tina ⟢

Opening your textbook that Saturday morning felt like stepping into a world long forgotten. You had been so caught up in Rayne's birthday preparations, then there had been the dance — and Jungkook. It shamed you to admit that your studies had taken a backseat in favor of the Jeon family. With your final exam coming up before Christmas you were now paying the price of your ignorance

It didn't help that Daehyun had chosen the exact moment you sat down to get some work done to give you a call. An hour and a half later and you were still on the phone with him as he went on about his latest attempt at romance, which, given his track record, did not bode well. 

"But I don't think he's ready for anything serious—" your friend sighs on the other end of the line, "I mean, he's only been taking me to hotels as of now. I haven't even gotten to see his place and he's been to mine multiple times." 

Clutching a highlighter in your free hand, you underline a third paragraph on the page in front of you, not actually bothering to read the words written. "Mhm," you hum, frowning slightly when his statement actually registers, "Wait, he hasn't introduced you to anyone yet?" Tilting the phone slightly, you nudge it to your ear with the help of your shoulder. 

Daehyun makes an offended noise, "No," he mutters begrudgingly. "And here I thought someone his age would at least have the balls to make a move on me outside of the bedroom." 

You pause, highlighter pressing against the paper as the yellow color continues to bleed onto it. "How old is he again?" 

There's a dramatic beat of silence before Daehyun scoffs, "Twenty-seven!" You can vividly imagine him throwing a hand in the air as he gestures wildly to a play-pretend audience. "Can you believe it?" He sounds as though he's ready to go on another rant only to be stopped by the disapproving click of your tongue.

"Dae…" You exhale, brows furrowing deep on your forehead. 

"What?" He retorts defensively, "I don't want to hear anything from you, Ms I've got a thing for my boss who's thirty." 

You cringe at that, fingers curling a little tighter around the highlighter as you stare at the wall in front of you. "It's not like that— And you're making it sound weird!" Pursing your lips, you roll the thick pen between your index and middle finger, "Besides, I do not have 'a thing' for him." The truth was that you had more than a thing for Jungkook, but admitting that to Daehyun of all people felt like a death sentence. 

It was easy to forget that Jungkook actually paid you to see his children. That each day spent at the Jeon house was a transaction and should have stayed that way. Your free hand traces the corner of the open page. Falling in love with both Cassian and Rayne had never been part of the plan — least of all had the intimate moments you shared with their father been. Now you feared you were in far too deep to ever be rescued, the worst part was that even if such an opportunity did presented itself — you knew you wouldn't take it. 

There's rustling on the other side of the line as Daehyun shifts to get comfortable, likely laying in bed with his phone cord wrapped around himself. "Hey, I ain't say there was anything wrong with it. I'm just stating the facts of your situation and judging by what you've told me, he sounds a great deal better than whatever dude I let stick it up my ass." 

"Okay— Okay, I didn't need any explicit details about your sex life, Dae." Squeezing your eyes shut, you try to force the picture of your friend from your mind. Unfortunately in doing so, you manage to open a door you had not intended to. Images of Jungkook instead flood your vision, images of his lips, parted and red, hovering just inches from your own. 

The afternoon you had spent together all those weeks ago, the quiet intimacy of his chest pressed against yours, his hands on your body, his mouth on— 

"Say," Daehyun drawls, "Is he more man than my recent fuck?" 

His question startles you from your thoughts and you blink. "What?" you huff, confusion lacing your words, "What's that supposed to mean?" 

Your friend heaves a breath, like the answer was written in front of you. "I mean, has he made a move on you?"

Made a move? Jungkook? You swallow the lump that sits in your throat, hoping the crappy landline won't pick up on it. Memories of all the stolen moments between you return. The way he'd kissed you for the first time in his study that night over a month ago — pulling away like he'd committed a crime. You think of all the touches he'd let linger after your shared afternoon together, the caresses to your waist, the kisses to your neck, lips… 

You knew that keeping whatever it was the two of you had going on a secret from the children was important. But Daehyun was not someone you had to keep things from, so why did it feel so difficult to tell him? Perhaps it was because telling him would mean confirming that it had actually happened, that it was real and not just a figment of your imagination or a fantasy you had conjured during late nights alone in bed. 

"Well he…" Your index finger finds the cord that ties your phone to its machine and you toy with it idly. "He's been pretty clear I guess," you murmur, almost shyly as heat crawls to your face. 

Daehyun could've easily made a back flip on his end of the phone, but if you had to guess, he'd simply shot up straight from whatever position he'd been lounging in. "No way!" he practically shouts, the excitement radiating off of him, "How far have you gone?" 

The chair creaks under your weight as you shift on it awkwardly. While it wasn't uncommon for Daehyun to share all about his sexual endeavors, you had never been on the giving end of the exchange between you. 

Your silence seems to do the job though because a moment later you hear him snicker on the other side the line. "You dirty little minx," he practically squeals, "Tell me everything!" 

You're thankful for the distance between you at the moment. The last thing you needed was him cooing at your flustered expression or the way you chewed on your bottom lip. "I don't know what there's to say…" Shrugging, you put the highlighter down, finger tapping softly against it as you ponder an answer that would satisfy him without leading to more prying. 

"What is there not to say?" Daehyun is radiating on his end, the sound of his mattress groaning loudly as he shifts on top of it. "What was he like? Was he good?" The teasing lilt to his voice is unmistakable and it has you tightening your grip on the phone, hard enough for it to crack. 

"Yeah," the admission leaves you in a breathless whisper, "Like…really good." And he had been. You don't think you had ever felt touch like his before, it was like he knew exactly when and where to linger, how to move, how to breathe with you. Shaking your head, you try to brush past the unwelcome visions of his head between your legs. 

Daehyun, however, is far from finished with this conversation as it just took a most interesting turn. "What did I tell you? Guys his age know what they're doing. So tell me—" 

Your friend is just about to pry further when the device in your hand suddenly beeps loudly, effectively pulling your attention toward the familiar sequence of numbers that had appeared on the screen, signaling you of a different caller. "Dae, I might have to call you back," you say when going over the numbers a second time. 

There's a short pause before Daehyun's speaks, "Wait what—?" The confusion only lasts a second though, "Oh. Is it him? It has to be, why else would you hang up on your beautiful best fr—" 

"Okay, bye!" 

The relief that floods you by ending the ongoing call with Daehyun quickly evaporates as you realize that you would be answering the man who's abilities in bed you had just been discussing. A small grimace tugs at your features and you blink twice when bringing the phone back to your ear, pressing a button on the machine to allow the lines to connect. 

For a while all you hear is the static, bruising noise coming from the other end and you clear your throat awkwardly to greet him, "Hello?" 

You and Jungkook had spoke very little when he returned home last night. Having put Cassian to bed by eight, just as instructed, you met the pair by the front door as Jungkook stepped inside. He'd been carrying a sleeping Rayne in his arms, the look on his face serene as he regarded his daughter. 

When you had asked how the night went he'd simply smiled — a smile so rare for someone like him. Then he'd told you that he would be taking her to bed. He thanked you for your help but his eyes never strayed from the girl in his arms. Once he began climbing the stairs you'd decided that it was best you take your leave and give him the rest of the night alone with his sleeping children. 

So to accept a call from him, on a Saturday no less, was rather unexpected. "Good afternoon," Jungkook's voice startles you slightly and you turn in your seat to peer at the clock over by the couch. It was already nearing 1pm, how long had you and Daehyun been on the phone? 

"Yes… Afternoon," You hum, gaze flickering to the discarded highlighter, laying across your open textbook. Without its cap on the ink was running dry and you glance around in search for the missing piece. 

On the other end of the line there's a pause before Jungkook continues, "I'm aware that it's your day off," he says, "But I have to leave for the office, rather unexpectedly. If you're busy I understand, I'm sure I can make arrangements with their grandparents or—" 

"I'm free." 

The response pours out of you in a second, cutting him off mid-sentence as your fingers curl around the phone a little tighter. You were actually busy, but as you close up your textbook you knew that your mind was made up. 

You can hear his exhale through the static of the phone — he sounds relieved. "That's good," he then says, "I would come pick you up myself, I just cannot leave the children at home." 

"Oh, I'm just fine taking the bus, no worries." you assure him, finally finding the cap of your highlighter as you seal it in place with a click. 

Jungkook is quiet for some time, until he finally asks, "Will you at least let me pay the bus fare?" 

His suggestion makes you freeze from where you had been leaning over to stuff the yellow pen back in the jar that held the rest. Brows scrunching together, "You already pay me enough," you tell him when rising to your feet, "I'll be there in half an hour." 

He doesn't argue with you on the matter, sighing on his end, giving in with a soft 'Alright' before allowing you to disconnect the call. 

You don't hesitate as you gather your things, trying to keep the excitement in your chest at bay as the lock twists, sealing your front door and leaving you to scurry down the stairs. 

The buses were not as lenient during the weekends, rather than every fifteen minutes they ran every thirty, making your trip to the Jeon house slightly longer than usual. You've brought your study material — this time without fear of Jungkook stumbling across it. You figured you should at least try to revise for the upcoming exam. 

Snow stubbornly clings to your sneakers as you walk down the pavement. It smears even further when you attempt to brush it off with the opposite foot, white clumps quickly melting through the fabric and soaking into your socks. "Stupid shoes," you mutter when pushing the gate to the Jeon estate open, still trudging forward with your head bowed. 

In fact, you were so caught up in the disappointment of your cold and wet feet that you don't bother glancing up when heading toward the steps of the front porch. Perhaps had you been a little more attentive you would have noticed the obstacle of another person before you crashed into them. 

Forehead slamming against something hard, you tumble back with a small 'oof', already reaching up to soothe the throb in your temple. "Are you okay?" The sound of Jungkook's voice makes your head spin even more so than the impact of his shoulder where it had smacked across your face. His fingers brush against your wrist as he guides your chilly hand away to assess the damage himself. 

Upon further inspection, and a slight clearing of your rattled mind, you realize that he'd been outside even before your arrival. Had it not been for the white layer that dusts his dark hair and the coat he wears — then the faint redness to his nose was a dead giveaway. 

"I'm fine," shrugging nonchalantly, you raise him a brow, "What are you doing out here?" 

Jungkook blinks once, lips parting as he lets his touch fall from your arms and takes a small step back. "I was just leaving," jerking his chin in the direction of his car, you follow his line of sight. Upon turning back to the thick and fluffy snow that layers his shoulders, not to mention the rosy tint to his cheeks, his lie becomes blatant. 

"I never got to thank you for yesterday," he then says, frowning when you shake your head dismissively, obviously offended that you would brush his gratitude off. "I'm serious," he presses, "What you did for Rayne, it meant a lot to her — to me. Thank you." 

His leaps seal together in a thin line after that as he regards you expectantly. You know that you should probably say something, fill the silence that had followed his words. But your mind was slow to even comprehend the weight of what he'd just told you. Inhaling a lungful of cold air, you give him a small but genuine smile. 

"It meant a lot to me as well," you say, "I'm glad." 

The distant rustle of tree branches swaying in the afternoon breeze is all that can be heard. A few birds — the ones who hadn't fled for warmer climates — chirp above, their song carrying through the wind. Jungkook's gaze lingers on a raven, sitting on a lower twig that extends from the trunk. 

"I should get going," he murmurs when turning back to you. Shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants, he clears his throat swiftly, "The children are in the living room," he says, "Door's unlocked." 

You nod, fingers clasped together and you move forward as you attempt to step past him — only for Jungkook to do the same. Your face pulls into a sheepish expression and you quickly try to correct yourself by going in the other direction. Unfortunately he seems to have the same idea and you end up chest to chest a second time. 

"Sorry," you chuckle as you come to a stop. Jungkook does the same, hands returning to your elbows as his fingers curl around your arms through the thick material of your coat. He gently steers you to the right, allowing you to step around each other without more fuss. 

Thanking him under your breath, you quickly head up the stairs as he walks to his car. When climbing the three steps you have to force yourself not to turn back around and steal one final glance at him. You do a decent job, making it all the way to the front door with one hand wrapped around it — only to immediately whip your head over your shoulder as Jungkook suddenly calls out. 

He's standing by the driver's door, a clenched fist resting atop its roof. "I was just—" His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip, chapped by the cold air. "Well, Cassian has been asking but I think both children would like it if—" His jaw clenches as he struggles through the sentence. 

You stand frozen by the door, fingers nearly slipping from the metal handle. New snow falls and though you're shielded by the slanted roof that extends over the front porch — Jungkook isn't. Flakes catch on his dark brows where they pinch together. He sighs, averting his gaze before quickly forcing it back. 

He looks like he's working up courage — the awkward roll of his shoulders and the stiffness in his posture. It reminds you of that one time in third grade when, Mike, your desk mate, had shyly asked you to the school dance with him. He had been all nervous glances and stuttered words but it had been the highlight of your year. 

Jungkook looks much like him right now, and had you not been so anxious to hear the rest of what he had to say, you would've probably found it rather endearing. 

Finally he gathers his bearings, palm flattening against the roof of his car. "I was just wondering if you would like to spend Christmas with us, the children, me." The question hangs between you for only a second, barely enough for you to fully process it until he starts talking again: 

"I mean, Cassian would really appreciate it. We usually spend it at their grandparents' but if you have plans I understand. Just thought I should ask so that I could give him an answer to—" 

"I would love to." 

The smile stretches to your ears and you don't even attempt to hide it. Your parents were set to be out of your hometown for the holidays, only returning back before new years which was when you planned to see them. This would mark your first Christmas away from home — not having to spend it alone but rather with the children, and Jungkook, made your heart flutter in your chest. 

By his car, Jungkook exhales a breath. His frame morphs from tense to relaxed and when he catches the sight of your beaming grin, the corner of his own lip twitches. He nods, a subtle tilt of his chin. Then he opens the car door and gets inside, letting it fall shut after him. 

You turn back to the door, gripping the knob with newfound excitement as you prepare to step inside. 

The children are in the living room, just as Jungkook had promised. Rayne sits on one of the sofas, comfortably reclined back with a book in her lap. She lifts her gaze upon your arrival, though doesn't say anything — but her brother does. 

"Nanny!" 

Cassian, who'd been in the middle of smearing crayons across the papers scattered on the coffee table, perks up when he finds you in the doorway. The drawings are all but forgotten about as he jumps to his feet, hurrying over on short legs as he tugs you into a hug that would've probably knocked you off your feet, had he been a little taller. 

"Hi, sweetie." It's instinctive, the way your arms loop around his tiny body to reciprocate the embrace. His face nuzzles against your stomach, a content smile plastered on his lips. "What have you been up to today?" 

The young boy immediately perks up at the inquiry, big, brown eyes meeting yours as he reaches for your sleeve. "I'll show you," he says as he tugs you over to the coffee table where the two of you sink to the floor beside one another. 

He moves with purpose as he shoves the crayons aside, organizing the multiple drawings before you to line them up. "This one," he points to one of the images. The lines are a wobbly and uneven, the colors scribbled messily together but you still thought you could make out two stick figures that resembled a little boy and a woman. "That's you and me when we played hide and seek in the garden." 

Upon further inspection you can find what appears to be trees in the background. Their leaves consist of oranges and yellows, meant to resemble the last of autumn that still clung to nature that afternoon. "I remember," you hum, tracing the corner of the paper slowly, "You were counting too fast."

"Was not," Cassian interjects with a small pout. 

From there he goes on to present the array of drawings, all representing different parts of the family, some including you, others not. He finally lands on one that makes you pause. It's a painting with all four of you, the only one of its kind. But that's not what catches your attention, no, it's the large pine tree in the middle. It's decorated with colorful lights, and beneath it lay square boxes. 

Cassian goes quiet, milk teeth locking around his bottom lip. "That's us on Christmas," he gestures vaguely to the drawing, "Daddy was going to ask you to come." He hesitates, stealing a quick peek at you through the corner of his eye. 

"He did," you muse, plucking the painting with careful fingers as you take a closer look. The picture shows you and the young boy holding hands, his sister and father are doing the same. "I told him I would love to come." 

The look of pure joy that lit up Cassian's face was like that of the sun's rays in summer. He flashes you all of his teeth — save for the small gap on his bottom row. "You will come?" he repeats, like he had to double check to make sure you were being truthful. When you nod in confirmation he wiggles on the spot, "Hooray!" 

"Our nana makes the best cookies and papa always lets me help put the lights on the tree!" It sounds as though he's already planning for the entire day, he rambles on about presents, food and different games you're going to be playing. You can all but match his grin as you listen to him excitedly talk. 

Allowing yourself a glance in Rayne's direction has your eyes meeting for a split second before she promptly turns back to the book in her lap, pretending like she'd been reading all along. Guilt knots in your stomach, perhaps she did not want you to come. Christmas was for family after all and though you had been invited you couldn't help but feel like maybe you were intruding on something you shouldn't. 

"I actually bumped into him right outside," You muse, attempting to brush the unease aside with simple conversation. That only makes the young girl tense, her grip on the novel tightening. 

"That's weird," She says, not taking her gaze off the page, "Father left long before you came, he said he was late for a meeting." 

You fall quiet at that — in fact the entire living room does. It's not broken until you let out an awkward chuckle that does little to play up the mood. So instead you turn to her younger brother, picking up the smile that had faded ever so slightly. "What did you ask Santa for?" you wonder, trying to steer the conversation away from Jungkook's odd behavior. 

Cassian hums thoughtfully, "A dinosaur and a car figurine, oh and new crayons, the ones with rainbow colors!" 

"Rainbow?" you cock a brow at that, "There's a rainbow colored crayon?" You don't think you had ever heard of anything like that but he eagerly nods as he jumps into explanation. 

"Yes," Cassian points to his existing crayons, scattered across the coffee table, "It's a special. Only Santa makes it, that's why I put it on my list so I can have one." 

Across the table Rayne scoffs, she's put the book down and is now watching her brother with a narrowed gaze. "Santa isn't real, he can't make you a rainbow crayon," she states at as a matter-of-factly, one hand tucking her ponytail down her shoulder. 

"Well that's not true," you say when you notice the solemn look on the young boy's face, "Santa is just as real as you and me." 

"How do you know that?" Cassian asks as he peers up at you through dark lashes. 

You shrug, "Because I've met him of course." 

His eyes go wide as saucers at that, lips parting in a quiet gasp to which he quickly swallows with a squeal. "Really? You've really met Santa?" On the couch opposite you, Rayne scoffs under her breath but you ignore her. 

"Sure have," you say, "He was creeping 'round downstairs, very loudly might I add, he even woke me up from my sleep. So I quietly crept down the stairs, and do you know what I saw?" 

Cassian leans closer, shaking his head mutely and you bite back a giggle. "I saw a big man, with a white beard and red clothes — eating my cookies! Can you believe it?" You wave a hand aimlessly, "I was furious of course, I told him that those were mine and that I had been saving them for the morning." 

"What did he say? What did he say?" He asks, fingers clawing at his own knees as he tries to contain his excitement. 

Humming out a soft breath, you continue, "Well he said that he needed the cookies. You see Santa gets real hungry going to each house on Christmas Eve. He promised me that I would get a special gift in return, as a thank you for the treats." Leaning back against the edge of the couch, you stretch your legs out in front of you. "The next morning when I woke up there was a big present under the tree, can you guess who it was from?" 

"Santa!" Cassian looks overjoyed at the story, his earlier gripe with his sister quickly fading at the thought of meeting the white-bearded man himself some day. "Do you think I will see him?" 

"Without a doubt," you promise him as you ruffle his dark hair. Looking back the man in your kitchen had likely been your dad, geared up in his costume and snacking away on your cookies. But your sleep-addled, six year old brain had been unable to piece that together and the moment was allowed to live on as such until you turned thirteen and your old pops had the audacity to ruin it. But seeing the excitement in Cassian's eyes was more than enough to mend the broken memory.

He goes back to drawing shortly after, this time depicting images of Santa himself, his sleigh and his reindeer — to the best of his abilities of course. You sit back comfortably on the floor, content to watch him work, even though you should probably pull out the textbooks you had brought with you and get some studying done. 

The idea has been tossed back and forth in your mind for a good five minutes without you coming to a decision when Rayne suddenly clears her throat. "Nanny?" she asks, her voice loud in the reigning silence. You immediately perk up at being addressed, a quiet 'hm?' passing your lips. She hesitates, fingers curling around a page in her book as she fiddles with it. A couple of seconds pass where she doesn't speak, then she wills herself to meet your gaze. 

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

Out of every question you'd been expecting, this one had been at the very bottom of your list. It stuns you entirely and for a while you simply stare at her. "Boyfriend—?" you splutter, disguising your cough with an awkward huff. 

Rayne nods, she sits perfectly still on the cushion, her eyes tracking you up and down like she was trying to figure something out. Cassian had stopped drawing and was now watching you as well, a faint frown on his face. "You're…" she pauses, "You're pretty. You know how to do the pretty things with my hair and stuff." Rayne gestures vaguely between you as she references back to last night. 

The compliment warms your chest, and cheeks, making you rub the back of your neck sheepishly. "Ah, thank you, sweetie." Pursing your lips, you then shake your head. "I don't have a boyfriend." The admission feels a little stiff but you try not to let it show as you carry on with a soft chuckle. 

Rayne seems satisfied with that answer, her attention lingers a moment longer before it returns to her book — only to be torn from the pages as Cassian suddenly exclaims, "You don't have a boyfriend?" He appears genuinely conflicted by this information, it didn't make sense at all to him.

"But nanny, you're cute. Why don't you have one?" His bottom lip is stuck out into a pout, cupids bow arched in a frown as he studies you closely. When you simply shrug the gears seem to turn even faster in his tiny head. "I know—" He then says and you feel your heart drop to your stomach at what that might mean. 

Cassian twists his body toward you, chest puffing up to appear bigger as he puts on a bright smile. "I can be your boyfriend!" 

You hope he doesn't catch the relieved exhale you let out, shaking your head as a giggle erupts between you. Before you can answer him though, Rayne butts in, "You can't do that, silly. Nanny is a grown-up." 

This only brings back her younger brother's previous confusion and he begins chewing on the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. "Okay…" he murmurs, fingers picking at a lock of hair, "Then I will be your boyfriend when I'm a grown-up." He gives himself a reaffirming nod, like the decision had just been finalized and you couldn't find it in you to argue against it. 

"That sounds like a wonderful idea," you hum as you give his cheek a gentle pat. You thought you could hear Rayne grumble something under her breath but she refrains from saying anything else as she goes back to her book. 

The rest of the afternoon was spent in the living room. You finally pulled out your textbook, flicking it open on the page where you had left off at home. Cassian was greatly interested in all the pictures, pointing at different parts of the human lungs as he asked questions.

As it turns out, he was a great study-buddy. You could dump all sorts of information on him, explaining and then re-explaining things in simpler terms as you went through the notes you had taken. He listened with fascinated eyes and though you were sure he probably understood about half of what you told him, it was a good way for you to revise the material.

By dinner time you all cooked together, even Rayne helped taste-test the sauce you had made — only for her brother to spill some on his shirt when he tried snatching the spoon from her.

Jungkook did not arrive back home until you had tucked them both into bed. You were halfway through Cassian's third bedtime story and he had just drifted off when the sound of the front door unlocking could be heard. You listened to the sound of footsteps as he climbed the stairs, for a second they almost made you believe that he was headed for Cassian's room. They had stopped just outside his closed door, a dark silhouette filling the light beneath the crack. Then they had faded again, another door creaking before closing softly — his study presumably.

You had stayed by Cassian's bed a little longer than needed, taking your time when putting the books back on their shelf, tucking him in once, then once more for good measure. 

Finally you head out into the hall, your eyes immediately drifting to the door which you knew you would find Jungkook behind — feet leading you there on their own. The picture of him out in the snow earlier today still lingers fresh in your mind. As does the nervous stutter to his speech and you half expect to find him in a similar state now. 

The door to Jungkook's study is agonizingly loud upon being pushed open. You allow yourself a sparse couple of inches, just enough to poke your head inside and inform him of your departure. Shadows swallow almost the entirety of the room and had it not been for the lamp on his desk, casting a soft halo across the papers he sifts through — it would have been pitch black. 

Jungkook sits in his chair, glasses low on the bridge of his nose, which he scrunches when lifting a finger to push them further up. He has yet to notice you, too lost in the corporate world that seems to consume him entirely. 

He does not look at all like he had this afternoon. Perhaps it was the wear of the long day that had weighed down his otherwise youthful appearance. He still looked handsome of course — but there was something else that clung to the air around him right now. 

You clear your throat, tongue pressing against the roof of your mouth when his eyes meet yours from across the small room. "The children are asleep…" He knows that already, the house had been basked in silence since his return home after all. 

He nods but his attention doesn't return to the files in front of him like you had expected for it to. Instead he regards you quietly, the way that always makes you wonder what he was thinking about. He would not tell you, of course, he rarely did. Another tense five seconds pass where neither of you speak. Your fingers have began tapping idly against the doorknob as a means to distract yourself. 

"Cassian spilled sauce on his shirt during dinner. He didn't want me telling you but I thought I should in case the stain doesn't come off," a breath later you add, "Though I soaked it in cold water so it should be fine." You were rambling nonsense but said nonsense was better than the strange and awkward silence that had found its way between you. 

Jungkook simply repeats his previous motion, tilting his chin in acknowledgement as he traces the edge of the paper in front of him. You notice that the liquor is sealed within its cabinet, waiting behind closed doors to be drank — he hadn't reached for it tonight. 

"Do you want a glass?" 

The sudden question makes you pause, gaze flitting back to the man before you. Jungkook is watching you with an expectant look, having let go of the pages to place his hands on the armrests of his chair. He must have noticed your wandering eyes but the offer still takes you by surprise. 

"I…" Your throat feels dry and for a moment the thought of something to take the edge off didn't seem like such a bad idea. Though one glance at the clock above the cabinet makes you rethink. "I shouldn't. I mean—" shaking your head, "Last bus leaves in a little bit. I better be on my way." 

His brows draw together at that and for a split second Jungkook looks almost disappointed. He quickly masks it again, schooling his features into their default wear. But when he opens his mouth to speak, the words that spill from his lips are not what you had expected: "You're leaving already?" 

The cough lodges itself halfway up your throat, fingers curling a little harder around the doorknob as you sway on unsteady feet despite being stone cold sober. Was he asking you to stay? Your next breath comes out in a short puff and you have to shove the confusing thoughts aside to focus on giving him a proper response. 

"Well— No, I mean," swallowing thickly, "I have some time to spare…" 

Jungkook's chair squeaks against the floorboards when he rises to his feet and you watch with wide and unblinking eyes as he makes his way over to the liquor cabinet. Taking it as your cue to actually step inside, you do so, letting the door fall shut behind you soundlessly. 

"Any requests?" He asks when he unhooks both glass doors, swinging them open to showcase the bottles inside. 

Your feet carry you over to stand beside him — close enough to feel the heat of his body that radiates from him like a furnace. Scanning the options presented before you whilst chewing on your lip, you go over the labels once, twice. Jungkook's taste matched him perfectly, all expensive brands, half of which you did not dare attempt to pronounce. Their amber shades stare back at you daringly. 

He must notice your hesitation, for a moment later he reaches for the one bottle you recognized — the whiskey. His arm brushes yours when he retrieves it, and it somehow sends a jolt of electricity through you despite the touch being mundane in comparison to how intimate you had been. 

Jungkook doesn't linger on the brief caress as he grabs two glasses in his free hand, turning to place them onto his desk with a soft clink. And after busying yourself with shutting the cabinet doors, you join him by the table — looking on as he pushes the sleeves of his button up to his elbows, exposing the tattoos you'd spent so long tracing. The memory makes your chest hot even though the alcohol had yet to touch your lips. 

His shirt is generously unbuttoned, revealing the faint outline of his chest when he leans forward to pour the whiskey. "You don't drink often I take it?" He asks without lifting his gaze from the glasses which he filled to about a quarter. 

"No," you hum, "Not really…" Aside from the drinks you and Daehyun went out to grab after rough exams, your experience with any kind of liquor was very sparse. Your attention lingers on the amber liquid that swirls within the glasses, glimmering softly under the glow of his desk lamp. 

Jungkook hands you one of them and you take it with a quiet 'Thanks' as you try not to think about the way your fingers ended up nudging. He nods as he takes a sip of his drink and you find yourself doing the same — cringing slightly as the burn scratches down your throat. You hadn't drank since last time you found yourself in here, back then your emotions had been high enough to cancel out the strong and invasive flavor of the whiskey. 

Stillness clings to the air between you, with only the faint ticking of the clock on the wall to fill the silence. You distract yourself with another small sip, only to immediately regret it as your nose scrunches. Jungkook catches the flicker of distaste, cocking a brow as he brings his own glass to his lips. 

"What do you kids drink then?" He wonders before swallowing more liquor. 

You shrug, free hand caressing the mahogany wood of his table as you perch yourself on its edge. "I don't know, cheap booze— beer mostly." The splinters creak under your weight but you ignore it as you shift to get comfortable — or as comfortable as you could get with him standing so close. 

Jungkook hums, "Do you like it?" His eyes never stray from where they had come to settle on yours, shielded by his dark lashes, it looked almost as though he was trying to guess your answer before you could give it. 

Shaking your head, you let the pad of your thumb stroke the bottom of your glass. "God, no. I only drink when I'm out." Tilting your gaze from the drink you hold and up to his hooded eyes, you ask, "Do you?" 

He mimics you with a shake of his own head, "No," he says, following it with another long sip. The glasses, still perched over the bridge of his nose, reflect in the dim lights and you become almost entranced by the subtle flicker. "Do you go out often?" He then wonders, and you tried to figure out why he was asking so many questions all of a sudden. 

"Rarely" you admit, trying to keep your tone indifferent as you sip on the whiskey, "Why?" 

Jungkook gives a noncommittal roll of his shoulders. "Kids your age love to party, no?" He delivers it casually but the statement still makes you frown as you clutch your glass a little tighter. 

"Are you calling me a kid?" You can't help the edge of defensiveness that sneaks its way into your voice as you eye him warily. "Or are you implying that there is something wrong with me not partying?" 

For a long moment he says nothing, simply regarding you over the rim of his own glass. He doesn't bring it up for another taste, doesn't lower it either. The corner of his lip twitches, "Neither," he says. 

You huff at the almost taunting response, turning your head in an act of pettiness. It works because a second later the floor creaks as Jungkook takes a step closer. The hand that isn't currently nursing his drink finds a crease in your jeans, fingers pinching the fabric as he smooths it out again — like the sight bothered him. 

"Good." You're still not looking at him, eyes fixed to the clock on the wall as it counts down the seconds until you're forced to part from him. "I'm not a kid. And I enjoy myself just fine whenever I so please," you add before silencing yourself with another sip of the whiskey. 

Jungkook hums, having let go of your jeans entirely, his magnifying touch disappears before it returns, this time to the hot skin of your face — heated by the alcohol and his proximity. His thumb strokes the line of your jaw as he gently guides you to look at him again. "I know," he says. 

Whatever offense still lingered from his previous comment ebbs away when your eyes meet his and your shoulders slump as your hold on the glass loosens. 

"How much longer until your bus leaves?" He asks, fingers warm against your feverish skin. 

You swallow, wondering if the liquor was finally taking effect or if he'd been looking at you like that all along. "Twenty minutes," you murmur, "But I need five to get to the stop." 

He doesn't respond right away, only watching you intently, like he was considering something. "That's fifteen minutes then," his thumb finds your bottom lip, the caress he gives it is light — teasing almost. "Will you enjoy yourself with me for those fifteen?" 

The innuendo hidden beneath the almost whispered words is clear and it makes your heart pound hard against your ribcage. Without answering you bring the glass to your lips, praying that the ill-tasting whiskey might give you the same courage you had inhabited on that sunny afternoon. 

Jungkook regards you intently, his fingers lingering on your jaw, tilting your head back to have the liquor slide down your throat easier. Through the corner of your eye you can make out the path his other hand takes as it discards the glass which he'd barely touched. Then he steps impossibly close, gaze dropping to your half-finished drink before gently taking it from your grasp. 

"You didn't answer my question," He murmurs upon setting the glass down alongside his own. There's a barely noticeable crease etched between his dark brows, as though your lack of response troubled him. It makes you smile, an easy smile that feels silly compared to the storm in your chest. 

Only when you realize where you are and what time it is does your face fall. Your mind wanders to Cassian and Rayne in their rooms. "But the children—" 

"Are asleep," Jungkook finishes for you, his palm coming to rest against your cheek. This was different from last time. No raised voices, no big living room to let you catch your breath — only the hard surface of his desk under you, and the warmth of his body but an inch from your own. 

He's so close that the slightly uneven exhales he releases fan across your face. His eyes are dazed with something beyond the desire you had noted in them on that day. Was he seeing something beyond just the intimacy of two people? You almost dared to hope… 

Jungkook swallows and you trace the bob of his Adam's apple. "I'll beg if I have to," He rasps, thumb pressing lightly against your cheekbone. 

That single line undoes the last of your hesitation and without giving yourself time to think it over, you close the remaining distance to press your lips against his. Your eyes fall shut as you let yourself linger in darkness, focusing only on the way his mouth parts against yours without being told. 

His hand is careful where it cradles your face, the other claiming your waist as he tugs you dangerously close to the edge of the desk. Jungkook always kissed you sweetly — there was never any sloppy meshes of tongues or uncomfortable clashes of teeth. But tonight time is against you, the clock ticks faster somewhere in the distance, reminding you of your eventual departure. 

"We need to hurry," you breathe against him, shuddering when he pulls back to rest his forehead to yours, the glasses he had yet to take off bumping against your nose. 

Through lidded eyes you can make out the subtle clench of his jaw, the nod he pairs with a rough exhale. He straightens up, the hand on your face falling to your waist as he mirrors the other. Then he casts a glance toward the clock on the wall, tongue prodding against the inside of his cheek. 

For a moment you think he might just step away, press a chaste kiss to your temple with the promise of finding time another day. But when Jungkook turns back to you, his usually brown eyes are almost black with desire, brows pinched with determination you rarely saw in him. 

His palms burn through the jeans you wear when they hook under your thighs, hoisting you from your spot on the very edge of the table and up against his chest. Your legs wrap awkwardly around his hips, arms looping behind his neck as your lips find his jaw, lavishing it in soft kisses. 

The chair he'd been lounging on just minutes prior is kicked aside as Jungkook steps into its spot. He shifts your weight onto one arm, the other blindly swiping away the papers he'd been working on. They scatter in all directions, mixing together in an unorganized mess, though Jungkook doesn't seem to care for it as he cranes his neck to find your lips. 

He sets you down on the now-cleared surface of his desk, you land with a soft thud right in the center, legs falling open to accommodate him between them. His tongue tastes like the whiskey you shared when it slides past your lips, and you welcome him eagerly with a sighed moan. Jungkook's hands — having returned to your hips — give a firm squeeze that startles you just as much as it spurs you on. 

His lips hover above your own, saliva smearing together in the aftermath of your kiss. He lifts one hand, knuckles brushing your chin ever so carefully as he closes your open mouth with a simple nudge. "Need you to stay quiet," he whispers, nose brushing along your cheek, "Unfortunately." 

You nod, even when it takes everything in you not to force your lips back together. Running the risk of waking the children was not something you'd had to be mindful of last time. And as much as the idea of startling them from sleep terrified you, it also made your stomach coil tight with heat. Judging by the way Jungkook was kissing down your neck, his tongue tracing the column of your throat, he must feel the same. 

Your fingers find his hair, curling around the black strands and tugging on them in the way that would always have him groaning against you. This time is no different, even when he tries to force the sound back, teeth finding the tender skin where your neck meets your shoulder as he bites down in hopes of salvation. 

His hands are clumsy when they find the zipper of your jeans, hooking around it before tugging it open — leaving you to squirm on top of the mahogany as you help him slide the denim down your legs. The air of his study is chilly from a window being left open too long but Jungkook's touch warms your naked skin in a heart beat as his palms move up and down your thighs. 

It's not until he feels you reach for the buckle of his belt that he finally tears himself from your neck. Ragged breaths leave his reddened lips and he stares at you with thinly veiled impatience that matches the frantic movement of your fingers, currently undoing the clunky piece of metal. It falls apart in your grasp as it unlocks the last barrier between you. 

Jungkook's hands are everywhere all at once, sliding beneath the hem of your shirt to feel up your sides, hovering just shy at the edge of your bra. All the while you focus on getting his pants out of the way. 

You make the mistake of glancing toward the clock once more, eyes widening at the rapid speed the minute handle seems to be moving at. "Eleven minutes," you murmur as your fingers hook around the waistband of his dress pants.

The words have barely left your lips as Jungkook slams his own back on them, stealing your next exhale with a kiss that felt unlike any of the others you had previously shared. The mask he wore with pride slipped just enough to let his teeth trap your bottom lip, eliciting a soft squeal from you which he tries to silence with his mouth. 

He swats your at hands, dismissing them from their feeble attempts at getting him undressed. The buckle of his belt hits the edge of the desk, dangerously close to one of your knees, as he shoves his pants down enough to free himself of their captivity. One hand on your hip, the other wraps around his cock, a shaky sigh following the rough stroke he gives himself. 

Without warning he curls a finger around the lining of your panties, tearing them down to rest at the crook of your knees and leaving you bare — the sudden intrusion of cold air makes you gasp against his lips. 

"Sorry," Jungkook whispers, fingers brushing over your exposed cunt as he tries to soothe the chill with warm touch. His thumb is not as precise as it had been that afternoon when it finds your clit. He's quick, almost rough rather than slow and calculated as he rubs you in small circles, making you instinctively arch against the heel of his hand. 

His index finger teases your fluttering hole — like he debated on pushing it in — but time was against you, he knew that, and the idea is dropped again as Jungkook pulls his hand away entirely. 

You trap the whine that builds in your throat by sealing your lips together. The disappointment of his absence disappears the second you feel his cock, hot and heavy as it bumps against your barely stimulated clit — it sends sparks through you, hips immediately rocking against him as you urge him closer. 

The hands you kept in his hair had since long gone slack around the dark locks. Only when he gently grabs hold of your elbows, guiding your palms to rest flat against the table did you realize that you had been holding onto him all along. Jungkook moves methodically as he has you brace yourself on top the desk, fingers tracing your forearms reverently as his eyes follow the goosebumps that ripple across your skin. 

Once he's satisfied he lifts his gaze to meet yours, waiting for you to give him the permission he desperately seeks. You give it to him with a nod — a quiet dip of your chin as your fingernails dig into the mahogany wood beneath you. 

He surges forward, lips crashing onto yours just as his cock breaches you. The lack of foreplay makes the stretch burn and you cry out into his mouth. Jungkook doesn't wait, there is no time for that tonight and his hips meet yours in one harsh thrust that has your arms nearly giving out from where they hold you upright. 

You're saved by the feeling of his hands — firm on your hips one second — behind your back the next. He slips them under your shirt, fingers tracing the end of your spine as he continues to fuck into you relentlessly. The pace is nothing like the one he'd set that afternoon in his bedroom, it's not slow and tender but fast and ruthless. 

It stuns you, if only for a moment. This side of him was something you don't think even your wildest of imagination could have ever conjured, but God if it didn't make you clench around him, hard. 

His tongue is warm and wet against your own, stringed together by a mix of saliva and desire, he kisses you in a way you didn't think he was capable of. But Jungkook seems determined to prove you wrong as his teeth nip at your bottom lip. 

The distant ticking of the clock fades into background noise as the creak of his table and the sound of skin meeting skin fills his study. Each thrust makes your thighs jump, heat jolting through your stomach as you moan openly against him. 

His glasses occasionally bump against your forehead, it's never enough to hurt but still bothersome. You reach up to push them back over his head, aiming to get them out of the way when Jungkook's fingers suddenly brush against yours. One hand has left your back as he grabs at the glasses clumsily, tearing them off completely as he discards them onto the desk with a clatter. 

Then he's back to kissing you, lips molding together like an unbreakable seal as his tongue finds yours. Cock twitching inside of you, his need pulses through you just as yours does him, and the arm you once held raised, loops around the back of his neck instead as you pull him closer. 

His body is looming over yours, forcing you to tilt back as your chests brush. Your nails dig into his nape, clawing their way to the ends of his hair and the groan Jungkook emits vibrates through you. His hips meet yours in a particularly hard jerk, causing the forgotten bottle of whiskey to topple over and hit the desk with a loud clang. 

"Shit—" Jungkook hisses as he tears himself from the kiss, one hand reaching for the bottle but it was already rolling for the edge. A second later it tips and falls, embracing the floor with a sound so deafening it makes you both wince. 

Abandoning his mission, Jungkook's palm plants itself against the mahogany as his forehead meets yours. The giggle you're unable to bite back fans across his parted lips, the ridicule of your situation quickly catching up. He doesn't seem quite as amused and he quiets you with another bruising kiss. 

The pace he picks up matches his previous, perhaps even more so. Each roll of his hips feel punishing, whether that was directed to your or himself — you did not know. The glasses of whiskey, still placed on the table, rattle and clink together in tandem with the way he moves. The tip of his cock catches on your clit when he pulls back enough to slip out entirely, leaving you aching and clenching around nothing before shoving himself back inside with one unforgiving thrust. 

Your body jolts when the hand, previously braced against the desk moves between your legs, thumb finding your clit easily. There was an underlying sense of urgency in the way he touches you, coaxing your orgasm to come faster as time slips between your fingers and you have to distract yourself with multiple kisses to his jaw and throat so to not let out the sounds that beg to be released. 

The familiar heat pools low in your stomach, and he makes a strained noise when his insistent flick against your clit makes you clench around his cock. "Jungkook I'm—" The breathless admission barely makes it past your lips when he suddenly freezes inside of you. His relentless pace goes from a hundred to zero in a split second and you tilt your head back, confused. 

Then you hear the faint creak coming from somewhere down the hall. It could have easily been the house settling, a gust of wind that tugged at the old wood, but it could also be the tell tale sign of a door being pushed open. 

"Do you think—?" 

Your question is cut short by Jungkook's hand where it clamps over your mouth. The table you sit perched on is now still, the glasses now longer bumping into each other and Jungkook's cock, nestled deep inside you, is unmoving. 

His eyes are fixed on the door behind you, chest heaving with each breath he takes, you notice the sheen layer of sweat that clings to his forehead and what little of his chest you can see. The two of you listen intently for another long minute, the silence stretches thick and heavy — filled with dread. 

When two minutes have passed Jungkook's thumb resumes its touch to your sensitive clit. It's slower this time, taunting circles that has you squirming on top of his desk, making it creak softly. He's yet to take his hand off your mouth, adamant about keeping you quiet even when he continues to draw your orgasm closer. 

"It's fine," he finally grunts, "Probably just the house." Part of you says not to believe him, to demand you abort this entire ordeal to not risk waking the children. But when he moves again, pushing himself even deeper as his head tips toward his chest, you can't find it in you to make him stop. 

The clock on the wall is an insistent reminder and it only spurs Jungkook on as he snaps forward, forcing the whiskey glasses together as the desk rattles. The momentary panic fades back into arousal as he applies more pressure to your swollen clit. Your thighs hug his hips, pulling him closer when you feel your climax approach. 

You give up on warning him as you let go of the table entirely, your arm joining the other around his neck, clinging to him like light in darkness. Jungkook releases your mouth and meets your lips in another kiss, teeth clashing together in a way he hadn't allowed last time. The hand he keeps on your back is the only thing holding you up as it counters each harsh thrust of his. 

A moment later you feel yourself clench around him, cunt fluttering repeatedly as you cum on his cock with a muffled cry into his mouth. Jungkook's touch to your clit doesn't let up and he drinks each sound of yours with greed, tongue lapping at your bottom lip as you pant against him. 

"Shh," he murmurs as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm, his pace slowing as he feels your legs go limp. When you squirm at his touch he draws his hand back from your clit, letting it join the other as he caresses the line of your spine beneath your shirt. The kiss has softened too, morphed into something that reminds you of how he would always kiss you. 

For a while you let yourself get lost in it, the remnants of your climax clouding your mind to anything that wasn't the feeling of his lips pressed to yours. 

When you part for air you find him already looking at you. His face is flushed the same shade of red it had been on that afternoon, sweat glistening on his temple as it ran down his sides. Without thinking you reach up to brush a few dark strands from his forehead, pushing them out of the way only for the stubborn locks to fall back to his brow bone. 

You shift atop the table, wincing at the way your cunt wraps around his still-hard cock despite being spent. Jungkook catches the flicker of discomfort and he gently pulls out as his hands find your hips, fingers rubbing soothing patterns into your flesh. Your gaze drops to his slacks, the open belt no longer holding them up and then to the sight of him — flushed pink and slick with your joint arousal. 

"Switch with me," you croak, causing him to frown. He looks like he's about to ask what you had meant but you're already scooting off the table, feet finding the ground, albeit unsteadily. The warmth of his hands on your waist as he assures you won't fall makes your heart beat faster — a reaction you try to ignore as you gingerly pull your panties back up. 

When you see that he still hasn't moved, simply watching you with the same eyes he had been since you stepped inside his study, you point to the table. "Switch," you half-command, not really expecting much to come out of it, but to your surprise Jungkook nods as he trades places with you, leaning back against the desk, still holding onto your hips. 

It takes everything in you to swat his hands away but your desire wins out. He looks almost offended, puzzled even, but realization dawns across his features when you sink to your knees before him — coming face to face with his aching cock. 

"You don't have to," he begins, but you shut him up by wrapping one hand around the base, reveling at finally getting to feel him like this. You think you would be content to just watch him, studying the slight curve, the veins that climb along him and the pink flush to his tip for forever, but one glance toward the clock has you jumping into action. 

Silently, you bet with yourself on whether you'd be able to accomplish desired results within three minutes, though his sharp intake of breath when your thumb rubs across the slit makes you hopeful.

Adjusting your grip, you let your palm glide across his cock, tracing the thicker vein that protrudes just beneath the head. The way he twitches in your grasp makes heat coil in your gut despite your recent orgasm. A bead of precum beads at the tip, glistening under the soft glow of the lamp behind him and you immediately lean forward to taste him. 

Giving blowjobs wasn't exactly an area you were skilled in. There had been an instance or two in the past where whatever dude you had accompanied home after a night out had begged for you to do so. The act was never something you did out of your own pleasure, more so obligation, but wrapping your lips around Jungkook felt nothing like those drunken nights. 

He tastes salty but not bad, and perhaps you were just high on the feeling, but you find yourself craving more as you take him deeper in your mouth. 

Turning your gaze up to meet his, you find him peering down at you through his lashes. His lips are parted, brows scrunched together but for once it wasn't that signature frown of his. Through the corner of your eye you catch the inked hand that curls around the table's edge, his knuckles pale from the deadly grip he keeps on the wood. 

You hum, pulling off of him with a final lick as you sit back on your knees. "You can touch me, you know." 

The simple permission seems to undo something in him as Jungkook tips his head back with a groan he's unable to muffle. "Jesus—" he gasps, "Don't say that." But his fingers are already at the top of your head, short nails digging into your scalp as he forces you back down on his cock, much to your delight. 

His hold is firm, but never rough, he doesn't attempt to control the pace you set, but he keeps you down — not letting you part from him for even a second. Your lips stretch wide around him, breath hitching when he hits the back of your throat. Hand stroking what you can't fit in your mouth, the other keeps you steady by gripping his thigh. 

Tears brim on your waterline when his hips suddenly jerk forward and your nails dig into his leg — causing him to twitch on your tongue at the sharp sting. His breath has grown heavy and you watch the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he inhales and exhales through parted lips. 

You can tell that he's close when the hand on top of your head eases up, allowing you room to pull off. His cock thrusts weakly into your mouth — like he was holding back from doing more. Your response is to take him deeper, blinking away the tears that blurred your vision. Nails still digging into his thigh, you let your teeth carefully drag across him when you go down. 

The subtle action makes him jolt, "Fuck," he spits the curse out, his free hand slamming against the table behind him. "I'm gonna—" cutting himself off with another curse, he lets go of your head entirely, "Shit— You have to pull off."

Had it not been for the slight tremble to his fingers when you force his hand back atop your head, you would have almost been a little offended by the idea. Yet you say nothing, tongue flattening against his tip before sliding him back into your mouth, repeating the soft scrape of teeth against him. 

Jungkook's hips push forward, so much so that you nearly lose your balance. His cock twitches up into the roof of your mouth before he's cumming onto your tongue with a sharp hiss. The weight of his palm on top of your head holds you in place and you let him spill down your throat without complaint, humming gratefully as the taste of him coats your senses. 

Once he's limp in your grasp, you sit back, gaze tracing the string of saliva that connects you to him. Jungkook is panting above you, head tilted back to where you can't make out his face, though the flush that creeps up his neck is enough evidence. 

Licking your lips, you carefully climb to your feet, ignoring the ache in your entire lower half as you heave a breath. Your hands move on autopilot when you tuck him back into his pants, not bothering with the belt as Jungkook's knuckles gently grace your chin. 

You manage to catch a brief glimpse of the dazed look in his eyes before he seals you both in a kiss. This one is slower than all the ones you had shared tonight, he doesn't cringe when sliding his tongue across yours, tasting himself on you with a hum. 

The air inside the study is no longer cold, the silence of the house no longer imposing. In fact you think you could have stayed like this for a long while. But the clock on the wall ultimately calls to your attention and when you turn your head you find that time was up. "My jeans—" you scramble off of him, already in search of the missing garment, tossed somewhere on the floor. 

Jungkook's fingers curl around your wrist, halting your movements as he pulls you back to his chest. His breath is hot against your parted lips as he tilts his head down, nose brushing the corner of your mouth. "Stay, just five more minutes," he murmurs when his other hand finds your waist. 

"But the bus, I'll miss it," you argue, though admittedly, you did not want to go. 

He shakes his head, thumb stroking across your palm. "I'll pay for a cab," he says as he leans to press a kiss to your forehead, "I don't want you on a bus tonight, not after this." 

You want to reject the offer, tell him that it wasn't necessary. But his persistence and the gentle touch to your skin makes you cave. With a silent nod you agree to five more minutes in his arms before you head out into the cold December night. 

── [ ✉️ ] Hey there... So what did we think? In terms of like, the porn, I feel like this was slightly different from how I did it last time. I hope it's still nice to read of course. Anyone figured out what he likes yet? (Blatant hint, the teeth during the blowjob) but anyway! Hm, it's always a struggle trying to find out what to say here, but to put it like this: the next three chapters are going to be fun.

You cleared your throat, hating the way the tips of your ears burned under his gaze. “I need your help,” you said again.

Azriel’s smile faded, his expression sobering. “What’s wrong?”

“I have to go to Windhaven.”

Azriel went preternaturally still.

The words made your stomach twist, sharp claws scraping at the inside of your chest. Just thinking of going back there made your heart race and skin prickle. You had only been back a handful of times, only on occasions where it was absolutely necessary. Unfortunately, this was one of those times.

You could not go back alone.

No matter how necessary the trip, you would not step foot inside that camp without someone else with you.

Without Azriel.

“Why.” His voice was cold with little inflection, the question not really a question at all.

You rubbed at your upper arm, shifting under his gaze. “Do you remember my friend, Freya?”

Azriel furrowed his brows, a clear challenge in his gaze. “Your friend.”

You rolled your eyes. “Fine, a girl a few years above me that I ate lunch with.” It was too pitiful to argue that she was your friend—at least, that you considered her one. Even if she barely spoke to you, even if the most communication you held with her was not until after you fled Windhaven, and it was really only a channel of necessity.

She was kind.

And she was a victim of the same toxicity and abuse that you were. The only difference was that you made friends in higher places, and you got out.

Azriel nodded slowly, and you weren’t sure if he remembered her or if he was telling you to continue. It didn’t really matter.

“They found her body in the woods last week.” The words were hollow as they fell from your lips. Clinical and unfeeling. You kept the guilt and pain and anger shoved deep inside, hidden from the surface where they could fester.

Azriel stepped closer, mere inches now between the toes of your boots. His scent wafted over you, and his shadows extended out to curl around your wrists. You didn’t deserve their comfort. It was not yours to take—the same thought had sent you spiraling mere weeks ago in the kitchen above you—but you needed it. You needed the comfort so desperately there was nothing else to do but take it.

“What happened?” Azriel asked. 

You shook your head, chest aching as you replayed the conversation with Rhys. “No one is talking. No one reported it. The only reason—” Your voice cracked, and you inhaled sharply, willing your emotions away. “The only reason we know is because I asked Cassian to check on her. It had been too long since I heard from her, and I was worried.”

“You talked with her?” Azriel asked, surprise limning his voice.

You nodded, staring at the floor. “Sporadically. Her, and a few other girls I grew up with. It wasn’t—it’s not friendship—not really. I just, I wanted—” You rubbed a hand over your face, steeling the tremble that was taking hold. “I wanted them to have someone they could turn to if they needed help.” You shook your head. “A lot of good it did.”

Azriel grabbed you by your shoulders, his grip firm and sudden. “Y/N,” he said, forcing your gaze to meet his. “This was not your fault.”

Your nose burned and your eyes started to water. “It feels like it,” you whispered. “I left them there.”

Azriel shook his head. “You survived. You had to leave. Y/N—” he said again, his hand coming up to pull your gaze back to him. “You had no choice.”

You couldn’t stop the trembling of your lip, and Azriel didn’t hesitate to pull you into his chest, your face falling against the familiar leather covering his chest. A sob fell from your lips, and he squeezed you tighter, one arm wrapped beneath your wings while the other hand held your head against his chest. “We’ll find out what happened to her,” he murmured against the top of your head.

You cried.

You cried in the arms of the male you loved and you knew you could never have, but would always want, and who had always been there.

~ ~ ~

“They clipped Lara’s wings today.”

Azriel stopped in his tracks, the crunch of his boots on the snow dusted forest floor falling silent. His shadows flew outward, moving haphazardly all around the two of you, swirling with restless anger that had nowhere to go. He clenched his fist, and slowly they slithered back to pool beneath his wings.

“Is she okay?” he asked softly.

You shrugged, continuing your walk. “I don’t know how any of them survive it,” you said, voice desolate with the inevitable future in front of you. “But her father was angry. She hid two cycles from him,” you said, then swallowed hard. “He did it himself.”

As if losing flight was not torturous enough. As if you were not horrified enough at the prospect of the camp healer stealing your wings power from you, what Lara endured was a new source of terror.

Azriel reclaimed his place beside you, matching his pace to yours despite his height over you. “My mother is terrible,” you murmured. “Cruel at the worst of times, apathetic at best.” You stretched out your hand to let a tendril of shadow weave between your fingers. Your lips twitched, just barely. “But it is hard to hate her when I see what they have done. When I think about what my father must have been like. It is no doubt a mercy that he died when I was just a babe.”

Azriel was watching you when you finally turned to look at him. “It could be me next,” you rasped.

He started shaking his head, but you didn’t let him speak. “I am fourteen, Azriel.” You huffed a sad and pathetic laugh. “I take the herbs Lara gave me, but even those only got her to seventeen—sixteen, really.”

Azriel grabbed your arm, stopping you. “Rhys’s mother was never clipped.”

You scoffed, pulling your arm away. “She is the Lady of the Night Court. Her mate is the High Lord and he stopped them.” You shook your head. “My mother is a widowed laundress that the camp lords look at as a speck of dirt on their boots.”

This time it was you who reached for him, your hand wrapping around his forearm and squeezing tighter than you should. “I can’t lose my wings, Azriel,” you told him, your desperation and fear clear in your voice. “Flying is all I have.”

He nodded, his free hand coming up to grab your shoulder. “I won’t let them take them.”

~ ~ ~

Windhaven was as cold and drab as you remembered. You didn’t understand how Cassian could stomach coming back here all the time. The air was bitter enough to make your lungs burn, and the scowls of the males that watched your every move made your stomach roil.

You hated how much this place still affected you.

Azriel walked beside you, his wings flared wide and with all seven siphons gleaming in the scarce sunlight that pushed through the overcast skies. He didn’t touch you, but his presence was close enough to feel his warmth radiate against you. You willed your spine into a rod of steel, your back straight and head held high, wings wide enough that they occasionally brushed against Azriel’s.

That was a statement in and of itself.

Azriel briefly met your eyes before he pulled open the door to the only tavern in Windhaven, where you would inevitably find Devlon. Azriel gestured for you to enter first. You nodded once, then stepped over the threshold. The air was musty and thick with the scent of sweat and booze, and you suddenly missed the bitter cold of the Illyrian wind. The door swung shut with a loud thud, Azriel’s chest briefly brushing your shoulder as he stepped behind you.

Your eyes scanned the seedy room, ignoring the leers and sneers of the males scattered around worn and decrepit wooden tables. It did not take long to find Devlon hiding in the back, tucked inside a booth in the back corner, his closest men surrounding him.

It did not take long for him to find you.

His eyes widened for a moment before they narrowed into a scowl. He tossed some coins on the table, his hand of cards following as you made your way toward him. “Lord Devlon,” you barked, your voice loud and sharp in the muffled murmur of the tavern. Azriel stayed a mere half a pace behind you. You stopped in front of his table, your eyes never leaving his. “We need to have a talk.”

He scoffed, then reached for his glass of amber liquid. “It’s not bad enough I have to listen to the bastard of a guard dog Rhysand sends every month?”

You felt Azriel bristle behind you. You felt his flare of anger and unbridled rage flare deep inside your own chest. You smirked, your eyes sharp and lips curled back just enough that it might even be considered a snarl. You leaned closer, your hand resting on the disgustingly damp and sticky tabletop as you met his eyes. “Come with me.”

Then you pulled back, and you walked out the back entrance, leaving Devlon and his men to bumble around like idiots in front of Azriel. You didn’t wait to hear the open and slam of the door before walking toward the fighting ring at the center of the camp.

You didn’t fight the self-satisfied smile that bloomed on your face as you heard the sound of two sets of footsteps in the freshly fallen snow. You made a show of looking around, but you did your best not to look in the direction of anywhere that might stab you through the heart. When the footsteps settled, when you felt that familiar grounding presence at your side again, you finally turned around to face Devlon.

“Love what you’ve done with the place,” you drawled, he and you knowing very well the camp looks the same as it did five centuries ago.

“Get on with it,” he snapped, flinging his hand out. “What could Rhysand possibly want now?”

Your face turned stony, all faux amusement dropping from your eyes. “Who murdered Freya?”

“Who?” he had the audacity to sneer.

“You know who,” you snarled, stepping close. “Unless you mean to tell me that you don’t even know who lives and dies in your own camp.”

His eyes flared with undiluted rage, his throat bobbing. He glanced at Azriel behind you, his lip curling in disgust. “She was found in the woods. Stupid bitch wandered away from camp, made herself lunch for some animal.”

A gentle phantom touch brushed the back of your neck, soothing the flare of anger that roared inside you.

“Who found her?” you made yourself ask, voice tight.

“Her husband.”

“And you believed him?”

“You question the integrity of one of my generals?”

The words squeezed the air from your lungs. “A general,” you repeated. “Your general’s wife died, and you forgot who she was?”

Devlon didn’t respond.

You tilted your head back, folding your hands behind your back. “Forgive me if I do not trust your judgement of character,” you sneered. “We will be staying a few days.” You turned to Azriel, whose eyes were cold daggers pointed directly at Devlon. “We will continue this in the morning. Early,” you added, looking him up and down with blatant disgust. “Sober.”

You turned on your heel, heading for the only place you ever once called home in this wretched camp. 

~ ~ ~

“Where are you going?”

You turned toward the voice that had appeared beside you, their jovial warmth friendly and unthreatening. Cassian was grinning as he fell into step with you, his hair pulled back with a leather tie he had undoubtedly cut himself. Pieces were falling down and around his face, and he squinted briefly as he pushed one out of his eyes.

You huffed, stopping. “Come here.”

Cassian blinked owlishly, but stepped closer anyway. You twirled your finger. “Turn around, and crouch down.”

He did as you asked, and when your fingers undid the loose knot in his hair his shoulders started shaking with laughter. “You’re a mess,” you grumbled.

“At least I tried to tame it.”

You rolled your eyes. “You could just cut it.”

He lifted a hand to his chest, his cheeks stretching into a grin as you pulled all of his hair back. “You wound me.”

You wound the leather around his hair, tying it in a tight knot, then patted his shoulder. “There,” you said.

Cassian rose to his full height, pulling you into his side with a grin still plastered to his face. “Thank you.”

You shoved him away lightly, continuing on your path. Cassian didn’t leave. “Where are you going?” he asked again.

“Flying,” you huffed.

“With who?”

You cut him a glance. “You are such a busybody,” you mumbled. “I’m meeting Azriel.”

Cassian’s brows raised. “You two spend a lot of time together.”

Your glare was sharper this time. “He’s my friend.”

“I’m your friend,” Cassian countered. “Your first friend.”

You huffed a laugh. “I didn’t know stealing my cookies was your version of friendship.”

He bumped your shoulder. “I did that once. Then gave you two back the next day.”

You smiled softly, then shrugged. You both knew that you really became close friends through Azriel, but it didn’t matter how. You had Az, Cas, and Rhys now. You weren’t alone. That’s all that mattered. “Azriel is my favorite friend.”

“Okay,” he huffed. “That one hurt.”

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, your grin widening when you found him glaring.

“No, but seriously,” he said, stopping you again with a hand on your arm. “Is there something—”

“Y/N.”

Your head snapped toward the familiar quiet voice, your smile morphing into something softer. The center of your chest warmed when you saw him, your heart racing as he walked closer to you and Cassian. He glanced warily at Cassian, an uncharacteristic uncertainty settling on his face. “I didn’t know Cassian was coming with us.”

Before Cassian could open his fat mouth, you shook your head quickly. “He’s not.” You looked at Cassian, smiling and raising your eyebrows pointedly. “He was just leaving. Right, Cas?”

Cassian looked far from pleased from you evading his interrogation, but acquiesced nonetheless. “Yeah,” he muttered. “I’ll see you at training tomorrow, Az.” He clapped you on the shoulder, firmer than necessary, his eyes flaring with mischief and a promise to resume this conversation later—not that there was anything to talk about. “Thanks for your help, sweetheart.”

Your eyes widened, your cheeks flaring with heat at his stupid pet name, and knowing exactly why he said it.

He grinned, leaving the two of you alone with a half-hearted wave.

You took a deep breath, calming the flush of your cheeks before facing Azriel again. He was still watching Cassian walk back toward the camp. His jaw twitched, and he jumped when you touched his arm.

You smiled softly again when he looked at you. “Ready?” you asked.

He nodded silently, falling into step beside you. The clearing you usually met at wasn’t far.

“Is there something going on with you and Cas?” Azriel asked quietly. His shoulders were tense and his wings were flared, and his shadows were moving around him restlessly.

“What?” you asked. “No! He was just being an ass.” You waved away the notion, grimacing slightly. “As usual.”

“Oh.” Some of the tension visibly fell away from Azriel, his shoulders falling a bit. A small smile pulled at his lips when he looked at you again. It started to grow, and mischief glinted in his eyes the longer he watched you.

“What?” you asked again, growing wary.

He shook his head, looking away for a moment. “Nothing.” He licked his lips, the smile still fighting to stay on his face. “Did I tell you I learned something new?”

“No,” you said slowly. “At training?”

“Not quite.”

His arms reached out to circle your waist, and he pulled your body flush against his, sending your heart into a frenzy. You met his eyes in bewilderment, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement, and suddenly the two of you were engulfed in darkness.

In shadows.

You clung to Azriel as your body fell through some otherworldly ether, his shadows cocooning the two of you in a cool swath of silk as you catapulted through space.

Then light blinded you, and you buried your face in his chest before you started to freefall. You screamed as you plummeted, and Azriel laughed as his wings spread out, catching the two of you in the air with a harsh jolt.

You pulled your head away from his chest, just barely meeting his eyes. “What the hell was that?” you yelled.

Azriel’s eyes were bright as he carried you through the sky, the drag of your own wings against the wind not seeming to bother him in the slightest. He shrugged, meeting your gaze with a relaxed smile. “Rhys called it winnowing, but he said it feels different from when he does it.”

You were smiling as you shook your head. “You’re an asshole.”

Azriel grinned, and giggled when he spun the two of you around, the wind whipping at your face. “Your face was priceless,” he laughed.

“You could hardly even see it,” you scoffed.

Azriel looked lighter than he had in a long time—maybe since you had known him. He looked beautiful. You hated the dagger of worry that stabbed at your chest. “Maybe don’t tell anyone else about this?” you said carefully.

Azriel’s eyes shuttered, his jaw clenching. He nodded, as if he had already decided the same thing. “They already think I’m different enough—a threat.”

You shook your head, pulling one of your hands free from their clutch on his leathers to cup his face. “This is amazing, Az,” you said, voice as gentle as you could make it in the wind around you. 

“I had to tell you,” he said.

“I’m glad you did.”

~ ~ ~

Azriel followed behind you silently, his presence warm at your back as you walked past roaming males in the dark of the camp. Only once you enter Rhys’s house—his mother’s house—and the door shut behind the two of you, did Azriel speak.

“I did not know we would be staying.”

You turned around quickly, guilt unfurling rapidly in your chest. “Neither did I.” You swallowed hard, looking around at the achingly familiar furniture covered with only a faint layer of dust. Cassian must come here. “I’m sorry. You can leave. I should never have—”

“I am not leaving you here,” he said quickly, moving close.

“I can’t ask you to stay here, Azriel. It’s unfair. You don’t deserve—”

“I can handle Devlon, and I can handle sleeping on this rancid land.” His voice was smooth and steady, his eyes not leaving yours. “I’m not worried about me,” he said quietly. “I’m worried about you.”

You breathed in deep, the dust floating around you scratching at your throat. “I’ll be fine,” you said, nodding as if that would make it true. “I need to do this for Freya.”

Azriel nodded, his hand coming out to rub your upper arm. “We’re going to find who did this.” His jaw clenched, the muscle in the corner jumping. “We might already know who.”

You let out a hollow, exasperated laugh. “How is it still like this?” you asked. “How are these things still happening? How is Devlon, of all Illyrians, considered the most progressive camp lord?”

“I don’t know,” he murmured, his hand gently coaxing you to fall against his chest, his arms circling around your waste. “I’ve long thought they’re past saving.”

“It’s not fair.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, and you wanted to burrow inside of him. You wanted to cling to him like dew, and never leave. You wanted him. All of him. Forever.

~ ~ ~

“Azriel,” you rasped, leaning over his bed. You reached for him, shaking his shoulders far less gently than you should to wake a sleeping Illyrian male. “Azriel,” you sobbed.

He shot up in bed, his shadows flaring out to wrap around you. Not to protect him—to soothe you. You only cried harder.

“What happened?” he hurried out, sleep slipping from the panicked syllables. “Y/N?” He reached for you, pulling you down onto his bed as he sat up. “Hey—hey, what happened? Are you hurt?”

“She’s dead,” you hiccuped. You collapsed against him, your head falling into his lap as you curled up on your side. “She’s dead. My mother—”

Azriel’s arms held you tight, his wings curling around the two of you, a heavy warmth that dulled the sharpest edges of the cold terror protruding from your chest. You faintly heard the opening of a door. You didn’t care.

“She was the general’s mistress,” you rasped. “She didn’t know I knew, but I did. He—he—” Another sob tore from your throat, agony rippling through you. “What do I do? Where do I go?”

Azriel held you tight, rocking you gently. “We’ll figure it out,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

You fell asleep wrapped in his arms, with your head in his lap and his wings covering your trembling body, and tears slowly drying on your cheeks in the dark of night.

~ ~ ~

The mattress in Cassian’s old room was cold and lumpy, a worn down sack of cotton that was falling apart at the seams. It had surely been replaced in the five centuries since you left here, but it was long past due for another.

You wiggled around, the sheets catching around your feet and causing a flare of irritation in your chest. Eventually you yanked them down over your chest, your arms falling at your sides with a huff. Moonlight streamed in through the single window, no drapes to block it from falling across your skin. Your heart was beating hard in your chest, a half-beat off rhythm as your mind struggled to find rest in this place that had left so many scars on your soul.

Cassian’s scent lingered in the air, on the old shirt you had found shoved inside his wardrobe. It was familiar, at least. It masked all of the other acrid scents that bombarded you the second you stepped foot inside this camp.

You were still left feeling hollow. You ached from the inside out, and every minute that passed without sleep pricked against your skin—a stark reminder that you would be in no shape to confront Devlon in a few mere hours if you spent the night lying awake in the closest place you had to a childhood home.

Even if you were never allowed to live there.

The house was silent, save for your frustrated sighs. A stillness that felt more suffocating than peaceful falling over you. You tried to listen for Azriel, for his heartbeat, his breaths—anything to distract your spiraling mind—but it was utterly silent.

You knew he was still here. You could feel his presence, even if he was lying in the room across the hall. You couldn’t explain it, but you had always been able to feel him when he was near.

A sixth sense that was beginning to feel more like a curse than a blessing. A taunt, rather than a glimmer of hope. He was not yours to keep track of. He was not yours to want.

And yet, you knew the only thing, the only person, that could calm your racing mind and rising anxieties, was him.

It was selfish to take from him what he should be giving to another. It was selfish to hate the female that would one day have him, that had done nothing wrong but be blessed with Azriel as her mate.

He just—he had always been yours, in some twisted, round about way. Ever since you were young and naive and just happy to have a friend, he was yours. And you were his.

It was futile to talk yourself out of going to him. The wooden floors were rough against the soles of your feet as you opened your door, hesitating for only a second as you looked down the empty hallway, then walked toward Azriel’s door.

You fist hovered in front of the door, your heart pounding as you chastised yourself for wanting him—for needing him. You didn’t just want Azriel, you needed him like you needed air. If there was ever any doubt that he was a lifeline to your heart, this impromptu trip to hell had incinerated it.

You knocked. It was just a soft rap on the door, quiet enough that he might not hear it—if he were anyone else.

“Come in,” his muffled voice called.

Something warmed in your chest knowing that at least you had not been lying awake alone. You opened the door slowly, an unusual shyness cloaking you as you met his eyes. He was under his covers, his back resting against the wall at the head of the bed.

His torso was bare.

Your eyes lingered on his chest, on the curve of his pectorals that border the ridges of his abdomen. You watched the movement of a shadow that flitted across his stomach, then hid behind his back. Your eyes snapped up to meet his. Your mouth was dry when you said, “I can’t sleep.”

His cheeks seem flushed in the glow of the candle beside his bed. “Me neither,” he murmured.

You shut the door behind you, your eyes not leaving his. “Can I stay here?” you asked quietly.

Azriel nodded, his lips turning up so softly it melted one of the many icy tendrils curled around your ribs. He shifted closer to the edge of the far too small bed to hold two Illyrians, patting the small space beside him.

Your shoulders relaxed, falling from where they had been pinned close to your ears without you noticing. It was then that you noticed your legs were bare, and nothing but Cassian’s thread bare shirt was covering your skin.

In theory, this was not a big deal.

You and Azriel had been friends for centuries. You had seen each other in various states of undress in the most vulnerable and inopportune times, had cared for each other in moments of distress—this should have been nothing.

It still felt different.

It felt raw and intimate in a way you had never experienced, and you again felt foolish and guilty.

This was wrong. You should leave. You should leave, and not take advantage of your kind and unsuspecting friend when you knew you were only feeding your poor and delusional heart with misplaced hope that would logically never bloom to fruition. However, only your mind had the luxury of logic, and it was doing a piss poor job at protecting your feeble heart from further ruin.

You moved toward his bed, pulling back the covers and nestling down into the edge of the pillow behind him. Your nose was level with his hip with barely an inch between you, and your wings were drooping over the side of the bed, but you were infinitely more comfortable in here, beside Azriel, than you had been alone across the hall.

Azriel leaned over toward the bedside table, blowing the candle out with a small puff of air, then sank down into the bed so he was face to face with you, your heads sharing the lone pillow at the head of his bed. His soft cedar scent wrapped around you, his warmth enveloping you like a second blanket, and your eyes grew tired embarrassingly quickly.

You took in the muted hazel of his eyes, the flecks that glinted in the moon beams cast around the room, and you thought he might have been doing the same, his eyes never wavering from yours. Goosebumps pebbled across your skin, and the smile that pulled at your lips was entirely involuntary, pure content and love consuming your weary and battered mind for the first time in months—the Illyrian hell hole outside these walls be damned.

“Goodnight,” Azriel murmured, his voice growing heavy with his own exhaustion.

You might have moved impossibly closer, you might have let your legs brush his and your arms graze against the warm skin of his chest—it was purely due to the lack of space, of course. Azriel smiled softly at you, and his arms wrapped around your body, pulling you tighter against his chest, forcing your head to rest directly against him.

You melted into him, of course. His arms had always been where you felt safest, even in the darkest and most trying times of your life. There was no fighting it.

Even if that terrible, fleeting stone of guilt ricocheted through your body. Even if it just barely grazed your heart, reminding you of the precarious edge you were standing on, an inevitably agonizing heart break waiting for you below.

Tonight you would ignore it just a little longer. Tonight you would hide from your shredded soul in the arms of the male you loved, and would pretend, for just a few hours, he loved you too.

~ ~ ~

“Augustus makes an attor seem friendly.”

Your words were meant to be joking. They were meant to just be a jeering jab at your horrible cousin who you had never properly met, had not known existed until Devlon thrust you into his care the day after your mother’s funeral. Instead they sounded hollow and aching, entirely too much truth weighing them down.

Azriel noticed.

“Has he done something?” he asked quietly, as if he was afraid too loud a cadence might summon the wretched male to this desolate clearing.

You blinked, staring blankly at the snow below you. You were tired of snow. You were tired of the cold. Sixteen years spent living in eternal winter, and you were prepared to commit an atrocity if it meant you never had to see these snow-covered mountains again.

“Nothing new.”

You felt the tension rippling off of Azriel. His siphons littering his chest and arms flared, his copious stores of power simmering over. “That’s not an answer.”

“Yes, it is.”

“It’s not good enough.”

Your head snapped toward him, your lips pulling back in an instinctive snarl. “It’s all I can give you.”

Azriel blinked, otherwise unflinching against your anger. “You’re keeping things from me,” he said quietly.

It was the truth, and it hurt, no matter how gentle he laid it in front of you.

Your mother was unkind. You even thought her cruel, once. Now you lived with a male who knew the true definition of cruelty. A male so toxic he made your hair stand straight on your arms and a chill ran down your spine every time you stepped foot through the door. A male who yelled instead of spoke, whose anger was a baseline state for him.

He was a male that used violence more than words. Who left bruises in his wake. Who reminded you every day he hated you, and he hated his uncle that impregnated the whore that birthed you, and was stupid enough to get herself killed.

What of his father? you sometimes wanted to ask. Was he stupid too? How did he die?

Speaking those words would be sure to get you killed.

A hand wrapped around your arm, the sudden touch making you flinch, your entire body curving away out of pure instinct. Your body froze when you realized what you did, when you recognized the scarred hand that had immediately fell away from you.

Horror sluiced through you when you met Azriel’s wide, vicious eyes. He was trembling, his shadows stretching out farther than he usually let them these days, his wings twitching behind him. “Let me see your arm.”

“No.”

“Y/N,” he said, your name spoken so low and slowly it forced your mind to slow down. “Let me see.”

“I can’t,” you whispered, your voice cracking.

Azriel’s jaw clenched, a puff of air leaving his nose as his hand squeezed into a fist, then slowly uncurled. “Please,” he asked gently. “I only want to help.”

“You have to promise me you won’t do anything,” you pleaded. Azriel’s throat bobbed as you stared at him. “Promise me, Azriel.”

“I promise,” he whispered.

You nodded, sniffing once to push away the tears that were beginning to burn at the back of your throat. You shrugged out of your jacket, exposing your bare arms to the bitter cold, and revealing the mottled bruises in various colors decorating your skin.

Azriel’s breath hitched when he saw. You couldn’t meet his eyes, and you hated that you still flinched when he touched your arm. He froze, staring at your face. You could only nod.

He continued his inspection, his hands gently grazing over your skin, careful not to hurt you. A tear fell from the corner of your eye, and you quickly wiped it away. Then his fingers curled around the hem of your shirt, squeezing the fabric tight, and when you finally met his gaze, gave him the permission he was seeking, he lifted your shirt.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice broken as he took in the purple blooms across your ribs. His fingers lightly traced the ridges of your ribcage, pulling away only when you sucked in a sharp breath as he passed over a sensitive area. He lowered your shirt slowly, and you could feel him staring at you, even as you stared down at the snow. “He could have killed you,” he whispered.

“He threatened to this morning,” you admittedly quietly, pathetically. “That was a first.”

He helped you slide your coat back on, doing up the wing slats silently with careful fingers.

“You need to report him?”

You laughed mirthlessly. “To who? Devlon?” You shook your head. “I’ll be fine.” You stood up from the boulder the two of you had been perched upon, your boot slipping just a bit before you gained your composure. “I’ve survived a year with him. I can survive more.”

“Y/N—”

“I’ll see you later, Azriel.”

~ ~ ~

“My condolences for the passing of your wife.”

The male leaning against the wall of one of the buildings surrounding the square, watching the young males train, lazily dragged his gaze up to meet yours. His eyes flit to Azriel standing behind you, a flash of contempt shining in his irises before he seemed to force it away. He met your gaze again, his arms still crossed over his chest as he said flatly, “My wife is dead. Your condolences mean nothing.”

“I’m sure,” you answered, forcing sympathy into your tone. “I grew up with Freya,” you said, watching him carefully. “She was my friend.”

The male went rigid, indignation and rage roaring behind his eyes. “She never told me she was friends with one of the High Lord’s whores. Though, it’s unsurprising.”

Azriel stepped forward, but you blocked his path. “What happened to her?” you asked, ignoring his disrespect.

His eyes narrowed, and he finally stood up straight. “She ran off in the middle of the night after letting her delusions mislead her. Guess she wandered too far, made herself a meal.”

You had no idea what he meant by that, but you knew in your bones you were staring into the eyes of the male that ended Freya’s life. And he was a general of one of the most respected legions in the Illyrian army. Rhys would terminate him immediately, with or without concrete proof—he would come and dig through his mind if that was what it took, but you wanted to handle this yourself. You wanted to force them to admit to their atrocities for once, and force them to do something about it.

“It’s just hard to imagine,” you pondered, voice floaty and distant as you turned to look out at the woods in the distance. “Five centuries she’s lived here…” You shook your head. “Do you have any children?”

“No.”

You looked him up and down, making no effort to hide your analysis of him. You pursed your lips, your facade falling away, and your stony armour falling back into place. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

You turned away, but you only made it a few steps toward Devlon’s quarters before an ear splitting scream rang through the camp. You flinched, stumbling back into Azriel, who caught you with steady hands. “What the hell was that?” you asked breathlessly.

The scream rang out again, this time sobs following after. It did not take long to find the source, two males dragging a young girl by her arms to the center of the square, her knees dragging on the snow covered ground. The males fighting in the wing didn’t even look at her.

They threw her to the ground.

Then they grabbed her wings.

“Get off of her!” The words tore out of you, loud and guttural as you took off for the young female lying in the snow, her skin bruised and discolored in a way yours once had been at that very same age. “Get your fucking hands off of her!”

The two males snapped their heads toward you, and only then did the clang of swords die out. Everyone was watching now, even some females coming out of the buildings scattered around. They sneered at you, ready to fire back, then their eyes fell to the presence at your side, to the shadows forming a thick blanket of smoke at your feet. Only then did they let her go, leaving her lying in the cold.

You shoved one of them out of the way, making him stumble, and Azriel was between the two of you before the male could react. You crouched down, gently helping the girl up. Tears streaked her cheeks, her hair damp from the snow and plastered to the side of her face. She was shaking. “Come on,” you said, voice steady. “Come on.”

She sniffed once, her eyes meeting yours, then taking in your leathers, and the way your wings were stretched wide behind your back, the way they were meant to. She nodded, letting you help her up by her arm, but she did most of the work. She glared at the male beside her, watching the two of you with pure disdain.

Then she spat at his boots.

He barely made a move before you shoved her behind you, and you grinned at the male. “You will not touch her,” you ordered, voice low and threatening. Then, looking around at all the males, and females, staring at you, you yelled, “In case you all forgot, wing clipping is banned by the High Lord!”

You stepped closer to the male that she spat at, shoving one finger against his chest. “You will not touch her,” you hissed. 

You cast one last glare at the male, then turned around toward the girl. She was on her cycle. Your stomach twisted, too many horrific memories pressing at the edges of your mind. “Where is your mother?” you asked quietly.

She glanced to the side, to where a female was standing in the doorway of a tailor shop. Her hands were curled into tight fists, and her eyes were wide with terror and fury. You nodded toward the woman. “Go.”

The girl did not hesitate, running to her mother who embraced her in her arms, an unusually blatant display of affection in an Illyrian camp. You hoped her mother did not have bruises to match her own, but it was likely.

“What the hell is going on?” a grating male voice bellowed over the square.

You rolled your eyes, turning away from the mother and daughter once they hurried inside their shop to find Devlon, his eyes ablaze.

No one spoke. The general you had spoken to moments ago was gone, unsurprisingly.

“You are all dismissed,” Azriel ordered, his voice cold and lethal.

No one moved.

Azriel swung his gaze around the camp, his wings flaring wide and siphons gleaming. “Go.”

Everyone scattered, a dull murmur filling the square as males gathered their belongings, heading anywhere away from here. Azriel stepped in front of you, his body practically vibrating with rage. “Devlon,” he growled. “Wing clipping is banned in all Illyrian camps.”

Devlon’s eyes narrowed. “It is,” he agreed, begrudgingly.

“And yet, Y/N just stopped two of your males from clipping a girl they had pinned in the snow.”

Devlon said nothing, but the ire burning in his eyes made your blood rush through your head, a dull thump pounding in your ears. You stepped closer to him, the snow crunching beneath your boots with every slow step that brought you inches away from Devlon. You met his eyes, uncaring that he was taller and broader than you. You were not the terrified girl he once threw to the wolves with the flick of his hand five centuries ago.

“I will find out exactly what happened to Freya,” you hissed, venom lacing every syllable. “And I will personally see that any male that so much as thinks—” You stabbed Devlon in the chest with your finger, his nostrils flaring at the disrespect. “—of touching another female’s wings is dealt with appropriately.”

You leaned back, heart pounding as you looked Devlon up and down, your body vibrating with centuries of pent up fury and resentment and hatred for this wretched place filled with wretched men. “You forget your place, Devlon,” you spat.

“You fucking low-life bitch, mewing and preening for—” His words died with an abrupt wheeze, dark tendrils of shadow whipping around his throat and forcing their way inside his mouth, one even curling out of his nose. You stumbled back a step from the shock, Azriel moving in front of you with predatory grace.

“I would be very careful with your words,” he murmured, his voice cold and lethal. Devlon’s face grew redder by the second, his eyes starting to bulge as Azriel leaned down to meet his eyes. “I am not my brothers. I will not hesitate to find a new camp lord.”

The shadows pulled back, tucking beneath Azriel’s wings or wrapping around your ankles. Devlon keeled over just as Azriel stepped back, gasping and wheezing with watery eyes.

The look on Azriel’s face was pure disdain. “We’re done here.”

~ ~ ~

Panic clawed at your spine, sharp and cloying pain chasing after you no matter how far you ran.

You were so foolish. You knew, deep down, that it was only a matter of time before nature inevitably turned on you. It didn’t matter how many herbs and serums you stuffed down your throat day after day. Your cycle was inevitable.

You should have been prepared. You should have thought about its arrival beyond the bone deep dread that flooded your body every time you saw another girl in the mess hall with freshly clipped wings and sallow eyes. You knew you were only delaying the inevitable, and now it was finally here.

Maybe if your mother were still alive you might have hid it. Maybe she would not have cared enough to drag you to a healer, her own disdain for this camp possibly protecting you from its wretched customs. Or maybe she would have dragged you to the healer out of spite.

There was no doubt what Augustus would do.

He wouldn’t even take you to a healer. He would likely slash your wings to shreds himself, going farther than just robbing you of their function. He loathed your mere existence. The only reason you were not dead was his delusional dream of becoming one of Devlon’s prized generals, and Devlon was the one that had dumped you in Augustus’s care.

You knew as soon as he returned from wherever he slinked away to, as soon as walked through that door, he would smell the blood, and it would be over for you.

So you ran.

As soon as the cloying metallic scent hit your nose a.nd the stabbing pain shot through your abdomen, you stuffed your bare feet in your boots and shoved your arms in your coat and you ran. You wore nothing but a thin night gown underneath your leather jacket, your bare calves exposed to the bitter air and sharp cold of the snow-covered forest.

You had nowhere to go. Nowhere to run to. Nothing to help you survive alone in the Illyrian steppes, but all you could think about was that you would not survive the night if you stayed in that house in the center of camp.

You just had to make it far enough away from camp that no one could find you. No one could smell you. You just had to keep moving, even if the tears running down your cheeks were frozen on your skin and your hands were numb. Even if you felt like you were being ripped apart from the inside out and felt an uncomfortable and foreign moisture spread between your thighs. Even if you worried that the farther you fled into the forest, Illyrian males would no longer be your only threat.

Somehow you reached the clearing that you and Azriel would meet in, less frequently now that you were older. The open land that once felt freeing now left you open and exposed, entirely vulnerable. You sniffed once, ignoring the tears that clung to your lashes and stuffing down the slimy terror sluicing through your veins, and you kept running.

You managed to cross the clearing, catapulting into the tree line on the other side, hissing as a branch scraped your cheek. You were so tired, so weak, and you were in so much pain. The ground seemed to shift abruptly before righting itself, the trees spinning as you put one foot in front of the other, desperate to make it out of here. Flying was not an option if you wanted to go undetected, but running was rapidly failing you.

Your ankle twisted with a chilling snap, your foot falling into a snow covered hole. You careened forward, unable to catch yourself before landing sharply on your arm, the snow doing very little to cushion your fall. You bit your lip hard enough to draw blood as you stifled your scream, a sharp gasp leaving your lips as you pushed yourself to sit up and pulled your foot from the sunken in ground.

You were trembling, and your head was spinning as you fought to catch your breath. Terror stabbed your chest as a male materialized in front of you, his wings stretched wide behind him, the moonlight illuminating his silhouette.

You were going to die.

“Y/N.”

You shut your eyes, a pathetic whimper falling from your lips as you shook in the snow, waiting for the inevitable.

“Y/N, it’s me,” he said again, voice soft and familiar.

You forced your eyes open, Azriel’s scent wafting over you as he crouched beside you.

Terror still clung to your skin, your world spinning and reality crashing down around you. You started shaking your head, fresh tears falling from your eyes. “Please,” you rasped. “Please. Please.” Your voice broke around your sobs. “Please don’t—” You coughed, and you leaned forward as another sharp pain stabbed at your abdomen.

“Hey—hey,” Azriel said hurriedly. “It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you. Y/N, I would never.”

His words sloshed around inside your head, tumbling around and around as you tried to listen. You slumped forward suddenly, and his hands shot out to catch you, but you quickly flinched away.

“No. Y/N, hey.” His hands were still firm on your arms, his warmth radiating into your frozen skin. “You’re safe with me.” He looked you in the eyes, and his muted hazel irises in the dark of night stared back at you, warm and familiar, even if they were laced with panic. “Are you hurt? What—”

He suddenly went rigid, his nostrils flaring as he quickly scanned your body, and you got to watch the realization dawn on his face. A swell of mortification mixed with your fear, even if you were in agony and crumpled in pain on the cold wet ground.

You stared at him, your lip trembling ever so slightly. “Please don’t make me go back,”  you whispered.

Azriel’s face fell. “Y/N—”

You were shaking your head again. “I can’t lose my wings.” You gasped for air, fighting the sobs pushing at your throat. “I can’t, Azriel. It’s the only thing I have. Please—”

“No one is going to touch your wings,” he swore, and for a half second, you wanted to believe him. “But you can’t stay here. I have to take you back—”

“No,” you cried, your hand weakly clutching the front of his leathers. “No. Please—”

Azriel’s gloved hands came up to cup your face gently, his warmth a balm to the stinging cold. “I’m going to take you back to my home. Rhysand’s mother won’t be home until morning, but she will help. While we wait, you can bathe, warm up, sleep. You will be safe there.”

You swallowed hard, your throat burning from your cries. “What about Rhysand and Cassian?”

His thumbs gently stroked your cheeks. “They will be there. Hey,” he said, coaxing your face back up to meet his when you looked away, “They would never hurt you. They’re your friends.”

You nodded slowly, your grip on his leathers going lax. Your fingers ached from the cold, and your joints were growing stiff.

“Okay?” he asked.

You nodded again.

“Good,” he murmured. He pulled his hands away, and he slid his leather gloves off. “Here,” he said, then took your hand in his now bare one, his skin hot against yours. He slid the glove over your hand, the material warm from him, and it was a relief so intense you nearly started crying again. He took your other hand in his, doing the same.

“There,” he hummed, then reached up to brush your hair away from your face. “I’m not leaving you,” he promised. “No one is touching your wings.”

You stared at him for a moment, taking in the fuzzy contours of his face that you knew like the back of your hand, even in the dark of night. You slowly fell back inside yourself, slowly came down from the terror and adrenaline that had pushed you through the Illyrian forests, away from Windhaven, and recognized the world around you.

You recognized the gentle stroke of shadows on your exposed calves. You recognized the cedar sent curling around you. You recognized the kernel of warmth in the center of you that came to life every time Azriel was near—even now, when you were panic-stricken and exhausted, it was still there.

You remembered that you trusted him, and you were safe. Maybe you should have ran to him, instead of away from Windhaven. Maybe you would have made things worse if someone had caught you. Maybe he would be angry that you had acted so rash, so foolish, when the sun rose over the horizon. There were a lot of uncertainties, many you would never have the answer to, but you did know Azriel would protect you, and he would never hurt you.

You forgot sometimes how quickly Illyria weathered boys into males, children into adults. Azriel was eighteen now, and while you could still see that eleven year old boy behind the mess hall with rosy cheeks and messy hair, he was entirely male now. He was formidable in every sense of the word. In the spring, he would complete the Blood Rite, likely alongside Rhys and Cass, and there was no question of if they would pass.

Everyone feared them. Everyone whispered about the Shadowsinger, but no one outwardly antagonized him—not anymore. If someone with too much gall challenged him, they learned their lesson quickly. Azriel was undoubtedly fearsome.

But not to you.

You never feared him.

You lunged forward, wrapping your arms around him, and you tucked your head against his chest. His arms quickly circled your body, overly mindful of your wings, but his palm still rubbed soothing circles along your lower back. “Thank you,” you whispered. “I don’t know how you found me, or how you knew to look for me—” Azriel squeezed you a little tighter. “But thank you.”

Suddenly one of his arms was under your legs, and you whimpered as your ankle shifted, which he gently apologized for. Then he lifted you, and you were finally out of the freezing snow that had seeped through your clothes.

You let your head loll against his chest, grateful for the warmth his body radiated and the shield from the wind his shadows had slowly built around you. “Thank you,” you whispered again.

He pressed his lips to the top of your head, a gesture that was so sweet and fond and new that your heart flipped inside your chest, and you wanted to cry for an entirely different reason.

~ ~ ~

As soon as the door shut behind Azriel with a heavy thud, you whirled around to face him. “What the hell was that?”

Azriel blinked, stopping in the entry way. “You know Devlon is a piece of—”

“I’m not talking about Devlon, Azriel. I’m talking about you.”

“What?”

You shook your head, hands balling into fists at your sides. You felt suffocated, angry, and out of control. This house held too many memories. This entire camp was littered with knives sharpened by horrific memories that were ready to stab you at first glance. There would never be any forgetting, even after centuries had passed.

“I was handling Devlon,” you grit out.

“I know.” Azriel stepped closer. “I was there.”

“Then why did you—”

“He does not get to speak to you that way,” Azriel growled.

“I don’t need you to fight my battles!”

Azriel’s mouth opened and then snapped shut, as if he thought better of whatever he was about to say. “I am always going to protect you, Y/N,” he said finally, his voice quieter than before.

You swallowed hard, your nose burning as bile stung the back of your throat. “I don’t need you to.”

Azriel shook his head. “Don’t,” he said. “Don’t do that. Don’t ask me not to—” He tilted his head back, and his shadows broke free from behind his back in shaky tendrils, a rare slip of restraint. “I have protected you since the day I met you,” he rasped. The words sounded strangled and desperate, and they knocked the air from your lungs. “I want to. I need to. Please do not ask me to stop.”

You wanted to spit something vitriolic back, just because you were hurting—for more than one reason—and he was standing directly in your line of fire.

Then you met his eyes, which were glossy in the sunlight streaming in through the kitchen window, and his shadows were vibrating with barely restrained emotion. Your shoulders fell, and then you looked away.

“Let’s go home,” he said quietly.

You nodded, even if your chest was suddenly tight. “You should go.”

“No,” Azriel said, and you looked at him warily. “We are going home. I’m not leaving you here, and if either of us stay in this camp another damned minute we might actually murder someone.”

“But Freya—”

“Rhys will handle it.”

“It’s my responsibility, Azriel.”

“It’s your responsibility to take care of yourself,” he volleyed back. Then he said again, “Rhys will handle it.”

“But the wing clipping—”

“Will not be fixed overnight. Cassian will take care of it.”

You closed your eyes, an all-consuming sense of failure corroding away at your bones. What was the point? What was the point of any of this if you could not help these females? Over five centuries of fighting and arguing and defying and still, nothing had changed. It was not enough. You could never do enough—

“Stop,” Azriel growled, his hands suddenly on your shoulders. “Stop. This is not your burden to bear alone. It’s not yours at all. None of this is your fault.”

You started to protest, but he leaned down closer to meet your eyes. “But you care,” he said softly. “You care about the females in this camp, because you are good. You are kind and compassionate and good, Y/N. You have not failed them, I promise you. You saved that girl today, and we will help the rest of them. I promise you.”

It was too much.

You depended on him too much, because somehow his words had soothed your soul, muting the spiraling stream of toxicity in your mind. Somehow his touch grounded you, and reminded you who you were, and where you were, and who you were with.

You were never really mad at him.

You were angry at the universe, and Illyria, and the Mother, but never him. He had done nothing wrong.

You loved him so much you thought your bones might break from the weight of it.

Your heart might combust from the agony of knowing he belonged to another, because he was yours. He was always meant to be yours. You needed him.

You wanted to hug him.

You wanted to kiss him.

Maybe, this was still salvageable. Maybe Azriel felt this too. Maybe he would understand, and everything he had said about how happy he was to find his mate a few months ago was just the rambling of a drunken male. Maybe he was deflecting, and if you just kissed him—

Azriel stepped away.

His hands fell from your shoulders.

The permanent chill in the air seeped back into your skin.

He said again, “Let’s go home.”

~ ~ ~

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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

Your hushed, pathetic protest was mumbled through tangled tongues, both desperate for more than a hasty kiss. God, he loved swallowing your whispered moans, each one whinier than the last as he licked into your mouth and across your warm cheek. You were a mess when he found that sweet spot just below your ear, tethering the first knot in your stomach to the blood rushing to your core, fingers needing something to hold.

“Why not?” 

You could hear the smirk in Jungkook’s retort as you tugged his head from your neck – pulling a guttural, almost pleasurable sound from the smiling assassin attached to your fistful of jet-black curls.

“Because you can’t control yourself.” 

“Who said anything about me?”

Jungkook punctuated his question with a heavy, tattooed hand gliding across the soddened silk between your thighs, his fingertips teasing every last nerve ending as he pressed his forehead to yours. He was a vision of sin when you dared to look; the dark doe-eyes, the glimmering silver lip ring taunting and a slight blush washing across his dimpled cheeks. The sight stoked the perilous fire that deeply burned for him. A roguish smile and a satisfied hum rumbled in his chest when he felt the reaction he’d caused.

“Hmm, isn't that interesting. Maybe I'm not the only one with self-control issues…”

“Not nearly as bad as you.” 

Jungkook rolled his eyes, unable to hold back an amused chuckle; "But you love it when I'm bad."

You were foolish to think he believed a word you were saying, so pliantly at his mercy when he plunged out of sight, admiring his fore-play handy work. Jungkook hiked up the hem of your short skirt and carelessly tugged down the silk soaked thread that had him salivating like a feral dog. He left them loosely hanging around your knees, down just enough to feel the brisk, city breeze and far enough for him to nestle his precious face between your thighs.

“Kook, baby… This is a bad idea…”

It was muscle memory the way your back arched off the brick wall and hips rotated towards Jungkook’s warm mouth – legs spread, hands trying to leverage some ounce of control as he licked into your folds, sucking the sensitive bud of nerves nestled between into his soft lips. The sensation of his affection and your pleasure sliding down his throat and on the inside of your thighs inspired a chorus of moans that echoed into the silent night – the only thing keeping the public from bearing witness to your sinful act was the emergency exit door Jungkook had lured you through only moments before. 

The fear that anyone could find you like this vanished the moment he spat messily over his long, slender fingers; the only thing connecting him to you were strings of spit dangling from his filthy mouth.

“Still a bad idea?” Jungkook was devilishly pleased with himself when you glanced down – the pleasure stitched between your eyebrows and a swollen bottom lip thoroughly answered his question.

“No, no – this was a great idea… oh my god keep doing that…” Your breathing was ragged and drawn from burning lungs as his middle finger teased your slick hole, edging your high with an evil grin.

“Ride my fucking face, pretty girl… Let me taste it.”

You were going to fucking lose it.

Jungkook dove back in; raucous spluttering and choking groans coming from the man devouring you like a melting popsicle on a sweltering summers day, paired with how fucking good it felt having his tongue circling your clit, had you whining and writhing on his tongue like a woman possessed – flat, firm and served up on a silver platter. He had to watch as the knots he’d tangled in the pit of your stomach unravelled, showering you with muffled praise while the soft baby curls tickling the nape of his neck were savaged by your grabby hands. 

The incoherent pleads of mercy sounded like a foreign prayer to Jungkook as he held you firmly in his grasp, tongue lapping unrelentingly. Cruelly – any longer you thought you may never reach it, unfairly denied until the restless pants and murmurs of blasphemy ascended into temporary bliss, blinded by the numbing pleasure as you dragged your languid hips over his taste buds, one, two, three times – wringing out every last drop and then some.

Jungkook was a mess of moans as he finished you off, curls and eyes wild beyond recognition when he finally rose from between your aching thighs – his dribble and your sweetness coated his chin and thick neck; even the blushed tip of his nose glowed under the streetlight above, lips raw and curved in a fucked out grin.

“You are so baaaad, baby,” He teased, earning a soft smack to the chest before he brushed his warm hand over your cheek and leaned down for a kiss. Tasting yourself on his lips and inhaling the smell of sex fused with his spiced aftershave was love personified. Jungkook was so many things; boyish and sloppy; fun and goofy – and the only man who could make you come just by using his mouth. He was also unequivocally, heartbreakingly, head over heels in love with you.

“That's why you love me.” 

The sound of your laughter echoing through the otherwise abandoned laneway, wrapped up in his warm leather jacket, only reiterated that this was his best-worst idea ever.

heat rose to your cheeks as your body sank more into the new, expensive leather couch he bought for his apartment. “i already said i was sorry,” you muttered . . low and sad with a slight whine threaded into it.

jungkook huffed out a small laugh, his tongue gently swiping over his lip ring. “and i do appreciate the apology, but that still doesn’t change the fact that i’m still irked.”

“but, babyyy,” you sighed out, leaning over to drape your body over the side of his. your nose traced over the apple of his cheek, “you really still that mad over a little powdered sugar?”

sigh.

before he could respond, your hand was cupping the other side of his face, smushing him more into you. his skin felt incredibly soft, and a little dewy from his skincare.

the scent of peaches n’ sweet cream wafted into his nose. his lashes fluttered only slightly, “i-it’s deeper than that, and you know it. i told you to please not eat your funnel cake on the way home, and you did anyway, because you insisted you wouldn’t spill—but then what happened?”

it was silent at first, and then he suddenly felt your body deflate. you were melting into him, and with a sniffle you spoke lowly, “i had a spill.”

‘a spill’ was an understatement.

there was powdered sugar everywhere. from small specks to medium sized piles—the pale colored dust covered almost the entire half of the passenger side.

when it happened, jungkook didn’t yell, but he didn’t look too much at you either—especially as he had you stand to the side while he vacuumed it out at some random gas station. you felt bad, of course. like, really bad, and apologized the entire way to his apartment with tears in your eyes because you genuinely didn’t think you would’ve spilled the sweet treat only seconds after saying you wouldn’t.

jungkook knew your apologies were genuine, and he accepted them with no problem by reassuring you with sweet kisses that you were forgiven. and from then on, you thought all was well . . until that same night at three something in morning.

when you grew needy in your sleep, you backed your plush bottom into his lower half in hopes of some relief—you were forced still by him pulling you tightly into his chest with a strong arm.

“no touching until i say,” was all he muttered into your ear, voice raspy n’ laced with sleep.

that was over a day ago, and your boyfriend still wasn’t budging. there was a lesson in all this, and that lesson was that you needed to listen more, and have a little more patience. something you lacked greatly when it came to certain things.

he would be lying though if he said these past 24 hours haven’t been difficult.

it was so hard to not let his hands wander whenever you randomly wrapped your arms around him for a hug, and it was even harder trying to not deepen your kisses.

but then he would think back to when he was bent over for a good twenty minutes, vacuuming and grumbling about his back was hurting all because you couldn’t stand to wait a half hour get into your funnel cake.

“kook . .” you mumbled, running your hand over his cushiony pecs. “don’ be like this . . i don’t like it. let me make it up to you.”

your words went right in his ear, and straight to his dick. just his fucking luck.

jungkook was weak for you in every way possible, and because of that, you didn’t get punishments like these very often. he was so quick to fold with just a bat of your eyes, and some sweet words. it was ridiculous!

that same irritation that he was grasping onto to prove his point was slowly slipping away, and was soon replaced with . . pity???

he actually felt bad that he was depriving you of his dick, even though it’s only been a little over a day. if his friends could see him now, they’d surely call him pussy whipped in the most derogatory way possible.

“you just—you just need to start listening to me, baby,” he sighed out, lashes fluttering closed when you kissed him unexpectedly. “i’m—mm, i’m serious.”

you pulled away only slightly, a thin line of spit keeping your lips connected. “i know you are, honey. n’ i’ll start, i promise. just keep kissing me? please?”

you didn’t care that he was in the middle of a game. and you certainly didn’t care about this little wall he tried to put between you both. all you wanted were his chapstick coated lips against yours.

“are you really gonna . . g-gonna start listening? please don’t tease me,” he sighed against your lips, a whine bubbling in his throat when your tongue swiped against his lower lip.

using your sweetest voice, you nodded with a small smile curling at your lips. “yes, baby. i promise.”

sometime later . . .

“oh, baby.”

“mm, kook.”

the couch creaked underneath the both of you, and the squeaky sound of leather was nothing more than a distant thought as you group your panty clad cunt against your man.

his sweats were pulled down mid-thigh leaving his bottom half in nothing but a pair of gray calvin kleins. they were definitely darker from the amount of slick dripping from your pussy, and with each hump against him, a wet shlick shlick sound echoed throughout the now quiet living room.

the game he was playing before was longgg forgotten by now, and he was sure his friends were probably cursing him out for ditching them—but the second you brought his hand down to cup your pussy? baby boy just about melted on the spot.

“god, this feels s’good,” jungkook slurred against your puffy lips, rough hands grabbing harshly at the softness of your hips. “a-and you’re so wet—i’m so sorry, babe.”

“yeah *huff* you should be. leavin’ me all needy like that,” you whimpered out, kissing your way down his jaw and to his sweaty neck.

he smelt so good.

like his natural musk mixed with the spicy scent of his cologne. you couldn’t help but loll your tongue out, and lick a thick stripe up the column of his throat allll the way to the sensitive spot below his ear. this sent a shiver down his back, and earned you a rough squeeze on the back of your neck.

“i-i know. mianhaeyo, pretty girl.”

he squeezed at your neck again, but this time it was much more gentle, much more tender.

god, he was so hard it was almost painful. he wanted to be inside you—oh, how he wanted to be enveloped in the soft warmth that was you.

but dry humping was a rare occurrence between the two of you nowadays. something that was only done when you both were just too needy to shed the layers of clothes that kept you apart. not to mention that it just felt more primal—hungrier.

the kisses were sloppier n’ wetter, and jungkooks hands wandered around you rougher than usual which was amazing. they went from your hair, to your neck, to the small of your back, and eventually, they’d make their way to your breasts.

“i want you . .”

“you have me,” you whispered into the whimpering mans ear, nibbling ever so slightly on the lobe. this earned you a particularly loud whine, followed by a wobbly—

“y-yeah?”

you let out a seductive hum, and licked at the shell of his ear. jungkook grabbed two handfuls of your ass, and pulled you down hard. he just kept you there for a moment, allowing you to feel the dull throb of his cock.

you gasped, and all he could do chuckle, too drunk on the feel of your wetness seeping through the cotton fabric of his briefs. “heh, you feel me?” he muttered, nudging his button nose against yours.

“i-i do, kook, i do.” your head was nodding eagerly, and then he captured your lips in yet another heated kiss full of tongue n’ spit. his tongue laved over yours hungrily, and with a deep groan, he was sucking the pink muscle between his lips.

by that point, jungkook was pushing his hips up, the thick base of his cock now pressing snugly between your dewy folds.

he was close. dangerously close.

and it was evident in the way he grabbed you, and the noises he made—like he was actually sheathed between your silken walls.

“i’m—i’m almost there. you almost t-there with me, baby?” he panted into your mouth, and you responded with a high pitched whine and a rapid nod. “good. now cum, so i can fuck you properly.”

your hands slammed against broad shoulders, and it was just your luck that he was wearing only a white tank top, allowing you to see the pretty swirls of ink that ran all the way from his arm to his chest.

one last rock of your hips against his had you tensing up with a blissful cry. jungkook tucked your head in the warmth of his neck, and held you in a tight embrace while you rode out your high. he wasn’t far behind you at all, his arms tightening around you as a warmth began to spread across the inside of his briefs.

for a few moments there was only silence besides your heavy breathing, and jungkooks quiet praises.

“did so good for me.”

“i love you so much.”

“just catch your breath, baby. i’m not going anywhere.”

all these sweet, gentle words and his soft touches were enough to almost lull you asleep—keyword, almost.

the only thing that kept you awake was the feeling of him still being hard beneath you. what can you say? you were a greedy little thing for your man and his stupidly good dick.

“babe . .” you muttered into his neck, manicured nails scratching at the hairs on his nape. “c‘mon let’s—let’s go again. i miss you.”

his laugh jostled you around a bit, making your lips push into a pout. “miss me? i’m right here, pretty girl. no need to miss me so much.”

“i miss your dick you big oaf—like, soooo much.”

a peck was laid on the sensitive spot beneath his ear, and then his chin, and then on the cool metal of his lip ring. “please take me. i promise i’ll be good . . let you do whatever you want with me.”

jungkook’s abs clenched at how your words just dripped off your tongue like honey—like a siren beckoning its next snack with it’s beautiful song.

and jungkook was more than willing to have you eat him alive.

his nose nudged against yours once more, a smirk overcoming his soft features. “yeah? anything i want?”

“anything.”