain worse when I had to go back to the borders.”

You stared at him, stunned. Tears welled up again.

“That night… it was real?” you whispered. “I thought it was a dream. I thought I imagined your arms around me.”

“It was real,” he said gently, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I was there. And I have regretted leaving you every single day since.”

You turned fully toward him, still cradling your daughter. The baby had woken and was fussing softly. You loosened your dress and began to feed her.

Sir Jungkook watched the two of you with such open love and longing that it made your chest ache.

“She has your eyes,” you said softly, brushing a finger over your daughter’s cheek. “So dark and beautiful. Just like yours.”

Sir Jungkook’s expression softened further. He reached out, gently stroking the baby’s tiny hand.

“And she is as beautiful as her mother,” he murmured. “I hope she grows to be as strong as her. As kind. As full of fire and love.”

For a while, the only sounds were the soft suckling of your daughter and the rain pattering against the roof. Sir Jungkook stayed close, one arm around your waist, the other lightly resting near the baby.

Eventually, after your daughter had fallen asleep again, you made the decision.

“We will return to the palace,” you said quietly. “Together. As a family. I will not hide anymore.”

The next morning, after tender farewells to Maera, who hugged you both tightly and kissed her granddaughter’s forehead with tears in her eyes, you left the cottage.

—

Three Months Later,

The palace had transformed around you.

After your return, the finest healers in the realm were summoned, learned men and women versed in herbs and ancient remedies. They tended to you with the utmost care, restoring the strength you had lost in grief and childbirth. Slowly, the hollow exhaustion faded. Color returned to your cheeks. Your body healed, and with it, your spirit bloomed once more.

You were treated not merely as royalty, but as something sacred. The people whispered that the Princess had returned more radiant than before, as if the earth itself had blessed her.

Your maids, Elara, Verra, and Selyse, were beyond ecstatic to have you back. They fussed over you constantly, brushing your long hair until it shone, dressing you in the finest silks, and whispering prayers of gratitude for your safe return.

The kingdom now knew the truth: the child was Sir Jeon Jungkook’s. The scandal had spread like wildfire, but instead of outrage, most of the people embraced it. They saw their princess glowing, and fiercely protected.

Prince Min had tried to slander you upon his return, calling you impure, unfit, a disgrace for bearing a knight’s child out of wedlock. Sir Jungkook had nearly killed him in the great hall before the King’s guards pulled him back. Prince Min was expelled from the kingdom that very day, the alliance shattered. No one mourned his departure.

It was a warm evening when you returned to the royal bathing pool, surrounded by floating lily pads and fragrant white blossoms. The water shimmered under the sunlight as your maids helped you undress. Your daughter, now three months old and full of life, babbled happily in Elara’s arms, reaching for you with chubby little hands.

“Come here, my sweet,” you cooed, taking her into the warm water with you. She immediately nestled against your bare chest, tiny fingers grasping at your long, wavy hair as you gently rocked her. She was a needy little thing, always wanting her mother’s warmth, her scent, her voice.

Verra smiled as she poured scented oil over your shoulders. “She adores you, my lady. Look at those big, bejeweled eyes.”

You glanced toward the far bank where Sir Jeon Jungkook stood guard, as always. He was no longer forced to hide. He remained your personal knight, ever watchful and devoted. His gaze met yours across the water, soft with love and quiet pride. He had become even more protective since your return, rarely leaving your side unless duty demanded it.

The King had grown strangely silent on the matter of your relationship. Seeing you flourish and beloved by the people, had turned him into something of a coward when it came to opposing you.

He doted on his granddaughter in private, though he still struggled to fully accept the circumstances. Yet he no longer pushed for any other marriage. He had seen what happened when he tried to separate you from your knight.

Bit by bit, your beauty had deepened into something almost otherworldly, skin luminous, eyes bright with life, a gentle fullness to your figure from motherhood that only made you more captivating. You moved through the palace performing your duties with grace while still finding time to help the common women who came to the gates seeking aid. You had become more than a princess.

At night, when the palace slept, Sir Jungkook was yours completely.

He would slip into your chambers, shed his armor, and worship you with slow hands and mouth. He made love to you like a man who had walked through hell and returned only for this. You clung to him every night, whispering how much you loved him, how you had chosen him long before the crown ever mattered.

Your daughter babbled softly, pulling at your long hair again with her tiny fist, drawing a soft, delighted laugh from you.

“Oh, my little one,” you cooed, gently untangling her fingers from your waves before pressing a kiss to her chubby cheek. “You are going to pull Mama’s hair right off if you keep that up, aren’t you? Such a strong little flower.”

She giggled in your arms, reaching up to pat your face with her small, uncoordinated hand, her big dark eyes, exact replicas of her father’s, sparkling with pure joy. The resemblance was almost startling even at such a young age. She was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.

Elara sighed dreamily as she poured warm water over your shoulders. “Look at her, my lady. She is perfection. She already has the whole palace wrapped around her tiny finger.”

Verra nodded, gently massaging oil into your hair. “And you, my princess. You glow like the sun itself these days. Motherhood suits you more than any crown ever could.”

Selyse, ever the wise one, glanced toward the bank where Sir Jeon Jungkook stood guard, fully armored but with his helmet removed today. A small, teasing smile tugged at her lips.

“And that one over there… he can’t take his eyes off the two of you. Look at him, standing there like a lovesick fool in steel. Our fierce knight, brought to his knees by a baby and her mother.”

The knight’s ears turned faintly red, but he didn’t deny it. His gaze remained soft, locked on you and your daughter with quiet awe and devotion.

Later that evening, in the royal rose gardens where he had once walked beside you as your new knight, Sir Jungkook carried your daughter in his arms.

He was still in full armor, crimson cloak draped over his broad shoulders, but he held her with such careful gentleness it made your heart melt. The baby was dressed in the softest cream colored gown embroidered with tiny golden flowers, a little bonnet tied under her chin. She looked like a living doll against his armored chest.

She reached up with both hands, grabbing at the edge of his armor, babbling excitedly as she tried to pull herself closer to his face. When he leaned down, she patted his cheek with a wet, sloppy kiss.

Sir Jungkook’s entire expression softened into something almost boyish. He smiled, genuine and devastatingly handsome.

“My little love,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

You walked beside them, heart full as you watched your daughter play with the buckles on his armor. Every time he lowered his head to let her see his face, she lit up. But when he playfully put his helmet back on for a moment to tease her, she immediately fussed, letting out a small, indignant cry and reaching for him with both arms.

“No helmet,” you laughed softly. “She hates it. She wants to see her father’s face.”

Sir Jungkook removed it immediately, tucking it under one arm while cradling her with the other. He leaned down so she could press her tiny palms against his cheeks and give him another sloppy kiss on the jaw.

The maids watching from a distance cooed and teased him lightly.

“Look at that,” Verra whispered loudly enough for him to hear. “Who would have thought the man who survived the western borders would be brought down by tiny hands and gummy smiles?”

Later that night, the heavy oak door to your royal chambers was barred, only the soft glow of candles and the low fire in the hearth illuminated the room.

You stood before the tall mirror, slowly changing into your nightgown. The fabric whispered against your skin as it slid down your body. Your gaze caught on the beautiful ring on your finger, the one Sir Jungkook had slipped onto your hand in secret weeks ago, a quiet promise between the two of you. You turned it gently, a small, private smile touching your lips.

Your daughter lay nestled against your bare chest, warm and content, her tiny fingers curled around the edge of your loosened gown. She babbled softly, her big dark eyes full of adoration for her mother.

Sir Jungkook stood a few steps behind you, fully armored except for his helmet, watching the two of you with quiet awe. The firelight danced across his face, highlighting every healed scar and the lingering shadows of war that still clung to him.

You gently laid your daughter in her ornate cradle, pressing one last kiss to her forehead as she drifted into sleep. Then you returned to the mirror, picking up the silver brush to run it through your long, wavy hair.

Sir Jungkook followed without a word. He stopped behind you, his large hands resting lightly on your waist. Slowly, he leaned down and began pressing soft kisses along your bare arms, from shoulder to wrist, as you continued brushing your hair.

You giggled softly, cheeks flushing with that familiar shyness even after all this time.

“Jungkook…” you murmured, breathy. “You ought to distract me.”

“Good,” he whispered against your skin, kissing the curve of your shoulder. “I have missed you all day. I need my darling.”

He dropped to his knees behind you with a quiet clink of armor, bowing his head in his familiar, devoted way. You turned to face him, running your fingers through his raven hair, then tracing the sharp line of his jaw and the faint scars that remained on his face.

You saddened for a moment, remembering the brutality he had endured.

But he looked up at you with such pure worship that it took your breath away. To him, you were more than a princess. you were his salvation, the very source of life that had healed him.

You pulled him closer, and he rose, lifting you effortlessly into his arms and carrying you to the grand bed.

The knight laid you down gently, then began to worship you with slow, reverent hands. He unlaced your nightgown with painstaking care, peeling the silk away until you were bare before him. His mouth found your breasts immediately, sucking softly on one sensitive nipple, then the other, drinking the sweet milk that flowed for him with deep, grateful groans.

You moaned softly, fingers threading through his hair as he fed from you, his tongue swirling, lips sealed tight around your peak. He drank like a man who had been starving for you, savoring every drop as if it were the very essence of life itself.

Sir Jungkook groaned deeply against your breast, the sound vibrating through your chest as he drank almost desperately. His large hand cradled the soft weight of your breast, squeezing gently to draw more from you while his other hand stroked your side with reverent tenderness.

“So sweet,” he whispered against your skin, voice hoarse and worshipful. “You give me life, my petal. You heal what war tried to break.”

You whimpered, arching into his mouth, overwhelmed by the intimate, sacred act, fresh heat blooming between your thighs.

When he finally released your nipple with a wet pop, his lips glistening, he looked up at you with dark, adoring eyes.

“You are my salvation,” he murmured, kissing the valley between your breasts before moving lower. “The mother of my child. The light that brought me home.”

When he finally moved lower, he spread your thighs with firm hands and settled between them. He looked up at you once, eyes dark with devotion, before lowering his mouth to your core.

He worshipped your flower, seeking nectar with slow, deep licks that made your back arch, followed by gentle suction on your swollen clit. His tongue delved inside you, tasting every inch, groaning at your sweetness as if it were the most sacred thing he had ever known.

You whimpered and moaned, hips rolling against his handsome face as pleasure built in waves. He was relentless yet tender, bringing you to the edge again and again before letting you tip over.

When you finally begged for him, voice trembling with need, Sir Jungkook rose above you like a knight before his altar.

He did not rush. Instead, he sat back on his heels, dark eyes drinking in every inch of your bare, flushed body with such raw hunger that it made your skin burn. You felt vulnerable and impossibly desired under that gaze. A shy, breathless giggle escaped your lips as heat flooded your cheeks.

Sir Jungkook reached out with one large, calloused hand and traced a single finger slowly down your body, from the delicate line of your throat, between your heaving breasts, over the soft curve of your belly, and down to the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. The touch ever so feather light, yet it left fire in its wake.

“You are a goddess made flesh,” he whispered, voice hoarse with awe. “And I am but a mortal who has been granted the honor of kneeling at your feet.”

He leaned down and pressed his forehead to your thigh in a gesture of pure worship, eyes closed, breath warm against your skin as if he were praying to the only deity he had ever believed in.

Then he moved over you, settling between your spread thighs. His thick cock pressed against your entrance, hot and heavy. He looked into your eyes as he slowly pushed inside, inch by thick, stretching inch, filling you so completely that your mouth fell open in a silent cry.

You dug your nails into his back as he began to move, first slow and loving, then harder, deeper, claiming you with every thrust.

“I love you,” he groaned against your neck, hips snapping forward. “I love you more than life itself.”

When you came, it was with his name on your lips and tears of overwhelming pleasure in your eyes. Jungkook followed moments later, burying himself deep and spilling inside you with a low, broken groan, filling you with pulse after pulse of his release.

In the quiet that followed, with the knight’s arms still wrapped around you and the weight of the world momentarily forgotten, it was strangely easy to remember the day he had first knelt before the throne.

The impenetrable knight clad in steel, sworn to protect a princess draped in silk. and protect you he would, as though it had been carved into the marrow of every breath he would draw, for eternity.

He could hear you move around the place, the clinking of your earrings as you placed them on your jewellery dish, followed by your rings and the rustle of clothes as you undressed before walking into the bathroom and the sound of running water as you stepped into the shower.

You stood under the water spray, your eyes closed, letting the hot water relax your muscles and wash away the tension of the day. Work had been rough lately, and you were starting to really feel it. 

And Ryland, had of course noticed. How some days you’d just lay down by his side on the couch, head on his chest as he read, his warmth and the steady rhythm of his beating heart lulling you to sleep after a long day, and a night full of tossing and turning in bed and very little rest. How some nights he’d find you asleep at the dining table, head on your arms surrounded by notes and tabs open on your computer screen with reports waiting to be finished.

When you walked out of the bathroom, fluffy robe wrapped around you, he was sitting at the end of the bed, his blond hair all tousled from him repeatedly running his hand through it, a gentle smile pulling at your lips when his eyes met yours.

“Come here.” He says, his hand reaching out for you.

You take his hand and let him pull you to stand between his legs. His hands fall to your hips as he looks up at you, chin resting on your navel. His eyes close as you run your hands through his hair, his hands toying with the belt of your robe. You take a moment to admire the man before you. 

“Let me take care of you.” he says, his voice low, his blue eyes meeting yours again and a shiver runs down your spine at the intensity of his gaze.

His fingers slowly untie your robe, the garment falling open as his hands find their place on your hips. You let out a shaky breath as he kisses your exposed skin, the delicious scratch of his stubble adding to the sensation as he makes his way upwards, his hands travelling up to your breasts and cupping them gently, thumbs running over your perked nipples as you bite your bottom lip, eyes closing on their own. 

“So perfect.” He says, eyes fixated on the way your tits fit so perfectly in his hands, before he takes a nipple in his mouth. 

He lets out a content hum that makes your head spin, your head falling back. Your hand in his hair keeping him close, not wanting him to stop. Soft moans slipping past your lips.

He repeats his actions on the other one, his free hand pulling you close, as if he couldn’t get enough of you before finally pulling apart and looking up at you. Eyes blown with lust meeting yours as you look down at him, cheeks warm with that blush he absolutely adores.

“You’re so perfect. So good to me.” A soft moan slips past your lips at his words as his hand gently travels down your body, slipping between your thighs. Your breath catches when he runs his fingers through your folds, eyes never leaving yours. “I’ve barely touched you and you’re already dripping, baby.” He says, satisfaction clear in his voice, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips as he peppers the skin on your navel with kisses.

The mix of his words and the feeling of his fingers running through your folds, grazing your clit, teasing your entrance makes your head spin. He inserts a finger making your suck in a breath, his lips finding your nipple again as he pumps it in and out of you, and you don’t even try to fight the moans that bubble in your throat at the feeling. A second finger joins the first as he moves on to the other nipple, biting it teasingly and earning a breathy “fuck” from you as you get lost in the sensation. Heat pools in your core as he works you closer to your orgasm, thumb drawing tight circles on your clit.

You let out a whine when his fingers leave you as he stands and he huffs a laugh. “So eager, babygirl.” He says against your lips before kissing you, and you melt against him, fingers running through his hair, pulling him impossibly close.

He pushes the robe off your shoulders, and you let it fall to the floor. The cool air hitting your skin and making a shiver run down your back. The hand on your hip pulls you closer to him, and you can feel the hard outline of him against your thigh, as the other cups your face to deepen the kiss. His tongue exploring your mouth and swallowing your moans.

“I thought you were gonna take care of me.” You manage to say, breath ragged, as he trails kisses down your jaw and to your neck, finding that spot below your ear that makes you gasp and your knees buckle. 

You can feel him smile against your skin, clearly pleased with the effect he has on you.

“That mouth of yours is gonna get you in trouble someday.” 

“It’s only earned me praise so far.” You say, moving your hand to palm him through the fabric of his joggers and he lets out a strained groan.

He manoeuvres you until the back of your legs hit the end of the bed.

“On the bed.” He instructs and you bite your bottom lip as you do as you’re told.

His hands on your knees pull your legs open so he can see all of you, and you feel yourself getting shy under the intensity of his gaze. The fact that you’re completely bare before him while he’s still fully clothed not helping.

“I still can’t believe you’re mine.” Heat pools at your core as he speaks.

He positions himself over you, the tip of his nose grazing the delicate skin of your cheek before his mouth claims yours once more. Deep and slow and you can’t help but moan against him, your hands in his hair, on his shoulders, everywhere.

“You gonna be good for me?” You can’t help but nod. His hands are everywhere as he trails his way down your body, peppering your skin with hot, open-mouthed kisses. Tasting you as he makes his way closer to where you need it, taking his sweet time licking and biting and sucking on your nipples, revelling in the way you arch your back, his name falling from your lips in broken whispers.

“Fuck Ry, stop teasing.” You whine as he kisses your hip, the inside of your thigh, everywhere except where you need him the most.

You gasp when his finally runs his thumb through your folds again as he looks at you over the rim of his glasses, admiring your flustered state, something in his eyes you can’t really put your finger on. Almost reverent.

And then his mouth is on you, sucking and licking and making you see stars. His thumb toying with your clit as he hums against you, the vibrations travelling through you, your hips lifting from the mattress chasing his mouth.

“Oh m- fuck, Ry!” A strong arm wraps around your thigh and settles on your hip, holding you in place as he eats you out like a starved man. You hold onto the sheets for dear life as your free hand falls to his head. Fingers tanging in his hair, pulling on it and spurring him in as he monas against you. His stubble scratching your skin deliciously.

You feel yourself getting closer, the coil in your core tightening with each passing second and he gives no indication of stopping anytime soon.

When the dam finally breaks, you fall apart with his name on your lips, body tensing and thighs quivering as he drinks you up, still going through the waves of your orgasm. Only stopping when it becomes too much and you push his head off you, oversensitive and still lost in the sensation, unable to form coherent words.

He lays his head on your thigh, chin glistening with your release, watching you as you come down from your high, chest rising and falling furiously. Fingers tracing random patterns on your skin, grounding you, speaking words of praise as you slowly come back to him.

“You still with me?” He asks tenderly, making you look down at him.

A soft smile pulling at his lips and you nod, not trusting yourself enough to speak yet.

He kisses you hip before standing to take off his own clothes, then positioning himself over you, caressing your cheek lovingly, eyes searching yours.

“You did so good.” You can taste yourself on him when he kisses you, something sweeling in your chest at his words. “My good girl.” He says against your lips, his hand pulling your leg to wrap around his hip.

“Yours.” You breather out as he lines himself up to your entrance.

You both let out a groan as he enters you, his breath hot against your skin, your nails digging on his back, loving the way he stretches you, making you feel impossibly full.

His forehead rests against yours once he bottoms out. “Taking my cock so well.” As he gives you a moment to get used to him.

“Move.” You breath out and he complies immediately, pulling out almost all the way before thrusting back int you, making you curse.

He starts slow and steady before setting a punishing pace, hitting that spot inside you that makes you see stars every time. You can feel every vein and every ridge as he fucks you into the mattress, hands grabbing your hips hard enough to leave marks. The sound of skin slapping against skin, and your mixed moans filling the room.

His hand travels up your body, settling on your neck, fingers wrapping gently around it as you pull him down for a kiss, and making you whine when his pace slows, eventually stilling inside you.

“Ry..”

“Ry what.” He smiles against your lips as you try to buck your hips, chasing some friction.

“Please.”

“Please what? Use your words, babygirl.” He says, thrusting into you once and making you mewl, your walls involuntarily clenching around him.

“Pleas- Please make me come.” Under different circumstances you’d cringe at how desperate you sound. But all you cared about right now was coming on his cock.

“It’ll be my pleasure.” He says as he starts thrusting into you again, his free hand finding your clit.

This time he doesn’t stop. His name falling from your lips like a prayer, nails digging into his back, your orgasm building with every thrust as he whispers sweet praises into your ear.

“Ry I-“

“I know, I know, baby. I got you.”

You can barely think straight as you feel yourself almost tipping over the edge.

“Please.” You’re not sure what you’re pleading for, but you are.

“Come for me, baby.” He encourages and that’s all it takes for you to fall over the edge.

He fucks you through the waves of your orgasm, his own thrusts becoming erratic until he finally stills. Painting your walls with hot ropes of cum, filling you up with his release. His head falling to your shoulder before he turns the both of you over so you’re lying on his chest, his now softening cock still inside you as you both try to catch your breath.

“You okay?” He asks, lips grazing your temple before placing a kiss there. His hand running over your back soothingly.

“Mhmm” He lets out a breathy chuckle at your content hum.

You stay like that for a bit before he pulls out, making you wince, a soft apology spoken into your hair as he gets out of bed and disappears into your shared bathroom, before resurfacing moments later with a damp cloth.

He cleans you up tenderly, placing a teasing kiss on your folds once he’s done, earning an amused look for you.

“Come here.” You reach your arms out for him to join you in bed.

He pulls the covers over the two of you as he does so, pulling you to lay on his chest, arms wrapping around you.

“You feeling better?” He asks as he runs his fingers over your back soothingly.

“Yeah, thank you.” You say softly, looking up at him with a content sigh. “Now I’m even more tired though.” He shakes under you as he laughs at that.

★ After Hours Statistic. *⁀➷ You and Ryland stay behind after a school dance to clean up. ★ Bike Duo. *⁀➷Ryland's attempt at creating a Bike Bus is derailed. ( Or is it? ) ★ Wingman-Classroom. *⁀➷Ryland gets analyized. By his own his students. About his feelings. For you. ★ Mixer Mix-Up. *⁀➷You and Ryland gravitated towards one another during a Teacher's Event. ★ Doctor, oh Doctor. *⁀➷You learn about Ryland's dirty little secret. His Doctorate. ★ Jealousy, Jealousy. *⁀➷Ryland learns a little something about a nasty human emotion. ★ Paperbacks, Broken Backs. ( LIbrarian!Reader. ) *⁀➷Ryland Grace introduces himself to the new Librarian - you. ★ The Five Essay Break. *⁀➷After a rough week at work, Ryland finds you on the verge of a breakdown and consoles you best he can. ★ Teacher Appreciation Day. *⁀➷It's Teacher Appreciation Day, everyone!!! Let's celebrate.

★ Eridian Interruption. *⁀➷You and Ryland are putting up Rocky's enclosure together. ★ Observation King. *⁀➷Rocky is full of facts. About you. About Ryland. About you and Ryland together. ★ Human Accessories 101. *⁀➷Rocky notices something new about you - Piercings! ★ Picture Perfect. ( ANGST. ) *⁀➷Ryland Grace only has one photo in his belongings. Who took it and why? ★ I'm Just Ryland. ( And I'm a Scientist! ) *⁀➷It's movie night on Board the Hail Mary! Your choice? Barbie. Ryland's choice was ignored. It was Stargate. ★ Interruption. ( Drabble. ) *⁀➷Slice of life. Rocky has no sense of privacy. You should've known better. ★ Karaoke. ( Drabble. ) *⁀➷You are... My fire... With Rocky. And Ryland. None of you sing on key but that's okay!

★ Biodome, Sweet Biodome. *⁀➷It's your first night in the Biodome, apart but together. ★ Adrian Chat. *⁀➷You and Adrian are having a lively chat about your choice in mates. ★ Kissing Stars, Kissing Skin. *⁀➷ You find yourself awake in the middle of the night to admire Ryland, even the parts of himself that are the most vulnerable. ( BOOK SPOILERS. ) ★ Meet The Pebbles. *⁀➷Rocky and Adrian come visit you and Ryland along with 5 new additions.

★ Never Got Your Name. *⁀➷Ryland meets his match after a bump in at the college cafe. Consequences loading. ( College. ) ★ Amateur Astronomers. *⁀➷Astronomy Club President Ryland Grace convinces you to go on a late night field trip. ( College. ) ★ In the Clouds Consequences. ( ANGST ) *⁀➷Breaking up is hard to do for anyone. Especially Ryland Grace. ( College. ) ★ Experimental Alcohol. *⁀➷You finally get Ryland to go to a college party.

★ Stairwell Trajectory Mishap. *⁀➷It was a long work day. Why is there a cute stranger in the stairwell trying to get his bike upstairs? ★ Event Horizon. *⁀➷Ryland tries to be a big baddie with you on a date and you two end up going to an amusement park. ★ Mother's Day Variables. *⁀➷Mother's Day Breakfast is a tradition Ryland takes very seriously. ★ The Very Hungry Metamorphosis. *⁀➷Ryland reads his baby a bed time story and it causes him to ramble. Just a bit. ★ The 'Just In Case' Moment. *⁀➷You and Ryland Grace are about to do it for the first time but... Things don't go according to plan. ★ Rain Between Fingers. *⁀➷Cuddling on the couch, movie playing. Ryland knew what he was doing when he placed his head in your lap. ★ Misson Control to Little Star. *⁀➷Ryland has a little chat with his unborn baby. ★ Ryland Airlines. *⁀➷Ready for take off! You tell Ryland he needs to get some rest. There's detours on the way to the bed. ★ The Space Between Us. *⁀➷Ryland is up early thinking about his future with you, and his baby. ★The Third Date Hypothesis. *⁀➷You're out on your third date with Ryland Grace who is, let's face it, a bit of a nervous wreck. ★ From Microscopes to Soccer Balls. ( Gender Neutral!Reader. ) *⁀➷Ryland Grace. Molecular Biologist. Teacher. Girl Dad. Soccer Dad. ★ Primigravida Confession. ( Female!Reader. ) *⁀➷Telling Ryland you're pregnant. ★ Dine N' Dash(ing.) ( Server!Reader. ) *⁀➷Slices of Life. You serve Ryland at the local diner he stops at everday. ★ Spitting Facts. *⁀➷You and Ryland go on a date to Muir Woods. He can't shut-up about it! ★ Big Welcome. ( Female!Reader. ) *⁀➷Ryland holding his daughter for the first time. ★ Ryland Grace / Mark Watney. *⁀➷Ryland discovers you're dating a potentially famous Astronaut from Chicago. ★ Ryland Grace - Types of Kisses. *⁀➷Slices of life. What types of kisses would Ryland Grace give?

★ Decompression. ( FEMALE READER, NSFW. ) 18+ *⁀➷Ryland hears about a certain... Position and he was a little nervous asking you to try it out. ★Spatial Awareness. ( FEMALE READER, NSFW. ) 18+ *⁀➷Your very shy and cute boyfriend invites you over to his place for the first time. ★ Birds, Bees & Beatles. ( FEMALE READER, NSFW ) 18+ *⁀➷Explaining this to a group of teens was so much easier. Who's idea was this? ★ Heavy Handed Science Lesson. ( FEMALE READER, NSFW) 18+ *⁀➷Ryland tries his hand at dirty talking. It goes well! ( In your opinion. ) ★ Relaxing Blow to the Head. ( GN READER, NSFW ) 18+ *⁀➷Ryland is stuck at school on a Friday grading. He needs to relax ( with your help. ) ★ In The Airwaves. ( FEMALE READER, NSFW. ) 18+ *⁀➷Ryland is away on a teaching confrence and misses you a bit too much. ★ Ryland Grace NSFW Headcanons. 18+ ★ MORE Ryland Grace NSFW Headcanons. 18+

★ Ryland Grace x Reader. ★ Ryland Grace x Teacher!Reader. ★ Ryland Grace Domestic Headcanons. ★ Ryland Grace Comfort Headcanons. ★ Ryland Grace Fluffy Headcanons.

Want more? Try these masterlists! ➵✦Holland March. ➵✦Lars Lindstrom.

© doctor-ryland-grace — All writing posted on this account are my original works unless stated otherwise. Do not repost, translate, copy, archive, or modify my writing without permission.

Additionally, I do not consent to my work being used in AI , AI training, AI generation, or any artificial intelligence program for any purpose, including reproduction, adaptation, or machine learning.

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

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

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

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

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

that was when the cracks had began to form.

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

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

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

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

your heart was getting heavier and heavier.

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

that was where the problem lay.

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

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

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

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

your heart hurt so fucking much.

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

‘where are you?’

‘are you coming home tonight?’

‘jungkook, you promised.’

‘i miss you.’

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

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

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

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

1:47am.

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

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

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

“i know, i..”

“you said you’d be home for six.”

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

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

the silence that followed felt suffocating to you both.

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

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

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

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

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

“it’s not about that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

so, so tired.

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

the separation happened three weeks later.

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

you hated yourself for it.

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

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

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

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

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

even in moments like this, he put you first.

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

the divorce proceedings were somehow so much worse.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ex-husband.

the thought should have killed you.

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

he looked dead whilst alive.

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

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

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

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

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

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

you missed your husband. you missed jungkook.

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

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

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

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

some habits, however, refused to die.

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

you still loved him. he loved you even more.

that could never change.

-

the first flowers came on a random tuesday.

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

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

your breath caught.

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

your flowers.

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

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

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

the scent alone was enough to destroy you.

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

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

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

your chest bloomed with realisation.

jungkook.

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

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

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

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

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

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

you let her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

he was calling you.

jungkook was fucking calling you.

before you could overthink, you swiped, answering it.

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

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

“hi.”

god. your eyes squeezed shut tight almost immediately.

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

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

“hi.” you whispered back, voice cracking.

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

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

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

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

“you called.”

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

“yeah.” he breathed out.

another pause.

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

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

“where are you?”

“out with yejin.”

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

“yeah.”

“you drinking?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

a measly divorce couldn’t stop that.

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

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

he would never let you down again.

“you having fun?”

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

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

“because i miss you.”

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

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

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

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

“okay.” he hummed once more.

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

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

“is that top new?”

your breath caught.

“..what?”

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

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

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

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

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

“jungkook..” you breathed out, shakily.

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

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

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

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

he hummed. “so pretty.”

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

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

you could feel it.

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

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

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

“do what, baby?”

your heart physically ached.

“talk to me..like nothing happened.”

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

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

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

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

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

your throat tightened.

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

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

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

“you’re still mine, y/n.”

your breath hitched violently.

“jungkook-“

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

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

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

his voice cracked by the end of his statement.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

therapy?

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

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

jungkook recognised your pain immediately.

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

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

the sound hit him like a drug.

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

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

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

“jungkook..”

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

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

“because i’m getting you back.”

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

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

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

silence once more.

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

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

“but i’m here now.”

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

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

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

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

a small pause.

then, almost amused - “technically..”

“jungkook! it’s late..”

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

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

“doing what?”

another pause. slightly charged.

“looking at you.” he murmured.

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

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

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

god.

“jungkook.” you chastised with a little sniffle.

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

your eyes squeezed shut. there he was.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“mhm.”

“where are you going?”

jungkook grinned. it was your turn to be curious.

“home.”

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

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

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

“there’s a gala next friday.”

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

“jungkook..”

“come with me.”

no hesitation. no uncertainty.

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

“i don’t think that’s a good idea..”

“probably not.”

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

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

your eyes burned once more.

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

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

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

the grin in his voice was immediate.

“that’s my girl.”

—

you couldn’t breathe.

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

the dress, although beautiful, felt too tight.

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

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

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

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

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

the problem, however, was in the circumstance itself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

oh god. oh god. oh god.

the dress felt too tight around your ribs.

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

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

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

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

the intercom buzzed again, impatient time.

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

it was just jungkook.

“okay.” you whispered to yourself.

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

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

and there he was.

god.

for a moment, your brain completely malfunctioned.

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

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

a black suit.

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

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

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

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

god.

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

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

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

you watched his throat bob.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

his eyes couldn’t leave your face.

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

“hi.” you whispered again.

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

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

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

“hi, baby.”

your stomach flipped violently.

there it was again. baby. fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

“hi, yejin.”

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

“yejin!” you flushed red.

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

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

your chest tightened all over again.

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

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

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

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

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

your man.

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

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

the realisation alone softened you.

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

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

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

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

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

jungkook noticed. of course he did.

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

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

“sorry.” you whispered instinctively.

jungkook’s eyebrows furrowed together in offence.

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

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

his eyes flickered downwards as he watched you sway slightly.

“your heels are insane.” he muttered softly.

you blinked. “hm?”

“you’re already wobbling.”

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

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

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

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

“that..doesn’t count, okay?”

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

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

your gasp echoed.

“jungkook!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you couldn’t believe how safe he felt.

jungkook noticed the second you relaxed into him. properly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

big mistake.

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

“yeah?” he asked slowly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

your embarrassment returned instantly.

“put me down!” you hissed quietly.

jungkook looked at you, unaffected. “why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

his hands lingered. neither of you moved.

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

“you good?” he asked softly.

you nodded too quickly. “mhm.”

liar.

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

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

“after you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

he watched as your thighs pressed together.

fuck.

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

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

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

“it’s just me, y/n.”

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

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

“fuck.” he muttered under his breath.

your cheeks flushed pink, whispering his name.

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

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

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

“don’t hide from me.”

your stomach tightened, eyelids hooded.

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

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

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

you suddenly felt so warm.

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

“because you’re driving me fucking crazy.”

the words came out so plainly your eyes widened.

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

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

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

your eyes flickered downwards before you could stop yourself.

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

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

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

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

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

you let him.

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

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

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

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

your eyes burned suddenly.

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

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

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

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

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

the car began slowing down.

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

you leaned into him almost immediately.

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

you nodded quickly, dazed. “okay.”

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

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

the car door opened.

chaos.

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

your heart stopped for a moment.

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

the second they saw you? everything multiplied by ten.

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

this wasn’t normal.

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

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

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

his entire demeanour had changed out here.

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

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

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

“jungkook over here!”

“is that your ex-wife?”

“are you two back together?!”

“y/n!”

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

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

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

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

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

oh you were so fucked.

—

the venue was utterly breathtaking.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i am breathing.” your cheeks warmed.

“barely.”

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

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

“drink?”

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

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

your eyes followed him automatically.

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

your chest squeezed painfully at the thought.

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

“thank you.”

your fingers brushed his purposefully. small, barely noticeable.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

your whine had his shoulders rolling.

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

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

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

you pressed your thighs together again.

this was the champagne.

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

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

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

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

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

jungkook was quiet. too quiet.

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

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

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

it was driving him insane.

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

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

“you don’t seem to mind.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“behave.”

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

fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“c’mon.”

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

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

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

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

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

white gardenias.

your breath left you quietly.

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

it was beautiful.

you stepped closer unconsciously, hardly aware of yourself.

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

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

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

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

your own throat tightened then. of course.

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

his chest tightened violently.

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

he remembered every single detail.

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

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

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

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

“you cried once.” he corrected.

you rolled your eyes. “shut up!”

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

“i thought i killed it!”

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

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

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

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

cute.

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

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

“yeah, well everyone is wrong..so.”

fuck. he loved you so much.

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

“two million.”

your eyebrows raised.

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

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

his jaw ticked.

game on.

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

“five million.”

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

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

“what are you doing?!”

“getting you your painting.”

you stared at him in disbelief.

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

obsessive, and terrifying love.

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

“seven million.”

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

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

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

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

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

—

things between you and jungkook had settled into something dangerous.

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

he called more often now.

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

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

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

hard.

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

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

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

you hated how much those four words affected you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

your stomach dropped.

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

jungkook.

beside him, an undeniably beautiful woman.

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

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

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

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

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

but logic had never been able to defeat insecurity.

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

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

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

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

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

jungkook.

your eyes burned instantly.

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

you couldn’t do this.

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

the call rang out.

then another came. and another. and another.

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

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

you burst into tears.

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

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

you hated this version of yourself.

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

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

by morning, your chest was in genuine pain.

you looked awful too.

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

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

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

you just wanted mindless noise.

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

breaking news banners on every channel you came across.

jeon jungkook.

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

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

your heartbeat began thundering. you sat up immediately.

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

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

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

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

your throat tightened harshly.

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

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

more text appeared.

you scanned it once. twice.

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

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

there has only ever been one woman.”

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

you couldn’t believe what you were reading.

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

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

and yet he has made a statement publicly.

for you.

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

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

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

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

“baby!”

your breath hitched painfully.

jungkook?

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

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

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

another knock.

“baby, c’mon..”

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

he looked utterly destroyed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you couldn’t stop crying. “i know.”

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

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

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

your chest was heaving.

“stop talking about her.”

the words came out sharp, almost harsh.

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

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

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

“jungkook..”

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

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

his hand shook around your face.

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

your breath hitched.

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

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

“look at me.” he pleaded suddenly.

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

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

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

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

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

—

the rest of the evening softened after that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

within seconds, his lips touched yours.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

jungkook nearly took you then and there.

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

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

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

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

“i don’t care. want it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“you'll make it fit.” you whispered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“mhm.”

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

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

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

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

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

“like that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“eyes on me, pretty girl.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

oh, how you’d missed his cock.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

god. you were killing him.

“good girl.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

everything after that completely blurred together.

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

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

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

you were finally home.

—

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

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

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

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

You got dressed and decided to go on a walk to clear your head. You needed to do daily affirmations or something, meditate the earth programming away. Because that’s what it is, you’re stuck on beauty standards that do not have any bearing on your life anymore. It was normal to hate your body on earth - only because your insecurity put money in the pockets of greedy fucks in power but that’s neither here nor there - but on Erid, you were free of judging eyes and cruel words and other people’s expectations. 

The walk helped, reminded you that you’re in a biodome on an alien planet that you saved. No one here had any preconceived notions about what beauty is for a human, in fact you had an inkling that they thought your bodies were kind of gross by nature, which you couldn’t blame them for. With absolutely no outside pressure, you knew that this was all in your head. Turns out, it’s hard to break a lifetime of conditioning even when all oppressive factors are removed. Who would have thought?

You waved at Ryland and his class from the beach, laughing as the Eridian students went crazy. Ryland waved with a smile, blowing you a kiss before turning back to the class and playing a few chords on his organ to regain order.

The rest of your walk was quiet, you let the sound of the waves drown out the thoughts causing your spiral. You knew you needed to keep busy today, needed to give your brain something else to think about. The stack of schematics on your desk in the house was the perfect task to tackle. Adrian had brought some plans they wanted you to look over - they were making anything and everything that they learned about on their laptop. Power tools, appliances, clothing, whatever they found, they tried to make. It was the perfect way to spend a few hours, losing yourself in measurements and material compounds. 

When Ryland returned home, he launched right into how excited his students were to see you, saying that they wanted you to come by again to help teach soon. He asked all about what you had been working on, always so interested by how you talk about engineering on Erid. It was how you could translate human-speak to Eridian-speak in a way they would understand that he admired. 

The rest of the day goes by peacefully, until nightfall. You excuse yourself from the couch, brushing your teeth and grabbing a big pj shirt from the dresser. You don’t mean to look in the mirror when you tug your shirt over your head, but it’s like you can’t help yourself. The negative feelings come crashing back, overwhelming your senses for a second. You change quickly, all but running right into Ryland as you leave the bathroom in a hurry.

“Whoa, hey, what’s the rush?” His hands land on your arms, steadying you. “Sorry, sorry,” you hear the emotion in your voice, cursing yourself for not holding it together better. He hears it too, and he bends down a little to see your face. Your eyes were watery, shining with unshed tears. “Sweetheart, what happened?” He’s so gentle when he asks.

You shake your head, a tear slipping down your cheek. “Nothing, Ry. It’s silly.” 

He lets out a breath, studying your face to see if he can figure it out himself. “You’re the most rational person I know,” he starts, “if it’s got you like this then I promise it’s not silly.” You consider lying to him, then feel bad for even thinking it. His hands run up and down your arms, letting you figure out whatever you were working through. 

“Do you… do you think I’m pretty?” It comes out so quietly he almost doesn’t hear you. “Of course I do,” he sounds a little incredulous, not following at all. “It’s just, I’ve… I’ve gained some weight, and I don’t feel like myself and I just… want to be pretty… for you.” You’re whispering, like you’re afraid to say it any louder. 

“And I know that we’re lucky to even be here, it’s a scientific miracle that they can make food for us at all, and we shouldn’t even have survived the trip but -” you’re rambling, but the floodgates are open and you don’t think you can stop it, “I just don’t feel like I used to. It’s silly, though, to be worried about how I look when we’re lightyears away from anyone who would have anything to say and -”

Ryland kisses you. His hands cup your cheeks, thumbs wiping away the tears that you couldn’t stop. Your eyes flutter shut, lungs burning as you suck in a deep breath, trying to keep the sob clawing its way up your throat at bay. Ryland drops his forehead against yours, giving you a second to compose yourself before he’s pulling you into the bathroom. 

He stands you in front of the mirror, planting himself behind you, arms wrapped around your stomach. You keep your eyes on the floor and he doesn’t like that. “Look at yourself, baby.” It’s a soft command, his hand coming up to lift your chin. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. So fuckin’ perfect,” he kisses your cheek, your temple, hands stroking your sides tenderly. You can’t help the tears leaving tracks down your face, it’s almost embarrassing how sweetly he’s looking at you.

“This body has gotten you through so much, it’s so, so strong. You’ve saved worlds in this body, survived so much more than anyone ever should, and you’ve done it all so gracefully.” He wipes your tears again, “I love your body, more than you could ever know.” His hands slide down your sides, landing on your thighs. “I love your legs, how soft they are, how they always feel like home when I lay my head on them.” 

His hands squeeze your flesh before moving again, they stop just below your waist. “Love these hips, how they sway so perfectly.” He sways you back and forth, as if proving his point. “I love your brain most, though,” a smile presses into your hair. “I love how quick you are with jokes, how smart you are, how much you care about everyone you meet.” 

You wanted to stop him, to tell him that he didn’t need to do all this, but his words were wrapping around your heart, consoling your innermost self. 

“I love that you tried to logic your way out of self-doubt, that’s exactly what you would do, but sometimes things like this can’t just be solved. It’s okay to feel, please don’t bottle things like this up.” He looks at you in the mirror, you feel exposed under his gaze. “I’ll always have time to tell you just how much I love you. Your heart, your mind, your body, all of you.”

You turn and wrap your arms around him, burying your face in his chest and willing the tears to stop. He returns the hug immediately, stroking your back with firm hands. He lets you cry, holds you until your breath evens out and you sheepishly pull away. One look at your face has him pulling you to the bed, he lays down on his side and beckons you to do the same. 

You lie next to him, snuggling into his warm body and breathing in his scent. His arms pull you in as close as you can get, like he can pass his love to you through touch alone. You soak in him for a few minutes before you finally break the silence with a quiet laugh.

“You’re right, I did try to logic my way out of feeling like this,” your voice is rough. “I was like, unreasonably mad at the beauty industry this morning.”

“I don’t think that’s unreasonable at all. They profit off of insecurity, sell the cure,” he shrugs. “Makes sense you’d be angry with them.”

You look up just enough to see his face, “thank you for being here.”

“Thank you for telling me, baby. I need you to know how fucking beautiful you are, absolutely stunning,” he breathes the last few words. 

His fingers tap against your back in thought, then “not to mention, your ass looks amazing when I take you from behind.” It makes you laugh, hand pushing his chest in protest. “Ryland!”

“Sorry, sorry, just thought you should know that too!” He laughs with you, hand sliding down to squeeze your butt. 

You lean up and kiss him, “I love you, Ry.”

“I love you too, sweet girl.”

--------------------

You are curled into a tight ball on the "bed"—that massive, reinforced platform layered with every soft textile and scrap of insulating foam salvaged from the Hail Mary. Every few minutes, a sharp, white-hot wave of pain rolls through your abdomen, a familiar monthly visitor that feels particularly cruel when you’re light-years away from a pharmacy.

Under your shirt, the jagged line of your "Rocky Scar"—the mark left behind when your Eridian friend saved your life—pulses in sympathy-like with the cramps. It’s a reminder of survival, but right now, you just feel like a mess of malfunctioning nerves and a waste of carbon.

A heavy, metallic thump-clack echoes across the floor. You don't have to look up to know it’s Rocky. His five-legged structure is as familiar to you as your own mind. Beside him, the lighter, more melodic tapping of Adrian’s claws follows.

"Question?" Rocky’s synthesizer voice rings out from the nightstand, clear and inquisitive. "Why is Human Y/N still in the insulation pile? The 'sun' has cycled twice. Teaching time is soon. Grace confused. I also confused."

You groan into your pillow, a sound that translates to the Eridians as a low-frequency distress signal. Adrian moves closer, her form rotating with concern. She reaches out a warm, stone-like limb, hovering it just inches from your back.

“Temperature is high,” Adrian’s whistles and clicks are translated by the small device clipped to her harness. “You are leaking heat. Is there a hull breach in your biology? Is human dying!? Please do not die! It would be very inconvenient and sad.”

"I'm not dying, Adrian," you wheeze out, squeezing your eyes shut as another cramp ripples through you. "It’s just... a human thing. My body is resetting. It hurts. A lot."

Ryland wanders in then, looking disheveled, holding a mug of chamomile tea the Eridians replicated. He sees the three of you huddled together and immediately softens. He knows the look in your eyes; he’s seen you power through lab accidents and alien microbes, but he knows this particular brand of misery is one that requires total surrender.

"They're worried about you," Ryland says softly, sitting on the edge of the platform and placing a hand on your shoulder. "Rocky thinks you’re melting because your core temp jumped a degree. I tried to explain human reproductive cycles to him, but he just got offended that your body 'destroys its own systems' once a month. He thinks it’s bad engineering."

“It IS bad engineering!” Rocky interjects, his claws clicking rapidly against the floor. “Why break the internal walls? Just keep the walls! If I built a ship that melted its floor every thirty days, Grace yell at me!”

"He's not wrong," you mutter, pressing your face into Ryland's thigh. "Ryland, tell them I'm okay. I just need to be a potato for about four days."

Adrian tilts her head, her 'eye' focusing on where you are clutching your stomach. “You are in pain. Pain is for when predators bite. There are no predators in the dome. Except maybe the vacuum, but the dome is strong. If you are in pain, we must fix.”

"You can't fix it, Adrian," Ryland says, stroking your hair. "It just has to happen. Heat helps, though."

The word heat seems to trigger something in the Eridian pair. On a planet where the surface temperature could melt lead, "heat" is their specialty. They are technically biological furnaces, their carapaces radiating a steady, dry warmth that far exceeds any electric heating pad.

Rocky steps up onto the platform. The bed groans under his weight, but it’s sturdy. “I am heat, statement.” he declares with a flourish of his limbs. “I very good at being hot. I am the best heater on Erid. Adrian is also a good heater. We will insulate the problem.”

Before you can protest, Rocky moves with surprising gentleness. He doesn't crowd you; instead, he maneuvers his heavy, five-sided body so that he is braced against your back, his warm carapace pressing firmly against your spine. The heat is immediate and intense, sinking through your shirt and into your aching muscles. It’s a dry, deep warmth that seems to vibrate.

Adrian doesn't want to be left out. She climbs onto the other side, tucking her limbs in and resting her front-side near your abdomen, being careful not to put her full weight on you. She feels like a living stone warmed by a desert sun.

Ryland watches them with a look of pure, unadulterated affection, full of care. "I think you've been secured by the Eridian Heating Company," he jokes. He crawls into the middle of the pile, slotting himself behind Rocky so he can still reach over and hold your hand.

"This is... actually amazing," you whisper. The crushing weight of the Eridians combined with their radiating heat acts like a full-body pressure therapy. The sharp stabs in your stomach begin to dull into a heavy, manageable ache.

Then, the sound starts.

It begins as a low-frequency hum, so deep you feel it in your teeth before you hear it. It’s a rhythmic, pulsing vibration coming from both Rocky and Adrian. It isn't the musical whistling of their speech; it’s more primal, a steady thrum-thrum-thrum that echoes the beat of your own heart.

"Are they... purring?" you ask, your eyes fluttering shut as the tension finally drains from your shoulders.

"Yeah," Ryland whispers, his voice thick with sleepiness. "Rocky told me about this once. When they have 'pebbles'—their young—they communal-sleep. They produce a resonance in their carapaces. It’s meant to stabilize the heart rates of the young and keep them calm while they grow. It’s a biological lullaby."

“You are small,” Rocky’s translator chirps, though his voice is lower now, hushed. “You are un-harmonic. You are pebble today. We vibrate buzz pain away. Sleep now, statement. Grace, sleep. You are noisy when worry.”

Ryland chuckles, his fingers interlacing with yours. "Copy that, Rock'. Sleeping now."

The dome is silent save for that incredible, ancient purring. It’s a sound that has existed on Erid for millions of years, a song of protection and kinship. Nestled between the two aliens and the man who traveled across the stars with you, the pain in your body feels insignificant.

You feel the scar on your side—the one that matches the one on Ryland's arm. It feels warm, almost glowing against the heat of Rocky's shell. You aren't just a human in a dome anymore; you are part of their kin, a family that doesn't care about biology or species, only about the fact that one of their own is hurting.

The lavender and apricot light of the artificial sunset fades into a deep, restful indigo. As the Eridian purring synchronizes, your breathing slows. Ryland’s head drops onto your shoulder, his breath hitching in a soft, rhythmic snore. Adrian shifts her weight, her claws making a tiny, comforting tink against the bed frame.

The last thing you feel before falling into a deep, dreamless sleep is the overwhelming sensation of being loved—not just by a man, but by a planet. You are tucked into the safest place in the universe: a cuddle pile at the edge of the galaxy, guarded by two biological furnaces who think you’re a very poorly engineered, but very dear, friend.

Outside, the Eridian winds howl and bash against the glass, but inside, there is only the warmth, the purring, and the steady, unbreakable bond of home.

This was supposed to have been a normal, average check on the ship after passing through a minor asteroid field. You hadn't anticipated your foot becoming entangled in the tether, nor a stray meteorite knocking you clean off the hull and causing you to get yanked back by your leg. Nothing is broken, you think, but it burns like hell. You've certainly torn something. If it weren't for the whole no-gravity-in-space thing, you probably wouldn't be standing.

The asteroid field had knocked out the surveillance systems, so you were on your own until you got back inside the Hail Mary. Neither Grace nor Rocky knew what was wrong with you, and apparently the meteorite that knocked you off the ship damaged your comms, too.

"Y/N," Rocky's translated, computerized voice trickled through the radio roughly in a series of broken bits of speech. "Un... See... What..."

It was loud, and too much. Every step was like fire. Maybe you were close to some cameras by now.

Your vision blurred as the pain worsened. Okay, maybe you did break something. Hopefully not, but sharp, hot tears came suddenly as the adrenaline finally wore off and your body began to tremble uncontrollably from the pain. The tether was still wrapped around your leg, but you couldn't think straight to remove it. Logically, you knew you had to, but your head was still spinning from how quickly you'd been snapped back toward the ship.

Movement caught your eye, and you braced for another meteorite. Immediately, you relaxed. Grace.

He'd hurriedly put on his EVA suit to come get you, glasses askew inside the helmet. The second you saw him, his face dropped. You couldn't hear him as he tried to speak, but he was talking fast, brow furrowed. It might be a bit useless, but you gestured helplessly to your wounded leg. The utter silence besides your breathing was starting to freak you out.

Grace went into action like a sleeper agent, rushing over like he was a trained astronaut and cutting the tether free from you. The relief was only brief-- the pain came back full force and you cried out, glad he couldn't hear it. You couldn't focus on much of anything now; Grace clipped you to him and began helping you back to the airlock.

Once the door was sealed, you saw the stars begin to move outside as Rocky put the ship in centrifugal mode, probably using one of the handy probes you'd made him for just such a purpose.

Gravity, however, was the last thing you needed right now.

There was a sudden rush of noise and chaos as you both fell to the floor; Grace might have done a little better if he didn't have your full weight in the suit, but also if you wouldn't have started screaming.

You couldn't help it. You tried not to, tried to force yourself to stop, but the excruciating damage had left your leg utterly limp and filled with an intense pain the likes of which you'd never felt. Grace yanked off your helmet. "Y/N, I need you to tell me where it hurts. I can't help you if I don't know what's wrong." He was trying to be strong, but his voice was shaking.

Gasping for breath and coherency, you managed to put together a string of words behind clenched teeth. "Meteorite knocked me off the ship. Leg got tangled in tether. I think it's broken."

Grace braced you with one arm behind your back. "This is gonna hurt, I'm sorry!" He swept an arm under your knees and lifted you, suit and all, carrying you to Armando as fast as he could. Rocky rolled along behind him, wise to stay out of the way.

"What happening, question?!" His voice broke, clearly terrified. "Why Y/N screaming, question?!"

"She might have a broken leg, bud," Grace explained quickly as he laid you down on the table. Several robotic arms reached out of the ceiling for you, eager to help as Grace stepped back.

Wildly, you snatched his hand. You two had always had clear, unbroken boundaries. Physical contact was limited and you stayed civil, but your jobs were to put the mission first and... whatever was between you both second. You weren't trying to be the next Adam and Eve, but feelings had begun to sprout regardless. You both tried to keep it professional. At least until this was all over, and distractions weren't going to matter anymore.

Now, though, you didn't care. "Please stay with me," You begged, feeling the tears run towards your ears as Armando placed a mask on you. A gentle gas began filtering through the tubing system to your lungs. "Don't leave me, Grace."

Grace hesitated, eyes wide, then reached behind him and snatched a chair. He swung it closer and sat down, clenching your hand tightly in both of his. "I'm not going anywhere. Promise."

You woke up three days later.

Or, it was around three days. Armando said you slept for 68.5 hours and it repaired a badly fractured leg, and that you'd be fine in 6 to 8 weeks. Light activity preferred. You were gonna be on some heavy painkillers. In no uncertain terms were you to even leave the bed without assistance, since the cast wasn't as sturdy as it would have been on Earth.

Inwardly, you wondered what this would do for the mission. You couldn't spacewalk, floating around would be a pain, or even getting to the control room in general. It was a tight fit on a normal day. With a cast it would probably be impossible. God, and Grace would have to help you. What you could do by yourself right now was limited. Just when you'd both decided that you didn't need any unnecessary proximity so you could get the mission taken care of without any distractions. What would this do to the ship? Would you have to remain in 1g? Or would 0g work, too? Would you still be pressing on to Tau Ceti E?

You tried to reach up and pull off the mask, but your limbs were still tingly and uncoordinated. You smacked yourself in the face by accident, clawing for the straps. Only oxygen was coming through the tubing, and you needed it off.

A small gasp came from your right. "Amaze! Y/N awake! Bad bad bad hurt. Better now! Grace not leave for long time. Rocky force Grace to change clothes. Grace!" You heard (and felt) the rumble of his xenonite ball as he careened for the entrance to the medbay, but you could only focus on getting the damn mask off your face. You were struggling with the strap, trying to get it off and vaguely aware of Rocky urging Grace to come quickly.

You were starting to panic. Your breath came in short, sharp bursts. All you could hear was your own labored breathing as the images of struggling for the airlock alone flashed through your head, your leg throbbing in pain as you remembered being violently yanked back towards the ship--

Grace. Gentle but fast, he slipped the mask off your face and pulled the tube from your throat, making you gag-- when had Armando put that in? As you coughed and spluttered on the bed, Grace was trying to talk to you. "Rock, just stay still for a second, okay? Y/N-- Hey-- it's okay, it's okay..." You heaved horribly as you struggled to come back to life, curling up on the cot. You felt an IV still in the crook of your left arm and shuddered at the sensation of icy fluids being pumped into your veins. Every breath was shaky.

Then you felt his hands on you. One squeezed your arm as he leaned over you to try and see your face, the other rubbed soothing circles in your back. You'd never been so glad for physical touch. "Breathe. Just breathe. You're safe now, Rocky's here; we've got you."

He sat with you until you were able to function a bit easier, although it came slowly. You're not sure how long you were disoriented. You peered at Grace over your shoulder, slowly flopping onto your back. He looked a mess, blond hair sticking in every direction and glasses ever-so-slightly askew. It bothered you. It always bothered you that his glasses were crooked. You always tried to remind him that farsighted and sloppy were two totally separate things.

Without thinking, you reached up and straightened his glasses with a frown. To your utter surprise, his hand found your elbow and traveled up to hold your wrist, keeping you close to him. You flushed, his deep blue eyes not breaking contact with yours. "Uh..." You croaked helplessly, "The morphine made me do it."

Grace smiled, something a bit lopsided but relieved as he chuckled quietly, almost to himself. He blinked rapidly as his eyes glistened. "I couldn't see you on the cameras," He managed softly, voice cracking. "I lost sight of you. Then Rocky saw it." He swallowed hard, caressing your hand still near his face with his thumb. "The meteorite. I tried to warn you. The radio wasn't working. He said it hit you, but after that we still couldn't get through. I went to get in the suit but I wasn't fast enough. Your leg..."

"Mangled," Rocky added sullenly, "Rocky had to learn new word. Leg bent in all ways."

Grace still hadn't broken eye contact with you. "Yeah. That. I'm..." You watched, stunned, as tears started streaming down his face. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I sent you out there by yourself, and that I wasn't quicker coming to get you."

"Grace," You choked, "It wasn't your fault. It could've happened to any of us. I was just unlucky enough for it to happen to me." You let your hand relax in his grip, letting your knuckles brush against his temple. "...Now you've gotta take care of me, I guess. I'm sorry I didn't see the--"

"Is no one fault. No apology." Rocky sounded irritated. "We take care of Y/N. Y/N can only walk in 0 gravity. Grace must slow mission down."

Rocky-- thankfully-- was entirely unaware of what was happening between you and Grace. You two had had moments before Rocky had ever come aboard, moments where longing stares left the two of you in awkward silence and the brush of his hand against yours felt like it lasted forever. It led to a couple of awkward but factual conversations about what it meant that you two were having these emotions in close quarters, that you'd eventually die together and that the mission came first-- which required utmost focus. Nothing could happen before then.

That seemed to completely shatter now.

Careful of your IV, Grace cautiously pulled you up into the sitting position and wrapped his arms tightly around you in a warm hug, burying his face in the crook of your shoulder. You didn't hesitate to throw your arms around his neck, hiding your face in his body and getting as close as humanly possible.

Now Rocky noticed.

His five feet started excitedly tapping. "Oh oh oh! Hug! Good good good! Hugging not done alone!" A bit more quietly, he added, "...Can Rocky get hug too, question?"

Grace laughed into your shoulder as he pulled back to look at him. "Yes, Rock. You get one too." He held you close still, taking a deep breath and avoiding your gaze by staring at the fabric of the blanket. "Can I be totally honest about something?"

"What?" Your stomach twisted nervously. You weren't sure why.

He forced himself to look at you. "I don't want to wait for the mission to be over. I almost lost you today. If something goes wrong on this mission--"

"Oh thank God," You let yourself fall limp against his chest, surprising him. He let out a soft "Oh" as you chuckled. "It's been pulling me apart to wait. So can we go on a date now? Like with tube-spaghetti and fake moonlit water habitats and everything?"

He chuckled, rubbing your back. "Yes, and yes. I'll wear my best jumpsuit."

"What is date, question?"

You looked over at your rock-faced friend and gestured vaguely at the arm with his marriage signet. "Did you and Adrian have a courtship faze?"

"Yes," Rocky hummed thoughtfully, "Many days. Sing very long. Try to impress--" He went absolutely straight as he realized what you meant. "Amaze! Excite! Grace will impress you will tube-spaghetti!" He started doing jazz hands, dancing in place a little. "Excite excite excite! Finally!"

"What do you mean, 'finally'?" Grace challenged, taken aback.

Rocky ignored him. "Rocky want hug now. Y/N need rest, need sleep for big date."

Grace still hadn't let go of you. "I have an idea, but don't crush us, okay?"

"Rocky understand."

"What's your idea?" You challenged. Grace grinned smugly at you as he reached under the cot and pressed a button. Slowly, the cot began to sink to the floor. There was a mattress under you, thankfully, albeit a thin one. Grace held up a finger for you to wait as he stood and walked away, inadvertently freezing both you and Rocky.

You glanced sideways at your alien friend and opened an arm toward him. "C'mere, bud." Excitedly, Rocky rolled over. You felt the heat of his body through the xenonite. It was comforting.

When Grace returned, he had his own mattress and tons of blankets, all of which he piled together before gently moving you aside and adding yours to the pile. Carefully, he scooped you up afterward and sat you on the makeshift bed, which was extremely comfortable. "Here. Now Rocky can sit with you and keep you warm. You can watch her sleep, right?"

"Yes," Rocky answered, curling up in his ball as close as he could get without burning you.

You hummed gratefully, patting his ball. "Like my own personal radiator. What about you, Grace?"

"I'm going to let you sleep," He answered, confused. Clueless, more like.

You heaved a deep breath, pressing your palm harder against Rocky's ball for good luck. "Can you stay? Just for tonight?"

Grace hesitated a moment longer before making his way over, to the delight of Rocky, who began trilling excitedly. He set his glasses to the side, out of the way of Rocky's path, and slipped under the covers beside you a bit awkwardly. His cheeks were flushed as he refused to look at you. "Okay, yeah. I guess I need sleep t--" He froze as you scooted closer, pressing your body flush against his the best you could with your injured leg. Instinct seemed to take over; he slid one arm under your head, and the other around your torso.

Now, you were both fully snuggling close together, boundaries be damned. Beside you, Rocky kept the both of you very warm and cozy as the ship dimmed its lights. You dozed off as Grace played with your hair drowsily. In your half-asleep, medicated state, you smiled warmly.

...Maybe this ship isn't half bad.

At that, you had told Grace to go sleep while you work for another few hours. You did follow the scheduled times. Although you hated being away from your important work, literally life or slow death in your case, you knew that you would make more progress if your brain was not tired.

You heard faint musical notes, the friendly voice of the language program, and Grace speaking from your spot in the lab. It was hard to focus with sound in the background, especially when doing math, so you threw on some headphones, listening to some music to motivate you to finish your work before you yourself went to bed.

The Hail Mary could be peaceful at times like this. Faint light from the windows would slowly brighten the room and then shadows would overtake the areas where the artificial lights didn't reach as well. You scribbled notes on your paper, using your laptop to look up equations and nutritional information that you needed.

For about three hours, you worked in peace.

Then, you heard the tumbling and banging of Rocky's hamster ball coming up towards you. Grace must have woken up to get something before heading back to bed and Rocky took the opportunity to grab some supplies so he could continue working while Grace went back to sleep. This often happened, for both of you. Rocky didn't need to sleep as much, so he would spend the many hours that either Grace or you needed to sleep watching over you while working on something else.

The Eridians really were something else. Rocky could get so much done in the time he was awake.

You felt a knock on your chair, then another, and another, Rocky banging into you with panic evident.

You took off your headphones, grabbing Rocky's ball.

"Woah, woah! What's going on Rock?"

"Grace! Grace! Bad, bad, bad, bad, bad. Need help!"

"Why?" You questioned, frantically getting out of your chair and running towards Grace's bed. "What's going on? Use your words! I need to know what is happening to help!"

"Grace make noise in sleep. Grace temperature rise. Grace move in sleep, more, more! Rocky can't touch Grace. Grace sick? Grace dying!" Rocky zoomed ahead of you, terrified. He nearly made himself roll over in the ball, he was moving so fast.

You couldn't blame him. He had to watch twenty-three other Eridians die while he was supposed to be protecting him. Your breath quickened at the thought, desperate to soothe the alien, unfamiliar with human biology.

"Rocky! Slow down, I think Grace is alright."

Rocky slowed, allowing you to catch up, right at the moment you turned the corner to find Grace in his bed, twisting and turning in his sleep.

"Grace not die?"

"No Rocky, I think Grace is just having a nightmare."

"No understand word."

"I can't explain it to you right now, buddy, I need to see if Grace is alright."

"Understand. Help Grace then help Rocky."

You slowed your approach, not wanting to scare Grace awake. You could see his t-shirt, another science pun about the equation for finding force combined with Star Wars, soaked in the back with sweat. His hair was all over the place and his hands were gripping the blanket he had, as though it was the only thing keeping him tethered to the spacecraft, despite the gravity being turned on.

"Grace."

You saw his neck tense, as though he was going to shout out. Or perhaps like he was going to be tased.

"Grace!"

He was not responding to any of your vocal attempts to wake him, so you moved closer. You knew that it was possible for him to accidentally hurt you when he woke, even if that was the last thing he would ever want. Even though you knew he wouldn't mean it. So, you tried to think quickly. Wake up Grace without him hurting himself or you in his sleep or awakening.

You hovered your hand over his, still grasping the blanket. You smoothed the back of his hand over with your fingers, repeating the soothing motion. He still thrashed a bit, but his hands began to loosen its grip. You took the opportunity to thread your fingers with his, holding his hand. You brought your other hand to the back of his, again, soothing strokes up and down his arm back down to his hands.

Slowly, so slowly, he began to settle. His body relaxing and his breathing slowing. Shortly after, he awoke with a gasp, eyes darting around above him.

"Rocky!"

"Rocky is here. Rocky scared for Grace."

Grace closed his eyes, breathing out a sigh of relief. You felt his hand grip yours harder. You imagined that, after so long waking up to a friend watching over you, it was unnerving to no longer have them above you when you woke up.

"Hey, Grace."

Grace's eyes snapped open, looking into yours. He glanced down at your hands, still holding his, then back to you.

"What happened?"

"You were having a nightmare. You are in the Hail Mary. You slept for about three hours before Rocky came to get me. You are safe."

Grace blinked, nodded, and then looked up at Rocky's balconey above his head again.

"Ok."

You held his hand a moment longer, before letting go. You sat on the floor next to the bed, watching the floor.

It was quiet. Rocky seemed to naturally understand that something had happened that had shaken Grace and that time could be…not healing, but give room to something else. Connection.

"It was a memory."

You stayed quiet, but lifted your head to look at Grace, acknowledging him.

"My last time on Earth."

Grace was quiet again. His fingers instinctively tightening on the blanket again.

"Do you want to talk about it more?" You softly asked, taking in his behavior.

Grace took a deep breath and let it out. A tear slipped out, trailing down the side of his face. Your heart ached for this hurt, this pain that you couldn't understand, but were trying to. If there was anything you could do, it was to listen.

"I… I'm a coward." Grace sniffled, pausing. He looked at you. "I'm a coward and I was so scared. So scared. Heck, I'm still scared."

You looked down at your hands, clasped in between your knees. "Me too. Scared, I mean. And as for being a coward, I don't remember much from before waking up, but I know that you have done some very brave things since then."

Grace looked away at that. Squeezing his eyes shut.

"Yeah…Well…I don't know about that."

He threw an arm over his eyes.

"I told her no. I told Stratt that I couldn't do it. The other two science members were gone, there was no one else more qualified, and I couldn't do it."

He gathered himself before continuing.

"She told me… 'that this was her believing in me. Not betraying me." A shudder passed through Grace, his voice breaking on "betraying".

"They chased me out of the room. Her.. her goons. Chased me down. I almost made it to the chain link fence. I don't know what I would have done. It's not like I could have really gotten away, but I was in fight or flight and I had chosen flight, cause that's all I really ever choose, isn't it?" Grace's voice quickened as he spoke, the horror rising up in you simultaneously. "They tackled me to the ground, and injected me with a sedative. I remember smelling the dead grass, my glasses got knocked askew a bit, I could barely see. My last moment on Earth and all I could see was dead grass, the blue sky being covered, then shoes. Carl walked up. I was yelling that they were murdering me, can you believe it? They were killing me, and I wanted to live! I just wanted…Oh God."

Grace sobbed, and you quickly stood up as Grace scrambled out of the bed, knocking you back down on the ground, his arms around you. You just barely got an arm behind you, as you scooted back towards the wall, giving you the support to fully embrace Grace as he poured his fear out into the open.

Tears were beginning to form in your eyes, too. You really couldn't believe it. Grace had awoken before you and thus was gathering more memories before you. But this? This was a… nightmare. You had some feelings, choice words, and a certain gesture to give Stratt on the video monitor later, but right now, Grace needed you. You stroked his back with one hand, and squeezed him into you with the other. You wanted to pour all of your horror at his words and the care you felt for him into the hug.

Rocky rolled a bit closer, clacking his three fingers, shaking slightly side to side. You felt for Rocky too. His best friend was obviously upset and he couldn't touch him. He couldn't give him that comfort. Rocky rolled closer and then backed up, rolling out of the room.

You heard his ball clack around in the Hail Mary, but knew you couldn't get up from your position, nor did you want to. You moved your hand from his back to his head, practically petting his hair.

You stayed there for a while, letting Grace get all of it out. As his sobs subsided, his breathing evening out, he pulled a bit off of you.

"Sor-sorry, I know I probably got you all gross with my tears and-and stuff." He wiped at his face, opting to sit next to you, one leg straight out and the other with his knee bent.

"No sorry's needed. I… whatever you need."

He looked over at you, face red and splotchy, eyes tired.

"Thank you."

You lean your head down, looking up into his eyes, before clearly saying,"Of course. Anything you want. Anything you need, Grace."

A sad smile forms on his face. He reaches out slowly, giving you time to pull away, as if you hadn't actively reached for his hand earlier, before intertwining your fingers. He squeezes your hand, once, twice, and a final third time. You look up at him, scrunching your eyebrows, confused, but squeeze his hand back once. You swear you see grief flash in his eyes, a glimmer of tears welling up, but it quickly fades away.

Thump, thump, thump.

You both look to where Rocky has now entered the room. He stops in front of you both, holding something in two of his claws.

"I'm not still in a nightmare, am I?" Grace asks, a perplexed look towards Rocky.

"Nope."

Rocky lifts up one arm, grasping a small green and blue felt ball through his hamster ball. "Grace call this stress ball. Grace is stressed. Rocky give Grace stress ball."

Grace leans over, taking the small Earth ball in his hand not holding yours, and tosses it a few times in the air. "Thanks, Rocky. That's thoughtful of you."

"Rocky not done."

"I can see that, Rocky."

Rocky holds up a xenonite mass in one of his other arms. It looks like a weapon in his hands, like his "screen gun", but more blunt and larger.

"Rocky need word for protect Grace from bad Stratt with tool."

Grace and you look at each other sideways, before bursting out in small laughs. He wipes his face with the back of his hand, still holding the Earth ball. "Rocky, you… there's no need for that Rocky."

"Rocky no understand. Rocky protect."

"Rocky that is very… something of you, but really, all I need are you two. Here. With me now."

"Rocky understand," Rocky shifts side to side, dropping his weapon, almost nervous,"Rocky scared for Grace. For human friends. This happen during sleep many times, question?"

This time, you take over. "No, Rocky. This is called a nightmare. Nightmares are during sleep, you are correct. When we sleep, our brain is still active and we see events in our brain. They often aren't real, but sometimes…" You pause, looking at Grace. He nods at you, so you continue,"they are memories that are bad. Bad. Bad. It is a way for our brain to protect us, but it can also be very scary."

Rocky slumps a little, processing this human thing that he could never understand for himself. "Rocky still scared for human friends," Rocky stands taller as he says,"Rocky still watch. Good, good, good! Rocky watch for nightmares, Rocky get other human friend. Rocky wait for human friend to wake up to help."

You reach a hand out to Rocky, patting his ball a few times before keeping your hand there. Grace gives you a sideways look, before reaching out too, holding the other side of Rocky's ball. He rolls a bit closer, so you can all hug each other. Grace releases your hand, shifting to actually pull you in closer.

"Rocky like all hug."

"It's called a group hug, Rock."

"Rocky like group hug."

You all rest there for a minute, before settling back. You grab at Grace's hand again as you begin to separate, and he happily allows you.

"Grace, you still need to sleep. Would you…would you like me to stay?" You quietly offer.

You feel a tug on your hand, before Grace gets to his feet, pulling you up with him.

"I'd like that very much."

Rocky begins to move toward his sleeping perch, getting into watching position.

You let Grace get into his pod, before climbing in next to him. You both face each other, on your sides, with your joined hands in between you. Normally, you would be very nervous, as you can imagine Grace would be, to sleep in the same bed as another human that you had known for a fairly short amount of time. Yet, Rocky's watching you sleep seemed to lessen that feeling, and after Grace's nightmare, you both knew that comfort was more of a priority than social rules.

"Good night."

"Good night, Grace."

Grace glances up, "Good night Rocky."

"Sleep humans. Rocky watch both sleep. Rocky protect."

By the time you reached the bottom of the stairs, your grip on the handle had tightened to the point your fingers ached. You paused in the dim hallway, breath catching. It wasn’t because of the suitcase, but the weight of everything you were leaving just four floors up. 

The heavy door. The flat. 

Him. 

You stopped your train of thought before your heart led you straight back upstairs, stepping out into the night. The street was quiet, wrapping you in cold darkness immediately. It was late, no sounds of traffic or voices, only the distant sound of the city and the hollow echo of your own footsteps as you crossed toward your car. 

You remembered the first time you’d stood on this exact stretch of pavement, keys in hand, both of you grinning like idiots.

Your salary, paired with his teacher’s one, had been just enough to make it work—barely, at times—but it had felt like a win at the time. A one-bedroom with an actual kitchen, a living room that wasn’t just a glorified corridor, and that tiny little balcony that had sealed it for him immediately.

He’d stepped out onto it that first day.

“It’s perfect,” he said, turning back to you with boyish excitement. “Do you know what we could grow out here?”

You hadn’t, at least not then, but it was impossible not to learn when living with a science teacher. 

Every morning after felt easy. He’d be up before you sometimes, or just after, padding out onto the balcony with a cup of coffee in one hand, already half-focused on the plants before he’d even taken a sip.

You’d stand just inside the glass doors, your own mug warming your hands, watching him.

He’d crouch, careful with his makeshift garden. Fingers brushing over their leaves. He always treated them with such care. Checking the soil, murmuring little observations under his breath.

And then he’d look up at you.

“This one’s doing really well,” he said, pointing, already halfway into it. “I’m going to have to repot it soon—yeah, definitely. It’s starting to outgrow its house. If I leave it the roots’ll get compacted and then it’s just a whole thing—nutrient uptake drops, water retention—should probably move it before it gets upset.”

You never understood half of it, but you loved the way he said it. Loved the way his whole face lit up, voice picking up the pace. He always got completely absorbed with his subject, even something so small and living and hopeful. 

Like he used to be with you.

You reached your car now, dragging your case the last few feet, catching some of the uneven pavement before you lifted it into the back. It landed with a dull thud, making this feel even more final. 

The back of your eyes began to sting as you tried to swallow. 

You glanced back at your building for one last time as you slammed the door shut. Turning and wrapping your arms around yourself to give you some semblance of comfort. 

He always said that it was his job to take care of you. To make sure you were okay, to look after you. 

You’d believed him. 

Just another lie. 

You think you knew from the beginning. The late evenings, distracted conversations. Him nodding along to things you said without really hearing them. You’d been kind to him, told yourself it was normal. People get busy, life gets in the way.

But then it began to stretch.

He’d start coming home later. And when he was home, he was miles away. You’d sit on the sofa together, something half-watched on the TV, and you’d feel it. Physically, he was next to you, but his attention was fractured; trying to be present but couldn’t quite manage it.

You tried to ignore it.  Hell—you wanted nothing more than to ignore it. But you weren’t stupid. 

“I’ve got an after-school thing.”

“I might be running late.”

You’d nodded, because what else were you supposed to do?

But something about it had sat wrong.

That was until you’d picked up your phone, dialled the school, and asked casually if you could leave a message for him. But the voice on the other end told you something you already knew: that the building had been locked up hours ago.

You fucking knew it. 

You closed your eyes, inhaling slowly, trying to steady the tightness in your chest that had been building all day.

You still loved him.

You loved him, and you missed him.

Missed the way he used to look at you, the way he used to reach for you without thinking. Missed the thoughtless closeness that had once been the foundation of everything.

This was not supposed to end with you standing next to your car, years of your life packed away in the back, sneaking away in the middle of the night. 

You were just about to open the door when you heard a noise.

First it was distant, but fast approaching, amplified in the empty night air. It grew louder fast, then closer, your stomach dropping as your mind scrambled to keep up. 

No.

No, no, no. 

You turned your head just enough to see it. A small white light cutting through the dark at the end of the road. 

His bike.

Your heart leapt, slamming against your ribs as your fingers fumbled uselessly with your keys. They slipped, catching awkwardly between your hands as you tried to press the small button.

Not now.

Please, not now.

This was the whole point—you hadn’t waited for him, hadn’t given yourself the chance to hesitate, because you knew if you saw him, if he looked at you the way he used to, if he said your name... 

You wouldn’t go.

Your breath came shallow as you tried again, hands shaking now. Behind you, the bike slowed.

“Hey!”

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to rewind the last thirty seconds so you could just leave.

He pulled up. You heard the shift of movement as he dismounted, the soft scuff of his shoes against the pavement.

“Hey—” he called again, like nothing in the world was wrong. “You off somewhere?”

You finally unlocked the car, the sound that seemed to echo far too loudly in the street.

“If you needed me to pick something up you should’ve just asked,” he went on, voice warm, slightly breathless from his journey home.

You kept your head down, unable to look at him. 

You heard the shift of his helmet being pulled off, the shake of it as he adjusted his hair, the soft clatter as he leaned the bike carefully against the side of your car.

God. You didn’t want to do this.

You didn’t want to stand here and say the words out loud. You didn’t want to hear him explain or watch him try to fix something that had already slipped too far through your hands. You didn’t want to beg him to tell you what you already knew.

That he’d lost interest.

Or something worse.

“Move, Ry,” you sighed, hand already on the door as you tried to pull it open.

The cold air bit at your skin sharply, but you barely felt it. He made no effort to move. He did the complete opposite, stepping in front of the car, cutting you off entirely, clearly not realising you were trying to do. 

“Hey, are you alright?” he asked, his brows pulling together as he took a proper look at you. “It’s freezing out here.”

You almost laughed.

You hadn’t even brought a jumper. Every single one you owned was his.

Soft, worn cotton that still smelled faintly like him, no matter how many times you washed them. You’d stood in front of the drawer earlier, fingers curled around the fabric. You didn’t know if your heart could bear taking them.

So you’d left them behind, left everything back there. 

“Move,” you tried again, stronger this time, your voice shaking despite your best efforts as you stepped forward, attempting to push past him. “Please, I—I need you to move.”

He shifted slightly, just enough to stay in front of you, confusion flickering across his face as your words finally began to register properly.

Something wasn’t right; he could see it now.

“Hey—wait—”

He dipped slightly, crouching just enough to catch your face as you tried to turn away, his head tilting, searching for some sign to tell him what was going through your head.

It was impossible not to see the red rims of your eyes, your breath coming in unevenly despite how still you were trying to hold yourself.

His expression shifted.

Please, don’t do this. 

“…what’s wrong?”

His hands came up without thinking, settling gently on your shoulders like they always did when he was trying to ground you. You shrugged them off, stepping back like his touch burned.

He would never expect you to react that way to him. 

His hands hovered in the air for a second before dropping back down, his fingers flexing, unsure at his sides.

You’d always lean into him.

Always.

“You’re worrying me, sweetheart,” he tried again, shifting his weight. “C’mon—let’s just go upstairs, yeah? We can talk about whatever this is inside. It’s not safe to be out here this late—”

You wanted to, so badly.

You wanted to go upstairs, let him pull you into the warmth of your home, make you tea, talk you through it in that rambling way of his until everything felt manageable again.

You wanted to look into his eyes and believe him.

But for both of your sakes, you couldn’t let that happen. 

You knew the second you stepped back into your shared space, softening even a little, it would be over for you. You’d fold. You’d stay. You’d convince yourself it wasn’t as bad as it felt.

And you couldn’t do that again. You owed yourself more than that.

“I’m not going upstairs with you,” you said, lifting your head finally, forcing yourself to meet his eyes.

Those stupid, pleading blue eyes that had always undone you without effort.

“I’m leaving, Ry,” you continued, your voice breaking. “I—I can’t do this anymore.”

Your words didn’t properly land, hovering somewhere between the two of you. Words he never imagined he would hear. 

His mouth parted like he was about to say something before stopping himself, his eyes searching your face like he was trying to find something that made sense.

Much like you had, for weeks at this point. 

“What—” he started, then stopped, swallowing hard. “Why?”

He took a step closer, cautious now he realised how serious you were.

“C’mon,” he said, voice tighter, something creeping into it, panic, maybe, or confusion. “You’re not making any sense. Let’s just—let’s just go inside, okay? We can figure this out—”

“There is nothing to figure out.”

You saw the way he stilled, the way his shoulders tensed, the way his expression flickered again. 

Hurt this time, unmistakable.

“Seriously,” you added, your hands trembling as you gestured weakly toward the side, toward the space you needed him to move from. “My mind’s made up, so if you can—”

Your voice wavered and he caught it.

Of course he fucking did.

It was like a switch flipped behind his eyes, the moment your words faltered. That ever-so-small crack in your composure was enough to make him hope that this was salvageable. He sharpened immediately, though his confusion remained, but it shifted into something more urgent. 

“Hey—no, wait—” he said quickly, stepping forward again. “Don’t—don’t do that.”

His voice softened on the last part, trying to steady you.

You shook your head immediately, stepping back again, your heel catching slightly against the curb as you tried to keep distance between you.

“Just—please,” you said, breath uneven now. “Just move, Ry, I don’t—I don’t want to do this like this, I just—”

“Like what?” his words spilt out. “What are you talking about?”

He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back messily. His eyes kept shifting between your face and the car, like he was trying to piece something together and kept coming up short.

“You’re leaving?” he said again, like saying it slower might make it make sense. “You’re—why would you—what happened?”

What happened? 

Like he had the nerve to even ask. 

A laugh broke out of you, brittle and wrong.

“What happened?” you echoed, your head shaking “Ryland—are you serious?”

He winced, the missing nickname hitting him. 

“I—yeah, I—what do you mean?” he stammered, genuinely lost. “You were fine this morning, I—”

“That’s exactly it,” you cut in. “I’m always fine, right? Everything’s always fine because I don’t say anything and you don’t ask and we just—carry on like nothing’s wrong.”

“Something is wrong,” he said, immediately agreeing, more careful now. “Clearly something is—just tell me what it is.”

Just tell him what it is so he can fix it. 

You shook your head again, your hands coming up as you could physically push the words back down.

“No, I—I can’t—” you started, your breath hitching as it all caught up with you. “I can’t keep pretending like this is—like this is normal, like this is what it’s supposed to feel like—”

“What isn’t normal?” he pressed, trying to follow. “You have to tell me, I can’t—”

“You’re never here anymore!” you burst out, the words breaking loose before you could stop them.

The silence that followed was painful. The confusion on his face faltered as it softened into something sadder, almost edged with apology, even if he didn’t fully understand why.

“What?”

“You’re just—” you gestured helplessly, your hands shaking. “You’re gone, Ry. You’re here, but you’re not here, and I—I don’t even know when that happened, I don’t know when I stopped being part of your life in a way that actually matters—”

“That’s not—” 

“You don’t talk to me anymore,” you pushed on messily. “You don’t look at me properly, you don’t—you don’t see me, and I’ve been standing there just—waiting for you to come back to me and you just—”

“I am here,” he said desperately. “I’m right here, I—”

“No, you’re not.” 

Not in the way he used to be. 

He opened his mouth, trying to figure out how to respond to what was so obvious.

You could see it, see him trying, like he always did. Reaching for something to fix it, to explain, to make it all make sense again. He’d always been good at solving problems. But this felt like something that had slipped too far through his hands to put back together.

This had been breaking for a long time. 

“I’ve just been busy,” he said finally, grabbing the first thing that made sense. “That’s all it is. It’s—it’s work, it’s been—”

“Busy?” you repeated, your voice cracking again. “You’ve been lying.”

His whole body went still, like you’d pulled something tight inside him.

You knew you were right. 

“I—no, I haven’t—” he said too quickly. 

There it was again. 

That instinctive, immediate reach for something untrue, so fast it barely felt like he’d thought about it. You’d let yourself hope that he might fix it. That he might finally say something real enough to pull you back.

But that just cemented it.

He was sticking with the bullshit. 

“You told me you were at the school,” you gritted out, tears finally slipping free despite how hard you’d been holding them back. “You told me you were working late, and I—I called, Ry. I called them.”

His face fell.

“They said the building was locked,” you went on, your voice breaking. “Hours ago.”

“Okay—okay, wait—” he said quickly, hands coming up again, palms out like he was trying to slow everything down. “There’s—there’s a simple explanation for that, I just—”

“What?” you asked. “What explanation?”

What could he possibly say?

“I was—I was there,” he said, nodding like he was trying to convince both of you. “I just—I left, like, right before you called, they must’ve just—missed me, or—”

“Ryland,” you pleaded for him to stop. 

He tried to press on.

“I—stopped at the store,” he added, scrambling now. “On the way back, and I—lost track of time, that’s all, I just—”

You stared at him, and something in your expression must have told him because he stopped. The words fell apart mid-sentence, realising how poorly he was doing. 

Even he wouldn’t believe a word coming out of his mouth. And he knew you weren’t stupid. 

“You’re a terrible liar,” you said quietly. It wasn’t even cruel, just a plain observation that he couldn’t even be angry about.

He swallowed hard, his eyes flicking away from yours for the first time since he’d gotten there.

“I’m not—” 

“You are,” you said. “You always have been.”

It was true. Last year he’d tried to convince you he hadn’t planned anything for your birthday, doing a terrible job of acting casual while you narrowed your eyes at him. He’d tripped over every word, couldn’t quite meet your gaze, and you’d laughed because it was so obvious, so him. 

Now you weren’t even sure he’d remember the date without being reminded.

The silence stretched again as your mind went somewhere you had been skirting around for weeks. You didn’t want to believe it, but you had to be sure, even if you broke your own heart in the process. 

“Is there—“ you began, trying to swallow the taste of the question back down. “Is there someone else?”

Your voice broke on the last syllable, his head snapping up. 

“What?” his response was immediate, like he was unable to comprehend you asking such a question. 

“Because I don’t understand what else it could be,” you went on, tears falling freely now, your chest heaving with it. “You’re gone all the time, you won’t tell me where you are, you barely touch me anymore, and I—I just need to know if I’m—if I’m just—”

“Hey—no—no, no, no,” he cut in quickly. He couldn’t stop himself when you looked like this. “Sweetheart, no—how could you even—no, I would never—”

He moved without hesitation, closing the space between you, one hand catching your arm just to steady you before the other came up, hovering for a split second at your cheek like he wasn’t sure he had the right.

His fingers were warm against your skin, his thumb brushing just beneath your eye as if he could physically stop the tears.

“I would never do that,” he said urgently. “Not to you, not—no, that’s not—don’t—don’t think that, okay? Please don’t think that.”

His words were so soft, but you were already splintering, and the contrast was too much to bear. Whatever you’d been holding together, whatever thin thread of control you’d been clinging to, snapped completely.

A sob tore out of you before you could stop it, your hands coming up to cover your face as your shoulders shook, the sound raw and helpless and completely out of your control.

“Hey—hey—” he panicked now. “Okay—it’s okay, I’ve got you—”

He pulled you into him, unable to stop himself, arms wrapping around you properly this time.

He couldn’t lose you like this.

You didn’t fight him, already lost in his familiar embrace. Your hands clutched at his jacket instead, fingers twisting into the fabric as you cried into him, the sound muffled against his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he was saying, over and over, the words tumbling out. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t—I didn’t realise it was—I didn’t know you were—”

You shook your head against him, your voice breaking apart between breaths.

“You weren’t there,” you managed, the words barely coherent. “You—you weren’t there and I—I didn’t know how to—how to fix it on my own and I—”

“I know, I know,” he said, his hand coming up to the back of your head, holding you there gently, his fingers brushing as he tried to calm you down. “That’s on me, okay? That’s—that’s my fault, I should’ve—”

His voice caught as the guilt started to settle. 

How could he have let it get this bad? 

Was he that blind? 

“I’m here,” he said instead. “I’m here now, okay? I’m right here.”

You cried harder at that. The statement offering you little comfort. He had been here physically, albeit in fragmented pieces, but he wasn’t with you. It was outlined in every late-night and half-finished conversation. 

Your knuckles started to ache as you squeezed his jacket tighter, feeling the damp of your own tears leaving small marks on his lapel. You could feel the erratic rise and fall of his own breathing where your cheek was anchored into his chest, far from his usual steadiness. Instead, it was racing. 

Good. 

It was a bitter thought, but you couldn’t help it. It felt good to have him feel just a fraction of what you were going through. The feeling didn’t last long; you were too tired. Far too worn to sustain any malice right now. 

You let yourself take a deep breath in, trying to steady your breathing. The adrenaline diffusing into exhaustion. The fog in your head cleared as you came back into yourself, making the decision before you even pulled away, shaking your head softly against him. 

“I think—“ you started, your voice muffled by his shirt. “Maybe it’s better if we just… spend tonight apart.”

His whole body went rigid beneath you. Every muscle locked up at once as you barely finished your statement. 

“What?” he sputtered. His face had gone pale beneath the streetlight. “No,” he said again, already shaking his head. “No, absolutely not. No.”

“Ry—”

“No.” He swallowed hard, now blinking fast, trying and failing to get hold of himself. “No, I’m not—I’m not letting you just go somewhere alone when you’re this upset, okay? I’m not doing that.”

We don’t do that. 

The urgency of it made your chest tighten all over again. He looked wrecked now, breathing still uneven, eyes darting over your face.

“I’m not asking for permission,” you said weakly; even to your own ears there was no strength in it. “I just… I can’t do this tonight. I can’t stand here and—”

“No, no, you can’t—” He was speaking too fast now, his brain sprinting ahead of his mouth. “Okay, yes, obviously, tonight is—bad, I get that, I do, but you can’t leave like this. You just can’t. Not—not when you think—” He broke off, exhaled sharply through his nose. “Not when you think that’s what’s happening.”

You looked away from him, jaw trembling.

“I don’t have it in me to argue with you.”

“Then don’t,” he said, almost pleading now. “Just—just let me try.”

Your throat tightened.

His voice dropped, but no less desperate. “Please,” he said, almost painfully with his sincerity. “Please just come upstairs with me.”

You didn’t answer.

You wanted to. To fold into the shape of him and let him lead you upstairs, but you felt completely wrung out. Heavy with grief and the cold and the too many sleepless nights spent staring at the ceiling when he was right there next to you. 

“I’ll tell you everything,” he said. “Okay? I will. I promise, I know I’ve been weird, and I know I’ve been gone, and I know this looks terrible—horrific, actually, in retrospect, which is my fault—but it’s not what you think it is. It’s not. You have to—you have to believe me on that part.”

His hands had slid down to your elbows now, holding lightly. His thumb kept twitching against your sleeve.

“I’ll explain all of it,” he said more firmly. “I’ll tell you everything. Just… please don’t walk away from me tonight. Please.”

You searched his face, the open panic there. The fear. His mouth was parted slightly, ready to keep pleading if you needed him to. His eyes were frantic, horribly earnest.

He looked nothing like a man who had stopped caring. He looked like a man who had just realised what his silence had cost him.

The fight was draining out of you, leaving a dangerous flicker of hope you did not trust. Your face felt cold from the night and hot from crying. Your chest hurt. Everything hurt.

You gave the smallest nod, one that was barely there. One which he latched onto instantly. His whole expression changed with almost comical speed, relief flashing across his face so fast and so naked it might have been laughable in any other moment. 

“Yeah?” he said, breathless. “Yeah?”

You managed another tiny nod.

You could let him try. 

He perked up at once, scrambling to gather himself. 

“Yeah, okay,” he said. “Yeah, alright. Come on. Come on, let’s just—okay.”

He was moving before he’d even finished speaking. He shrugged off his coat immediately, that caretaking part of him kicking in with no thought at all, and stepped forward to drape it around your shoulders before you could protest. It was still warm from him. 

“You’re freezing,” he muttered, already fussing with the collar to pull it closer around you. “God, why didn’t you—no, stupid question, forget I asked.”

Gently but decisively, he took your keys from your unresisting hand. You frowned faintly, too wrung out to stop him, watching through blurred vision as he glanced at you once before he clicked the button.

The car locked with a sharp little chirp. He winced, caught out.

“I’m sorry,” he said immediately, not sounding sorry in the sense that he regretted it, only sorry that you’d noticed the calculation. “That was—yes, I know. But you were about to leave me in a parking spot, so I think I get one tactical decision.”

Despite everything, despite the ache in your throat and the tears still wet on your cheeks, the line was so desperately, transparently him that something in your expression must have shifted.

“I’m not locking you in,” he said more gently. “I’m just… I need to get you upstairs before you bolt or decide I’m terrible enough to justify vehicular manslaughter. One crisis at a time.”

You chuckled against your better judgment. 

Damn him. 

“C’mon,” he said quietly, his hand finding yours. And when you didn’t resist, he tightened his hold just a fraction.

At the front door, he let go of your hand only long enough to fumble the key into the lock, missing the first time because his hands were still shaking. He huffed under his breath, corrected, and pushed the door open before immediately turning back to you.

“Go sit down,” he told you. “I’ll make tea, alright?”

You didn’t argue, letting him guide you inside, his hand still hovering at your back. The flat felt wrong now, with you going back on the promise not to return here tonight. 

You moved toward the sofa, lowering yourself down slowly, his jacket still wrapped around you. Behind you, you heard him move into the kitchen. Cupboards opening, shutting. The scrape of something being moved out of the way. The clatter of the kettle being filled, water rushing.

He was nervous; you could hear it in everything he did.

Your hands curled into your lap, fingers picking absently at the skin beside your nail, tugging at it until it stung. You pressed your thumb harder against it, grounding yourself in the sharp pain. You stared at nothing, eyes unfocused, listening to the soft click of the kettle switching on. The sound filled the space, just like old evenings. 

He reappeared with two mugs in his hand, steam curling from both of them, glasses slightly fogged, 

“Sorry,” he started automatically, stepping into the living room. “I couldn’t find your mug, I swear it was—”

You looked up. His words faltered mid-sentence, his eyes drifting from the mugs in his hands to your face.

“Oh,” he said softly.

You were really serious. 

His voice was quiet and your gaze dropped immediately, heat creeping up your neck, embarrassment uncomfortable in your chest. You stared down at your hands instead, deciding they were far more bearable to look at.

He shook his head quickly, needing to undo the moment as fast as possible.

“Hey—no, look—it’s fine,” he said, a little too gentle. “It’s—I’m gonna fix it, alright? I’m gonna make it fine.”

You really hoped so.

He crouched slightly as he reached you, setting one of the mugs down on the coffee table before offering the other to you. You took it without looking up, the warmth seeping into your palms.

Then he sat opposite, on the edge of the table. Your knees were almost touching. He rested his elbows on his thighs, one hand still loosely wrapped around his own mug, the other running briefly through his hair again before dropping back down.

Here goes nothing. 

“Okay,” he said finally. “So.”

You lifted your eyes to him slowly, bracing yourself.

“I don’t… really work as a teacher anymore.”

What?

I mean, you knew it wasn’t his first profession, that had been ripped away from him. He told you after a few weeks of dating, the past still sat heavy on his shoulders. But he took a shine to his kids, was protective of them, even found himself finding joy in the small places the classroom offered. 

“…you got fired?” 

It was the only thing you could deduce. 

“No—no, God, no,” he said, startled. “I’m not that terrible.”

You didn’t laugh. He swallowed, nodding once to himself like he’d expected that.

“Right. Yeah,” he muttered, shaking his head. He set his mug down, both hands coming together loosely between his knees.

“What I’m about to tell you—” He faltered, dragging a hand over his mouth. “It’s not something I’m meant to say. Not to anyone. So I need you to trust me, okay? Just—trust me for a minute.”

Your throat felt too tight to speak, but you nodded.

“Do you know what the Petrova line is?”

You tilted your head, the question so abrupt it threw you slightly.

“…yeah,” you said slowly. “You’ve—you’ve talked about it before.”

He nodded in relief.

“Yeah, yeah, of course I have,” he said, more to himself than to you, like he was trying to reassure himself that there was a logical entry point here. “Right. Good. That’s good.”

How could he not remember?

He was fascinated by it, and mildly concerned. Researching articles and sharing them with you in the evening, or even messaging them to you while you were at work. 

Maybe you weren’t a priority anymore.

He kept going.

“So—okay—the Petrova line,” he said, slipping unconsciously into explanation mode. “Those dots, right? The… the dimming events on the sun? They’re not just random fluctuations. They’re consistent.”

He glanced at you, checking you were following. You nodded faintly.

“They’re… eating it,” he said, the words sounding strange even as he said them. “Not—not like, metaphorically. Literally. Something is consuming solar radiation at the surface level and absorbing it or… something.”

“…huh?”

“I know,” he held up a hand, already anticipating the reaction. “I know how that sounds, okay? I do. But it’s—it’s measurable. The data’s there, it’s been there, we—I just didn’t realise how serious it was.”

His voice was picking up now, like he was explaining something to his class. 

“It’s spreading,” he continued. “Exponentially. And if it keeps going at the rate it is, it—it’s not just a solar anomaly, it’s a—it’s a problem. A big one.”

Your fingers tightened around the mug in your hands.

“…Ryland,” you said quietly. “What are you talking about?”

How did this relate to anything?

He exhaled, dragging a hand down his face before looking back at you.

“I got… approached,” he said, choosing his words more carefully. “At work. In the school car park.”

Your stomach dropped.

“Approached?”

“Yeah,” he said with a small, humourless breath. “Like—cornered, basically. There were people. Government people. I didn’t—I didn’t know that at the time, obviously, I just thought—” He shook his head. “They knew about an article I wrote years ago. About life not necessarily requiring water to evolve, you remember?”

Like he had to ask. 

You looked at him to continue. 

“I tried to say no,” he added defensively. “I did. I told them I was a teacher, that I wasn’t—I wasn’t the right person, that they should find someone else, but they—”

Something tightened in his expression.

“They didn’t really give me a choice.”

The room felt smaller.

“They think these things—whatever they are—they’re alive,” he went on. “And they can survive on the surface of the sun.”

Your eyes widened as you fully registered his words. 

But… how is that possible?

You didn’t have a PHD in space science or damn astrophysics, but this sounded insane, even to you. 

“And because I have a background in molecular biology and I’ve written about organisms that can survive extreme environments and I am, apparently, just obscure enough to be useful without being politically complicated…” He let out a breathless exhale. “They… recruited me.”

Recruited him.

It was almost unbelievable. He was brilliant—yes—but your cardigan-wearing, plant-watering, middle-school-teaching boyfriend had somehow been snapped up by the government to investigate why the sun is basically dying?

He was right, it did sound insane. 

“…you’re serious?” you said, though it didn’t sound like a question.

He held your gaze.

“I know how it sounds,” he said quietly. “I do. I know it sounds insane.”

He got that right. 

“…you’re saying…” You started, your voice unsteady. “You’ve been—what? Working with the government?”

He nodded once. And you realised, with a sinking, dizzying feeling in your chest. 

He wasn’t lying.

As much as you hated to admit it, the information sank through your chest. You wanted to tear it apart, find a seam and rip, pulling until you could shred it into something easier to understand. 

But it made sense. 

The late nights shrouded in secrecy, all of the distractions. He was stretched thin about something he clearly couldn’t talk about. He’d come home wired, your brain jumping to the worst possible conclusion, but his mind was still buzzing with something far greater than the two of you. 

There was detail in his explanation—so much detail, and it was fast. The intricacies of his story felt unpolished and unrehearsed, just like life was. His lies were never this big; this felt too real to be something he’d constructed just to avoid telling you he didn’t love you anymore. He would never be that cruel. 

It was true, but you didn’t want to think about what that meant for you both. 

Your stomach twisted as you processed, not knowing whether to be angry or terrified. Your grip tightened around the mug as your pulse started to make itself known again, surging back with fresh force. 

“You—“ you began. “Why didn’t you talk to me?”

You had an inkling as to why. This was a huge secret, but he still allowed you to think the worst, not noticing how fractured your relationship was becoming. 

“Hey—no, I wanted to,” he told you quickly, slightly relieved you were humouring him. “I tried to tell you. Like—multiple times, actually, I just—”

He broke off, dragging a hand through his hair.

“There were NDAs,” he said, the words tight. “Not the kind you sign for, like, a new textbook publisher or whatever, I mean actual—legal, government-level—if I say the wrong thing to the wrong person I could—”

He cut himself off again, jaw tightening.

“They’re… not people you mess around with,” he finished. “They’re the real deal.”

Who the hell has your boyfriend even been talking to?

“These people?” you echoed, incredulous. “Ryland, how do you even know these people are legit?”

“They are,” he said immediately. “They just—are.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“I know, I know,” he said, frustrated with himself now. “I just—I can’t give you, like, credentials or a LinkedIn profile or—I don’t know—”

Despite everything, the corner of your mouth twitched faintly. 

“But they’re real. I promise you they’re real.”

You focused on him through the haze of adrenaline, allowing the noise in your head to go quiet. Mulling his words over and over as he awaited your response. 

It was your turn to look at him now, the man you loved sitting opposite. And if you were being completely honest, he looked wrecked. 

The exhaustion clung to him. There were faint shadows under his eyes that were far darker than they should have been. His hair had grown slightly longer than usual. It fell messily over his forehead, half pushed back and unkempt. His hands were itching at his knees, unable to stay still. Fingers flexing and twitching, wired with adrenaline. 

He was waiting for you. Waiting for you to say something. 

Tell him you believe him. 

But in doing so, you’d be admitting that he hadn’t just drifted away from you, he’d been taken to somewhere you couldn’t follow. 

Your throat burned as your emotions scattered. 

He could have told you something—a small thing. Something to stop you from unravelling the way you had, enough to stop you from standing outside with a packed suitcase, ready to leave everything behind. 

You parted your lips as you tried to find a question to ask, a hundred things you could demand of him right now. From the look on his face, he would do them all. 

What mattered most right now? What did you need to hear from him first? 

There was only one thing that circled in your mind, the thing that kept you up at night. The only thing that made this ache so sore. 

Your voice was fragile as you posed the question. 

“…you didn’t just… get bored with me then?”

Ryland looked at you, completely devastated. 

How could you ask him that?

“No.” It was his most immediate response that night.  “Absolutely not.” 

He leaned forward, needing you to hear his words more clearly than ever. 

“That was never—never what this was,” his voice was firm. His chest ached at how fragile you sounded, ached even harder that you had to pose the question. 

He could hardly bear to imagine what must have been going through your head these past weeks. 

“You really thought I—“ he stopped to align the words right. “You really thought I could stop loving you? Just like that?”

The thought sounded unfathomable to him. 

You fell silent, your actions from tonight speaking for themselves. 

You had. He had pushed you to the point where you had. 

He exhaled as your gaze dropped to the mug in your lap; you felt a sense of shame, which he saw immediately. 

“Hey—this is on me,” he quietly told you, shifting forward. “This is completely on me, alright?”

Before you could react, he reached forward and gently took the mug from your hands. His fingers brushed yours without him meaning to, and you found yourself almost itching for them again. He set it down beside his own on the table, deciding to join you on the couch.

“I feel so stupid—” you started.

“Hey—no,” he cut in immediately, his hand finding yours where it rested in your lap. “No. You’re not stupid.”

Far from it in his mind. You were the only person who was, quite frankly, alarmingly smarter than him on most days.

His thumb brushed over your knuckles, feather light as they moved.

“If anything, you’re underreacting,” he attempted with humour. “Honestly, I’m impressed you didn’t throw something at my head sooner.”

A weak, breathy sound left you. You definitely thought about it. 

“I got in over my head,” he admitted. “And I handled it badly. You deserved better than that.”

His hand tightened around yours.

“A lot better.”

You could feel it in the way he said it, the weight he’d been carrying, the guilt sitting heavy in his chest. This was a conversation that should have happened weeks ago.

“I should’ve trusted you with it,” he went on. “I should’ve—I don’t know.”

His other hand came up then, tentative, brushing lightly along your arm before settling at your elbow.

“I’m sorry,” he said, softer now. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Your throat tightened again. He shifted, body angling toward yours fully now, closing the space without overwhelming you. His hand lifted slowly—giving you time to pull away if you needed to—but when you didn’t, his fingers came to your face, warm against your cheek.

“Hey…” he murmured. His thumb brushed lightly along your jaw, coaxing. “Look at me.”

Your eyes met his, wide and a little glassy. And the way he looked at you. 

God.

The love he’d been too wrapped up to show properly for weeks was pouring out of him completely now. Attention back on track to where it should have been all this time.

“I love you,” it was a statement, the honest truth behind all of this. “Do you believe me?”

You had to.