paradise of dreams *

The King then turned a page of the document in front of him, "What training have you been giving the soldiers?" The King asked.

"Extended drills across all battalions," Jungkook answered, "combat formations, endurance rotations, and I have been running the senior units through close-range fights twice daily."

The King nodded slowly, "And their condition?"

"Better than when I left," Jungkook replied.

"Good," The King said, setting down the document in his hand to look into the eyes of his most favored son, "I want you to prepare for war."

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

"How soon?" Jungkook asked, he wasn't surprised. If anything it was expected. Seokjin wouldn't go down without a fight that was just the Jeon in him.

"Soon enough that wasting time is no longer an option," the King replied. Jungkook’s father leaned back in his chair and folded his hands across the documents in front of him. The King has never once in Jungkook's memory appeared to be rattled by anything, which was in its own kind of unsettling and even with what he said next, The King was completely unbothered by it, "Seokjin has been building something on the border territory between the North and the South."

"I know," Jungkook responded, "Woojin has been tracking his movements since we returned. We also have one of our own Demons positioned near their camp."

"And?" The King asked. 

"The Demon is too low in rank to be given any real information on what is happening there," Jungkook said, "he can confirm the camp exists and that Seokjin has followers, but nothing beyond that."

The King nodded slowly, "I suspect he has support from outside the North."

Jungkook thought about it for a moment, before finally asking, "Do you think it could be the Lee?"

The King laughed at his son’s response, "That," The King said, "is exactly why I have always wanted you to take over from me."

Jungkook said nothing to that, and just nodded his head at his father. 

"Yes," The King continued, his expression settling back into his usual composure, "that is what I suspected as well, but their involvement has been difficult to verify. I have not sensed their energy crossing into the North ground. They seem to be careful enough to keep every communication on their own side of the territorial line, which means my sight does not cut cleanly through it."

"So you cannot confirm it," Jungkook said.

"I cannot confirm the full picture of what Seokjin is planning," The King agreed, "but I am old enough to know certain things without needing to see them directly. The Lee has always wanted northern border territory. They have wanted it for generations but never had a clean enough opportunity to take it. An alliance with the Jeon's first-born prince in exchange for an army is exactly the kind of arrangement the Lee would not refuse."

"Seokjin has always been better at reading what other citadels want than at reading what his own citadel needs," The King added, "it is one of his strengths but also the reason he will never be a good king."

Jungkook looked at his father, then sighed before telling him his opinion, "Seokjin will try to kill the both of us. He cannot hold the North throne with either of us alive."

"No," The King simply agreed with his youngest son, "he cannot."

There was silence for a few seconds before Jungkook shared confusedly, "I just cannot seem to understand why he took _____ to Kratos"

The King looked at his son and smiled before answering, "To check how far you will go for her. Seokjin has always understood you better than you liked to believe," The King continued, "he attacks the thing most likely to make you react without thinking. He took the human girl because he knew you would feel it more than you would feel a blade."

Jungkook said nothing to that because what was he supposed to say, really?

"Was he wrong?" The King asked quietly.

Jungkook looked away from his father for the first time since entering the study, his gaze moving to the window and the red sky beyond it.

The King did not pressure Jungkook to answer, because the silence was enough of an answer for him.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

You woke up sore, which reminded you immediately of the night you spent with Jungkook. You laid still for a moment, blushing at the thought of Jungkook's body above yours, and you just stared at the too-high ceiling of the North tower room.

You turned your head slowly to the other side of the bed, already knowing that you would find an empty bed. Jungkook came and he left, and you were not sure yet whether that bothered you or whether you were relieved by it.

You pressed your face into the pillow for a few seconds before pushing yourself upright.

You swung your legs off the bed and stood up slowly, then you walked towards the bathroom, washed your face, and looked at yourself in the mirror. Your eyes still caught you off guard sometimes, the black with the deep red lines threading through it. Your horns stopped surprising you somewhere around the end of the second week, which felt like its own small milestone. You looked at them now and accepted that they were yours, even if you didn’t choose to be this.

You turned away from the mirror before your head started overthinking.

On the stool near the door, there was a new set of clothes. You noticed it immediately because it wasn’t there when you fell asleep, which meant Woojin came in at some point and left them there without waking you up. There were leather trousers with a sleeveless leather top. Exactly the kind of thing every other Demon woman in this citadel seemed to wear.

You picked up the top and held it out for a second, took one good look at it before getting dressed.

The past two weeks have been less depressing than the first one. You thought about that as you prepared yourself to get out. The first week was the worst of it, the grief sitting so heavily that even getting out of bed felt like hell, which was funny because you are in hell.

But somewhere in the second week, things have changed slowly. 

Jophiel has a lot to do with that. He came every day without fail, brought books and even a tub of Baskin Robbins, and he sat with you every day just to talk. Jophiel never pushed you to accept things as they are. He just shows up, which turned out to be the most useful thing anyone could have done for you.

Woojin had something to do with it too, even though he was probably forced by his “master”. He never said anything, he never asked how you were feeling, and he would probably rather live in Heaven than admit he developed any fondness for you. But he brought food every day, he stayed when you asked him to, and he answered your questions about anything you wanted to know. Coming from Woojin, that was basically a declaration of friendship.

And Jungkook.

Jungkook was trying. You could see it, even when sometimes it came out wrong, even when he said things in ways that didn’t comfort you at all. Jungkook was trying in the only way he knew how, which was infuriating. But the night Jungkook finally came into your room and lowered himself to his knees in front of you, it changed the dynamics between the two of you. You are still angry at him. But you were also, quietly and against your better judgment, glad Jungkook was here.

You smiled at the thought of Jungkook as you opened the door and headed downstairs.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

Ymir was already at the overlook when you arrived, sitting on the same stone bench where you first met her, one leg crossed over the other, looking out at the valley below. She turned her head when she heard your footsteps and her face lit up with the same wide smile she gave you yesterday, "You came!" Ymir greeted excitedly.

"I said I would," you smiled as you sat down beside her.

"Demons say things and then don't do them constantly," Ymir said, standing up and stretching her arms above her head, wings spreading slightly behind her, "it is practically an instinct for a Demon to not do what they said they would do. So yes, I am happy you came."

You smiled at her and looked out at the valley for a second, "So," you said, "where are we going?"

Ymir smiled and gestured for you to follow her, "Down."

The path from the citadel to the lower districts was longer than it looked from above.

"The citadel sits at the highest point," Ymir said, gesturing to the citadel without looking back, "everything below it is arranged in layers. The closer to the citadel walls, the higher the rank of the Demon living there. The further out you go, the more ordinary everything becomes."

"Ordinary?" you asked curiously, following her down the steps.

"Yes, in the districts furthest from the walls, Demons are not thinking about citadel politics, war, or territory disputes, they think about their daily lives and living it," Ymir answered. 

You listened as the steps leveled out and you finally stepped on the street in the town below the citadel.

And the town was surprising, to say the least.

You built an image in your head of what the area below the citadel would look like, dark with the same stone as everything else in the North citadel. And the same exact stone was there, yes, but the streets were alive in a way you did not expect. Demons walked through the streets in clusters and some alone, some carrying things, some talking in doorways, and some sitting outside of shops.

"There are markets here," you said, surprised at the view in front of you.

"Of course," Ymir said, coming closer to stand beside you, "what did you expect?"

"I don't know," you admitted, "I think I expected everything in Kratos to look like the citadel, like it was built to prepare for war and nothing else."

Ymir laughed, genuinely amused at you, "The towns were built because Demons still need to converse, eat, trade, and have something to do that is not fighting."

She started walking again and you followed beside her.

The buildings along the streets were made from the same dark stone as everything else, but they weren’t all the same. Some were low and wide, and they were packed with things being sold or traded. Others were taller and narrower, probably homes, you thought to yourself.

"What are they trading?" you asked, looking at the nearest building.

Ymir followed your gaze, "Weapons, mostly or components for armour, blades, and materials for strengthening them. The North is first and foremost a military territory, so that’s where most of the economy starts."

“Are all the shops like this further down?” you asked again.

“Further down it gets more varied,” Ymir replied, “food, building materials, repair supplies, cloth, medicine, tools, basically the kind of things any place needs to keep running.”

"Demons get sick?" you wondered out loud.

"Not often," Ymir laughed, "and rarely, but yes, there are injuries, particularly from training and conflict, and there are conditions that affect Demons that require treatment. That's why there are healers in every district."

You looked at a Demon walking through the street ahead, balancing a wide flat container on one arm. The smell hit you a second later, it smelled rich and heavy in a way you couldn’t name. Your new Demon senses recognised it as food before your brain even caught up.

"Do Demons cook?" you asked.

"Yes," Ymir said, "but Demons do not require food the way humans do, hunger is not the same thing here. But we feel pleasure in eating and there is a culture built around it. Certain foods are associated with certain districts, occasions, and even ranks."

"So food has status attached to it," you mumbled.

"Everything in Kratos has status attached to it," Ymir replied, "but in the lower districts it is less rigid. Down here, food is more about tradition and community than hierarchy."

Ymir led you around a corner, and the street opened up into something similar to a city square in human terms, with buildings on every side and a group of Demons gathered near the middle.

You stopped walking when you noticed three Demons were playing some kind of instrument in the city square. The instruments were nothing you have ever seen before, one was a stringed instrument larger than a cello, another was a percussion instrument made from what appeared to be dark stone bowls of varying sizes, and the third Demon was singing.

The sound was nothing like anything you have heard on earth. It was a sound so slow and deep.

"I didn't know that there were instruments here," you said, "I don't know why I didn't expect it. I think I assumed Kratos was just," you gestured vaguely at the citadel behind you, "that."

"Kratos is many things," Ymir replied.

“What are they singing about?” you asked.

“That song is really old,” Ymir answered, “it’s about how the North was founded. The first Jeon claiming the territory, and what it cost him.”

“Is it a celebration?” you asked, wondering if this was their version of an independence day song.

“Not exactly,” Ymir said, “celebration means joy, and the founding of the Jeon citadel wasn’t exactly joyful, it was more the need to survive.”

You looked at her, “That’s a very dark way to think about history.”

“It’s a North Kratos way of thinking about it,” Ymir replied, “the other citadels celebrate their foundings. The Min have festivals, the Kim have ceremonies, and the Lee have parades with their whole army. The North remembers what it costs them to get here.”

With that in mind, the music made more sense to you than it probably would have before, and as Ymir started walking again, you followed her.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

The next street ran along the edge of what Ymir called the artisan district, “This is where the makers are,” she said.

The buildings here looked different from the ones near the square. They were wider, with higher ceilings, and a lot of them were open on one side. You slowed down at almost every single one, looking in curiously.

In the first one, a Demon was working with metal. It didn’t look like she was making a weapon, but she seemed to be shaping something smaller and more detailed. Her hands moved carefully, pressing and turning a piece of dark metal until it slowly started to take shape.

"Armour fittings," Ymir said, before you could ask her what the Demon woman was doing, "she is shaping the smaller components that hold the larger pieces together, they matter as much as your weapons."

“Is that their job?” you asked, “making armour fittings?”

“Yes,” Ymir answered, “in the North, most demons have a role in keeping the citadel running. Soldiers are the most obvious, but they’re not actually the majority. For every soldier, there are several demons doing the work behind them. Makers, builders, healers, traders, and administrators in the upper districts who handle the logistics of a territory this size.”

"Administrators," you repeated in surprise, "Demons do administrative work?"

"Someone has to manage the supply lines," Ymir said, almost amused at your surprise, "someone has to track the food stores, weapon inventories, movement of soldiers between posts. Someone has to ensure the lower districts have what they need to function. becasue war requires organisation as much as it requires strength.”

You thought about what Ymir said as you passed the next building where you saw two Demons working on what looked like cloth.

"So…. there's a whole economy here," you said, "a whole society."

"Of course there is," Ymir laughed, "did you think Demons just fought and slept?"

"Honestly," you shyly admitted, "yes.."

Ymir laughed again, "That is the impression the citadel gives, I know. But the citadel is designed to give that impression. It is designed to look like a fortress, kingdom, and nothing more."

You passed a building that was clearly residential, and you could hear children’s voices coming from somewhere behind the stone walls, which made you stop walking.

Ymir stopped beside you, “Young ones,” she explained, before you could ask.

“Demon children,” you said.

“The North does not have many,” Ymir said, “but they exist. Mostly in the lower districts. Soldiers in the upper barracks rarely have young ones, that life is not suited for it. But the makers, traders, and healers in the districts sometimes do.”

You looked away from the house, “What about schools?” you asked, keeping your voice steady even when you couldn’t help but feel sadness rushing in, “do they have education here?”

"Not in the way you mean," Ymir said, starting to walk again, "Demon children learn from their families first or from the Demons around them. There is no formal schooling, knowledge in the North is passed directly, teacher to apprentice for specific skills, parent to child for the rest. The older a Demon gets, the more they absorb from their territory, even the way young ones learn is partly instinct and partly that absorption. A Demon born in the North does not need to be taught that their home is freezing cold and that they need to quickly adapt to survive, it just knows it."

"And a Demon who was born a human?" you asked quietly.

Ymir went quiet for a moment, "That," she answered carefully, "is something I do not have a full answer to. I do not think any other Demon does."

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

The furthest district from the citadel walls was the oldest part of the lower town.

You noticed the difference in the buildings right away. The stone here was rougher, and the structures weren’t as uniform as the ones closer to the citadel. The streets were quieter too, and most of the Demons walking through them looked older than the ones you’ve seen in the upper districts.

"The founding families settled here first," Ymir explained, "before the citadel was built above them. Before the Jeon established the upper territory as their seat of power, this was where the North began."

"Some of these structures predate the citadel?" you asked.

"Some of them predate almost everything still standing in Kratos," Ymir said.

You walked back through the districts slower than before, taking a different route this time, walking through a section Ymir called the lower market, which was pretty much exactly what it sounded like.

The smells here were different from the artisan district. Richer and more mixed together. There was food you didn’t have names for along with materials and other things your new Demon senses could somehow tell apart, even if your human brain was still trying to figure out what it was.

"What do Demons use for currency?" you asked curiously.

"Depends on the district," Ymir answered, "in the upper districts, influence and rank are the primary currencies. A favour from a senior soldier is worth more than almost any material exchange. In the lower districts, they primarily trade, materials exchanged for materials, skills exchanged for goods."

"Is there no concept of money or coins in Kratos?"

"There are tokens," Ymir smiled at you. 

A regular Demon probably wouldn’t be able to answer your questions, but Ymir did and luckily, you had no way of knowing what most Demons did or didn’t know. 

Ymir, or Eris, was a Kim after all. Her kind knew more than most.

"The North uses tokens for exchange when direct trade is impractical. Most demons here have been in the same district their entire lives, which means they know their neighbours well enough to trade on trust," Ymir continued. 

"Does that ever go wrong?" you asked.

"Constantly," Ymir said, which made you laugh.

You stopped at one of the stalls, drawn by a smell you could not identify.

The Demon behind the stall looked at you, reading you the way every Demon in the North read you when they first saw you. There was a pause in which you braced for the familiar hostility for. Then the Demon reached over and set a small piece of something dark and dense on the surface in front of you, "Try it," he simply said.

You looked at Ymir, who gave you a small nod, then you picked it up and put it in your mouth.

It was unlike anything you have eaten before. Rich and slightly bitter, and your eyes widened involuntarily. The Demon behind the stall watched your face with the satisfied expression of someone who already knew what reaction they were going to get.

"What is it?" you asked.

"Fermented night root," he said, "harvested from the deep stone. It takes two hundred years to prepare properly."

"Two hundred years," you repeated.

"Patience is not difficult when you have enough of it," he said, shrugging his shoulders, and went back to his work.

You stood at the stall still surprised at what you just ate, then looked at Ymir, "That was the best thing I have eaten since arriving here."

"His family has been making it for as long as anyone can remember," Ymir said, as she began to walk again, "he considers the two hundred year fermentation the short version."

You glanced back once at the stall, and the Demon was already focused on something else entirely, unbothered and absorbed in work that has clearly been his entire life and would continue to be his entire life for longer than you can fully imagine.

You thought about Jophiel saying that time not running out might eventually feel freeing, you were not there yet. But walking through the lower district of North Kratos, eating something a Demon spent two hundred years preparing, you thought that maybe you understood, just slightly, what Jophiel meant.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

By the time you and Ymir made your way back up the long path towards the citadel, the red sky darkened by a shade, which meant it was now evening in the North.

You were tired from having walked a long distance, but you thought the journey was worth the pain, "Thank you," you said to Ymir when the citadel walls came back into view above you.

Ymir glanced back at you, "For what?"

"For today," you said, "for showing me that this place is more than what it looks like from up there."

"It is easy to only see the citadel," Ymir answered, "especially if the citadel is the only thing that has interacted with you since you arrived."

"Is that why you came to find me? Because you thought the citadel was the only thing I had seen?" you asked. 

Ymir smiled at you, "I came because you looked like someone who needed a friend," she said, "and because I was curious about you."

"Curious how?" you asked.

"Curious about someone who talked back to senior soldiers on their first day," Ymir answered, "most Demons who were born here would have kept their heads down, but you did not."

"I was furious," you said.

"I know," Ymir replied.

You looked at Ymir, the Demon woman who appeared on a stone bench beside you, and offered you the first kindness you were given in the North. You felt the suspicion you have been holding since yesterday ease slightly.

"Same time tomorrow?" Ymir asked.

You thought about Jungkook's warning the night before, and then you thought about the lower districts, and the Demon who spent two hundred years on something worth sharing even with a human-Demon.

"Same time tomorrow," you answered, smiling at Ymir.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

You came back to your room that evening with a head full of everything you just saw in the lower districts. The music in the square, the fermented night root, everything. You sat on the edge of the bed and pulled off your boots, then set them neatly by the door out of habit you were used to on earth, and then just sat back on the edge of the bed.

It was actually a good day.

You were still sitting there when you felt the change in the air that meant Jungkook was walking towards your room.

Jungkook knocked on your door, and you appreciated it more than you had expected to, "Come in," you said.

Jungkook walked across the room without speaking and sat on the couch right across your bed, placing his arm along the back of it, "How was it?" he asked.

"Good," you answered, and then, because the day was genuinely a good day, you wanted to talk about it more, "better than good, actually. I didn't expect what I saw. Ymir explained all of the things we walked past, which was really helpful.”

Jungkook's jaw tightened slightly at the mention of her name, but he said nothing about it. You also noticed how his demeanour changed but chose not to address it. 

You looked at him across the room, and thought about how strange it was that this was your life now. Sitting in a room in a Demon citadel with the Demon who had, depending on your mood and the time of day, ruined your life and saved it.

"Come here," you said, pointing at the spot next to you on the bed.

Jungkook looked at you for a few seconds, like he couldn’t believe his ears, before moving from the couch to the bed without any argument, sitting beside you with enough space between you. You leaned back against the headboard and looked at the ceiling.

"Can I ask you something?" you said.

Jungkook didn't say anything and just looked at you from the side, waiting for your question. 

"When you were in the studio," you said cautiously, "all those centuries, what did you think about?"

Jungkook was quiet for long enough that you thought he might not answer, "Kratos, at first," he said, "the citadel, my father, the politics of what I left behind. I spent a long time running through scenarios; what Seokjin would do, what the court would do, whether my father would intervene."

"And then?" you asked.

"And then I ran out of scenarios to think about," he said, "there are only so many possibilities of a situation you can work through before you have exhausted all of them. After that there was just the room."

"That sounds unbearable," you said.

"It was," Jungkook answered "for a long time it was.”

"What were they like?" you asked, "the other tenants before me."

"Afraid," he said, "all of them were afraid in different ways, some loudly and some quietly. But the fear was constant. You were afraid too," he chuckled, "but you were also annoyed and fiery, which was new."

You let out a small giggle, "I was extremely annoyed."

"Yes," he agreed, "it was interesting though.”

"I'm still annoyed at you," you said, which was true, but it also did not stop you from leaning into his shoulder.

"I know," Jungkook said.

"I'm going to continue being annoyed at you," you added.

"I know that too," he said.

Jungkook turned his head toward you slowly, his gaze dropped from your eyes to your mouth and back to your eyes again.

His fingers gently lifted your chin, moving your face toward his and you let him.

The next second, you felt his lips pressed against yours softly, like he was almost too careful, it was as if Jungkook was aware of how fragile the moment was.

You felt his thumb move along your jaw, the familiar cold of his skin against yours that no longer startled you the way it once did.

When he pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you, Jungkook gave you a small smile. You looked back at him in the dim light of the North tower room, at the curve of his horns and the dark red lines threading through his eyes.

Then, Jungkook kissed you again, even slower this time.

And you let yourself stop thinking entirely.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

Jungkook was already gone when you woke up, which was normal, but this time there was something different about his absence. You sat up slowly on the bed, and noticed a piece of dark paper on the couch across from the bed, which wasn’t there last night.

You crossed the room and picked it up.

The writing on it was not like any script you have seen on earth, but your demon senses read it without effort, which you were still getting used to.

“War preparations begin today. I will not be available for the next few days. Stay inside the citadel walls if you can. Woojin knows where I am if you need anything.

And don’t forget to eat something.”

You read it once.

Then you read it again just to make sure.

War preparations.

You stood still in the middle of your room with the note in your hand and you were confused, angry, upset, all at once. Jungkook didn’t mention anything about a war happening, he didn’t tell you anything last night. He laid beside you last night and said almost nothing about what was actually coming. 

War preparations. 

As if that was a normal thing to just leave on a couch, like two words were sufficient explanation for whatever was currently pulling him away from everything else, from you.

You set the note back on the couch and stood there for another moment, feeling frustrated of caring about someone who communicated in the absolute minimum number of words required.

Then you looked at the last line again.

And don't forget to eat something.

You let out a bitter laugh.

Of course Jungkook, the Demon prince of North Kratos, is preparing for a war he did not tell you was coming, but remembered to remind you about dinner.

You were going to have a few words with him about this when he comes back to visit you, whenever that was.

you sighed when you realised that over the next few days, there would be no Jungkook or Jophiel, who mentioned the last time you saw him, that he had obligations in another realm that would keep him away for at least one week. And Woojin would rather remove one of his own horns than have an unprompted conversation with you.

So, you got dressed and went to find Ymir.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

Ymir was where you expected her to be, at the overlook, sitting on the stone bench. She looked up at you when she heard your footsteps, "I heard the prince has locked himself in the war rooms," she said.

"He left me a note," you said, sitting down beside her.

"How romantic," Ymir said, and her tone was flat and unamused, but you shrugged it off. Maybe Demons just don’t care about romance. 

Ymir tilted her head at you before asking, "How much time do you have today?"

"All of it," you said, "apparently."

She stood up from the bench, stretched her wings briefly behind her, and said, "Then we're going to the ridge."

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

The eastern ridge was further than anywhere you have been in Kratos. Well, it wasn’t like you’ve been traveling much here, but today was another first.

You left the lower districts behind and followed a path that ran along the citadel’s outer wall before turning east. It took around an hour by foot, and the ground here was uneven, with dark stone forming in sharp angles and casting long shadows under the red sky. 

"This is border territory," you said, after you have been walking for a while, not knowing how you knew this information, but it’s probably your Demon senses again.

"Mhmm," Ymir nodded and confirmed, "we are still well within the North. The actual border is another hour's walk east. But this is where the territory starts to change."

You followed her up the ridge until the path evened out into a wide and flat stretch of rock. From there, the view looked completely different from anything you’ve seen in the citadel or the lower districts. You could see the North spreading out in every direction. The citadel and the lower districts gathered below it and towns and smaller fortresses farther out.

“I’ve never seen it like this,” you said as you sat down beside Ymir, and looked out over the territory.

“Tell me about the smaller fortresses,” you said, pointing toward the structures in the distance, “what exactly are they?”

"Garrison posts," Ymir said, "each one holds a battalion of soldiers stationed permanently away from the main citadel. They are the first line of response if anything crosses the border, or if anything moves within the territory that the citadel needs to know about quickly."

"So they're like outposts," you stated.

"Yes," Ymir confirmed, "the North operates in layers. The citadel is the core, the garrison posts are the ring around it, and the border patrols are the outermost layer. Between the three, nothing moves through North Kratos without being seen."

"Even Seokjin?" you asked, before you could stop yourself. You didn't know if this was a sensitive topic to the other Demons as well. But your curiousity could not be helped.

Ymir was silent for some time, "Yes, including Seokjin," she agreed, "but he knew the system from the inside and knew exactly which layers to avoid and which ones to use."

"Were you here when he was still in the North?" you asked.

"Yes," Ymir said.

"What was he like?" you asked.

Ymir looked out at the view of the territory and sighed before answering, "Charming," she said before continuing, “he was the first prince, he had his father's ear, and he seemed interested in what the lower districts needed and then he was just gone," Ymir said, "and the lower districts realised the interest he had has always been a strategy rather than genuine concern."

"Ymir," you called out.

"Yes," she answered.

"Why are you kind to me?" you asked. You know you’ve asked her a similar question before, but you wanted the reassurance that she wasn’t some Demon who would eventually betray you.

Ymir looked into your eyes, "Because I know what it is to not belong somewhere and still have no other option," she said, "my family has served the Jeon for three generations. My grandmother served the King before Jungkook's father, and now my mother and I. I was born into the North, it is the only territory I have ever known, and still there are Demons in the upper citadel who would look at me and see a lower district soldier and nothing more."

"So you understand what it is like to be dismissed by a place you live in," you said.

"Yes," she answered, "and I understand what it feels like to have someone decide what you are before you even have the chance to show them."

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

You came back from the ridge as the red of the sky darkened, with your legs aching, and your head full of everything you saw today.

Ymir left you at the path that led back up to the citadel with a promise to meet you the same time the next day.

You ate dinner alone in your room, something Woojin left on the tray that turned out to be genuinely so fucking good, and then you sat on the windowsill with one of Jophiel's books and tried to read.

You managed to read four pages before you set the book down and sat quietly.

Somewhere inside the citadel, Jungkook was in a room somewhere you didn't know, planning, laying out the pieces of something that would determine whether the North survived what was coming, whether you and him would survive it.

Although he didn’t tell you, it was pretty easy to guess that this war probably has something to do with Seokjin. You wondered how Jungkook feels knowing he would have to kill his own brother.

You pressed your back against the stone of the window frame and looked up at the red sky. You shrugged the thoughts out of you, they were useless thoughts you would not be able to figure out unless you talk to Jungkook himself.

So you picked up the book again and read until you fell asleep sitting up.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

The next day, Ymir took you to the healers' district.

You did not know it existed as its own district until she mentioned it on the walk down from the citadel, to see a cluster of structures in the western corner of the lower town.

"The healers are separate from the rest," Ymir explained as you walked next to her, “the healers in the North figured that healing work needed a kind of silence the lower districts couldn’t really give.”

The healers' district was immediately distinguishable from the rest when you finally arrived in it. The streets were wider, the buildings lower, and the noise of the town dropped off by a lot. The structures here were larger than the residential buildings in other districts, with wide doorways and high ceilings visible through the windows.

"What do Demon healers actually do?" you asked.

“They treat injuries from combat, training, or fights between demons that get out of hand. There are sicknesses too, mostly from the founding energy and how it moves through a Demon’s body. Those need a different kind of treatment and the best healers in the North have knowledge that goes back to the founding," Ymir added, "they are not soldiers but they are considered essential. A citadel without good healers loses far more battles."

You passed an open doorway and glanced inside, watching a Demon working at a wide stone table, their hands moving over something you couldn’t really see. The smell coming from the building was different from everything else in the lower districts, “Can we go in?” you asked.

Ymir hesitated for just a second, “Healers are particular about visitors,” she said, “but Okla has known me since I was young, she might not refuse.”

Okla turned out to be an older Demon, you didn’t see any physical sign of aging, because Demons did not age visibly, but it was just something in her presence that was different from the soldiers and other Demons you encountered in the citadel and the districts.

She looked at you and knew exactly who you were in one glance, "The former human," Okla said.

"Yes," you said.

"Hm," Okla replied, and she just went back to what she was doing.

"What is she making?" you whispered to Ymir.

"Something for energy disruption," Ymir said quietly, "it is used when a Demon has taken damage to their founding energy connection, it is delicate work."

You watched Okla work without speaking, and she seemed unbothered by the observation. Her hands moved with the same precision you saw in the artisan district. After a few minutes Okla looked up from the containers and looked at you directly, "You are carrying a disruption," she said.

You blinked, "What?"

"Your energy," she said, "the human and the Demon energies are still fighting it each other quietly. It is not unusual for a new transformation, but yours has been extended by the circumstances of how it happened. The result is that the two parts of what you are have been working against each other rather than with each other."

"Is that dangerous?" you asked.

"Not immediately," she said, "but it will cause you difficulty over time if it remains unaddressed, such as fatigue, difficulty controlling the traits, and heightened emotional response."

"I have heightened emotional response already," you chuckled.

"More than you have now," Okla flatly replied.

You looked at Ymir, then back at Okla, "Can you fix it?"

"I can help it settle and quiet down quicker," she said, "it will take several sessions and it will not be comfortable, but yes."

"Okay," you answered, "when can we start?"

Okla looked at you, "Tomorrow," she said, "come back in the morning."

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

You and Ymir ate in the lower districts that afternoon, sitting outside one of the food stalls with things you could not name and found yourself eating enthusiastically anyway, which Ymir found amusing.

"You eat like someone who is still surprised food exists here," she said.

"I am still surprised food exists here," you said, "I spent my first two weeks convinced that everything in Kratos was black and read and violent."

"It is mostly black and red and violent," Ymir said, "but it is also this. Ah, can I ask you something?"

"Yes," you said, nodding your head at her.

"Jungkook, what is he actually like?” Ymir asked out of nowhere.

You chewed on your food slowly, thinking about the question and how to answer it, "Honestly," you said, "he is difficult, but he is also…" you paused, "trying."

"Trying to do what?" Ymir asked.

"To be something other than what he was built to be," you said, "I think.." you added sounding unsure, "although he would absolutely deny that if I said it to his face."

Ymir stared at you, "You care about him," she stated.

You looked down at the food in front of you, "It is complicated," you said.

"Most things worth caring about are," Ymir replied.

That night you sat on the windowsill again, later than you meant to, looking at the red sky and thinking about the session with Okla tomorrow and about Ymir's question and the answer you had given her.

It is complicated.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

Okla’s work was, as promised, not comfortable.

You sat in the middle of the healer’s building on a stone stool while Okla moved around you. She was precise and every movement she made was controlled. She applied the compound she has been preparing the day before to specific points along your back and shoulders. Each touch brought a strange sensation with it, it wasn’t exactly painful, but it was sharp enough that your Demon senses flinched before slowly adjusting.

"Breathe," Okla said, more than once.

You did as asked. The session lasted for two hours, and when it was over you sat very still for a moment with your eyes closed.

It felt different, your body felt different.

"Come back in two days," Okla said, already moving back to her work table.

"Thank you," you said.

She made a sound that was both acknowledgement and dismissal, and you decided to just nod at her and leave Okla to be.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

You found Ymir outside waiting for you and the two of you walked back through the lower districts without any particular destination.

"She helped," you said.

"Okla always helps," Ymir replied, "she is not warm about it but she is good at it."

You walked through the artisan district, stopping at the stalls you have already been to and a few you haven’t. You got something from the food stall nearest the square, something wrapped in dark leaf that turned out to contain something sweet and intensely flavoured, and ate it while you walked. "Three days," you said, after a while.

"What about them?" Ymir asked.

"Since Jungkook got busy with the war preparations," you said, "it has been three days since I last saw him."

Ymir glanced at you, "Are you counting them?"

"No," you said, and then followed it with a shy, "maybe."

Ymir said nothing to that, which you appreciated.

"Ymir," you said.

"Yes," she answered.

"When the war comes," you said carefully, "what happens to the lower districts?"

She went quiet for a moment, "The lower districts will prepare for it," she said, "they always have. The garrison posts receive reinforcements, the healers expand their capacity, the makers will work faster. The lower districts have been through conflict before and they know what it requires."

"And the Demons in them?" you asked.

"They will continue to live. The soldiers fight for them and the districts will continue on living, because if the districts stop, then there is nothing for the citadel to protect and fight for."

"I want to help," you said, and heard the words leave your mouth before you even decided to say them out loud.

Ymir looked at you, surprised at what you just said.

"When the war comes," you said, "I want to do something. not just stay inside the citadel walls and wait. I want to be useful."

"What can you do?" Ymir asked, it was a genuine question.

“I can teach,” you said. “I can communicate, I can organise. I spent two years managing twenty-two children at once, which, honestly, is probably not that different from managing soldiers when it comes to the basic skills.”

Ymir laughed at what you said.

"I am serious," you said, though you were also smiling, "Okla said she can keep helping me," you said, "a few more sessions and she thinks the disruption can be fully settled."

"That is good," Ymir said.

"Yes," you agreed, "it is."

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

That night, Woojin knocked on your door. You were expecting a food tray, but he was not carrying one. He stood in the doorway with his arms loose at his sides, "Master Jungkook will be available tomorrow," Woojin said.

"Is he alright?" you asked.

"He is tired," Woojin said, "the war preparations are extensive and he has not slept in three days."

"Woojin," you said.

"Yes," he answered.

"Make sure he eats something," you said, "he left me a note about eating and then clearly did not take his own advice."

Woojin looked at you for a moment, he wondered if you knew that Jungkook had gone months without eating and sleeping before, simply because he was powerful enough to do it.

"I will convey the message," Woojin said just to conclude the conversation.

"Thank you," you muttered.

He turned to leave, then stopped, and turned back to look at you, which was unusual enough. "You went to the lower districts," Woojin said, tilting his head at you, "to see Okla."

You were pretty surprised that Woojin knew this.

"She is good," Woojin added, "if she says she can help you settle the disruption, she will."

“Woojin,” you said, “are you checking on me? or stalking me?”

His jaw tightened slightly, "I am conveying relevant information," he said.

"Of course," you said.

And with that, Woojin left.

Jungkook had told you someone would be following you and Ymir, but you hadn’t noticed anyone, not even once. So realising Woojin knowing exactly where you have been, and what you have done, caught you off guard. 

Whoever the Demon they have assigned to follow you around, must be one good secret agent. 

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

Woojin had been gone for less than an hour when you heard the footsteps in the corridor.

You recognised the pace of the footsteps that you have learned over weeks of listening to them, and you sat up straighter on the windowsill where you have been reading.

Jungkook knocked on the door twice. 

"Come in," you said, already setting the book down.

Jungkook opened the door and stepped inside, and you looked at him before saying, "I thought you would be here tomorrow."

He walked across the room without answering immediately, and then he did something that surprised you. Jungkook sat down on the bed, swung his legs up, and laid back against the pillow with his wings folding close behind him and his eyes on the ceiling.

Then Jungkook said, "I missed you."

You stayed on the windowsill for a moment, looking at him laid out on your bed and felt the familiar mix of irritation and warmth, which has basically become the entire experience of knowing Jungkook.

You moved from the windowsill and sat on the edge of the bed beside him, "Woojin said you haven't slept in three days," you said.

"Woojin talks too much," he replied, still looking at the ceiling.

"Woojin is the only reason I know anything that is happening in this citadel," you said, "since apparently you communicate exclusively through notes that contain the minimum possible information."

Jungkook turned his head to look at you, "How were the past three days?" he asked.

You sighed before telling him about the ridge, the view from the flat rock at the top, about Okla and the healer's district, and the two parts of you slowly learning to cooperate. 

Jungkook listened to all of it without interrupting, his eyes fixed on your face. When you finished, you looked at him directly into his eyes and confronted him, "You didn't tell me about the war."

Something changed in his expression, "You don't need to concern yourself with it," he said.

"I live here," you said.

"I know," he replied.

"I live here," you repeated slowly, "which means whatever happens to this citadel and to the North Kratos happens to me as well. I am not a visitor, Jungkook. I am not someone you need to protect from information."

"I am not protecting you from information," Jungkook said, defending himself, "I am protecting you from unnecessary worry."

"That is the same thing," you said.

He looked at the ceiling again, and you could see him choosing his next words carefully, "The war preparations are handled," he said finally, "the strategy is in place, what you know the details of would change nothing."

"I want to help," you said.

"It is not needed," Jungkook replied.

You opened your mouth and he cut you off before you could say anything, "Not because you are incapable," Jungkook added, "because the role I need you in is not on a battlefield. Keeping yourself safe and inside the citadel walls is not nothing, it is the thing I need most so I do not have to divide my attention."

It was not the answer you wanted but it was also not an unreasonable answer, which was the kind of thing Jungkook does that makes him difficult to argue with.

"Will you at least survive it?" you asked, and your voice came out quieter than you intended, "will you come back from it?"

Jungkook turned his head towards you again, his expression changing into something almost insulted by the question you just asked. He wasn't angry at you, but the idea of losing has never once crossed his mind.

Of course Jungkook was going to win, that was written plainly across his face without him needing to open his mouth.

"I have no one here other than you and Jophiel," you said, "Woojin tolerates me, Ymir is a nice friend but she is a soldier. I’m guessing both her and Woojin will be gone too. Okla helps me because it is her work, and the rest of this citadel looks at me like I am something that should not exist. You and Jophiel are the two friends I have here. So I am asking you as the person who is going to be in this room waiting, will you come back?"

Jungkook looked at you before he reached over and pulled you down beside him, one arm wrapping around your shoulders, your back against his chest, and the coldness of his body radiating through your clothes the way it always does. Jungkook cuddling you helped your mind stop racing to things that might not even happen.

"It is Seokjin, isn't it," you said, after a moment. It came out as a statement rather than a question because you already knew the answer and had known it since the note on the couch.

Jungkook was quiet, then he nodded once, you felt the movement of his chin against the top of your head.

"Are you afraid?" you asked.

His arms tightened slightly around you, and he said, "Never."

You thought about calling him a liar. But his arms were around you and the war preparations had kept him away for three days and he had come back tonight instead of tomorrow because he missed you. So you decided that some things did not need to be talked about tonight.

"Okay," you said quietly.

You laid there in silence with Jungkook’s arm around you. “You should sleep,” you said softly, rubbing your hand over his. For once, Jungkook didn’t argue.

Somewhere between one breath and the next, with the silence of the citadel around you and the red sky still burning outside, Jungkook, the prince of North Kratos, fell asleep.

You stayed awake a little longer, staring at the ceiling. You thought about what was coming, about Seokjin somewhere beyond the citadel walls, building something you didn’t know the scale of, about Okla and the upcoming sessions, and the two parts of you still trying to exist in the same body. 

And you thought about how Jungkook said “Never.”

He is a Demon prince. Jungkook is powerful enough to survive almost anything. So if he was certain he will win, then you were going to believe him.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

Ymir was at the overlook when you arrived, which was where she always was, but something about her this morning was different. She was standing rather than sitting, facing away from you when you came up the path, looking out at the valley below with a posture that seemed less relaxed than her usual demeanor.

She turned around when she heard you and smiled immediately, and whatever you noticed in her posture was gone so quickly you thought you might have imagined it.

"I have something to show you today," she said, before you even reached the bench.

"Where?" you asked.

"Further than we have been," she said, "past the ridge. There is a formation I have been wanting to take you to since we started these walks, and today feels like the right day."

"How far past the ridge?" you asked curiously. 

"One hour, maybe a little more," she said, "the path is clear. I have walked it many times."

"What exactly is the formation?" you asked.

“The deep stone pit,” Ymir said. “that’s where the heat under the North comes up through the ground. You can see the founding energy moving through them directly, like the actual current of the energy. It is one of the most extraordinary and beautiful things in the North, and only Demons in the North can see it.”

"Alright," you said, and hated that you said it even as the word left your mouth, because the part of you that spent months learning to trust your instincts in a haunted studio was telling you something but you were choosing not to listen to it.

You were either going to regret this choice or feel bad for not trusting Ymir, who has been nothing but nice to you. 

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

The path past the ridge was different from the terrain you covered in the previous three days. The lower districts fell behind quickly, and then the ridge itself, and then you were in territory that was unfamiliar, the dark rock formations taller and more densely packed than the open ground near the eastern border.

Ymir walked ahead of you, confident and unhesitant, the same way she always walked through the North, like someone who has grown up knowing every corner of it. So you followed and paid attention to her footsteps.

The sounds of the lower districts were gone. The ambient noise of the town, the movement of Demons through streets, the distant sounds of the training grounds, all of it faded into silence.

"How much further?" you asked.

"Not far," Ymir said, "another twenty minutes."

You continued to walk. The rock formations around you grew denser, their shadows longer, and the temperature dropped in a way that was different from the North's usual cold.

And then you saw it.

The ground ahead was split open into a pit, wide and hollow, maybe fifty metres across. At the centre, the founding energy moved in a way you could actually see, it was like a river of dark red veins. 

It was, exactly as Ymir had said, extraordinary.

You stopped at the edge of it, looking down at the dark red threads, and for a moment everything else in your mind went silent because nothing in your experience, human or Demon, had prepared you for the sight of something like this.

"I told you," Ymir said beside you, whispering softly. 

"Yes," you said, "you did."

You stood there for a long moment, just looking at it.

And then something in the air changed. It was the kind of change in atmosphere that meant a presence has arrived that was not supposed to be there. Your Demon senses registered it before your mind caught up to it.

It was something that was not you or Ymir.

It was rather some other Demon.

You turned your head slowly, and Ymir was standing two steps to your left, and she was not looking at the vents anymore, she was looking at you.

And then something happened to her face.

It was like watching a mask being removed, the wide warm smile, the curious and kind eyes, and the three days were dropping away, replaced by something entirely different.

Something colder and what your Demon senses tell you is considerably more dangerous.

Ymir’s energy changed at the same moment. The energy you read as a lower district soldier, as someone born and raised in the North with three generations of family service behind her, changed and underneath it was something else entirely.

Something that was not North energy at all.

The borrowed energy of Ymir peeled away like skin.

You stared at the demon standing in front of you, who was not Ymir, who you figured has never been Ymir, and whose white eyes were looking at you with a gaze of someone who has been waiting a very long time to be exactly where they were.

"My name," she said, and her voice was different from Ymir's now, "is Eris.”

Your heart was beating loud and fast against your chest.

"I bet," Ymir, or Eris, continued, tilting her head with a huge smile across her face, "you have heard about me, honey."

You said nothing.

Your heart was slamming against your ribs but your face was still and you were trying to keep it that way because showing Eris any emotion felt like handing her something she would use against you immediately.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

You heard about her.

You remembered Jophiel who described her as intelligent, powerful, and difficult in every way. A Demon Jophiel loved, who is now currently standing three feet from you with white eyes and a smile that was not at all warm.

"Eris," you said, and you were proud of how steady your voice came out.

"There it is," she said, the smile widening slightly, "he told you about me."

"Jophiel told me about you," you said.

"Of course he did," she said, "Jophiel always was thorough. You know, your trust is easier to gain than I expected. You were so hungry for someone to be kind to you. It was almost too simple,” Eris laughed.

You put two and two together and thought of every place Ymir has taken you to, every question she answered too easily, every moment she looked at you and smiled, and suddenly it all seemed obvious.

"You did all of this," you said, "for Seokjin."

"I did all of this," Eris said, taking one step towards you, "for myself."

"You want Jungkook," you said.

"He was always mine," Eris said, "before you existed in any form that mattered. Before you were anything more than a human woman paying cheap rent. I had him and I had Jophiel and I would have kept both of them if certain beings had not interfered."

"He never desired you," you muttered.

"You," Eris said, very quietly, "are going to want to be very careful about what you say next."

"I'm already past careful," you said, "you've been lying to me for three days and you're about to take me somewhere I don't want to go. I don't think being careful is an option for me anymore. I know I will die."

Eris laughed, “At least you are smart. But I now understand why he finds you so interesting."

"That is not a compliment," you said.

"No," she agreed, "it isn't."

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

You didn't think, you just moved.

Your body moved backwards, away from her, and you let your Demon energy spike outward defensively. It was instinctive, you didn’t know how that happened but it just did.

"Interesting," Eris said, tilting her head, “you're still trying."

It was the only warning you got before she crossed the space between you. You threw up your hands to block, but Eris’s speed was nothing like what your newly-turned body could process. Her fist came at your face and you barely managed to escape it.

You counterattacked without thinking, throwing a punch at her midsection. But Eris didn't even flinch, she grabbed your wrist and twisted it, the pain that shot through your arm was a solid eight out of ten.

"Weak," Eris spat out, pulling you towards her and driving her knee toward your stomach. You gasped in pain, trying to create distance, but Eris was already moving again. Her other hand came up and caught you across the face.

Your vision blurred, and you tasted blood.

"That's better," Eris said, and there was amusement in her voice, “fight back, make this worth my time."

You pushed off the ground, launching yourself at her with everything you had. Your claws extended and you didn't remember doing it consciously, but they were out, and you raked them towards her face. Eris caught your wrist easily, but this time you have momentum, you put your other hand up to claw at her arm.

"You're adorable," she said, and threw you back to the ground.

Your back slammed into one of the rock formations, hard enough that the stone cracked under the force of your body. Eris walked towards you slowly, like someone strolling through a garden rather than someone in the middle of a fight.

You tried to push yourself up, but your body wasn't responding the way you wanted. You managed to get to your hands and knees before Eris reached you. She grabbed a fistful of your hair and wrenched your head back to look at her.

"You know what the best part about all of this is?" Eris asked, her white eyes boring into yours, "you trusted me. For three days, you walked with me and you told me everything. You told me about your students, your life on earth, how lonely you were.” 

She pulled your head back even further, and you clawed at her wrist, but your strength was fading, "Jungkook made you think you mattered," Eris continued, “that your presence here changed anything, that he even felt something for you beyond obligation and debt. But I knew better, I knew that you were exactly what I needed to remind Jungkook where he belongs."

"He doesn't want you," you managed to say, “he never did."

Eris's expression went rigid, if you thought she was angry before, well she was furious now. She pulled your head back and slammed it forward into the ground. The impact was painfully devastating, your vision went red, then white, then started to shatter. You felt blood running down your face.

"That mouth of yours," Eris said, pulling you up by your hair again, "is going to be a problem." then Eris hit you again and again.

At some point, the pain became almost too unbearable that you felt some kind of out of body experience, your body was clearly shutting down, your Demon senses were flickering like a dying light. You could taste blood and feel it running from your nose and your mouth. 

"Please," you whispered, and you hated yourself for it, but you said it anyway, “please."

Eris leaned down close to your face, and her breath was cold against your cheek, "I'm going to keep you alive," she said softly, "I'm going to keep you alive because Jungkook needs to see what happens when he chooses someone over me. I'm going to keep you alive so he can spend the rest of his existence knowing that you suffer because of him."

She pulled back, and you saw her fist coming toward your face one more time.

In that moment before her fist touched you, the last thought that crossed your mind was Jungkook. 

And then, everything went black.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

Jungkook was in the middle of a combat drill with the senior battalion when The King appeared on the training grounds.

It was unusual.

The King rarely comes to the training grounds, he did not usually involve himself in the day-to-day operations of military preparation. He commanded from his tower, moved through the citadel via the upper corridors, and allowed his son to handle the grunt work of keeping the North's soldiers sharp and ready.

Yet here he was, walking across the training grounds with Woojin at his side, his presence was followe by an immediate silence. The soldiers around Jungkook stopped their drills and dropped to one knee. Jungkook straightened his posture, wiping sweat from his forehead, and watched his father approach him.

The King did not stop when he reached Jungkook. He walked until they were standing close enough that only Jungkook could hear his words.

"_____ is gone," The King whispered quietly to his son, "Eris was here."

For a moment, Jungkook didn't process what his father just said to him, "What?" Jungkook asked again.

"Eris," The King repeated with disgust, and Jungkook has never heard his father sound like this before, "The Kim demon, she was disguised in the North and she took your woman."

Jungkook's whole body went still, trying to process the information as quickly as he could, "How long has it been?" he asked his father.

"I discovered the deception around three minutes ago. I believed it just completely wore out then. They were in the deep stone, I'm guessing they would be almost out of the border by now. I have made the Eastwatch and Northpoint garrison post aware of what is happening," The King said.

Jungkook turned to look at Woojin, who met his gaze without flinching. Woojin's jaw was clenched and his tail was rigid with tension. It was the only sign that the usually controlled Demon was also affected by this.

"Seokjin," Jungkook said.

"Yes," The King confirmed, “I am guessing this was always the plan, the human was the variable. He needed you out of the North to strike and what better way than to have the thing you care about taken from you?"

Jungkook's hands clenched into fists, "Jophiel?" he asked.

"Still in his realm, but I have already sent words out," The King said, "Jungkook, I saw this coming."

Jungkook's head snapped towards his father.

"The futures where I intervened ended in the North's collapse," The King continued, “the futures where I allowed this to play out... some of them end in victory. All of them required Seokjin to kidnap ____. Now, you should take Woojin and however many soldiers you need. I will hold this citadel until you return or I will die trying."

Jungkook looked out across the training grounds, at the soldiers who stopped to watch The King and his beloved son. Then Jungkook turned around to look back at his father.

"She was supposed to be safe," Jungkook said.

"No Demon is ever safe," The King replied, “but she is yours to save or lose, choose and move wisely."

Jungkook turned around and walked away from his father and towards the armory. Behind him, he heard his father call out to the gathered soldiers, preparing the North for war.

But Jungkook's mind was already beyond the citadel walls.

Seokjin did not understand that Jungkook would burn the entire North to ashes if it meant getting you back.

And as Jungkook strapped his weapons across his body, he made himself a promise: Eris and Seokjin would beg for death before this was over.

And Jungkook would not grant them that mercy, for death would be far too easy a punishment.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

Woojin stopped before he could follow Jungkook any farther, his gaze catching on the King’s expression, "You knew this would happen," Woojin said quietly to The King, “Master you knew, and you let it happen anyway."

The King did not deny it, "I saw many futures, Woojin," he said, "in all the ones where the North survives, this had to happen, the human girl had to be taken, and Jungkook needs to be in charge."

"And what if Jungkook fails?" Woojin whispered.

emails.

bad idea. he checked them anyway.

twenty-three unread messages. he answered four and ignored the rest.

he opened a news article.

closed it.

opened a spreadsheet.

closed that too.

nothing held his attention for longer than thirty seconds. his thumb drifted toward instagram without him consciously deciding to open it. the search bar already knew exactly what he was looking for.

your name appeared immediately. jungkook froze. then stared at it. for a very long time. he should not. absolutely not. 

he was a grown man. a ceo. a father. this was weird. creepy, even.

he clicked it immediately. your profile picture was exactly what he expected. a smiling selfie. pink lip gloss. big eyes. sunlight.

you looked brighter somehow, less careful.

his chest tightened. this wasn’t nanny you. this wasn’t the version that politely asked if he wanted coffee.

this was just… you.

he scrolled. a picture with your mother. another with friends. a carousel from your college’s football game. a mirror selfie. a badly decorated valentine’s cookie. a blurry picture of a sunset. a photo of a romance manga with little heart emojis in the caption.

jungkook smiled before he could stop himself. you were exactly what he imagined: sweet, earnest, hopelessly romantic.

the realization made something warm settle in his chest. then he kept scrolling. and things got worse because every new picture somehow made him like you more.

there was no carefully curated influencer aesthetic, no attempts to look cool, no thirst traps. just… you. your lunch, your dog, your mom, and your favorite manga.

there was a picture of pink flowers with a caption that simply read: pretty :)

jungkook laughed softly.

out loud.

alone.

at two thirty in the morning, like a man losing his mind.

then he found the video. his stomach dropped immediately.

it was in your highlights. you were sitting on your bedroom floor, hair wrapped in a ladybug bonnet, face bare, talking directly to the camera about your favorite manga. something called fruits basket.

but your voice… your real voice was different. not a careful employee voice.

you laughed halfway through the video and covered your mouth. the sound hit him directly in the chest. jungkook replayed it.

then immediately stared at the ceiling.

“what the fuck am i doing?”

the words echoed through the empty hotel room.

no answer came.

because deep down, he already knew.

he wasn’t looking at your instagram because he was curious.

he was looking because he missed you.

and somehow…

that realization was the most terrifying part of all.

he didn’t remember falling asleep.

one second he was staring at the ceiling.

in the next, there was sunlight.

warm sunlight, soft sunlight. the kind that filtered through white curtains and painted everything gold. jungkook blinked slowly. for a moment, he didn’t know where he was.

this wasn’t his bedroom. it was smaller, cozier. wooden beams stretched across the ceiling. lace curtains fluttered softly beside an open window. somewhere outside, he could hear birds singing.

and then he felt it. warmth beside him. his heart stopped.

you.

you were curled against his side beneath a cream-colored blanket, asleep.

your curls were messy from sleep, spilling across the pillow. your cheek was squished against his shoulder.

you somehow looked prettier like this.

his chest tightened painfully. because it felt real. so real. as though this was simply his life. as though he'd been waking up beside you for years.

your eyelashes fluttered, then your eyes slowly opened.

the second you saw him, you smiled. not surprised. not shy. just happy, like seeing him was your favorite part of every morning.

"good morning."

your voice was still sleepy with a slight rasp. jungkook couldn't answer.

you giggled softly.

"good morning, husband."

his heart nearly exploded. husband?

the word wrapped around him like a warm blanket. before he could respond, you scooted closer until your face was tucked against his neck.

"you were sleeping so hard,” you teased.

you pressed a kiss beneath his jaw.

then another.

and another.

it was small, sweet and absentminded, like you couldn't help yourself.

jungkook stared at the ceiling. he certain he was about to die.

"what?" you laughed softly.

he finally looked down. your eyes were shining, filled with so much affection it made his chest ache.

"nothing," he managed.

your smile grew.

"liar."

you kissed his cheek.

his forehead.

the corner of his mouth.

every touch felt warm.

like he was something precious.

something worth loving. something worth taking care of. and god, he wanted this. he wanted this so badly it fucking hurt.

"come on," you whispered. "breakfast."

you climbed out of bed and immediately stole one of his sweaters hanging over a chair.

the sight almost took him out.

your legs disappeared beneath the oversized knit fabric. you looked impossibly cute.

jungkook followed you downstairs. the cottage felt like something out of a storybook. wood floors. wildflowers in glass jars. sunlight pouring through every window. outside, endless green fields stretched across rolling hills.

everything felt peaceful. slow. like time moved differently here.

you hummed while moving around the kitchen.

jungkook found himself leaning against the doorway simply watching. watching you reach for ingredients, sway softly to music only you could hear, simply exist.

he could've stood there forever. you glanced over your shoulder. caught him staring. smiled.

"you're doing it again."

"doing what?"

"looking at me like that."

his stomach flipped. you only laughed, then continued making breakfast.

completely unbothered. you seemed used to being adored. that was different.

a few minutes later, small footsteps echoed from upstairs.

"daddy!"

arin.

jungkook turned just in time to catch her launching herself into his arms. he laughed. the sound surprised even him. arin grinned, her missing front tooth on full display. she looked a year or two older.

"i'm hungry."

"that's convenient," you called from the kitchen. "because breakfast is almost ready."

"yay!"

jungkook looked between the two of you.

arin immediately ran toward you.

you kissed the top of her head without even thinking. arin wrapped her arms around your waist. you smiled down at her. jungkook's chest nearly burst. there was nothing forced about it.

you loved her and she loved you. like this was how it had always been. like this was how it was supposed to be. 

his family.

his girls.

his home.

for the first time in years, the loneliness was gone. the disgusting feeling that ate him alive on mornings like these had finally passed.

and as sunlight poured through the kitchen windows, illuminating both of you in gold, jungkook felt something dangerous settle deep inside his chest.

peace.

the kind he'd spent years searching for. he'd only ever found in one place: you.

arin tightened her arms around your waist. “mama,” she whined dramatically, “i'm starving.”

jungkook froze.

the word hit him like a freight train. mama.

you didn't even react. you simply brushed her hair behind her ear and smiled.

“well, that's why we're making breakfast, silly.”

mama.

jungkook swallowed hard.

because somehow it sounded right. dangerously right. you standing there in his sweater. arin wrapped around you. sunlight pouring through the windows.

mama.

his chest hurt.

“go sit down,” he said suddenly.

both of you looked at him.

“huh?” arin blinked.

“go sit on the couch.”

you tilted your head, “why?”

“because,” he said, moving toward the stove. “i've got breakfast.”

your eyes widened immediately.

“honey, are you sure?”

the petname made him feel warm inside. it was domestic in a way he didn’t know he craved.

“what's that supposed to mean?” he recovered.

arin gasped.

“mama doesn't believe in you.”

you covered your mouth to hide your laugh, “i absolutely believe in him.”

“liar,” jungkook muttered.

“okay,” you admitted. “a little.”

arin giggled.

the sound bounced around the cottage. jungkook couldn't stop smiling.

“couch,” he ordered.

“yes sir,” you teased.

he rolled his eyes. you took arin's hand and started toward the living room. halfway there, you suddenly slowed. then glanced back at him. there was something nervous in your expression. something shy.

your fingers twisted together, “jungkook?”

he looked up from the stove. “yeah?”

you bit your lip.

“should we tell her now?”

his heart stopped.

tell her?

for some reason, he knew exactly what you meant.

he looked at you. really looked at you. the soft sweater. the nervous smile. the way your hand slightly rested against your stomach.

and suddenly, he knew. 

he knew before you said anything. jungkook’s chest flooded with warmth so overwhelming it almost brought tears to his eyes.

yes.

yes.

of course.

he wanted this.

wanted it so badly it scared him.

his voice came out rough, “yeah.”

your smile trembled, “okay.”

arin looked between the two of you suspiciously, “tell me what?”

you laughed softly, “come here, baby.”

arin climbed onto the couch beside you immediately. you pulled her into your lap. jungkook abandoned breakfast entirely.

he couldn't focus on it anymore. he stood there watching his girls.

his family.

his entire world.

you tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, suddenly nervous.

“so...” you began.

arin's eyes widened.

“am i in trouble?”

“what?”

“that's how ms. herrera starts conversations with the bad kids.”

you burst out laughing.

jungkook laughed too.

“no, sweetheart.”

you kissed her cheek.

“you're not in trouble.”

“okay.”

“but daddy and i wanted to tell you something.”

arin immediately gasped.

“are we getting a puppy?”

“no.”

“a horse?”

“no.”

“a dragon?”

“i wish.”

arin frowned.

“then what?”

your hand slowly moved to your stomach. jungkook's breath caught. the sight alone nearly destroyed him. you looked beautiful.

glowing.

happy.

loved.

“there's a baby in my belly.”

silence.

arin stared.

completely frozen.

jungkook couldn't breathe.

the entire world seemed to pause.

“WHAT?”

the scream nearly shattered every window in the cottage.

you laughed.

“there's a baby in my belly.”

arin looked at your stomach.

then at you.

then at jungkook.

then back at your stomach.

“a real baby?”

“a real baby.”

“my baby?”

jungkook laughed, “our baby.”

arin shrieked. actually shrieked.

then almost launched herself at you so fast jungkook nearly had a heart attack.

“careful!” he yelled.

arin immediately froze.

“oh.”

you laughed so hard tears filled your eyes.

“thank you for being careful.”

“sorry.”

then her face lit up again.

“i'm gonna be a big sister!”

“you are.”

“i'm gonna teach the baby everything.”

“everything?”

“everything.”

you nodded solemnly.

“that's a very important responsibility.”

“i know.”

arin climbed into your lap again carefully this time, resting her cheek against your stomach.

“hi baby.”

jungkook nearly broke completely.

this was it.

this was everything.

the life he'd dreamed about.

the life he'd wanted.

the life he'd thought he lost forever.

you looked up at him from across the room. your eyes soft, teary, and so full of love.

for the first time in years, jungkook felt complete. completely and utterly complete.

then arin gasped again.

“can the baby have pancakes?”

then everything dissolved into laughter.

jungkook woke up with a jolt.

for a second, just a second, he smiled.

sunlight. warm kitchen. your voice laughing somewhere downstairs. he turned his head instinctively.

the bed was empty. cold. hotel white sheets. city lights leaking through heavy curtains. the hum of an air conditioner instead of birds.

silence. real silence. his smile faded so fast it felt like it had never existed. he stared at the ceiling, still half trapped in the dream.

mama.

the word echoed again. his throat tightened. he pressed the heel of his hand over his eyes, like he could physically push the feeling back down.

it didn’t work. because it wasn’t just the dream. it was what it showed him. what he wanted. what he didn’t have.

he let out a shaky breath and turned onto his side, but it didn’t help. the bed was too big. too empty. too clean in a way that felt wrong.

his phone lit up on the nightstand. missed calls. emails. reminders. none of it mattered.

his chest hurt in a way he couldn’t explain properly. like something was sitting there, heavy and alive, pressing into his ribs.

you were still there.

in his head.

smiling at him like he belonged somewhere soft.

like he belonged with you.

he swallowed hard.

in his dreams, you loved him back.

in his dreams, he cold hold you.

in his dreams, you were his.

now, he had nothing.

“fuck…”

his voice cracked on its own. that was what broke him. not the dream.

the fact that it felt more real than anything else in his life. he sat up slowly, elbows on his knees, hands covering his face again.

he wasn’t supposed to want this.

his daughter’s nanny.

his daughter to live in a home, not a house.

a home that wasn’t just glass walls and silence.

you.

especially you.

but the image wouldn’t leave.

you in his kitchen. your hand on his daughter’s hair. your voice saying his name like it mattered. like he mattered.

his breath stuttered.

he dragged a hand down his face, and only then realized it. he was crying. quietly.

like it was something he didn’t even notice until it was already happening. he leaned back against the headboard, staring at the ceiling again, eyes glassy.

“i can’t…”

but there was no audience for the lie.

no one to believe it. because the truth had already taken root in him too deeply. he closed his eyes again.

and all he could see was you saying good morning in that cottage light.

jungkook’s phone rang again before he could even fully steady his breathing.

he stared at the screen.

her name.

jungkook inhaled deeply.

he almost didn’t answer.

almost. then he did.

“what.”

a pause. 

then her voice, sharp and already irritated, like he was the inconvenience.

“you didn’t respond to my email.”

he leaned his head back against the hotel headboard, eyes closing for a second.

of course.

“i’ve been busy,” he said flatly.

a short laugh on the other end.

“you’re always busy, jungkook. that’s not an excuse.”

he exhaled slowly through his nose, staring at the ceiling again.

the dream still clung to him. like warmth he couldn’t wash off. it made this feel worse. everything felt worse after that dream.

“what do you want?” he asked.

“i need you to sign the amendment for the trust agreement. the accountant says it can’t move forward without your approval.”

he closed his eyes. there it was. paperwork. money. assets.

things that had once meant something between them but now just felt like debris from a life he didn’t recognize anymore.

“i’ll sign it,” he said. “send it again.”

“i already did.”

“then you’ll get it when i get to it.”

a beat of silence. then her voice sharpened.

“you always do this. like my time is nothing.”

he sat up slightly now, something tightening in his chest.

“your time?”

his voice lowered, “you haven’t seen your daughter in almost a year.”

that landed differently.

he could feel it even through the phone.

“don’t start that.”

he laughed once, humorless.

“don’t start what?”

“don’t act like i’m the only parent here.”

his jaw tightened. he looked around the hotel room like it might offer him an exit. it didn’t.

“you are the only parent not showing up,” he said quietly.

a sharp inhale on the other end.

“i have a life, jungkook.”

something in him snapped, not loudly, just cleanly.

“so does she.”

that went quiet too. for a moment, the only sound was the faint city noise outside his window. then her voice returned, colder.

“you’re really going to do this right now?”

he pressed his fingers against his temple. he shouldn’t have answered. he knew that, but the dream had left him too open. too raw. like everything inside him was already exposed.

“when are you going to see her?” he asked.

silence stretched longer this time.

then she scoffed, “i don’t know. i’m busy.”

he stared at the wall.

busy. always busy.

“it’s been almost a year,” he said quietly.

“i know how long it’s been.”

his grip tightened around the phone.

“no,” he said, voice sharper now, “i don’t think you do.”

a beat. then her tone turned defensive.

“don’t make me the villain here. you got what you wanted, didn’t you? full custody, your perfect little life—”

he cut her off immediately.

“this isn’t about me.”

a pause.

then, colder:

“it’s always about you with everything, isn’t it?”

that hit. not because it was true. but because it used to be.he swallowed hard.

“she asks about you,” he said, quieter now.

there was a shift in her breathing.

“what?”

he closed his eyes again.

“she still asks where you are.”

that silence was different. he could hear it now. the discomfort. the avoidance. the thing she didn’t want to sit with.

then her voice came back, defensive again, but softer at the edges.

“kids say things.”

he laughed under his breath.

“she’s not a ‘kids say things’ kind of kid. she remembers everything.”

nothing.

“well, what do you want me to do about it, jungkook?”

there it was. the exhaustion in her tone that had nothing to do with motherhood.

just inconvenience. he stared at the floor now. the hotel carpet. expensive. meaningless.

“i want you to show up,” he said simply.

a pause.

then she scoffed again, like the idea itself offended her.

“i can’t just drop everything.”

he let out a slow breath. his voice came out lower now. controlled. tired.

“you already did.”

silence.

and for the first time in the entire call, she didn’t respond immediately.

he stood up and walked toward the window.

city lights below. people moving. living. going somewhere. he felt completely outside of it.

“i don’t have time for this right now,” she finally said.

he almost laughed.

“you called me.”

she didn’t apologize.

didn’t soften.

didn’t ask about arin.

“sign the documents. bye.”

the line clicked dead. jungkook stood there for a long moment, phone still against his ear.

then slowly lowered it. the silence came back heavier than before. he exhaled shakily, dragging a hand through his hair.

and for a second, just a second, he pictured your voice instead. soft, warm, worried about him in a way that made no sense. he pressed his forehead against the glass window. his reflection looked tired. too tired.

his phone buzzed again. he almost ignored it.

then he saw your name.

his entire body reacted before his mind did. he answered too fast.

“hello?”

“hi… sorry, i know it’s really early.”

his grip tightened on the phone. you.

you didn’t know it, but you were doing something dangerous just by existing in his morning.

“it’s fine,” he said quickly, a little too quickly. then cleared his throat. “what’s wrong?”

“nothing’s wrong,” you rushed to reassure him. “i just—i’ve been thinking about something all night and i didn’t want to forget to ask you.”

he sat down on the edge of the bed without realizing it. all night.

you had been thinking about something.

something involving him. his chest tightened in a way that felt immediate and unfair.

“okay,” he said more gently. “what is it?”

a small inhale on your end. he could picture you right now without even trying. sitting somewhere. maybe curled up. maybe holding your phone close like this mattered more than it should.

“so…” you began carefully. “arin gave me something yesterday.”

his brows knit slightly.

“what did she give you?”

a tiny pause.

then your voice turned brighter.

“an invitation.”

he blinked.

“…an invitation.”

“for her school play,” you explained quickly, almost nervously now. “she wrote my name on the list. she said she really wanted me to come.”

jungkook stopped breathing for a second. that was so simple. so small. somehow it hit harder than anything else had all week.

arin didn’t just like you. she wanted you there. he pressed his fingers against his forehead.

“oh,” he said quietly.

he could hear you fidgeting through the phone.

“i didn’t want to assume anything,” you added. “i know i’m just—i’m just her nanny, so if it’s not appropriate or if you already planned—”

“no.”

the word came out too fast. too sharp.

he swallowed.

“no, it’s… it’s fine.”

you paused.

“oh.”

he closed his eyes briefly. why did you sound like that?

like you were hoping for something but didn’t want to say it out loud.

like him.

he stood up again and started pacing without thinking.

“you should go,” he said.

a beat.

“really?” you asked softly.

he stopped walking. that softness in your voice did something to him he couldn’t name.

“yeah,” he said, then added quickly, “she’ll be really happy.”

there was a tiny pause.

“okay,” you said, quieter now. “i’d really like that.”

his throat tightened. too honest. you were too honest.

he exhaled slowly, trying to regain control of his voice, “we can go together.”

instant silence.

“…together?” you repeated.

he froze.

oh.

that sounded…

he ran a hand through his hair, immediately flustered.

“i mean—” he started, too fast now. “not like—i’m not saying it’s a thing, it’s just—i’m going anyway. so. i’ll drive. and you’re going. so it makes sense.”

he stopped.

realized he had just made it worse.

on the other end, you let out a small sound that might’ve been a laugh you were trying to hide.

“right,” you said softly. “that makes sense.”

he exhaled. relief.

then immediately panic came again. 

because now it was real.

him.

you.

arin’s school play.

together.

like a family outing.

like something that absolutely should not feel like a date but suddenly did because his brain refused to behave.

he cleared his throat.

“we’ll meet at my place,” he said more carefully. “i’ll drive you both.”

“okay,” you said.

a pause.

“thank you for letting me come, mr. jeon.”

his chest twisted again. he leaned back against a wall, eyes closing for a second.

“you don’t have to thank me,” he said quietly.

but you always did.

you always made him feel like things he gave were gifts instead of obligations.

like his attention mattered.

like he mattered.

there was a small rustling sound on your end.

“i should let you go back to work,” you said gently.

he glanced at the empty hotel room.

work.

right.

“yeah,” he lied automatically. then added, softer, “i’ll see you later.”

your voice warmed.

“see you later, mr. jeon.”

and then the call ended. he stayed still for a moment. phone still in his hand. staring at nothing. his heart was beating too fast. too loud, like it didn’t understand boundaries anymore.

he looked down at the floor and let out a shaky breath.

this is not a date, but his chest didn’t listen.

neither did the way he was already looking forward to seeing you again.

••••

your mom rolled her eyes, “let me get this straight.”

you immediately covered your face with both hands, “oh no.”

“the little girl you nanny for invited you to her school play.”

“yes.”

“and now your ridiculously attractive rich boss wants to pick you up and take you there.”

heat crawled all the way up your neck.

“don't call him that.”

“which part?” she asked. “ridiculously attractive or stupid rich?”

“mom.”

“sweetheart.”

you groaned.

your mother looked entirely too pleased with herself. you had made a terrible mistake telling her this. a horrible mistake.

“it's not like that.”

“right.”

“it's not.”

“of course not.”

“mom.”

she pointed her coffee mug at you.

“sweetie, if a handsome man calls a woman and says, 'i'll pick you up and we'll go together,' it’s a date.”

“it's not a date.”

“did he specifically say it wasn't a date?”

you opened your mouth.

then closed it.

he had. sort of. except he'd sounded so flustered while saying it that somehow it made things worse.

your mother immediately noticed.

“oh my god.”

“what?”

“he didn't, did he?”

“he just said it made sense because we're both going.”

“and he wants to drive you there.”

“because arin will already be there.”

“mhm.”

“and it would be easier.”

“mhm.”

“and—”

“sweetheart.”

you buried your face in your hands again.

your mother laughed.

“you're blushing.”

“i'm not.”

“you absolutely are.”

you groaned dramatically.

somewhere over the last few months, you'd developed the most embarrassing crush imaginable. the kind of crush that belonged in a middle school diary. the kind where seeing someone's name on your phone made your stomach flip. the kind where you'd accidentally spent twenty minutes deciding what sweater to wear because there was a microscopic chance he might see it. the kind where you'd catch yourself smiling after conversations and immediately feel ridiculous.

it was awful. absolutely awful. because he was jungkook—successful, handsome, kind.

the kind of father who forgot permission slips but never forgot to kiss his daughter's forehead before school.

the kind of man who looked exhausted all the time but still made time for arin.

the kind of man who listened when you spoke. really listened.

your mother watched your expression carefully.

then her smile softened.

“oh.”

you looked up.

“what?”

“you like him.”

your stomach dropped. 

“mom.”

“you do.”

“i do not.”

“sweetheart, your entire face just changed.”

you grabbed a couch pillow and threw it at her. she caught it effortlessly.

“i'm serious.”

“so am i.”

“it's just a crush.”

“that's how liking someone starts.”

“i'm not doing anything about it.”

your mother's expression softened further.

“i know.”

you looked down at your lap.

when you fantasized about jungkook, you weren't imagining anything big. your fantasies were smaller. sillier.

you imagined him smiling at you.

holding your hand.

bringing you coffee.

telling you that you looked pretty.

you imagined sitting beside him at arin's school play and feeling his shoulder brush yours.

you imagined him looking at you the way romance novel heroes looked at their heroines.

that's all. just little things. crush things. the kind of things that made your stomach flutter.

“it's harmless,” you mumbled.

your mother nodded, “i know.”

“and he'll never like me back anyway.”

that earned you a look.

“don't do that.”

“do what?”

“talk about yourself like that.”

you picked at a loose thread on your sweater.

“he's just...”

“him?”

you nodded.

your mother hummed.

“sweetheart.”

“what?”

“every time you talk about that man, you sound like a disney princess.”

“mom!”

she laughed.

“i'm serious.”

you threw another pillow.

“leave me alone.”

“never.”

you groaned again. but despite yourself, you smiled.

the thought of seeing jungkook tomorrow made you excited.

even if it absolutely, definitely, one hundred percent wasn't a date.

your phone lit up. jungkook. your stomach immediately dropped.

“oh my gosh,” your mom whispered.

“stop.”

“answer it.”

“i'm not answering it in front of you.”

“you absolutely are.”

before you could argue, she lunged across the couch and smacked the speaker button.

“mom!”

“shh!”

“hello?” you answered quickly.

“hi.”

just one word and somehow your mother was already silently losing her mind beside you. jungkook sounded tired, but warm. maybe a little hesitant.

“sorry,” he said. “am i bothering you?”

“no.”

you said that way too fast. you winced.

“uh, no. you're okay.”

your mom grabbed a throw pillow and pressed it over her mouth.

“good,” he said quietly.

a small silence settled. comfortable. awkward. both.

“i was thinking about the play.”

your heart started beating faster.

“okay.”

“i realized something.”

“what?”

“i have to drop arin off pretty early.”

you tucked your legs beneath you.

“how early?”

“about two hours before it starts.”

“oh.”

“yeah.”

another pause.

“there's kind of a gap.”

“a gap?”

“between dropping her off and the actual play.”

“right.”

jungkook cleared his throat.

“there's this little restaurant nearby.”

your stomach flipped.

“restaurant?”

“yeah.”

his voice got quieter.

“mom and pop place.”

your mom's eyes bulged.

“they make really good pasta.”

your mom began aggressively smacking your arm.

“ow!”

“what?” jungkook asked immediately.

“nothing.”

your mother looked seconds away from passing away.

“are you okay?” he asked.

“yes. i just… bumped into something.”

“anyway,” he continued carefully. “i was thinking we could get dinner while we wait.”

silence swept across the line. this felt suspicious. very suspicious. you glanced toward your mother. she looked like she was witnessing history.

“if you want,” jungkook added quickly.

too quickly. “o-only if you want.”

oh. 

he was nervous too. that somehow made it worse. or better. you couldn't tell.

“with arin?” you asked.

“well...” he hesitated.

“she'll already be backstage.”

your mom nearly fell off the couch.

“so it'd just be us,” he finished.

your face immediately felt hot.

“right.”

“but not like—”

you almost laughed.

“i know.”

“okay.”

“okay.”

both of you fell silent again. your mother buried her face in a pillow.

“so,” you said softly, “you want to have dinner together?”

the second the words left your mouth, you realized how they sounded. apparently so did he, because he immediately stumbled over himself.

“i mean—not like—well yes. technically. but i just thought—”

you laughed. actually laughed. the sound seemed to relax him immediately.

“sorry,” he said.

“don't be.”

“i'm making this weird.”

“a little.”

he groaned. your smile widened.

“it's okay.”

“it's not.”

“it is.”

you could practically hear him rubbing his face.

“i'm trying to be normal.”

“you're doing great.”

“you're lying.”

“a little.”

that earned a laugh from him. the sound made your stomach do something embarrassing.

“so,” he said. “you'll come?”

your heart squeezed. he sounded genuinely hopeful.

“yeah.”

his exhale was immediate. like he'd been worried you'd say no.

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

“okay.”

another pause.

“good.”

you smiled.

“good.”

your mom looked ready to throw herself through a window.

“then i'll pick you up at five?”

“okay.”

“okay.”

neither of you hung up.

“well,” he said eventually.

“well,” you echoed.

“i should let you go.”

“probably.”

“okay.”

“okay.”

another pause.

“bye.”

“bye, mr. jeon.”

his voice softened.

“bye.”

the call ended. silence. three seconds.

four.

five.

your mother exploded.

“that man is taking you on a date!”

“mom!”

“a date.” she repeated.

“it's not a date!”

she shook her head, “he asked you to dinner.”

“because there was time to kill!”

“alone!”

“because arin will be backstage!”

she looked like she was a moment away from passing out, “at a romantic mom and pop joint.”

“how do you know it's romantic?” you buried your face in a pillow, “you're being dramatic, mommy.”

“i am being correct.”

“mommy.”

“sweetheart.”

you groaned. she pointed dramatically at your phone.

“that man likes you.”

“he does not.”

“he called you.”

“about arin.”

“he called you to ask you to dinner.”

“it is not dinner.”

“what is it then?”

you opened your mouth. paused. closed it again.

your mother gasped, “oh my gosh.”

“stop.”

“you don’t even have an argument for me anymore,” she shook her head.

you threw a pillow at her. she caught it, still grinning.

“i'm buying a new outfit.”

“for what?”

“you.”

“mom!”

“for your totally-not-a-date date.”

author’s note:

I’M BACK!!! i missed writing so much during my hiatus/vacation, i’m happy to be back. hopefully a juicy chapter like this makes up for my absence😋😋 thank you so much for reading and stay tuned for the next chapter + an upcoming onshot!!!

xoxo,

kandi

He's the one who asked you to come.

That's the thing you keep turning over as you stand near the edge of the living room, a drink condensing in your hand, the party loud and warm and full of people you mostly don't know. Come, it'll be fun, I want you there — that's what he said, and so you came, because you always come when Jungkook asks. You spent thirty minutes on your hair. You wore the top you know looks good on you. You told yourself it didn't mean anything, that you just wanted to look nice, and you almost believed it.

You haven't seen him in an hour.

"He probably got distracted," your friend Mina says, reading your face with the ease of someone who knows you too well. "You know how he is at parties."

You do know. That's the problem.

You get another drink and try to let the music loosen something in your chest. You talk to people. You laugh. You are, by any observable measure, having a fine time.

And then you see him.

He's across the room near the hallway, and he's not alone. The girl beside him is beautiful — genuinely, effortlessly beautiful, the kind that makes you do a quick, involuntary inventory of everything you're not. Long dark hair, a laugh that makes her whole face open up, and she's looking at Jungkook like he's the only person in the room.

He's looking back the same way.

You've seen him do this before. The focus he turns on a girl he's interested in — that particular quality of attention, like the rest of the world goes a little quiet. You've always told yourself you were fine with it. That you understood. That this is just who he is.

But he asked you to come tonight. He said he wanted you here. And now he's guiding her toward the hallway with a hand at the small of her back, and the party is still going and the music is still playing and you are standing right here, and he hasn't looked in your direction once.

You feel stupid. Not heartbroken — that comes later, when you're alone — just stupid, in the hollow, immediate way of someone who dressed up for nothing.

"I'm going to head out," you tell Mina, and your voice comes out steadier than you expected.

She looks at you, then toward the hallway, then back at you. She doesn't say anything. She just squeezes your arm.

You make it outside before your eyes start burning.

Across the room, you don't notice Taehyung watching you go.

Jungkook wakes up to grey morning light and the sound of careful movement — drawers opening, the soft friction of fabric.

The girl — Yuna, he remembers — is already dressed and pulling her hair up, her back to him. There's something in the posture. Finished. Ready.

"You're leaving?" he asks.

She glances back, and she's kind about it, which almost makes it worse. "I have brunch with my sister." She finds her bag. "Last night was fun."

"You could stay," he says. "I can make breakfast."

She smiles — a real smile, just not the kind that means yes. "I'm okay. I'll text you."

She won't. He knows this the way he's come to know a lot of things: quietly, without wanting to.

He hears the front door close. He lies there for a while looking at the ceiling, and something in him is tired in a way that sleep doesn't fix.

He picks up his phone.

You answer on the third ring, voice soft with morning. "Hey. Everything okay?"

"Yeah," he says. "I don't know. Can I come over?"

He ends up on your couch with a cup of coffee you made him, his feet on your coffee table, staring at nothing.

"She left before I was even awake," he says. "Didn't even — I offered to make her breakfast and she looked at me like I'd said something weird."

You curl your feet beneath you and hold your own mug in both hands. You know exactly what happened. You've watched Jungkook do this for years — the girls he goes after are always a particular kind: beautiful, a little remote, more interested in the performance of something than the actual thing. He lights up around that energy and then wonders why it burns out so fast.

But you love him. So.

"You deserve someone who wants to stay," you say. "That's not too much to want."

He looks at you sideways. "How come it never works out?"

Because you keep choosing girls who are already halfway out the door and calling it chemistry. "I think you're just looking in the wrong places," you say instead. "The right person will want the whole morning. Not just the night."

He's quiet for a moment. "You make it sound simple."

"I know it's not." You look down at your coffee. "I just think you'll find it."

He exhales through his nose, leans his head back. "Yeah," he says, half to himself. "Maybe."

You sit there beside him in the morning quiet, close enough to touch, and you do not touch him, and you take a sip of your coffee, and you are almost completely fine.

Jungkook's apartment, a Tuesday night, controllers in hand, Taehyung losing spectacularly and pretending he's not bothered. They've been doing this since they were nineteen. The comfortable repetition of it is its own kind of language.

"Hey," Taehyung says, eyes on the screen, too casual. "Is she single?"

Jungkook's thumbs stall for half a second. "Who?"

"You know who."

He does know. The specific quality of the question — that light, interested tone — lands somewhere unpleasant in his chest, and he isn't sure what to do with that, so he does nothing.

"Yeah," he says. "I think so."

Taehyung nods, like this is useful information, and Jungkook turns his attention back to the game and does not say anything else, because there is nothing to say. She's his friend. Taehyung is his best friend. There is no reason for the thing coiling quietly in his stomach right now, tight and unnameable.

A few minutes pass.

"Can I get her number?"

"Tae —"

"What? I'm asking. I'm being respectful." He puts down his controller and holds out his hand, palm up, waiting.

Jungkook looks at that hand for a moment. Something in him wants to say no — not for any reason he can justify, just instinct, just some dull protective alarm going off.

He hands over the phone.

He watches Taehyung type out a message, something charming and self-assured — because that's who Taehyung is, effortlessly sure of himself in a way Jungkook has always appreciated until approximately right now — and send it. They both look at the phone.

The reply comes in under two minutes.

Sure, I'd love that :)

Taehyung laughs and sets the phone down. "See? Easy." He picks up his controller again, satisfied with himself, the way a cat looks after knocking something off a shelf. "She said yes fast. I still got it."

Jungkook picks up his own controller. "Don't be weird about it."

"I'm not being weird. I'm just saying." He shrugs. "She's cute. I don't know why you've never —"

"Don't," Jungkook says, and something in his voice makes Taehyung glance at him, and then let it go.

They keep playing. Jungkook wins by a wide margin, which never happens, and Taehyung accuses him of sandbagging.

Jungkook doesn't tell him he barely saw the screen.

The bar Taehyung chose is nice enough. Good music, low lighting, the kind of place designed to make everyone look better than they are. You sit across from him and you smile and you ask questions and you are, technically, present.

Except.

Except you keep thinking about the way Jungkook laughs when something genuinely catches him off guard — how his whole face scrunches up, how he goes silent for a second before the sound comes out, like his body can't process it fast enough. You think about his eyes, so dark they're almost black in dim light, and the way they go soft when he's comfortable, when he's with someone he trusts. You think about the way he falls asleep on your couch sometimes, head tipped back, and he looks younger when he sleeps, and you always turn the TV down.

You wonder if he's with someone tonight. You wonder if he's doing that thing — turning that particular quality of attention on a girl across a room, making her feel like the only person in it.

The thought makes your chest feel like a bruise being pressed on.

"—and she absolutely lost it," Taehyung is saying, laughing at his own story, and you laugh too, a beat behind, hoping it lands right.

You get another drink.

By the third one, the edges are softer and the music sounds better and you're almost here, almost in this bar, almost on this date, and then Taehyung reaches across the table and puts his hand over yours and says, low, "You want to get out of here?"

And there it is. The way he's looking at you — assessing, interested, but not curious. Not the way you'd want someone to look at you. Just: he likes what he sees, and he'd like to have it.

You pull your hand back slowly. "I don't think so."

Something shifts in his expression. Not meanness, just — surprise, and then a quick recalibration, the confidence reassembling itself over the crack. "Yeah?" His voice has cooled. "Okay."

He stands. Leaves money on the table. Gives you a tight smile that doesn't reach his eyes, and then he's gone, coat on, out the door, and you are sitting alone at a bar table with your drink and the noise of the room pressing in on all sides.

Your eyes burn. You tell yourself you're not going to cry in public.

You take out your phone.

You almost don't call. It's late. You're a mess. But you scroll to his name and you press it before you can think too hard about it, and he answers on the second ring —

"Hey —"

"Jungkook." And your voice does the thing you didn't want it to do, cracks right down the middle of his name. "Can you — I'm sorry, can you come get me?"

A pause. Not hesitation — thinking. "Where are you?"

You tell him.

"Don't move," he says. "I'm on my way."

He finds you outside, and the look on his face when he sees you — the way it tightens, jaw setting, eyes going dark — isn't at you. You can tell the difference.

"Did he hurt you?" he asks.

"No." You shake your head. "He just — he left. He wanted something I wasn't going to give him, and when I said no, he just left." You laugh at yourself, and it comes out wrong, thin and wet. "I shouldn't have come. I knew how he was, you were right."

Jungkook doesn't say anything. He steers you toward his car, hand gentle at your back, and gets you settled in the passenger seat. He turns the heat on without being asked.

He's quiet as he drives, and you can feel the anger coming off him in waves, controlled and careful but real.

"Why did you even go?" he asks, and his voice is rough. "You've been around Tae for years. You know what he's like at the start of something."

"I know." You look at your hands. "I was lonely."

Silence.

"I wanted to feel like someone actually wanted to be around me." The words are easier than they should be — that's the drink talking, smoothing over the places where your self-preservation usually lives. "Like I was someone worth choosing."

"You are —"

"You don't choose me." It comes out flat. You hear it land and you don't take it back. "You never choose me."

He says nothing. You stare at the dashboard, and the city goes by, and the careful architecture of everything you've never said is just gone now, collapsed, and you're tired enough and sad enough that you almost don't care.

"I'm in love with you," you say to the window. "I've been in love with you for years, and you don't even — you don't look at me, Jungkook. You look through me. You invite me to parties and then disappear and I'm standing there feeling like an idiot, feeling like — like I dressed up for nothing, again, like I always do, and you're —" Your voice breaks. "You're chasing some girl down a hallway and I'm the one who came because you asked me to."

"I know." His voice is so quiet you almost miss it.

"You didn't even notice I left."

"I know." Quieter still.

The tears come properly now, and you press the back of your hand against your mouth and look out the window and let them, because you're too tired to stop them and because you're drunk enough that you'll probably forget this whole conversation anyway, and maybe that's the only reason any of it is coming out at all.

At a red light, Jungkook reaches over.

He takes your hand.

Not a quick, comforting squeeze — he actually takes it, laces his fingers through yours, and holds on. You look down at your joined hands and then up at him, but he's watching the light and his jaw is still tight and his expression is doing something complicated that you're too blurred at the edges to fully read.

The light goes green.

He doesn't let go.

He doesn't let go the whole way to your apartment, and when he walks you to your door and you're loose-limbed and half-asleep, he stands there in the hallway light for a moment and looks at you.

"I'm sorry," he says. "About the party. About tonight. About —" He stops. "All of it."

"It's fine," you mumble.

"It's not." He says it firmly. "It's not fine. Go to sleep."

He waits until you're inside. You hear him on the other side of the door for a moment, then his footsteps going back down the hall.

The next morning, you text him: sorry for the mess last night, thank you for getting me.

He replies: don't apologize. how's your head?

You send him a grimace emoji and he sends back a laughing one and that's that.

You don't remember what you said in the car. Only that he came when you called and held your hand and said I'm sorry like he meant it.

Something is different.

You notice it in pieces over the following weeks, small things you can't quite assemble into a clear picture. He looks at you now — really looks at you, the way you've spent years wishing he would. Long enough that you glance away first, because you don't know what to do with it.

He comes over on a Wednesday and asks if you want to cook together, which you've done a hundred times before, but this time he stands close when you're at the cutting board. Too close, maybe, close enough that you're aware of the warmth of him, and when you accidentally set your hand on the edge of the hot pan and hiss — nothing serious, barely a sting — he's already beside you, cool water from the tap running over your finger before you've even processed what happened, his hands careful around yours.

"You okay?"

"It's nothing." But he doesn't let go right away. He holds your hand under the water and checks it and then looks up at you, and you are very close, and his expression is strange and intent and you have to look away first, again, like always.

Another night — video games, the same as always, except he loses three rounds in a row, which never happens. You glance at him and catch him watching you with a small smile instead of the screen.

"You're going to lose," you say.

"Yeah," he says, like this is acceptable information.

On a Sunday evening you watch a movie, and he sits beside you on the couch, closer than usual, and somewhere in the second half you're aware that he keeps looking down at your hand. Not reaching for it. Just looking, the way someone looks at a door they're not sure they're allowed to open.

He doesn't reach for it. You sit there, heart quiet and waiting, watching the movie you're no longer watching.

You don't say anything either.

Something is different. You're just not sure yet if you're allowed to believe in it.

The knock comes on a Saturday afternoon.

You're not expecting anyone. You open the door and there is Jungkook, and he's wearing a nice shirt with the sleeves pushed up, and he has flowers — just a loose, slightly imperfect handful of them, like he picked them because he thought you'd like them, not because anyone told him to. His tattoos peek out along his forearm and his hair is slightly unsettled, like he's been running a hand through it, and he looks absolutely terrified.

You've never seen him like this. Jungkook who walks into rooms like he belongs there. Jungkook who catches every eye without trying. Standing at your door in the late afternoon light looking like the ground might not hold him.

"Hey," you say.

"Hi." He looks at you. Then down at the flowers. He holds them out and something about the gesture — how it's not smooth, how he seems to have forgotten how hands work for a second — makes something loosen in your chest. "These are for you."

You take them. "What's —"

"I'm sorry." He says it before you can finish, direct and plain. "For the party. For a lot of things before that, things I should have — I wasn't paying attention to you the way I should have been, and you deserved better, and I knew that on some level but I didn't —" He stops. Takes a breath. "I didn't let myself really see it."

You hold the flowers and you don't say anything.

"I see it now." His voice drops, quieter. "I see you now. How good you are. How you've always been — I don't know how I spent this many years with you and didn't —" He breaks off, frustrated with himself. "You're so beautiful. And I know that's not the whole thing. But I mean it."

He looks up at you.

"I want to take you out," he says. "A real date. Properly. I want to do this right, if you'll let me. I know I'm late." He almost laughs at himself. "I'm so late. But I'm here now, and I mean it."

Your eyes are already burning. This is ridiculous. This is the conversation you wrote out in your head during a hundred quiet moments you were never going to tell anyone about, and it turns out it sounds the same out loud.

You step forward and put your arms around him, flowers pressed between you, and he catches you — wraps around you instantly, completely, like he's been waiting too, his arms coming tight around your back and his face dropping into your hair.

You stand in your doorway and you breathe.

When he finally pulls back it's only a little, just enough to look at you. He lifts one hand and brushes the tears from your cheek with his thumb, so careful, like he can't believe he's allowed to touch you like this, like he's afraid to get it wrong.

"Can I kiss you?" he asks quietly.

You nod. You can't speak.

He kisses you softly — careful and then sure, one hand curved against your jaw, and the flowers are crushed slightly between you and neither of you care, and he kisses you like he's been thinking about it, like he wants to get it right.

When he pulls back he rests his forehead against yours and exhales, slow, like he's been holding that breath for longer than he knew.

You stand there in the doorway. His hands on your face. The afternoon light going gold.

The engine light had already lit up some miles back, but you decided to ignore it and just pray you’d make it to your destination. But now, after driving along empty country roads, seemingly endless, with only a few small towns in between breaking the monotony of the scenery, the lights on your dashboard start to flicker and the radio keeps cutting out.

“Shit,” you curse out loud before asking your phone for the directions to the nearest auto repair shop.

Your already shitty air con has totally given up. Beads of sweat are starting to collect on your upper lip as you follow google maps through the scorching heat. Thank god it’s only a few more miles until you pull into a small town off the desert road. This little hick town seems to just be made up of one main road, with a few homes off to the side.

“In 0,2 miles your destination will be on the left,” your navigation lets you know. A minute later you pull up in front of the repair shop with your Buick Century and turn off the ignition. You exhale in relief, at least you made it to the garage. You don’t want to imagine being stranded at the side of the road in the desert, not in this weather.

You let your head fall on the steering wheel that you are gripping with both hands, already worried about how much money you’re going to have to throw at your rust bucket. You step out of your vehicle finally, looking around. There’s what seems to be a small convenience store across the street, a man in denim dungarees and cowboy boots sitting in front of it, smoking. You snort - all that’s missing is a damn banjo.

What comes to your mind immediately is the horror movie cliché of a car breaking down in some rural backwater town and what happens after. You’ve watched countless of them - Wrong Turn, House of Wax, The Hills have Eyes. You don’t have any plans to end up as a final girl to a clan of inbred hillbilly psychos. Hopefully, whatever is wrong with your Buick is fixed quickly so you can be on your way.

You walk into the repair shop through a glass door next to a bigger gate for cars to enter and look around for an employee, unsuccessfully.

“Hello?” you ask into the empty space. There’s a front desk, but it’s unoccupied.  Please, don’t let this place be actually closed down already for the day.

“Back here,” you suddenly hear a voice sounding from further back. Relieved, you scan the perimeters to find the source, peeking around a corner.

You find the actual workshop of the garage, multiple cars with open hoods standing around, but you don’t see anyone. Reluctantly, you walk between vehicles, not sure if you are even allowed in here, until you almost stumble over legs sticking out from under some Toyota sedan.

“Um, hi?” you address the jeans-clad legs.

“One sec,” a voice replies and a moment later you hear tools clanking to the floor before a man emerges from under the car.

And, well, he’s really not someone you expected to find in a rural backwater town. It’s not the outfit either, he’s just wearing jeans and a white t-shirt, both smeared with motor oil and grease. What surprises you is the fact that one of his arms is covered in tattoos, down to his fingers, and his ears are decked out in multiple silver hoops. He smiles at you, a piercing through the side of his lower lip, while he wipes his hands on the bandana tied to his pants.

Usually, when you have to bring in your rust bucket, the mechanics crack some sort of unfunny misogynistic joke at your expense before trying to rip you off with unnecessary repairs you didn’t ask for. So that is what you steel yourself for when you tell the dude that your Buick started breaking down as he walks you to the front of the shop.

He clicks open the automatic garage door and tells you to drive your car inside for him to inspect it.

But, shit. When you try to switch on the ignition, it’s dead.

The mechanic comes up to your rolled-down window. “Doesn’t start huh?”, he correctly assesses. “Put it in neutral, I can just push it inside.”

“Sorry,” you mumble, trying to move the shift stick to neutral, without success. It doesn’t budge without the engine being on.

You shrug your shoulders at him in a helpless manner, making him laugh. “Ah, automatic,” he hums before opening the driver door and pulling a screwdriver from the back pocket of his jeans.

Without warning, he’s suddenly in your lap, leaning over you to access the middle console. You would’ve moved out of the way had he warned you. But now this, admittedly very attractive, guy is brushing his tattooed arm against your thighs all non-chalant as he wriggles his screwdriver around the plastic by the gear stick. With one last satisfied hum, he finally moves the stick to the neutral position.

You just dumbly stare at him with hot cheeks when he retreats from your space again and he tells you about some manual switch he pushed. “Oh, sorry,” he apologizes when he sees your startled expression. “I didn’t get dirt on you, did I?” He wipes at the fabric of your pants with his hands, grimacing at himself as in the process, as he actually does brush some grease on it, making him panic slightly. “Shit,” he mutters but you stop him before he can apologize again or spread even more black gunk on you.

“Don’t worry about it,” you laugh, his display of sudden clumsiness making you relax again. He stands up straight, scratching at his neck before collecting himself and moving to the back of your Buick.

“It’s good to go now. Just let go of the brake and steer, alright?” he yells from the back and then the car is slowly rolling. You can’t help stealing a glance at him through your rearview mirror.

His brows are furrowed and the muscles in his shoulders are tensed as he’s pushing the car by its bumper. You can even make out the vein on his forehead popping out a little. The fact that you’ve always had a thing for feats of strength is almost making you forget to steer until his voice forces your eyes to snap back to the garage in front of you.

“Little to the left,” he yells and you comply, maneuvering your car into the workspace.

You pull the handbrake and get out of the driver's seat once you’re in a good spot.

“I’ll pay to get your jeans cleaned,” he tells you with a lopsided smile as he eyes your soiled pants before he walks to the front of your Buick.

“Let’s take a look at your baby,” he says as he yanks open the hood. “I already have a suspicion.”

While he’s checking out the engine compartment, you take a stroll around the shop, trying to pass the time and ignore the dread blooming in your chest about how much this repair is going to cost you.

On the wall behind the counter you spot the usual sexy calendars of women in pin up clothing posing on the hoods of old-timers. Maybe he’s just like all the other mechanics you encountered after all. You quietly chuckle just as you spot another poster among the sexy ladies though. This one has a half-naked man propped against some motorcycle, probably a Harley Davidson. Oh, a man of varied tastes apparently. Feels a little out of place for this small town, once again.

When you hear the hood of your vehicle being slammed shut, you hurry back to the mechanic.

“Yup, I was right,” he tells you, trying to wipe some of his dark hair out of his face with the back of his hand, smearing grease on his forehead in the process. “Alternator’s shot.”

“That sounds … bad?” you reluctantly more so ask than state.

“It just needs to be replaced. Good news first, it’s not a lot of work so I’ll be done in like an hour,” he lets you know. “Bad news - I need to order it in.”

You groan, but you are relieved to learn that at least it’s not as expensive as you feared. The fact that this part will only come in tomorrow though - Shit.

He types your information into his computer and places the order for the new alternator.

“Are there any hotels or something close by?” you ask him once he’s done and comes back around the counter to lean on it.

He shakes his head with an apologetic look on his face. “The closest motel is like two towns over. And it’s a bit of a shit hole.”

That doesn’t sound too inviting, but given your choices, what else are you supposed to do?

“Can you give me the address? I’ll get an Uber to drive me there I guess.”

“Good luck on finding any Ubers out here. We’re basically out of their operating zone.”

Your shoulders slump in defeat as you let your hand holding your phone drop to your side again.

“I’ll take you,” he offers, already on his way to your Buick. “Get your bag.”

You would usually not consider getting into a car with a stranger, but your options are kind of limited here. He can probably sense your hesitation, because he cocks his head to the side and smiles. “Wouldn’t advise accepting rides from strangers, but I can’t have you stay on the street,” he speaks up. “I’m Jungkook, by the way. I’ll give you my ID and everything, you can send it to a friend with your location.”

This won’t help you if he decides to murder you, but you are tired and in need of a shower, so you just sigh and open your car, quickly packing some things you need for an overnight stay into your backpack before shouldering it.

Apparently it’s time to close shop, or maybe he can just decide since he’s the only one in here, but he leads you out the back and locks the door behind him. You won’t question it, you are just glad that you will be able to rest soon. The long drive was becoming torturous anyway.

“Where’s your car?” you ask, looking around the street behind the garage.

Jungkook grins and points towards - oh please - a motorcycle. No way. Well, maybe that explains the leather jacket that he put on just before. You were wondering why he needed it in this scorching heat.

“Pretty, huh?” he muses when you look at him with wide eyes. “It’s a Fat Bob 114.”

Oh sure, whatever that string of random words means. He can’t seriously expect you to get on the back of this. For a moment, you reconsider just walking the streets tonight.

“I don’t even have a helmet,” you try to weasel your way out.

To no avail, since he produces one from behind his back and hands it to you. “Good thing I keep a spare around.”

He’s already stuffing his own backpack into the satchel on the side of the bike, while you fiddle with the helmet. You’ve never even put one on before and when you plop it down over your head, your hair gets caught in front of your eyes.

You hear Jungkook’s muffled laugh and then he steps in front of you, pulling the helmet back off.

“Lemme help,” he mutters while pushing your hair behind your ears while he clamps the headgear between his thighs to free his hands.

The intimate gesture brings heat up your neck and all you muster is a quiet “Thank you.” Then he gently pulls the helmet down and closes the plastic visor with a grin.

“All set,” he pats the top of the protective headwear before putting on his own. He swings his leg over the bike and motions for you to get on behind him.

“Just hold on to me,” he tells you.

You somewhat clumsily climb on and consider just gripping the side of the machine, but as soon as he turns his keys and the bike roars to life, your survival instinct kicks in and you sling your arms around his waist. 

He pulls off into the street and soon you’re leaving behind the small town and with it your broken-down car.

Jungkook, thankfully, seems to be considerate of his passenger, because you are pretty sure he’s not even going the speed limit. You still cling on to him for dear life, probably choking him out, but he does not complain. You’re not particularly fond of not being encased in metal while on the road is what you’re learning right now.

After a few miles and your body starting to cramp from clutching on to Jungkook and the bike, you pull up in front of a motel. The parking lot is full of trucks, rarely any regular cars. Jungkook helps you off the motorcycle and takes off his helmet. He seems to be wondering about the amount of trucks, as he raises his eyebrow. Carefully, he removes your helmet for you as well before you can even try to do it yourself. Your hair feels damp and matted, making you cringe slightly as you run your fingers through it.

Jungkook retrieves his backpack from the satchel and pockets the keys.

“This must be a regular stop for truckers to rest, huh?” you wonder out loud to which Jungkook shakes his head.

“Not usually.”

Picking through the small compartment of your backpack, you finally find some tissues. 

“Can I just..?” you ask Jungkook, gesturing towards his face with the towelette. 

He seems to be confused but doesn’t stop you from wiping at his forehead. You clean the smear of grease off his skin and pocket the tissue. 

“That’s better,” you smile at him and when he locks his big soft eyes with you, the corners of his mouth upturned, it makes you gulp. His gaze flickers down to your lips for just a fleeting moment. 

With both helmets in hand, he walks you to the check-in counter, where you find the most unenthusiastic-looking clerk you’ve seen in your life.

“Hello,” you address him. “I need a room, please.”

“Really?” he responds in a mocking tone. “Who would’ve guessed that?”

Jungkook slams one of the helmets on the counter, startling the guy.

“Mind checking if you have any available?” he intervenes, a fake smile plastered on his face. One could mistake it for a snarl if it wasn’t for his politeness. With his hand planted firmly on the counter and the muscles in his arm tensed, the clerk seems to have taken the hint. 

Woah. Apparently he’s not one to mess around with. It’s kind of hot.

“Alright, alright,” the clerk gives in, suddenly very meek and sheepish, and checks his computer.

“Seems like you’re out of luck, everything’s booked,” he shrugs his shoulders. “There’s some trucker meet-up happening close by, they basically overran the motel.”

Jungkook and you sigh simultaneously. What the hell are you supposed to do now? You really don’t want to go on another road trip if you can avoid it. He pulls out his phone, scrolling furiously, probably trying to figure out an alternative as well.

“Ah, wait,” the clerk suddenly perks up. “There’s someone checking out in a bit. Once we’ve cleaned up the room, it’s yours.”

Oh, thank god. You couldn’t care less that the place is run-down and the employee is a shithead. You’ll just shower and head to bed anyway, maybe scroll a bit on your phone. The aesthetic or lack thereof doesn’t really matter, unless you’ll find suspicious stains on the pillows. Which, to be fair, is not that unlikely, now that you think about it.

“We have a bar,” the employee tells you with an exasperated sigh, as if this was the hardest he’s ever had to work. “You can wait there. It’s gonna be like 2 hours max.”

You nod and turn to Jungkook, who looks a little disgruntled.

“Uhm, will you come pick me up again tomorrow? I kinda don’t have a ride.” The fact that he has to drive you again is gnawing at your pride, but he said it himself, no Ubers around.

He looks at you, quizzically.

“I’m not gonna let you wait around here by yourself,” he shakes his head. “I’ll stay with you until the room’s ready.”

Before you can even start arguing that you don’t need an escort, he’s already placed his hand on the small of your back to guide you towards the bar. For whatever reason you just let it happen. You’re a grown woman, you don’t need a white knight to look out for you. But also, some company would be nice instead of sitting around all alone, just waiting for time to pass. Since he’s also nice to look at, why shouldn’t you indulge a bit longer.

The bar is just as dingy as the rest of the place. All the seats are worn, tears across the old leather.  The room reeks of stale smoke and cigars so bad that you scrunch your nose as you step in.

There’s two guys sitting at the bar drinking beer. By the looks of it it’s not the first one of the day either. Probably some of the truckers the clerk mentioned.

Jungkook pushes you into the booth of a table, sliding in next to you without taking his eyes off the dudes at the bar, and shrugs off his leather jacket. Sitting next to each other when you’re only two people has always been weird to you, makes it kind of awkward to chat.

“What do you want to drink?” he asks from beside you.

You take out your phone, checking the time. It’s 7 pm. You could do with a beer as well, so you tell him and he moves out of the seat to get your drinks.

You watch him from your table, only to realize that the two men are staring you down, one even cocks his eyebrows at you. Disgusting. You pull a face at him, but that doesn’t seem to deter him at all, grabbing at his junk while his mate laughs along.

Jungkook is watching this play out, you can tell when his back stiffens. He’s coming back with two beers in hand, immediately sitting down next to you on the bench again, so close this time that your thighs are touching.

“What are you doing?” you ask him, surprised when he puts his arm on the backrest behind you.

“Sorry, but I’m not gonna let those two sleazebags get the impression that you’re here by yourself, no chance,” he grumbles before picking up his glass and taking a big gulp.

The fact that he’s doing this only for show makes you feel a tinge of disappointment, which is just dumb. He’s just being nice, you tell yourself, also reaching for your beer, trying to relax with him being so close to you. It’s not because he’s making you uncomfortable, rather the opposite. You just seriously need to chill.

“How much was it?” you ask him, pointing to your drink, to which he just waves you off.

“Take it as compensation for me putting grease all over your jeans,” he smiles at you.

For a while you two just sit there, his arm around you, sipping away on your beer quietly. Jungkook shoots the gross dudes death glares every now and then. To which you are thankful because the thought of being in here alone with them makes you shiver. Maybe you were in need of a white knight actually. Just this once.

“So,” Jungkook breaks the surprisingly comfortable silence. “Judging by your plates, you’ve been on the road for a while, huh?”

You hum in agreement. “Just a road trip to visit an old friend of mine. Never been to this part of the country.”

“I can tell,” he laughs.

“And you?” you proceed to ask. “Have you ever been out of these parts?”

Jungkook’s fingers tapping away softly on your shoulder while he talks makes blood rush to your cheeks. 

“Not really, I grew up around here. Only gone as far as the surrounding cities.”

“So you like living here then?”

He shrugs his shoulders as if he doesn’t really have an opinion on it.

“It’s just, you don’t seem like a small town kinda guy,” you continue when he stays silent.

“Now, why’s that?” he looks at you with a smirk, visibly amused now.

You just motion at his tattooed arm and the piercings, trying not to say anything he might take offense to. It’s his home after all.

Luckily, he doesn’t seem to be offended at all, because he chuckles at your assessment.

“You know, the next city is just like an hour’s drive away,” he lets you know between laughs. “We’re not cut off from civilization. Not totally.”

You chat away for a while, mostly just small talk. He never takes his arm off your shoulder while you learn that he owns and runs the repair shop by himself and you tell him that you’re in between jobs right now.

You’re laughing at a funny remark Jungkook dropped when the clerk pops his head in.

“Room’s ready,” he lets you know before he trudges away again.

“Before you try to argue - I’m walking you to the room.”

You figured.

So after picking up the key from the front desk, you make your way outside and up some stairs to find your assigned room with Jungkook close behind. On your way there, you can hear some loud bellowing laughter from behind doors as well as a smashing sound, as if a vase or something broke. This really doesn’t feel that welcoming after all, you think as you yank open the dilapidated door. It’s not even hanging straight in its hinges, so you have to lift it up slightly so it doesn’t catch on the floor. Yikes.

Both of you walk inside and Jungkook looks around the room after putting the helmets on a wobbly sideboard.

“What a nice view,” you joke, having walked up behind him to the window, looking down at the parking lot. The laughter gets caught in your throat when you can hear someone loudly fighting outside. When you peek out the window again, you see that it’s two big guys shoving each other and yelling, beer bottles in hand. Please let this night go by fast, you plead silently. You brought your earphones so hopefully you can drown out anything that might go on outside, be it murder or an orgy. You thank whoever invented noise cancelling in advance.

Jungkook turns to you. “Look,” he starts with a serious expression. You have a feeling you know where this is going, so you walk up to the sideboard and push his helmet towards him.

“Thank you for everything, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Jungkook shakes his head and doesn’t move even an inch.

“I can’t let you stay here,” he says, decidedly. “Not by yourself. You’ve seen the kind of guys that hang around here!”

You liked his savior antics earlier, but you still have some pride left.

“I’m not some damsel in distress in need of saving,” you scoff and walk to the door. “I’ll just lock up and sleep by myself like a big girl.” You jokingly wiggle the lock around before realizing it’s almost falling apart at your touch. Oh. This actually doesn’t bode well with you.

Jungkook looks at your wide eyes with a quirked brow, waiting for you to reconsider what you just told him. And you do. Damn.

Then there’s suddenly more clamor seemingly right outside your door. As if someone was crashing into the wall. The look in your eyes turns to pleading. Now you’re actually hoping Jungkook’s offer, whatever exactly it entails, still stands.

“I’ll stay. Don’t worry,” he reassures you as if he just read your mind. Probably not that hard, considering the situation.

“Thanks,” you mumble while looking around the room. There’s exactly one bed, a dresser with a tiny TV on it and what you assume to be the door to the bathroom. And a worn-out leather arm chair.

Jungkook follows your gaze and takes the words out of your mouth when he speaks up.

“I’ll just stay in the cuck chair, you can go ahead and go to sleep.”

The good old cuck chair, a must-have of any rented room that’s worth anything. What would people do without it? Although this one actually seems like it’s been in heavy use. Ew. At least you’re not the one having to sit in it.

To your horror, this stuffy room has no air conditioning, only a ceiling fan above the bed that barely does its job. Opening the window is no use at this time of night either, as it’s still hot out.

“I could never get used to this heat,” you huff and sit down at the edge of the mattress, causing the bedframe to squeak. “Don’t think I can even sleep while it’s this hot,” you add, groaning.

Jungkook brings his stuff over to his designated spot for the night to keep watch of the door or whatever his plan actually is. Your knight in shining armor, you scoff to yourself. The fact that you’re sharing a motel room with some stranger is outrageous and very much out of scope of what you had planned for this trip. Even if said stranger is nice to look at. You watch him from the corner of your eyes as you kick off your sneakers and pull your legs up on the bed into a criss-cross position. His white shirt has gone see-through in the back from sweat and it’s sticking to him. No wonder - he’s been wearing a leather jacket and also you clung to his back earlier like a koala while driving here.

It's only around 9 pm when you check your phone and start scrolling through various social media apps, quickly getting bored. Beads of sweat are forming on your forehead, you feel like you’re being boiled alive sitting here in jeans, but you’re not about to strip in front of Jungkook, who’s also taken his spot in the chair with his phone in hand.

“Hey, you want to get some more beer?” you ask him, sure that you’ll be up for quite a while and beer always makes you sleepy, so that might help.

“Sure,” he nods, walking over to you and holding his hand out. “We can get some from the bar.”

You let him help you off the bed and slip back into your shoes. It’s a quick trip, Jungkook never taking his arm off your waist as he walks you through the premises.

Equipped with 4 cold bottles of beer you return to your room where Jungkook immediately opens one for you with a lighter from his back pocket.

The cool liquid goes down smoothly, making you sigh in content as you sit down on the end of the bed so you can actually face him in his spot where he is currently holding the bottle against his neck in an effort to cool off.

Striking up a conversation while you down the first drink, you inquire further about his repair shop.

“It’s been in the family for a few generations,” he lets you know. “I’ve been around cars since I was little, back when it was my grandfather’s still.”

“Did you ever consider doing anything else? College or something?” you wonder.

Jungkook laughs at the idea. “I’m way too dumb for a degree. And I like getting my hands dirty. Manual labor takes my mind off of things. I enjoy it.”

You get it, the road trip was supposed to serve the same purpose - taking your mind off what’s been troubling you. Could’ve figured that driving by yourself for hours makes your thoughts race instead. Maybe you’re dumb too.

Jungkook asks about you being in between jobs then, since you mentioned it to him earlier.

“I quit so I could leave my place for a while. Wasn’t that great of a job anyway, so no loss there.”

You put the now empty bottle on the ground and flop back on the mattress with your eyes closed, letting the ceiling fan blow hot air around you for a bit.

“You alright?” Jungkook’s voice chimes up.

“Yeah,” you hum out from your horizontal position. Mostly thanks to him, you ponder and find yourself glad your car started going to shit in his vicinity and not some place else. You just chill for a moment, trying to drown out the ruckus outside of your room. You’re in here, safe, protected. Jungkook is pretty beefy, so you’re not too worried about any truckers trying to bust their way into here. The ones that crossed your way so far looked out of shape. Not that you’re judging, you probably wouldn’t opt for a gym session after driving for hours on end either.

“Thank you again,” you sit back up, feeling like you're admitting defeat. “For staying with me. I’m sorry for all the troubles.”

Jungkook only replies with a smile and hands you the second bottle of beer. “I didn’t have any plans for tonight anyway. Your company beats watching TV alone by miles.”

He’d probably have air conditioning though and wouldn’t have to swelter in this dump. His face is shiny from the sheen of sweat, making his dark hair stick to his forehead, which he brushes away with his fingers continuously. Actually, maybe you got lucky having him stuck here with you, cause the fabric sticking to his chest is … really something. You reluctantly peel your eyes away from his muscles, not trying to be a creep after all he’s done for you. Can’t be ogling him like one of those sleazy truckers did to you earlier. Maybe it’s the beer finding its way to your brain or you’re just really not better than a man.

Your body doesn’t feel much drier than him, though you are sure the sweat doesn’t look even half as attractive on you.

While sipping on your third beer, you talk about more benign things, discovering that Jungkook and you share a lot of favorite bands and musicians. During your conversation, he keeps putting the glass bottle up to his face like he did earlier, obviously uncomfortable from being hot.

The ceiling fan only swirls the hot air around, but on the bed and directly under it, it provides at least some relief from the unrelenting heat while he’s suffering in the cuck chair.

“You know you could just come sit on the bed, right?” you interrupt him waving his hand in front of his face like a makeshift fan.

He pauses, considering your offer, and then sighs. “Nah, I’m stinky from working, don’t want to make it all gross.”

“Please, I don’t want to find you melted into a puddle in that fucking chair tomorrow morning,” you joke. “Sounds like one hell of a clean-up. Also, who’s gonna fix my car if you perish from overheating?”

“I might not be the first dead body in that chair, now that I look at it,” he wrinkles his nose as he gets up and eyes the worn-out leather.

“But I’ll take a shower first, if that’s alright with you,” he finally gives in.

“Sure,” you nod. “Go ahead. Haven’t checked out the bathroom - hope you won’t come out dirtier than before.”

Jungkook chuckles as he makes his way into the little side-room.

While you hear the shower run, you empty your beer and shoot your friend a message that your arrival will be delayed because of your shitty car.

Shortly after the water turns off, Jungkook sheepishly peeks around the corner.

“My shirt is soaked,” he tells you with an apologetic smile. “I’ll air it out and put it back on, yeah?”

His coyness makes you burst into laughter. How cute.

“Jungkook, your shirt has been see-through for the last 2 hours, I’ve seen it all. Now don’t be stupid and come sit with me.”

He huffs out a quiet laugh and throws his moist t-shirt on the sideboard, hoping it will dry down, before putting his shoes and socks next to yours by the door.

“Which side are you gonna sleep on?” he asks you, making you raise an eyebrow.

“I’m not going to put my greasy ass down where you have to sleep,” he explains and gestures at the smears on his pants. “This bed is probably already gross enough.”

You take a tentative whiff of the pillowcase on your side. “It’s actually not so bad,” you shrug your shoulders before patting the mattress on the unoccupied half of the bed, urging him to finally come and sit.

So, in this incredible turn of events, you’re now sitting shoulder to shoulder with a shirtless small-town mechanic, watching TV in a decrepit motel.

Switching through countless porn channels, you finally happen upon re-runs of The X-Files, which makes both of you perk up in excitement.

“I love Gillian Anderson,” you gush as her glorious red hair appears on screen.

“I love David Duchovny,” Jungkook replies with a sigh. “Gillian’s not bad either.”

His remark doesn’t surprise you as you recall the very bisexual collection of raunchy calendars displayed in his shop.

You both settle against the headboard, getting comfortable, and dive into the episode, following along as Scully and Mulder track down a mutant man that’s hiding in vents to eat people’s livers. Mulder has just foiled the abomination’s attempt to murder some family when Jungkook’s head suddenly drops onto your shoulder.

You can tell he’s asleep by the way his body is slumped against yours. So much for watching the door, huh?

His soft, slow breathing is fanning over your neck and you decide to just let him nap, watching the intro to the next episode roll. That is, until your back starts to hurt from your current position, so you shift slightly, which startles Jungkook awake.

“Oh, fuck, I’m sorry,” he looks at you horrified when the initial post-nap confusion has worn off. “Did I drool on you?”

You assure him it’s fine and that he did not. Jungkook stands up and stretches his arms over his head, your eyes following the movement of his bared muscles as he does. He yawns and shuffles over to the window, cracking it open and sticking his head outside.

The clamor has calmed down it seems, no more yelling and fighting audible, you realize in relief.

“I think we can keep this open now,” Jungkook decides. “It has cooled down like… at least 1 degree.”

You agree, even if it won’t help with the warmth, some fresh air won’t hurt.

“You should try and get some sleep,” he proposes. “I’m guessing you still have some miles to drive tomorrow.”

He’s probably right and you can feel the beer you had swimming around in your head, relaxing your body.

Jungkook goes to switch off the big light and settles back into the cuck chair. Apparently he’s not planning on resuming his little nap but is back on duty.

You pull off your socks, leaving you in jeans and a shirt still, which is not your preferred way of going to bed. Since you’re still hot, you just lie down on top of the duvet, turning to your side and pulling up your legs.

“Good girl,” Jungkook coos at you from across the room and you can feel his smirk without even looking at him.

The minutes pass by and you just toss and turn, not able to wind down at all.

“Can’t sleep, huh?” Jungkook asks when you reach for the phone on your nightstand after the futile 30-minute attempt to drift off has gone nowhere. You’re uncomfortable in your clothes, sweating, and your mind keeps straying to exactly the places you’ve tried to outrun with your road trip.

Before you swing your legs off the bed you reach to turn on the lamp on the bedside table as you don’t dig sitting around in complete darkness. You’re in the process of stretching your neck and shoulders while Jungkook rummages through his backpack. It seems like he found what he was looking for because he perks up.

“Wanna smoke?” he asks you, holding up a pre-rolled joint with a bright smile on his face.

You laugh and go through your own bag, producing a ready-to-go spliff as well.

“I’m taking this as a Yes,” Jungkook chuckles and moves to the opened window where you join him. You squeeze past him so you can hop up on the windowsill, sitting with your legs dangling in the air and your side leaning against the window frame.

Jungkook rests his upper body against the other side before he fishes the lighter out of his pocket and ignites the joint between his lips.

Passing the doobie between each other, you pick up the topic of his shop again, still curious.

“You plan on staying in your town forever?” you ask him. “Like, just keep the garage going until you’re too old to work anymore?”

He takes a drag and huffs out some smoke while he thinks about it.

“I like the mechanic work,” he starts. “But I’m not really keen on living the rural town life for the rest of eternity.”

“I knew you weren’t the type.”

“Yeah. But I just can’t let go of the shop. I thought about selling it before, but I can’t bring myself to do it. It would probably kill my dad if I did.”

“He’d want you to be happy, no?”

He hums pensively, takes another hit and hands you the joint. Jungkook lets his fingers linger on yours for a moment when he does. His side is pressing into your thigh since there’s not much space in the window. The way his eyes are locked on yours is making your breath hitch and you almost choke on the smoke you inhaled. You cough, which makes him reach behind you to stroke your back. Your free hand grabs his naked shoulder while you recover from the coughing fit.

Once you catch your breath and sit back up straight, Jungkook doesn’t return to his spot next to you, but instead remains in front of you, basically between your legs.

His hand slides away from your back though, holding on to the windowsill next to your leg instead.

“I didn’t really quit my job for the trip,” you sigh, looking down at your dangling feet. The weed really seems to loosen up your tongue tonight. “Just couldn’t do it anymore, it kept burning me out to a pathetic pile of ash.”

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook earnestly tells you, squeezing your arm lightly in a comforting manner.

Apparently your weed-riddled brain decides to just lay out all your business to him, because before you can stop yourself, you are already dropping the rest of your recent lore.

“’M driving through the whole country to my friend’s place because I found out I got cheated on. The breakup hit me quite hard after such a long time together. Needed to get far, far away.”

“Must be a fucking idiot,” Jungkook shakes his head and tries to catch your gaze, which makes you lift your head when he starts to crouch to look up at you.

He moves closer to you then, making your knees spread further to accommodate his frame.  After flicking the butt of the joint out of the window, he places his palm on your thigh while his other hand comes up and brushes some of your hair behind your ear. His head is cocked to the side and you’re locking eyes, with his fingers still resting softly against your cheek.

It’s like time freezes and then you’re suddenly leaning forward and your lips collide, slotting together effortlessly, like they were never meant to be apart to begin with. You sigh against him as if you’re letting go of a breath you didn’t know you were holding and he uses the moment to slip his tongue between your parted lips. His hand has wandered to your neck while yours found their way to his shoulders, pulling him closer, as your tongues dance against each other. All the stress of today just falls off you, like a lizard shedding his skin. The kiss is all-encompassing, leaving no room for any thoughts in your head other than taking away every inch of space between your bodies. As you make out, the palm on your thigh slowly caresses from your leg to your side and then back down to your ass, where it rests and squeezes ever so lightly. Even this soft touch makes your hips hitch towards Jungkook and you feel him smile against your mouth and exhale a laugh through his nose. You would be embarrassed if he wasn’t pressing himself into your crotch, holding you in place, obviously just as excited to feel you against his body. He nibbles on your lower lip before licking across it and then his face is suddenly gone from yours. You just stare at him all dumb and breathless, still entangled with him. His thumb brushes over your lip, wiping away the moisture left behind from the kiss and continues to put it in his mouth. You stifle a whine at the sight, trying to collect yourself at least a little bit, so you slide off the windowsill. Not taking into account Jungkook’s close proximity to you, the movement makes you rub yourself against his groin by accident. He’s not shy about the groan that leaves him at the contact, but he steps back a bit to give you space anyway.

“Want to give sleep another shot?” he asks you, brushing over your cheek one last time before removing his hand.

“Mhm,” you nod. “I’m gonna take a shower first though.”

“Good idea,” Jungkook sends you off with a pat to your ass, making your face heat up even more.

Oh, you really need a cold shower for more than one reason.

You finally step out of your sweaty clothes, dropping them in a pile on the bathroom floor. When the spray of water hits you, you sigh. It feels so good to finally wash away the grime. What you can’t rinse off is the tight feeling between your legs as you think about Jungkook, shirtless and sweaty, pressed to your body. You take a few minutes to just stand under the water raining down on you, fighting the urge to touch yourself, that’s how riled up the kiss has gotten you.

When you turn off the water and get out of the shower, you realize that there is only a small towel, nothing that could actually cover your body in any decent way. You only brought panties to the bathroom with you. The only thing you find attached to the door is a questionable bathrobe. Better than nothing, you think after inspecting and smelling it, deciding it’s clean. You quickly towel-dry your wet hair with the small cloth so you don’t look like a dog that got caught in the rain before slipping on your panties and the robe, closing it around you with its belt.

Jungkook has returned to the cuck chair when you come back out. He’s reclined back into it, leisurely stretching his spread legs out as he eyes you with heavy lids. He’s so fucking sexy lounging there in just his jeans, his upper body glazed by sweat, making his tattoo glisten in the dim light of the bedside lamp. You nibble on your lower lip absentmindedly, slowly stepping closer.

And he’s looking right back at you like he wants to ravish you. The slight tent in the front of his pants is reassuring proof that the kissing didn’t leave him unaffected either.

“Are you not hot in this?” he gestures at your robe while looking you up and down before sitting up straight.

“Are you not hot in your jeans?” you tease in response, making him chuckle.

“C’mere,” he curls his fingers at you to beckon you closer and your feet move before your brain even catches up.

Once you’re in reach, he grabs the belt of the bathrobe and pulls you into him, hands snaking to your backside when there’s no more room between you. He massages your ass cheeks through the soft fabric at an agonizingly slow pace and you’re already becoming impatient, so you take initiative and climb into his lap, your knees around his thighs. There’s just enough room in the chair for you to fit. With your arms locked around his neck, you immediately go in for another kiss, licking into him. Spurred on by your eagerness, his hands slip under your robe, making the belt slowly unravel with each movement of his palms against your naked skin underneath. You didn’t think it was possible in this heat, but you erupt in goosebumps when his fingers slide over your waist, up to the side of your breasts where he lets them linger before splaying them out to cup your tits.

“Your skin is so soft,” he mutters against your lips just as one of his digits brushes over a pert nipple, which makes you inhale a sharp breath. His mouth moves to the side of your neck, where he sucks on your skin, surely leaving behind bruises. The sensation makes you grind your hips down against his growing cock, craving friction. He groans into the crook of your neck, so you keep swiveling your lower body in his lap, both of your breathing increasing in speed as your arousal is escalating to new levels.

Finally, he’s had enough of the bathrobe covering his view of your body and when you let go of him, he slides it off your shoulders, dropping it to pool on the floor by his feet.

With your bare tits in front of his face, he hums in approval, his hands roaming the skin of your nude torso.

“Wow,” he sighs in appreciation, licking over his lips once before latching on to a nipple. The flicking of his tongue elicits a whimper from you and makes your back arch, pressing your chest closer to him.

You can feel the rough denim covering his dick though the thin fabric of your underwear, which is already going damp as you rub yourself over him again and again.

You lift yourself off his crotch, your hand finding his belt, undoing the buckle. When you struggle to open the fly of his pants one-handed, he removes his hand from your tit and looks up at you.

“You sure?” he asks you softly and when you nod, he helps you out by popping the button himself, so you just have to pull down the zipper. He lifts himself off the seat just enough to wriggle the jeans down to his thighs. His hard dick twitches excitedly when you palm him through his Calvin Klein boxers.

Jungkook reaches between you, his fingers finding your still clothed pussy, just ghosting over your core, tentatively. You instinctively press down into his touch, sighing, which impels him to run his digits over the moistened fabric harder. Feeling your arousal through the panties already, he pulls them to the side, giving him access to run his finger between your labia. “Like silk,” he muses quietly, before dipping in further, gathering your wetness.

“Dripping for me already,” he groans, his breath fanning over your neck now. “So fucking hot.”

His middle finger finds your entrance then and pushes in slowly before curling it once inside. You writhe in his hold, impatient to be filled by him.  After pumping a few times, he slides in a second finger, the pads dragging across your walls which each movement of his wrist, making you whine.

When the thirst for his cock takes over you, you reach down to the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down just far enough to free his hard dick. He moans lowly when you wrap your fingers around him, squeezing before giving him a determined tug, your thumb spreading precum across his tip.

His fingers slip out of you then, leaving you clenching around air. His hand comes up on top of yours on him, engulfing your smaller one completely, guiding your pumps. Your juices on his fingers add to the glide, every stroke along his length now producing a nasty squelching sound.

With his free hand, he fishes out his wallet from his jeans, producing a single condom. You basically rip it out of his fingers, tearing the package open with your teeth. After slapping his own hand away from his dick with the back of yours, you roll on the rubber.

He takes hold of your wrist and gently twists you palm up under his face, then lets a drop of spit fall into it. You spread the drool around his shaft before lining yourself up to the tip of his cock.

Jungkook grips on to your waist as you lower yourself down on him until you’re flush to his crotch. The stretch makes you whimper as he slides into you, his own head falling back on to the chair with his eyes closed.

“Shit,” he mutters, voice strained. “You feel amazing.”

That’s enough encouragement for you to start moving, your hips going in circles as you bounce up and down. His cock curves just the right way to rub over your g-spot each time you slam your ass down into him.

His fingers have wandered to your ass cheeks, kneading at the supple flesh. He’s not guiding your movement, he lets you take the reigns as you ride him like your life depends on it.

The damn cuck chair is restricting you though, your knees confined by the armrests, you can’t get into it the way you know would blow his fucking mind. When you lift yourself off his cock, his head shoots back up, looking at you quizzically as you move off his lap and lower yourself on the floor between his legs. He spreads them immediately, accommodating you kneeling before him.

You peel off the condom, throwing it aside, before bracing yourself on his thigh with one hand. His palm comes down to land on top of your fingers running over the muscle of his upper leg. He caresses your hand as you close in on his cock, poking out your tongue to give it tiny kitten licks all over. His gaze never leaves you when your lips finally close around his leaking tip and he immediately twitches in your mouth with a whimper. Your lips are wet from precum and you let them run over his tip and down his shaft before taking him in properly. While you work your way down his length, your tongue flat against it, small whine-like sounds keep escaping him, contrasting the low groans he huffed out before and it’s making your head swim with need.

You hollow out your cheeks, sucking him down as far as you can go, your tongue swirling over his frenulum and through his slit on every upwards move. He’s too big to get all of him into your mouth, so you wrap your fingers around the remaining length, aiding with flicks of your wrist.

The groans from earlier begin to mix in between the higher-pitched whimpering, his fingers gripping on to yours harder as you keep going.

Jungkook is staring at you through the whole blowjob, mouth slightly agape, his chest heaving.

“So damn pretty with my cock in your mouth,” he muses between huffs, his free hand tangling into the back of your hair.

The praise goes straight to your pussy, throbbing and feeling neglected. You’re sure though it’s not going to be for long while you keep bobbing your head. And you were right, because soon after he peels you off himself gently by your hair, his other hand helping you up. He pulls you closer to him, slotting his lips against yours for a lazy kiss with his fingers grazing your jaw.

After breaking the kiss, he gets up, his sweaty back sticking to the leather producing a moist squelch, taking you with him and walking you over to the bed while stepping out of his jeans and boxers on the way. He lays you down on your back with an arm around you.

This time it’s him getting on his knees at the end of the bed. Jungkook grabs you by your waist and pulls you towards him, your legs spread around his head. He removes the panties still bunched up next to your pussy, taking a deep whiff of them before tossing them aside. He dips his head between your thighs immediately, mumbling against your core.

“You smell like heaven,” you can barely make out, his voice muffled by your skin, but it’s enough to make you moan at the dirty compliment. Maybe you have a praise kink that you weren’t aware of before, because he’s driving you insane.

The last thing you see before your head falls on the mattress is his twinkling eyes looking at you with hunger-blown pupils. Then his mouth is on you, his tongue running along your slit, lapping up the gathered arousal. Each pass of his tongue is pulling you further into oblivion and when he finally sucks your clit between his lips, all you can do is gasp and grip the bedsheets. His nose is pressed to your pubic mound as he lavishes at your pussy, relentlessly flicking over your most sensitive spot. He’s really not wasting any time, already having you right on the edge.

He alternates between his tongue and his lips in a mind-numbing rhythm and then two of his fingers push into you as well. Feeling him press his fingertips into your walls and working your clit at the same time has you arching off the bed.

“Don’t stop,” you plead, your orgasm approaching in a rapid pace.

With one last curl of his fingers inside you, you clench around them and come on his face. Your thighs close around his head, caging him in as your hips lift off the mattress accompanied by a strangled whimper. Your body twitches helplessly as he keeps lapping at your clit, bordering on overstimulation as your orgasm slowly ebbs down and you finally have to push his face away from between your thighs.

“Fuck, I could eat you out forever,” he groans, his lips and chin dripping in spit and your wetness as he reluctantly detaches from you. “I can’t get enough of your pussy. So sweet.”

You laugh breathlessly, slumping back on to your elbows. “Yeah, I could tell.”

He comes up from the floor, his palm wrapped around his rock-hard cock, stroking himself. When he looks down on you with hooded eyes, you grab his arm and pull him down. Jungkook chuckles as he lands on top of you, holding himself up with one arm so he doesn’t crush you.

His leg slots between yours and his cock drags along your hip, smearing precum on your skin when he crashes your lips together. After feverishly letting your tongues tangle and bodies rub against each other, giving you time to recover, he pulls away and rolls onto his back. Using the moment, you grab a condom from your backpack next to the bed before you follow along, swinging your leg over his thighs to straddle him. You put the protection on him with gentle hands, only tugging lightly a single time when you’re done. Hovering just above his twitching cock then, you start exploring his torso, fingers running across his abs up to his chest, feeling the taut muscle contract under your hands. You trace the tattoo that goes from his arm, over his shoulder down to his pecks. His nipples are hardened and you can’t resist brushing over them, small, dark and stiff, contrasting his pale skin. His hips hitch up at the teasing touch, making his cock glide between your labia. He whimpers and curses under his breath as he keeps sliding along your pussy, still puffy from the orgasm. The tip of his dick catches on your clit with every hump, your body now moving in sync to his motions, increasing the delicious friction.

On your last slide downwards, you angle your hips and with you still being soaked and spit-slick, his cock enters you without resistance. His hands on your ass tighten their grip as he sucks in a harsh breath. You can’t hold back your own drawn-out moan as your pussy is finally being filled out again. With your fingers splayed on his abdomen for support, you lift up slightly just to slam back down. There’s no slow start, you’re not playing around, immediately gyrating your hips with every bounce, your pussy gripping his cock tightly like it’s trying to rip it off.

The room is filled with the sound of skin slapping on skin, wet squelching every time you move back down on his cock and a symphony of both your moans echoing off the walls.

Jungkook lets you lead again, but after a while, he can’t help but thrust up into you, matching your rhythm and speed. You straighten out your back so you can reach behind you, cradling his balls, massaging them while you rock in his lap, before dipping down further to press into his taint firmly, pulling another whimper from him.

“Damn,” he presses out, his dick pumping into you. “You’re the best fucking ride of my life.”

With his cock dragging along your walls, you let yourself fall forward and his arms close around your lower back, holding you close. You rest your head against his shoulder, your ass still drawing circles on him, your cheeks ricocheting every time your hips meet. At this angle, your clit is now rubbing against him, making you gasp at the much-needed friction while he shoves into you from beneath. It doesn’t take long for you to get close again, so you grind down harder, chasing your high.

When your moans increase in volume, Jungkook digs his hands back into your ass.

“That’s it,” he breathes against your ear. “Come on my cock like a good girl.”

His words unravel you immediately, the coil in your stomach snapping and you come for a second time with a cry, the intensity almost overwhelming. Your pussy clenches around him tightly, making him groan through gritted teeth under you. You sob into his shoulder while you try to keep riding out your orgasm with trembling thighs and your whole body convulsing.

Jungkook doesn’t give you a chance to calm down this time. With strong arms, he lifts you off him and on your back. He stares down at you with dark eyes as he positions himself between your legs before he grabs the back of your knees and basically folds you in half. Jungkook rams his cock back into you without warning, the bed creaking loudly under the pistoning of his hips. You can do nothing but take his delicious slams into your sensitive pussy, too fucked out to contribute, your breathing coming out in shallow huffs between moans.

With a particularly harsh thrust, you hear a bed slat crash into the floor. Jungkook doesn’t seem to care that he’s not only taking you apart, but also the bedframe, rapidly approaching his orgasm judging by the stuttered grunts that reverberate around you. You feel like you’re getting vertigo from Jungkook all over and inside you, the effects of you coming so hard still lingering, having you blissed out and your brain comfortably empty.

It doesn’t take long for his movements to go choppy.

“Fuck, how are you still so tight… so… perfect,” he struggles to grit out between heavy breaths before his hips still and he releases his load inside you accompanied by stuttered moans. The fingers on the back of your thighs dig into your skin, probably leaving marks, as he continues pumping into you sloppily until your pussy has milked every last drop of cum out of him and he can’t hold himself up any longer. His body gives out, trembling, and he lets go of your legs before collapsing on top of you.

With his face in the crook of your neck, he exhales a shaky, incredulous laugh. Your fingers tangle into the back of his hair, caressing his scalp while he comes down. You are close to drifting off with Jungkook’s weight pressing into you, a calming feeling washing over you, when his voice startles you awake again.

“Are you okay?” he asks you with a hoarse voice, lifting himself off you, taking off the condom and settling against your side instead. His arm finds your middle and he pulls you closer.

“Better than the bed,” you giggle sleepily.

Reluctantly, you move out of his embrace, not willing to risk having to continue your road trip with a bladder infection.

“I’ll be right back,” you let him know.

You traipse to the bathroom to pee and when you come back, Jungkook is on his back, snoring lightly. You quickly pull on a baggy t-shirt and some panties and climb back into bed, careful not to wake him. When you snuggle into his side, his mouth curls into a smile and he hums.

“I’m taking you to breakfast before we go back tomorrow,” he mumbles with a sleep-tinged voice before drifting back off.

Masterlist

Mr. and Mrs. Jeon lived on a quiet street with white painted fences and neatly trimmed gardens — at least that is what you would imagine them to be in summer. The bushes on either side of the graveled pathway are nothing but bare bones, dusted in a thick layer of snow from last night's heavy fall. The house itself is a simple, two story home with pale wooden boards and a clean-cut stone porch — somewhere one would expect a happily married couple to live

Up ahead, Cassian skips forward eagerly, excitement bouncing off of him in tandem with each step he takes. He's been talking non-stop throughout the entire car ride here and now he was practically singing his way to the front door, leaving the rest of you to follow in his wake. 

Jungkook walks beside you, the gravel crunching beneath your shoes. He carries two bags worth of wrapped Christmas gifts, another with the essentials he'd brought for the two-day stay you were to have at his parents house. Your own duffel bag sits heavy on your shoulder, slamming against your side every now and again like a ticking clock. 

You're thankful for the box of freshly baked cookies you hold, otherwise you would've probably reached for Jungkook's hand to calm your nerves. Instead you let your fingers curl a little tighter around the plastic corners, tongue pushing against your teeth anxiously. 

To say that you were nervous would be an understatement. You were actually terrified. Not only were you being introduced to the children's grandparents but Jungkook's own mother and father as you impose on a holiday meant for family. Sure you had been invited to come and it wasn't like you were showing up unannounced, but your blood still rushed at the thought of doing this.

You glance to the cookies you had woken up early this morning to bake, placed neatly inside the container you cling to so desperately. It wasn't much but it was better than arriving empty handed, you think. 

Cassian has already made it up the two small steps leading to the front door, finally turning to urge the rest of you along. "Come on!" he says as he rocks back and forth on tiny feet, ignoring Rayne's unamused huff where she walks on the other side of her father. 

When you join him on the porch your heart is close to beating out of your chest. Sweat beads on your forehead when you glance between Jungkook and to what could only wait on the other side of the door. You're just about to tell him that this was a horrible idea that should have never been brought up in the first place when Cassian jams a finger to the doorbell. 

The sharp tune can be heard through the walls, alerting those inside of your arrival and it takes but a second for a lock to be twisted on the other side. Too late. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you do your best to straighten up and plaster a somewhat less dreadful expression onto your face. 

"Nana!" 

Cassian's shout comes as soon as the door opens and he's already flinging himself into the arms of the woman waiting on the other side. She looks to be in her sixties, her dark hair, thrown together in a bun, graying slightly. Her arms envelop the small boy, a wrinkled hand coming to rest atop his head that reached all the way to her chest. "Hi sweetheart," she coos, beaming from ear to ear as she hugs her grandson. 

Rayne, too, steps forward as she gives the man beside her grandma a hug. Mr. Jeon was a tall man and he probably reached Jungkook's height in his prime. The glasses slide down on his nose when he tilts his chin to see his granddaughter better, smiling widely under his short mustache, patting the top of her head affectionately. "Why, don't you look dashing today young lady?" he muses. 

They're both dressed for the occasion, Mr. Jeon in a thicker, green sweater and Mrs. Jeon in a fluffy cardigan of the same colour. The wedding rings on their fingers glint under the afternoon sun and you find yourself staring at them a little longer than intended. 

Only once they pull back from their respective hugs do their gazes lift, landing on their son with equal enthusiasm. Mrs. Jeon pulls him in for a hug which Jungkook just about manages to reciprocate given the bags he carries. "Ah, my boy!" She says as she rises to her tip-toes to better greet him. 

"It's good to see you too mother," Jungkook hums, leaning down to accept the kiss she presses to his cheek. It was oddly endearing to see him with his mother, you thought. And for a moment you forget about how anxious you had been to get here as you silently watch the interaction between him and his parents. 

When he's finally released from Mrs. Jeon's tight embrace, he turns to his father who places a firm hand on his shoulder before relieving him of one of the bags. "Safe travels I hope?" Mr. Jeon asks to which Jungkook nods. 

"Quite a bit of snow on the roads, but it was alright," Jungkook says before getting interrupted by his mother who had now turned to you. 

"Hello dear," she smiles, "My grandchildren has told me all about their lovely nanny." Mrs. Jeon extends a hand, the red tint to her nails catching your attention. 

Juggling the container of cookies over to your left arm, you reach out to accept the warm handshake she gives you. "Thank you, it's so nice to finally meet you…" 

"Ye-seo," she finishes for you as her lips stretch wider across her face. You nod, letting go of her hand just in time for Mr. Jeon to step forward as well. 

His grip is a lot firmer than his wife's, fingers closing around your own as he takes your palm in both of his. "Jaejoon," he introduces himself, eyes crinkling slightly behind his glasses. When you pull back again a brief silence settles over your party before Mrs. Jeon steps aside. 

"Well come on in, we have much to do!" 

Mr. and Mrs. Jeon were kind people. That is what you managed to gather from stepping foot inside their home. Mr. Jeon retrieved your coat as he hung it up next to Cassian's before bringing the children and their father along to the living room while Mrs. Jeon took it upon herself to give you a tour of the house. 

"Oh dearest, you really did not have to!" she exclaimed when you shyly offered her the box of cookies. Though she accepted the gift gratefully when placing it down on the yellow-tiled counter top. 

Their kitchen was a lot smaller than the one at the Jeon estate, adorned with colorful appliances that reflected little of the beige theme back at Jungkook's place. And while it wasn't messy, the house still looked lived in. Signs of life sprouted from each corner, be it the potted plants on the windowsill or the half-finished cup of tea left next to the stove. 

Mrs. Jeon is still fawning over the container of cookies you had brought, having taken off the lid to smell the delicious treats for herself. "It's not much…" You hastily begin, fingers fiddling absently with one another as you regard her, "But I hope they taste alright." 

"Nonsense!" Mrs. Jeon exclaims, "They will fit perfectly on the table." She puts the container aside and you notice the several prepped trays of home-made pastries, all ready for tomorrow. "Very well then, let me show you the rest of the house," the words have barely left her lips before she's headed out of the kitchen, quick on her feet as she moves through the living room. 

For such a small woman, Mrs. Jeon sure kept a steady pace and you almost struggled to keep up as you avoided bumping into the different trinkets and paintings that cover the walls. She takes you through the living room, where your eyes briefly meet Jungkook's as he speaks with his father. His lips are moving but whatever he was saying to the man beside him is drowned out by Mrs. Jeon's cheerful voice, "There is a bathroom just around the corner, though the shower is on the second floor." 

She makes easy work of the stairs, climbing the steps that take you into a long hallway. Four doors are evenly situated on either side of said hall, the first one to your right is cracked open an inch, and when passing by you slow down to peer inside. 

You find a bunk bed pushed against the far left corner, bright and blue curtains frame the window that looks out to the street outside. On a shelf sits a sparse selection of both books and toys, a kid friendly area that takes you by surprise. 

Mrs. Jeon stops in her tracks when she notices your lingering gaze. "Ah, we have a room set up for the children," she explains when coming to stand beside you, "It's good for them to have their own space here. Especially after everything that happened with their mother." 

The casual mention of the woman whose name was avoided like the plague back at the Jeon estate makes you freeze. Your shoulders form a rigid line and you turn to Mrs. Jeon with a frown that is impossible to miss. 

Your puzzled, if not hesitant expression makes the old lady instantly sigh. "Oh dear, he hasn't told you about that, has he?" She does not sound surprised by her own revelation, nor does she your following response:

"No," you shake your head, "Why? What happened?" 

Curiosity gnaws at you, the way it had ever since you stumbled across the locked door on the second floor during your first day. Part of you hopes that she will quench your thirst, the other thinks you selfish for even daring to pry on such a private matter. 

Mrs. Jeon waves a dismissive hand at nothing in particular, "It's an ugly story." Her eyes drag across the bedroom slowly as she draws in a silent breath. The look on her face is solemn, as though she was lost in thought, some place far away. Then she snaps out of the momentary trance, blinking twice and turning to you with a smile. "Nothing worth lingering on today," she says, "It's Christmas after all." 

She continues down the hall like nothing had happened, leaving you to follow with your tongue held. 

After moving past what you presume to be her and Mr. Jeon's bedroom, she comes to a halt in front of the room furthest down the hall to the left. "Here is our guest bedroom," pushing the door open, she allows you to step inside.

The room itself is quaint, with yellow, pastel walls and a few paintings of landscapes hung on them. A single bed sits in the middle, the headboard leaning against the window, where the naked trees in the backyard can be seen through the glass. 

"It's nothing extravagant," comes Mrs. Jeon's voice from the doorway, "But I hope its comforts will be to your standards."

Your duffel bag slides off your shoulder, landing on the duvet with a soft thud as you take in your surroundings. "I assure you it is most perfect," fingers brushing against the covers, you turn to her with a smile, "Your home is beautiful." 

Mrs. Jeon thanks you with a dramatic tilt of her head as she goes on to explain how her and her husband had acquired the property back in the early fifties. But your attention is no longer with her, rather the white dresser to your left. Its golden handles glint under the sunlight, spilling through the window and you find yourself approaching without second thought. 

On top of it sits porcelain figurines, a duck, a horse, a little girl. You scan them briefly before landing on the picture frame in the middle. The rim is the same golden hue as that of the dresser's knobs but it is the young man in the photo that pulls you in. 

His dark hair looks almost spiky as it stands in all directions, some of it falling down his neck. The clothes he wears are bold, a sleeveless t-shirt with a pale woman's face printed in its center, a checkered flannel tied to his jeans which appear to be a couple of sizes too big on him. Your finger lingers on the choker around his neck. Had it not been for the familiar designs that cover his right arm, or the intense look in those dark eyes, Jungkook would've been almost unrecognizable. 

"He was just a kid in that one." 

You hadn't heard Mrs. Jeon approach, and her voice startles you from the photo as you turn to her. She stands close enough for her shoulder to brush your arm, humming softly to herself as she, too, regards the frame. "I tried to talk him out of those rings on his face," she shakes her head, "But he wouldn't listen of course."

Your gaze follows hers back to the picture of Jungkook and it is then you notice the silver hoop that hugs his bottom lip, another sitting on his brow. You remember tracing the scars they had left behind, the way he had dismissed them as nothing but a distant memory. "He must've been quite the handful I imagine." 

The statement actually makes her chuckle and Mrs. Jeon reaches out to pluck the picture frame from the dresser as she cradles it in her hands. "You have no idea," she muses, "His father and I have grounded him more times than I can remember, not that it ever worked." Despite that, there's fondness in the way she shakes her head as a small smile tugs at the corner of her mouth, "He always found a way to sneak out." 

The idea of a much younger Jungkook climbing through his window or tip-toeing down the stairs is amusing and you try to imagine just how he might've looked. Hearing Mrs. Jeon talk about her son the way she was right now only feeds to growing curiosity inside of you. That Jungkook did not at all seem like the man you knew today, the one who combed his hair back and wore pristine button-ups. 

"He looks like a completely different person," your thoughts escape your parted lips in a silent whisper. For a second you worry that it might offend her, but his mother simply nods. 

"He is," her tone takes on a quieter edge, "All grown up now." Mrs. Jeon sighs as she places the frame back in its designated spot. "He's done good for himself, all things considered," after a moment's of silence she then adds, "Though sometimes I do miss that side of him." She lets out a humorless laugh, giving your arm a gentle pat, "Even if he drove me up the walls." 

Then, without as much as a glance toward the old photograph, she turns on her heel and heads back toward the door which you had came through. "We best join the others downstairs, otherwise there won't be a tree left for us to decorate," she calls over her shoulder. 

Your gaze returns to the picture of Jungkook, giving it a final once-over before you go to follow Mrs Jeon out of the room. It is when you step over the threshold that the sudden thought strikes you, "Where will Jungkook be sleeping?" You hadn't even stopped to consider that you were inhabiting the only guest bedroom left. 

"Oh," Mrs. Jeon gestures toward the study when you walk past it, "When we found out we would be hosting one more this year, Jaejoon brought one of the spare beds from the attic and placed it in his office." She hums as you begin descending the stairs, "Jungkook has already volunteered to sleep in there." 

A bitter feeling of guilt roots itself in your chest and your fingers curl tight around the banister as you keep up with Mrs. Jeon. You'd like to argue that there was no need for him to do that — that if anything, you should be sleeping in the study. But as you make it to the bottom step, where the sound of Cassian's laughter and Mr. Jeon's teasing conversation can be heard, you found yourself unable to speak. 

"More to the left." 

"No— Right!" 

"Left looks better." 

Cassian sticks out his tongue in retaliation to his sister who simply rolls her eyes back at him. They had been bickering with one other over the placement of the last candy cane ornament for the past couple of minutes and your arm was beginning to grow tired as you held the decoration out, swaying it left and right as you tried to please them both. 

Jungkook and his parents had taken to the kitchen in order to get started on tonight's dinner, leaving you alone to do what you always did — babysit the children. 

"Guys, how about we just place it in the middle?" you suggest, only to be met by instant protests from both kids as they shake their heads unanimously. 

"To the left," Rayne points a finger in said direction. 

Her brother quickly shoves her arm aside as he firmly states his thoughts on the matter. "No, it needs to be on the right!" He says, his voice bordering on a whine. 

The muscles in your bicep strain with each passing second, in fact you're inclined to just give up and leave one of them disappointed when Mr. Jeon suddenly appears in the doorway. "Children," he says, immediately grabbing both Rayne's and Cassian's attention as he walks over to place a hand on their shoulders, "What is all this fussing? On Christmas Eve no less." 

Their expressions morph into something chastised, eyes dropping to the floor as the younger pouts. "Sorry, papa," Rayne says as she flattens out the sleeve of her sweater. Her brother mumbles an apology of his own, though not without giving his rival a quick glare. 

Mr. Jeon inhales a deep breath, nodding thoughtfully to himself before turning to Cassian, "How about you let your sister pick where this one goes?" The tiny boy looks ready to argue but is quickly shut down as his grandfather continues, "And you put the star up." 

That seems to please him enough to drop the petty argument again as he goes to retrieve the item in question. Rayne hums, turning back to you with a triumphant look, "To the right," she jerks her chin dramatically and you obey as you hang the candy cane up at last. Breathing out a sigh of relief when your arm is finally allowed to drop back against your side, you step back to admire the work you had done so far. 

The tree was clad in soft, yellow lights, red and white globes, a handful of candy canes and even a few gingerbread men. All that was missing would be the star to go on top, which Cassian comes carrying a moment later — careful not to drop the precious artifact. 

"Papa, help me," he pleads as he peers up at the man with hopeful eyes. Mr. Jeon huffs under his breath, grabbing the boy by his hips as he hoists him up with a grunt. 

Arms extended as far as they go, his brows furrow in concentration as he works on getting the ornament in place. "Careful now," Mr. Jeon hums, clearly not wanting an accident the day before Christmas. 

After some finessing Cassian manages to place it just right and he's allowed back to solid ground with an excited squeal. "Look!" He gestures toward the shining star and you follow his gaze with a smile. With all the decorations put up, the tree looks just about ready for tomorrow. You can't help the almost childlike flicker of joy in your chest. While spending the holidays with your parents was nice, it had been years since you found yourself sharing the Christmas spirit. 

"Can we go get the presents now?" Cassian quips, making both you and his grandfather turn to him. 

"Yes of course—" you begin, stopping yourself to send Mr. Jeon a hesitant glance, "If it's okay with your papa." 

Mr. Jeon simply nods, giving the small boy a pat on his back. "But no trying to open them, alright?" he says, putting on a stern tone that makes both children instantly straighten up. Cassian grabs Rayne by the hand, leading her toward the hallway where the bags of wrapped gifts were. 

That leaves you and Mr. Jeon, standing side by side next to the lit Christmas tree. You busy yourself with tucking your shirt into your jeans, adjusting the thin belt within its loops, anything to fill the temporary silence as the kids rummage through the bags somewhere in the distance. 

"Rayne tells me you've been looking after them for quite some time now." The sudden conversation that Mr. Jeon initiates catches you off guard. Head whipping in his direction, you give a subtle tilt of your chin as you meet his warm gaze. 

"Uh yes, two months now I think," you say, rubbing the back of your neck awkwardly. 

Mr. Jeon hums, "That's good." His gaze drifts toward the hallway where Cassian and Rayne had disappeared just moments ago. "Jungkook has struggled to find someone that could help him with them," he says when running a hand through what little hair he had left, "They're not easy children." 

He was right about that, you thought with a quiet exhale. You could still remember your first day at the Jeon house, their stiff postures and rehearsed lines that dripped with politeness you knew they did not actually mean. "They aren't," you agree. 

In the other room you hear Cassian giggle, the joyful sound followed by rustling of plastic. Rayne mutters something unintelligible to her brother, but there's amusement in her voice. The corner of your lip curls upward, "Though they're lovely. I'm grateful to know them." 

You can feel Mr. Jeon's gaze on you, a flash of a smile appearing somewhere in your peripheral vision. "I'm sure your feelings are reciprocated," he sighs wistfully, "My grandson speaks very fondly of you."

His words make you glance over, brows raising a little higher on your forehead. While Cassian was very openly affectionate with you, it had never crossed your mind that he might be bringing you up even when you weren't around. The idea forces you to bite back a grin as you peer down at the floor, "I'm glad." 

"Indeed," without skipping a beat, he then adds, "I'm sure my son must feel the same." 

Your breath catches halfway on your next exhale, eyes flitting back up to meet his through the glasses we wears. Mr. Jeon does not elaborate much further, instead he places a hand on your shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. "It is not often Jungkook brings company around," he says. 

The implication of his statement sits between you for a second longer, until the rapid footsteps of Cassian and Rayne return as they come barreling back inside the living room, this time with presents stacked in their arms. "Papa! Look how many!" the younger exclaims as he proudly holds up the gifts. 

Mr. Jeon lets his hand fall to his side once more, "Ah, bring them here and let me have a look," he says. He turns to his grandchildren without another thought — as though your conversation had never happened to begin with. 

Dinner at Mr. and Mrs. Jeon's house was quite different from the meals you shared back at Jungkook's place. For one, the table was smaller, barely accommodating the six of you when taking your seats around it. Rayne slinks down in the chair to your right, catching you by surprise as you tilt your head toward her. But she pays you no mind, her attention fixed to the flickering candles in the middle of the feast her grandparents had prepared. 

Mrs. Jeon sits on the high end to your left, her husband mirroring her on the other side. "Honey, are you sure you brought the napkins?" she frowns when peering out across the neatly decorated dining table. 

"As sure as I am my own right foot," Mr. Jeon retorts as he pours Rayne a glass of water. 

His response however, only makes his wife's brows crease even further. "Then perhaps you should make sure your foot really is sewn on because I cannot find them." Her tone grows snappier with each passing second and for a brief moment you worry that they might even argue.

"Nana," Rayne suddenly says, "They're by the chicken." She points toward the folded napkins, placed neatly in their holder next to the food her grandmother had spent the last hour preparing. 

Mrs. Jeon blinks twice, her mouth opening before clicking shut again. "Oh," she clears her throat and gives Rayne a warm smile, "Thank you dear. I guess your papa gets to keep his foot after all." To that, her husband huffs under his breath, but makes no further comment on it as he fills his own glass with water. 

The two seats opposite you remain unoccupied. Jungkook had taken Cassian to the bathroom a few minutes prior, making sure that he did not run off to the presents, which he had already wasted twenty minutes on weighing and measuring. Soon enough a high-pitched whine voice comes from down the hall, "But I just want to look at them one more time!"

"No," Jungkook replies in a stern tone, "We're having dinner." The two of them enter the dining room just then, Cassian digging his heels into the floor as he resists his father's attempts at tugging him toward the table where the rest of you were already seated. 

"One more time!" He wrestles with the hold Jungkook has around his tiny wrist, eyes locked on the entryway leading to the living room like a magnet. 

His arguments are futile and met only by a strained exhale as Jungkook bends down to pick up the squirming boy. Cassian resists by kicking his legs in all directions, "No, no, no!" His knee jams into his dad's ribs as he trashes against his unrelenting grip, "I want to see the presents one more time!" 

Mrs. Jeon looks like she wants to interfere, her hand half raised and a concerned pinch to her brows. Before she gets the chance to, Jungkook pulls out the chair in front of yours, placing a visibly upset child on the seat. "Enough," he says whilst holding his son down by the shoulders, "We are having dinner." 

The quivering bottom lip and rapid flutter of his lashes make you believe that Cassian was actually about to cry and a swell of panic surges in your chest. Luckily, Mrs. Jeon has already placed a perfectly cooked drumstick on his plate. "There," she hums, "I assure you the presents won't go anywhere until you've had your food." 

Jungkook's chair makes a scraping noise against the floor when he pulls it out and takes his own seat, diagonal from yours. He doesn't look at anyone when running his fingers through his dark hair, his jaw clenched and lips sealed shut. It feels almost like dinner usually would at the Jeon estate, quiet and proper, at least until Mrs. Jeon speaks up: 

"Would you pass me the salt, dear?"

Nodding, you reach forwadd to grab it for her, handing it over with a small smile that she easily reciprocates. The table falls into easy conversation after that. Mostly it's Rayne and her grandfather discussing the books she had read as of late. 

Mr. Jeon had a lot to say about Mary Shelley's Frankenstein and spoke with great enthusiasm, only to be silenced by his wife who deemed the topic of conversation to be most inappropriate during dinner. "I do not want to hear about stitching human bodies together as I eat my chicken, it's morbid," she says when slicing her knife through the breast on her plate. 

"Nana," Rayne half-argues, "It's not morbid. It's science." She tips a couple of cooked carrots onto her fork, "You always let papa talk about his science stuff at the table." 

"Science or not, it doesn't make the matter any less morbid," Jungkook mutters as he reaches over to wipe the corner of Cassian's mouth with a napkin "And it is not something to be discussed during dinner," he adds as he sends his daughter a long glance. 

Rayne slumps back in her seat, the carrots dropping onto her plate of unfinished food as she picks at them leisurely. To her right, Mr. Jeon shakes his head, "Nonsense," he says around a mouthful of potatoes, "If the kid wants to talk about sewing an arm to a torso then let her." 

Mrs. Jeon lets out an exasperated huff, "Will you stop talking with your dinner half chewed up?" 

To that, her husband simply shrugs, swallowing the bite as he reaches for his glass of water. "All I'm saying is," he continues after a sip, "There is nothing wrong with her having interests." He sets his drink down with an unapologetic gleam in his eye before turning to give Rayne a quick wink, earning himself a smile from the young girl. 

"Time and place, father," Jungkook says without looking up from his own plate. His brows are furrowed across his forehead, his focus split between the conversation taking place and Cassian who ate quietly beside him. 

Mr. Jeon scoffs, looking mildly amused with the entire situation as he leans forward, much to both his wife and Jungkook's dismay. "What about you little man? Do you like Frankenstein?" 

Cassian pauses, his next forkful hovering an inch from his parted lips which then crack into a grin. "Yeah! I love zombies." 

The glare Mrs. Jeon sends her husband could've probably cut through stone and you find yourself turning back to your own plate as you busy yourself with another bite. Mr. Jeon however, seems very pleased with his grandson's response as he redirects his attention over to you, "And what about you, dear? Does the topic bother you as much as it does my wife?"

You pause, slowly lowering your fork as you swallow — painfully aware of the fact that everyone was now looking at your way. "Not at all," you say, "I actually find the prospect to be quite interesting. You see I study medicine and post-mortem happens to be a small part of my work. It doesn't easily gross me out if that is what your concern regards." 

The entire table had gone quiet as you spoke and you press your lips together in an awkward smile as you shyly meet Mr. Jeon's gaze. Unlike his son, who wore an impassive and detached expression most of the time, it was easy to tell what he was thinking. The corner of his lip was curled in approval, as were his raised brows. 

"Very well," he declares when raising his glass of water, "That makes us four against two." Taking another swig, he then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, causing both children to wrinkle their noses slightly. 

On the other end of the table, Mrs. Jeon sighs. "Heavens," she grumbles under her breath as she redirects the topic over to what games should be played after dinner. 

Cassian and Rayne finishes their meal quickly, the former practically swallowing his chicken and shoving boiled carrots into his mouth greedily. He does make sure to wipe his lips when Jungkook wordlessly nudges the napkin closer, making himself presentable before turning back to his father. 

"Daddy, can we go look at the presents again?" 

His voice betrays how eager he is to return to what he had been preoccupied with before dinner had stolen him away. Next to you, Rayne nods, clearly exhausted after having to sit through the long monologue her grandfather had been holding about the recent inflation and the costs of getting new landlines installed. 

Jungkook lets his gaze shift between his children, nodding once as he picks up his glass. "Put your plates in the kitchen," he murmurs when Cassian and his sister turn on their heels. 

It doesn't take long for them to clear out of the dining room, the sounds of dishes clinking in the sink followed by quick footsteps echoing throughout the house. That leaves you, Mr. and Mrs. Jeon at the table with Jungkook. Having already finished your food, you distract yourself by lacing your fingers together in your lap. 

After coming to an end about his long-lived rant on today's pricing, Mr. Jeon now seemed content to finish off his meal, leaving the rest of you to wallow in silence. You do your best to avoid glancing in Jungkook's direction, scared of what you might find if you let yourself lock eyes with him for longer than a second. 

A full minute must've passed by the time Mrs. Jeon finally shifts in her seat. She sits just to your left, her hand resting on the table, red nails sparkling under the candle light. "You mentioned studying medicine, dear," she says upon turning to you, "How is that?" 

The question makes you freeze, your gaze darting over to Jungkook out of habit. Your studies had been a rather sensitive topic between the two of you up until just recently and you weren't quite sure how to approach the subject in front of his parents. 

"Well it's—" pursing your lips, you shrug half-heatedly, "It's okay." 

Across from you and to the right, Jungkook scoffs, "It's more than okay isn't it?" He glances toward his mother whose attention was darting between you and her son. "She's really good," Jungkook reaffirms, "You should tell them about the heart and all those things you taught me." 

Even Mr. Jeon had woken up from his momentary daze and was now watching you intently from his end of the table. "Oh, that does sound intriguing," his wife hums, "You're in line to become a nurse then?" 

Neither of his parents seemed to catch on to the subtle look Jungkook had sent you before turning back toward his plate, but the heat that blossoms under your skin is enough to have you squirming in your seat. You hadn't allowed yourself to think back to that afternoon on your couch — the revision that somehow turned into you on his lap. Sure, you had nailed the test the day after, but you weren't so sure that was because of Jungkook. 

"Yes," you finally manage a response, "I'm only in my first year but it's been a lifelong dream of mine, helping people I mean." 

Mr. Jeon nods, "You seem to be doing a fantastic job with my grandchildren already, I have no doubts." He flashes you a smile that has your own lips twisting upward. 

"I just—" It's his wife who grabs your attention a second time. She's tucking a loose strand of hair back into place, hands messing with the cardigan she wears as she clears her throat. "Forgive me for being invasive but it's just— You look so young," she hesitates before continuing, "How old are you, dear?" 

The chuckle that tumbles off your tongue feels slightly unfitting for the occasion but Mrs. Jeon appears relieved that you hadn't taken any offense to the inquiry. "I'm twenty," you tell her, watching as the brows on her forehead rise before falling again, like she'd remembered herself. "Though I turn twenty-one not long into the new year."

"Oh, wow," Mr. Jeon hums, "That is certainly impressive for someone your age." 

His wife quickly nods, "Indeed." She sends Jungkook a brief glance before adding, "It must be a lot of work considering you take care of our grandchildren. Are you balancing it well?"

You give her a quiet smile, "Yes," you say, hoping to sound at least somewhat convincing. "I manage it just fine. Cassian and Rayne are no trouble to look after." Without pausing to look at Jungkook, you then go on to add, "Their father raised them well." 

Mrs. Jeon's face lights up at that, her lips stretching widely over her face. Across the table a choked-off sound can be heard, and through the corner of your eye you see Jungkook quickly reaching for his glass as he takes a sip of his water. "He has," Mr. Jeon agrees, "Always looking out for them." 

Jungkook himself makes no comment on the matter, even when his mother sends him a pointed eye. But you're no stranger to the subtle flush that creeps along his neck, never reaching his cheeks yet still enough to let you know that the casual praise had gotten to him. 

The four of you clean up together after that. You join Mrs. Jeon in the kitchen to help with the dishes and you easily get to discussing the contents of tomorrow's menu. Jungkook and his father leave to keep an eye on the children, likely helping the youngest pick out a game that was comprehensible enough for a five-year-old. 

As the evening progresses, you find yourself feeling less and less like a stranger in their home and more like a part of the small family. You and Cassian team up for the card games, with him in your lap as he tries to peek at his grandfather's cards very subtly — ultimately ending in him getting his game-privileges revoked all together. 

Mrs. Jeon and Rayne had formed their own duo while Jungkook and his father competed neck to neck with little to no sportsmanship. 

"It's just a few paper cards," Mrs. Jeon had tried to reason when her husband slammed his entire hand on the coffee table. 

Jungkook had simply rolled his shoulders with a triumphant grin, "Father just needs to learn when to cut his losses." 

Mr. Jeon's head had snapped up at that, brows furrowed deeply as he sent his son a look that could kill. "Don't forget who taught you these games, boy," he scowled. 

"Sounds like you're the one who could use another lesson," the former replied casually. 

You're pretty sure a petty argument would've broken out, had Mrs. Jeon not reminded the two that it was probably time for the children to be put to bed — thus diffusing the heated tension caused by a simple deck of cards again. 

When getting changed into the one set of pajamas you had brought for the night, a sense of peace washed over you. Your previous anxiety about going here to begin with ebbed away as you brushed your teeth, though you made sure not to bump into Jungkook on your way back to the guest bedroom. And as the house fell silent half an hour later, you found that you had settled in quite nicely. 

You never had been very good at sleeping away from home. It had taken you three weeks to get used to your own flat when moving out. And though you had spent one night under the same roof as Jungkook before — that fateful day where you sprained your ankle felt like a lifetime ago. Before things had turned intimate between you, back when you were still only the children's nanny and nothing else. 

The brief sanctuary you had found when playing card games downstairs had vanished again — leaving a hollow feeling in its wake as the evening progresses into night. 

Somewhere in the distance a clock ticks, and as you lay in bed, you attempt to lull yourself into a light slumber by simply counting each second as it passes. It is to no avail, of course. Your eyes snap open, greeted by the ceiling which looked as plain as a grain of rice. Fingers drumming against the duvet, you try to work out how many hours could be left until dawn. 

The ominous creak of a door cuts through the otherwise silent house and it has you jolting upright as you strain to catch the accompanying footsteps. Perhaps it was Mr. or Mrs. Jeon who left for the bathroom, perhaps it was Jungkook. 

You wait it out, going back to counting seconds as you listen to the persistent clock. When you've counted five minutes without any signs of a return, curiosity wins out. Your feet are light on the floor as you peer out into the hallway, all three doors are closed, no sign of life — and yet, you move toward the stairs. 

Creeping down the steps, you hold your breath in fear of stepping on a board that might betray your whereabouts. Luckily you make it all the way to the bottom floor without much trouble, exhaling a sigh of relief as you let go of the banister. 

The house is basked in shadows, save for the moonlight that spills through the windows and you let it guide you down the hall. You had no real motive for being down here, save for the fact that you were unable to sleep and now following a noise that could have easily been the wind or just the old roof settling. 

But as you round a corner, the sudden flicker of yellow makes you halt in your tracks. It's coming from the living room, a soft and warm hue that seeps into the hallway, one you follow on tip-toes, careful not to make a sound. 

When you peer through the archway all tension immediately drains from your face. The light had been coming from the Christmas tree, of course. Standing in front of the couch and armchair, the pine tree nearly reaches the ceiling, its star casting a golden halo around the room. 

Your gaze drops to the floor, to the silhouette belonging to Rayne. 

She sits with her legs tucked to her chest, chin hooked over her knees as she peers up at the tree in front of her — not the presents. The purple pajamas sits loose on her tiny frame, the dotted flowers blurring together with the shadows cast on her back. She has yet to notice you, too entranced by the lights in front of her to pick up on your tentative approach. 

Perhaps it was your sleeplesss brain, or the sheer curiosity you found yourself filled with after spotting her down here — nonetheless, you decide to sit down beside her on the floor, mimicking her posture as you pull your own knees to your chest in a tight embrace. 

Rayne finally turns her head to look at you, confusion written across her features. "What are you doing here?" Her voice isn't accusing, not exactly anyway, but you could tell that she was trying to figure out your intentions — except you hardly knew them yourself. 

Shrugging, you rest your cheek on your knees as you watch her through half-lidded eyes. "Can't sleep," you truthfully tell her, "The clock in my room is too loud." 

She doesn't respond to that beyond a slow tilt of her head but her dark eyes never stray from yours. You could gaze into them for hours without ever coming close to knowing what she was thinking, and she would stare back at you for just as long without ever telling you. 

"What are you doing here?" Echoing her question, you shift your feet on the carpet as you cushion yourself better against your kneecap. 

Rayne shrugs, "Can't sleep." 

"Does your dad know you're down here?" You hum, watching as she shakes her head in a 'no' that she never utters out loud. Without questioning her further you turn your attention back toward the Christmas tree. It looks much bigger when viewed from below and you have to crane your neck in order to make out the star on top. 

Rayne sits quietly beside you for a minute. She makes no attempt to speak, for a while you think she might even get up and leave again now that you had disturbed her peace. But she remains seated on the floor, close enough for your elbows to touch if either of you shifted an inch or so. 

Finally, you let go of the breath you had been holding. "I'm sorry for intruding on your Christmas," you tell her, hoping that she can hear the sincerity in your voice, "I know you probably didn't want me to." 

She inhales deeply beside you, chin lifting from her knees as she studies the lights hanging from the tree — their yellow hues reflect on her soft cheeks, bathing her in warmth as she blinks slowly. "It's not that I don't want you here," she begins, pausing mid-sentence as she swallows, "It's just…" 

Rayne trails off, her gaze dropping to the floor. You hold your tongue, waiting for her to continue whenever she felt ready to — even if the unknowing plagued you terribly. 

"It's scary." 

The admission feels vulnerable coming from her, like something you had never been intended to hear in the first place. She doesn't try to elaborate on it, and she doesn't look at you either, simply regarding the shiny ornaments as they hang from the tree. 

You swallow the lump in your throat, it goes down like a razor blade. Was there anything you could say to make it better? Anything you could do to take the feeling away again? When you regard her in the dim, yellow glow of what was supposed to be holiday spirit — you can't help but notice just how young she looks. Your stomach ties itself into knots when you think about all the things she might keep inside. 

Turning her head back to you, Rayne lets her intense gaze drag itself along your curled up frame on the floor next to her. Her brows meet over the bridge of her nose in a thoughtful frown. "I don't know what you want," she then murmurs, head cocking to the side as she studies you with calculating eyes. 

Her confession renders you speechless. Mostly because it was the same way in which you had felt about her all this time. Rayne was never where you expected her to be. Sometimes you were fooled into hoping that you were getting through to her, only for the distance to return a day later. Sometimes you felt stupid after talking to her, other times you felt smart. But the thing about Rayne that seemed to keep you awake at night was the: why. 

Why accept your help before the dance? Why ask questions that made no sense? Why even bother with this conversation right now? You came to understand that she was searching for the same answers you were. So you sit up a little straighter, arms loosening their hold on your legs as you turn to face her fully. "I want you to be happy," you tell her certainly, "You and your brother." 

Rayne nods, slowly but not unsurely. Her gaze flickers back to the tree for a moment, eyes tracking the red globes, maybe even counting them. A minute passes — two perhaps. Your confidence wavers with each second until nothing but a nervous flick of your nails against your pajama pants remain. 

She heaves a deep breath, taking all the air inside the room with her, including your own. Then she holds that same breath for a long while. Only when you glance over in fear that she might suffocate, does she exhale it again. "How do I know you won't hurt him?" 

You frown, lips parting without as much as a word, the rustle of clothes loud in your ears when you shift in place. The implication that you would ever harm someone, even if unintentionally, fills you with unease. "Hurt Cassian?" you shake your head promptly, "I would never—"

"Father." 

Rayne's expression resembles that of Jungkook's when she turns to you, masked with indifference — had it not been for the vulnerability behind her dark eyes as she awaits your response. "How can I be sure you won't hurt him?" 

Hurt — Jungkook? 

She was worried about… Jungkook? Rayne must have noticed the perplexed expression on your face by now, even so, she made no comment on it as she watches you expectantly.

You want to tell her that it is none of her responsibilities to worry about her dad, that he was a grown up who took care of himself. But something in the way she looks at you, the determination that fills out her shoulders and the protective fire within her gaze — it makes you think better of it. 

"I…" Stumbling over your words, you think of a way to respond to that. In the end, you can only shake your head, finishing off with a quiet whisper, "That's the last thing I want." 

Rayne looks at you, really looks at you, as though she was picking you apart for lies. Her throat bobs when she swallows, hesitation striking her shield of feigned nonchalance. Before she can formulate a reply however, the stairs creak. 

Your heads whip in the direction of the sound, the two of you scrambling to your feet just in time to see Jungkook himself emerge from the shadows as he steps into the light. He's dressed in checkered sweatpants, a loose, white t-shirt and nothing else. Still, he the glance he sends you both is enough to make your spine straighten. 

"What are you doing up?" He turns to address his daughter whose face was now devoid of any trace leading to your previous conversation. She doesn't answer him right away, fingers curling around the sleeves of her pajama shirt. 

"We came down for water," you say, nodding toward the tree behind you, "Got distracted by the Christmas decorations." Next to you, Rayne lets out a soft breath. 

Jungkook's attention flits over to the ornaments, snapping back to you both a beat later. Judging by the crease between his brows and the subtle clench to his jaw, he did not believe you. Yet he said nothing, instead he extends one hand toward his daughter, more of a demand than a request. "Bed time," he says and Rayne quickly obliges as she walks over to to lace her fingers with his. 

He does not turn to glance at you when he leads her out of the living room, and you listen to their barely audible retreat. Only when you're sure that they have made it upstairs do you finally uproot yourself from your spot, heading out into the dark hallway and toward the kitchen in search of the water you had yet to drink. 

Moonlight spills across the yellow tiles, perfectly illuminating the sink when you enter. It takes you some adjusting but after a minute or so you're able to find your way over to the cupboard holding the glasses. It's cool in your palm, heavier than you could remember a simple drinking glass being. You don't question it as you run it under the faucet. 

The cold water slips down your throat easily and you indulge in three greedy sips. The small kitchen window gives a perfect view of the backyard. Naked trees crowd the outskirts of the lawn, covered in a pale, glittering layer of snow. Cassian would probably want to head out there and play tomorrow — after tearing through his presents that is. 

Finger tapping against the rim of your glass, you ponder on how long your shoes would last out in the wet snow, and if you had remembered to pack an extra pair of socks. 

It's not until the lights above suddenly turned on that you startle from your thoughts, fist closing tight around your glass so to not drop it entirely. Tilting your head to peer over your shoulder, you spot Jungkook in the doorway. His hand hovers above the light switch before it returns to join the other in the pockets of his pants. 

"Sorry," the apology is blurted out the second your eyes fall on him, "We didn't mean to wake you." 

Jungkook shakes his head as he approaches, moving quietly across the kitchen floor as he comes to stand before you. "I couldn't sleep," he says as he lets his gaze drop to the half finished glass of water you hold. The chase for rest seemed to be a running theme tonight. 

The stillness and shadows around you linger for a while, and you long to join them, even if only for a little bit. "Is she okay?" Your thoughts have already found their way back to Rayne, her confession seared into the depths of your mind where it would stay until you were able to shake it. 

"She's asleep," he says. 

It wasn't an answer to your question, but you know better than to ask again. Opting for another sip, you let the cool liquid sit on your tongue before swallowing it. Standing in front of Jungkook now does not feel the same as it had only a week ago. It was a funny feeling, this lingering sense of dread, it crept up on you when you least expected it. You wonder if he can tell. 

Jungkook breaks away from your gaze and you follow the shuffle of his arm as he pulls his hand from his pocket, eyes widening when they land on the small box in his palm. The red wrapping shines under the kitchen lights, it's tied together with a white bow and your heart clenches at the sight. 

"What's this?" A stupid inquiry when the evidence was right in front of you. 

Jungkook humors you anyway, "Merry Christmas," he says when bringing it forward for your taking. 

He's met with a frown you cannot conceal. "It's Christmas Eve," you remind him, ready to decline the gift based on principle alone. But he simply nods toward the clock hung up on the wall behind you, showing 12:05. 

The corner of your lip pulls into a faint smile despite yourself and you set the glass down beside the sink as you reach out to take the present from him with careful hands. It's light, almost weightless in your grasp. Gaze shifting back up to him, you find Jungkook regarding you with his breath held, "Open it," he murmurs. 

There was no card attached, not that it mattered, you think when undoing the white ribbon. It comes apart easily under your fingers and you hesitate over the red wrapper. The prolonged silence pushes you to go through with it in the end, nail hooking into a crevice as you tear it gently — the ripping of paper is loud in the otherwise silent kitchen. 

Jungkook takes the ribbon and wrapping off your hands, discarding it on the tiled counter top as he goes back to watching you intently. His attention makes your stomach flutter the way it always would whenever he looked at you like that, like nothing else existed. 

You turn the small, black box in your hands — reading the brand name, which you did not dare attempt to pronounce, engraved in gold at the top. Deciding to just bite the bullet, you finally pick the lid, your eyes practically gauging out of their sockets when met with the jewelry inside. 

A small, golden pendant with soft edges that were shaped into a heart. It shimmers softly when you tilt the box a little closer. The necklace is attached to a thin chain of the same material and the pad of your finger strokes it reverently. 

Jungkook has yet to speak as he hovers close, his gaze heavy with something you want to believe is affection. 

"I—" inhaling a shaky breath, you manage to pull yourself away from the shiny jewelry and over to him, "You really didn't have to. I mean— this is way too much, I couldn't possibly—" 

His palm his flaming hot against your face, the pad of his thumb soft where it caresses your cheek. "I wanted to," he says, his other hand finding yours where you clutch at the small box. His fingers brush over your wrist, eyes flitting between your own and the necklace, "Can I put it on you?" 

Your throat feels dry despite the water you had been inhaling just a minute ago. Nodding mutely, you allow him to retrieve the jewelry. Jungkook moves carefully when he picks it up, like he was handling a porcelain vase. "Turn around," he whispers. 

There was little you could do except comply, turning to face the fridge door across from you as you fiddle with the now-empty box in your hand. The scent of his cologne feels out of place in Mr. and Mrs. Jeon's kitchen, but when he takes a step forward, it is all you can smell. 

His chest is just shy of brushing against your back, and when Jungkook inhales, it actually does. You bite your lip to keep yourself from saying something you shouldn't as Jungkook brings his hands over your shoulders, gently placing the necklace onto your collarbone. The gold pendant is cold against your feverish skin and it sears itself onto you — like it, too, knew you would never take it off again. 

He fiddles with the clasp for a moment, knuckles accidentally brushing the nape of your neck and you suppress a shudder. You can feel the lock mechanism click into place long before Jungkook actually pulls back. He stands there for a while, warm breath fanning across your shoulder blade as the pads of his fingers trace the fine chain around your neck. 

"Alright," he clears his throat and the heat of his body disappears again, "Turn back around." 

Doing as he says, you come to face him once more. Glancing down to where the necklace rests, you reach up to feel it, making sure that it was real. Jungkook says nothing but his hands settle on your hips, locking your bodies together in a seal you won't be able to break, even if you want to. 

"It's pretty" you murmur, still studying the shimmering gold. 

His next exhale meets the tip of your nose, "On it's own maybe." His thumb draws idle circles onto your waist through the cotton of your shirt, "You wear it beautifully." 

Had you not been so taken aback by the admission you would've probably given his chest a teasing shove. But when you shift your gaze back up to meet his, you can't bring yourself to even breathe. Jungkook was standing close, too close, and if not for the way his chest pressed against your own, both of your hearts beating as one, then the fact that his lips hovered an inch from your own would've been more than enough to make your head spin. 

"I want to kiss you." 

He says it like it's the simplest thing in the world, like your conversation with Rayne had meant nothing — like this wasn't bigger than the two of you. 

You nod, finally letting go of the pendant and placing the jewelry box aside, your hands find the back of his neck. Just for tonight, you tell yourself. Just for tonight you repeat as his lips brush over yours. Just for— 

The creak of a floorboard has your eyes snapping open at the exact same moment Jungkook's does. His head, previously tilted forward to meet yours, jerks in the direction of the kitchen entrance and his grip on your hips tighten impeccably. 

The soft, barely audible groan of old wood had not been a trait of the house and soon the sound of footsteps fill the previously hot air. It's but a second later that Cassian rounds the corner and comes to an abrupt halt in the archway. 

His hair is tousled from sleep, the blue pajamas sitting awkwardly on his tiny frame after tossing and turning in bed. One small, knuckled fist comes up to rub at his eye as he squints against the sudden lightning. Without actually registering the scene in front of him, he croaks out a groggy: 

"Santa?" 

── [ ✉️ ] I like this chapter, mainly because of the dialogue. Hm, I hope it's not too boring since there was significantly less Jungkook x OC action, then again, HW is so much more than that, which you ladies know by this point. Anyway anyway, I feel like we have a lot to discuss in terms of theories and lore after this one, hit me, I am ready <3

You almost gave up, sitting back again on the couch with a sigh, when you remembered. The attic.

A mischievous smile appeared on your face as you searched on the ceiling a small square you could pull down. Your head tilted back constantly examining all of the crevices and details a celing could have.

And then you saw it. On the far end of the corridor, a chord and a small plastic ball awaited for you. And you smiled triumphantly.

You tried to reach it, your frowning deepening as the seconds passed. Even if you jumped, you couldn't reach it. So you helped yourself with the high stools on the kitchen to finally pull down the stair case.

You made sure of the stability of the small steps as you began climbing up. You could stand up comfortably around the room, your hand finding for the light switch.

And once the light went on, your wide eyes met with countless of boxes. This could keep you entertained for a while.

You smiled and began your discovery. You were careful with the wrapped up boxes. You didn't want to nose about his personal items, so you focused on finding something worth the while. A book maybe, a nintendo switch you always dreamed of having. He had enough money to buy thousands of them, so you were sure something along those lines was hidden here.

After almost an hour of searching around, the only thing you found was a couple of books about philosophy and some fiction. You saw some weird things on those boxes. Family stuff you could recognise as really old photo books and clothes. But you respected his privacy.

He would kill you if you messed with his things, rightfully so. So you only took one book for now, a philosophy one that caught your attention as you walked down the small stairs and left it all as it was.

Settling for making yourself a cup of tea and reading in a corner of the big sofa on his living room.

Hours passed as you were engrossed on the pages, the theories a bit heavy for a light reading, but interesting nonetheless. You haven't moved much for the day. But when you felt the words blur together and a big yawn on your throat, you decided it was time to call it a day.

The street was dark, the moon hang high by now. You sat up and put the closed book on the classy coffee table. And just when you were cleaning up the dishes, the sound of keys and an opened door invaded your senses.

You turned your face to look at the main door, and breathed a bit lighter as you saw him taking off his shoes at the main entrance.

“Another hard day in the office?” You joked, cleaning the remaining soap on the mug. You heard his sigh and the keys clanking on the table.

“Ha, ha. Really funny” He smiled lightly at you through his tired face, but once his eyes reached the coffee table, a frown took upon his brows.

“Where did you find that?” He mumbled as he walked closer to the table, his eyes on the book as if it was a diamond in the middle of the desert.

“Oh, that. I just-” His voice cut you off almost inmediately.

“You went in the attic?” The mad face he wore making you stop your actions. You quickly put the mug to dry on the rack besides the sink and dried your hands.

“Y-yeah I was just-” You tried to shrug your way throught his accusatory tone, but to no avail.

“Who gave you permission to do that?!” His eyes looked hard at you, his jaw locked as you couldn't understand what was going on, utterly confused at his sudden irritation.

“Sorry?” You scoffed, you couldn't believe the scene he was pulling on you for reading a fucking book.

“You couldn't stop your nosy ass, could you?” You unbelievably laughed at that, your heart begin to thump on your ribs at his words.

“You're being an asshole” You confidently said, walking to him passing the kitchen island, standing in front of him but at a bit more far than a normal distance.

“You're the one taking things that aren't yours!” His sudden raise of voice made you gulp and laugh a bit more, your heart beating faster, growing aggravated at his fucking attitude.

“You pretend to keep me trapped here with nothing to do? Just staring at the wall for hours until you decide to show up? What the fuck is going on?” You raised your voice too, he was wrong if he thought he could talk to you like that and you were going to just take it.

“You don’t get to touch anything in this house like you belong here.” His words cut through you hard. A sudden shiver took upon you as his hard stare stayed on you. Your feet shifting your weight slowly as you sucked your cheeks in, nodding slowly.

“Fuck you” You spat at him. The only words you could mutter right now at his fucking kid attitude. He took it like a blow, blinking a bit faster and realizing what he said. You didn't give him a chance to say anything, your feet guiding you to the bedroom.

“Y/N I-”

“Fuck off!” You shouted without turning, getting inside the room and closing the door with force. Your hands went to your hair almost instantly. the sudden cold and brute attitude he wore making you a bit more nervous than normally. Not nervous, just a bit panicked. That's what arguments did to you. Your system suddenly went on alert, and you couldn't handle shouting or anything like that.

You made sure to never have heated arguments with the people around you to save yourself from feeling this shitty. But you guess this was his way. And you didn't like it one bit.

What the hell did you do wrong? He didn't even tell you anything about not going into the attic. The only room you were actually forbidden to go into was his fuckass office.

So why his sudden anger? Did he hide something there? You didn't even want to know. Fuck, you didn't even want to relive how his hard stare and tense form made you feel. There was no more funny and easy going demeanor he showed with you.

This time, an almost entirely different side take over him, and you dreaded it.

After you calmed yourself a bit, you decided to take a cold shower and call it a day, getting in bed, even if you tossed and turned more than you would admit.

He stayed frozen in his place, his head running to a different thousand directions. He knew he fucked up with that last words he said to you, but honestly he didn't understand what took upon him to say those things. He didn't want to take any of his inner troubles on you, but those boxes in the attic were the last thing he had of her. And it was extremely difficult for him to let anyone touch or see those boxes, those memories.

He was afraid you would find her old photobook, her wedding dress or even his old drawings of her. He wasn't prepared to face it entirely, and even worst, explain all of it to you.

He run his hands through his face, his busy day making his attitude a bit more prone to snapping. But he admitted it was no excuse for treating you like that, and talking as if you had any fault on what you accidently got involved.

You were right, he was an asshole. And now, he understood he shouldn't tell you anything, and give time for both of you to calm down before talking about it.

So he, too, called it a night, a warm shower calming his tensed muscles and a half empty massive king size bed waiting for him.

He went to sleep hoping to talk to you in the morning, to somehow fix the situation over coffee, but you didn't leave your room at all. He had to go mid morning, and he waited for your small steps to sound on the wooden floor of the corridor.

But it was sound silence, from the moment he prepared breakfast to the moment he got dressed to face the day.

He battled inside his mind on what he should do, should he leave without saying anything? No, that would be way worse, that would give you the idea he didn't want to fix anything. And he honestly was sorry for what he said to you.

knock knock

Your door stayed closed as you stared at it from your seat on the small couch on the room. You were up even before he woke up and started making noise in the kitchen. But a mix of real uncomfortableness and pride made you stay inside the room. Looking out the window as your pastime.

It wasn't his attitude that made you mad. Well it was, but you could accept his apology on that. His words were what kept replaying on your head from time to time. Making you question what even were you doing here.

Was he that uncomfortable having you here? You knew people were the most honest when they were angry, and you felt hurt he really felt like that. It was a sticky situation for you both, he had, what you presumed, a busy life with the rest of his gang. And you had your life prior to this.

One night just mixed both of your realities, creating your stay in his home, unprecedented. You even understood where he was coming from. From one day to another, his big apartment had it's privacy invaded by you, a stranger. But it's not like you wished for this.

It was unfortunate for the both of you, and so you would actually make it easier if you bothered him the least possible.

“Y/N?” His voice woke you up from the rambling inside your head, your eyes stayed on the door as you looked for something to say.

“I'm sleeping” You somehow shouted for him to hear, not in an angry shout, just a bit more elevated volume.

You heard the scoff through the door, and you bit your lip at his reaction.

“Okay, um, I gotta go, breakfast is on the stove” He sighed when he realised you wouldn't open the door to even look at him. But nevertheless he waited for some beats at your door, hoping for your hands to open it and finally face him. But that didn't happen.

He couldn't even blame you, he had it coming. And so he took his things and made his way to his headquarters, where his mates were waiting for him.

The second you heard the front door close shut, and only then, you opened the door. Your head peeking around and waiting for a sound that confirmed he was still inside. But you heard nothing, assuming he left already you got out, and got yourself surprised at the breakfast in the kitchen.

A mix of just whatever on separate plates, showed off as some kind of fancy hotel. Toasts with butter and mermalade, coffee, tea, some rice and meat he surely made for himself, and a mix of breakfast fruit like apples and oranges in a fancy big bowl.

He really went all out huh? You suddenly felt bad, leaving him to do all of these for you, only to end up eating breakfast alone waiting for you. Fuck, this was a mess.

“Wassup koo- oh, you didn't sleep much tonight huh?” Jimin joked with a smirk as he saw the youngest walk through the door, a coffee in his hand and a tired face.

“Too much action for you?” Tae wiggled his brows at him, the two of them exploding in a fit of laughs at his sexual jokes about him and you.

“Shut up ” He grumbled as he sat on the nearest chair, placing the coffee cup on the table and slouching over it.

“Trouble in paradise?” Tae raised his eyebrow at him noticing how down the youngest seemed, walking towards the table with his own cup of coffee.

“She went through the attic” His words made Jimin suddenly turn, his eyes examining Jungkook's tired face as he raised his eyebrows, surprised.

“Oh, this about to be good ” He mumbled and sat as soon as he could in front of him, resting his head in his hand as he waited for what Jungkook had to say.

“What's in the attic? Do you have an illegal marihuana plantation up there?” The joke only made Jimin giggle slowly as he shook his head. Jungkook only reaised his eyes to look at Tae with a tired expression.

“That's where he keeps her things” Jimin simply explained, waiting for some words that would confirm the worries he had about the situation, but as Jungkook explained what happened, Jimin couldn't find the youngest reasoning credible.

“Did you tell her to not go up there?” They waited for his response, only earning a small frown of him and a shake of his head. He mumbled a small 'no' as the rest of them sighed.

“Did she even touch through the things? Take something personal?” Jungkook shook his head again, eyes fixated on his drink.

“I dont know, she just took a book” Jimin and Tae looked at each other, a raised eyebrow at the story the youngest shared. “I dont know, I snapped” He sighed exhasperated, running his hands through his head as the other waited for him to keep talking.

“I told her to not touch things that aren't hers, that it isn't her home” A heavy sigh sounded through the room as they nodded, a small smile on Taehyung's face.

“Oh man” Jimin muttered shaking his head.

“You fucked up big time” Taehyung laughed at the situation, Jungkook behaving like a real asshole to anyone being something new for them.

“I know! You dont have to remind me” He took a sip of coffee, he knew he messed up, but he didn't expect this response from them.

“but why was she even up there” The blonde one asked trying to make sense on this.

“she was bored and she was looking for something to do” jungkook shrugged and the others sighed again.

“God damn, jungkook. You have her there with not even a tv for her to distract herself. Not even a card deck or some shit.” Taehyung explained.

“I just didn't think of it, assumed she would bring something... i dont know” Jungkooks voice kept getting smaller, and a bit defensive.

“You already made her feel like a stranger and she only spent one night with you! Its not even her fault, if anything is ours for having her trapped there for her safety. Youre lucky she's nice enough to not throw that in your face. ” Jimin said his last words before the leader came through the door, ready for the daily morning reunion. And leaving Jungkook to think about Jimin’s words almost all morning.

They needed to talk about the money they were stolen, and how they would play out the situation with you. You were very obviously at risk. They even talked about how surreal it was that the Italians had the impression you were a couple. The leader convinced it was just an excuse to fuck with them.

They talked about how they would get the money back, and how they could take down, or even reach a deal with the Italians to stop the nonsense. If they wanted war, they had no choice but to have it.

Not much of a conclusion was made, the only sure thing was you needed to stay at Jungkook's house still, and keep up with the act. They handled different tasks between them to reach some information about who and why they stole from them. Carrying a preventive plan for the guilty's end.

The day passed in a blur for Jungkook, the sudden busy schedule they had, trying to get answers and get to a clear path on what they had ahead of them.

He again, returned home tired, but with a plan on his mind. He had to talk to you, apologize for what he did, and get to common ground with you. It was much better for you two, as you were living together now and for the foreseeable future.

He closed the door behind him when he got home, and put his keys on the little table beside the door. He took off his jacket and looked around, the kitchen clear to him from where he was standing.

But his eyes were, in a second, shifted to the small trail of blood on the kitchen floor, tissues on the ground and messy kitchen. His eyes went big, his heart rising in beats as he couldn't find you on his vision field.

“Y/N?!” He called for you, fearing for the worst. Could they have somehow got to you? Hurt you and even killed you in his home? That wasn't possible, this neighbourhood was secured from mile to mile. A bunch of security points you had to pass before even entering the property.

Maybe they came in disguised, as a delivery driver or a fucking plumber. His mind was racing, too much thoughts at once. And his feet took the lead, strutting through the kitchen, looking at the corridor to find the bathroom light on and the door opened.

“Y/N!” He shouted again as he opened the bathroom door wider with a hard hit, your figure appearing after it.

A big bloody tissue on your hand as your nervous eyes greeted him.

“I-im sorry i-” You shifted the weight from feet to feet as you saw him standing there, his chest going up at down at an insane speed. His panicked face running from your eyes to your hand, and the big bloody tissue on your hand.

“Don't say sorry- fuck, what happened?” He approached slowly, his hands hovering on the tissue you were holding against your hands. He didn't want to scare you off, but fuck, he feared the worst for a second.

“I-i was just trying to make a nice dinner and-” You panicked at his panicked state, the two of you creating a panicked shared feeling that was too much to handle for you.

“It's okay, don't worry just- let me see” He calmed his voice, his hand reaching for your forearm as you looked at him scared, shaking your face. You didnt even want to look at it. You didn't feel any big pain on your finger but the bloody scene was wrecking your nerves.

“It's okay, look at me” He nodded as his big eyes searched yours, understanding the situation in a second. You looked at him with big eyes, scared of what your finger might look like as he slowly unwrapped it, only for him to see.

His sudden intake of air made you gulp down, scared of what he saw that made him so panicked.

“Put pressure on it, yeah, that's good” He whispered nodding incessantly, he himself trying to calm everything too. He helped you put pressure on it with his own hand as he looked at you again, your face scared still.

“Don't worry, it's not that bad” He reassured, making you calm down a bit more, his words reassuring in a moment like this.

He wasn't going to tell you he could see an incredibly deep cut on your middle finger, and that the blood coating the floors belonged in a horror movie.

“I'm really sorry, I don't know how-” He shut you up almost inmediately, his hand going to the back of your head and grazing your hair slowly.

“It's okay, let me make a call just- sit here” He made you sit on the toilet lid, his hand still putting pressure on you as he put his phone in his ear, calling for the best doctor he knew in town.

He crouched in front of you as he talked with someone, inviting them over. And you just sit there, watching him as his presence could make you forget the blood fest you just created.

“Tell me what happened baby” he softly said, hunging up his phone as he took your hands in his, pressuring softly while looking up at you.

His big almost black eyes staring up at you, the ceiling lights of the bathroom reflecting on them, making him look like star strucked boy. Waiting for you to say something, staring at him with your mouth opened slightly, your eyes dancing between his.

You could feel how close he was to you, the mix of coffee and his perfume captivating your nose, making you a bit dizzy. Or maybe that was the blood you were losing.

Right, the blood, the cut. You focused again.

“I-I tried to cut some vegetables for dinner. I just wanted to make something nice. I-I felt bad for this morning and yesterday and how I didn’t even come out this morning to talk to you and I don’t know how but-“

“Okay, I get it” he laughed softly, cutting off your nervous rambling, his hand resting for a second on your thigh, making your brain short circuit for a moment.

“Yesterday, I- I’m sorry too, it isn’t fair to you.” He shook his head as he talked, looking down, shy to meet your stare while he explained what he felt.

“But-“

“No buts, I didn’t tell you anything about the attic. And I was an asshole, for leaving you here without anything to do while I’m away, and for saying those words to you” he gulped. It wasn’t easy for him to say sorry, and admit all of this. But he felt it was the best thing to do, for you and for him. You were stuck in this, together.

“I didn’t mean them” he assured you, looking up at you again. His almost crosseyed stare looking at you like you hanged the moon, when it was actually opposite to it.

You got in between something you shouldn’t, and even if you didn’t purposely decide to be there at that time and place, it brought trouble for the two of you. And that wasn’t fair to him either.

You nodded slowly at him, you couldn’t look away from him, not when he was crouched so close to you. His hand going from yours and your thigh, his voice deep and soft pleading forgiveness for what he said.

He started at you incessantly, his eyes going from your messy hair to the small peek of your shoulder he could see thanks for the oversize sweatshirt you wore.

Your shampoo scented hair and soft eyes making him crumble in front of you, your mere existence in this ridiculously big bathroom and the messy blood everywhere just enough for him to feel some type of way. The small panic you showed through your demeanor awaking a sort of primal urge for him to protect you at all costs.

The loud doorbell shook both of you out of it. Him standing up and bringing a man you haven’t seen ever, beside him. A fancy outfit on, some slacks and black sweater, and a stethoscope hanging on his neck.

The man greeted you calmly, of course he noticed the messy scene of the kitchen. But with cuts, blood was really dramatic, so he had to wait and see what happened.

He checked your finger while you looked away, too apprehensive and scared for what you may see.

“It’s a deep cut, we might need some stitches” he mumbled simply, like he was totally comfortable with that.

“Stitches?!” Your loud voice made Jungkook laugh softly.