#jeon

as self-centred as soojin is, she would give Jungkook her whole entire world, she'd give up anything and everything for him if he'd ask. chloe, as a petite as she is, would move mountains if it meant getting into his heart. maya, as confident as she is would change her way of living if it meant pleasing him. actually every single old love interest in his life would orbit around his axis if he wanted them to. but they were not really love interests to Jungkook. no, they were merely distractions. distractions from the woman who could own him in any way possible. the one woman he longs for with such desperation. the woman he's obsessed with in a way he should understand is unhealthy.

you. his beautiful, smart, sexy, perfect woman. you're not officially his yet, but he needs you to be or else he'll probably lose his mind.

Jungkook's life would be so euphoric if only you felt the same way he did. but you don't and just thinking about it is enough to depress Jungkook. he has it all – the looks, the confidence, the figure, the money. so why can't you just like him as much as he likes you? not to say he doesn't work for your love. he does. he works so fucking hard for it, without trying to embarrass himself too much, of course.

he does various things, trying to prove it to you, obvious actions that practically sing about how much he wants you. but you just can't seem to get the hint, can you? or maybe Jungkook's current worst fear is true. you know how he feels but you just don't care. that thought causes Jungkook's heart to tighten in his chest. he likes the first option, so that is the one he chooses to believe. as ignorant as Jungkook is, the intellectual part of him questions it. how can you not know how he feels for you when he does everything a guy in love would do? for a few examples, he cares for your likes and ambitions, he changes his busy schedules just to accommodate yours, he takes care of you when you're sick, he's constantly checking up on you when you aren't with him, he buys you flowers and chocolates. he makes the best love* to you, just like he is right now…

Jungkook grunts through gritted teeth as he thrusts as deep as humanly possible into you, hitting the perfect spot inside you that makes you let out a breathless, high moan of his name. the sweet sound you've made under him only motivates him to do it again and again. Jungkook thrusts his massive cock into your pussy, keeping his pace fast, hard and a little rough – just as you like it. your nails dig into his broad shoulders and rake down his back, causing it to sting. Jungkook groans at that, knowing it's going to leave marks on him. Jungkook loves any form of possession you show over him, he loves when you leave marks on him or tell him that he's yours. it's as if you know the power you have over him and you can see how badly you affect him.

Jungkook is one strong man, yet you have the ability to make him the weakest and most pathetic on earth. before you walked into his life, things were normal. he had gotten into short situationships, he fucked whoever he wanted, he could do whatever he wanted without you being in his every thought. but after he understood the depth of his feelings for you, things had become complicated and absurd. after a while, Jungkook could no longer live his life the way he used to. he couldn't fuck anybody else, he couldn't touch anybody else, he couldn't even bring himself to look at a woman who wasn't you. it would feel like he's cheating, cheating on you and cheating on himself – cheating on himself because you're a part of him, a big crucial necessity in his life. it shouldn't make sense, but it does to him. you're the other half of his soul, you just don't feel it like he does, as yet.

at the thought of his seemingly unrequited romantic feelings, Jungkook thrusts into you even harder than before, earning him a sweet gasp from you. he hums at the sound before watching you, your eyes are almost rolling to the back of your head and you look so heavily cock-drunk. well of course you'd be, this is the sixth? seventh round? Jungkook's hands that had been on either side of your head now move – one grips your hip, feeling your soft skin and the other goes to the back of your neck to guide your face to his, to meet him in a kiss. His kiss immediately starts off passionate, wet and filthy. you eagerly kiss him back, moaning into his mouth when his tongue slides into yours. you kiss him with equal fervour as he pounds into you so good.

you break away from the kiss, a string of saliva joining your lips to his. you keep your eyes open and on his, gazing up at him. he's sweaty and staring down at you with dark, hungry, heavy-lidded eyes. he looks so fucking hot, you're so grateful to have this beautiful man fucking the living daylights out of you, looking at you with such need. but beneath all the lust, you think that you notice something else. it looks so sincere, so precious. you think hard what it is you see there. you might have an idea, but that's just preposterous. right?

you don't dwell on that forbidden thought, since your seventh orgasm of the night is approaching. your moans become louder and you start clenching around Jungkook's cock. he thrusts become sloppy but he still keeps the animalistic pace, wanting to make sure your approaching orgasm is as good as the previous ones – maybe even better.

"f-fuck," he groans. "you feel too good, baby. always feel too good."

his praises always have your head spinning and pussy throbbing. your nails dig into his back as you mumble incoherent nonsense. you're on cloud nine, just as you usually are when Jungkook fucks you. he's the best you've ever had in bed, you wish you could be full of his cock every day and night.

"k–kook," you gasp.

"hmm?" he hums, looking at your parted lips and hazy eyes.

"gonna come." you mutter shakily.

Jungkook grips your thighs with both his hands and lifts you up a little. he finds the angle that's even deeper, making you whimper and arch up, throwing your head back into the pillows.

"yeah?" he asks before leaning down to lick your now exposed neck. "me too, baby."

you're so gone and drunk on his cock, Jungkook thinks you might finally agree to what he's been wanting to do for the longest time now – to come inside you. oh fuck, the thought of it makes Jungkook want to bust immediately. he imagines filling you up with his release, fucking it back into you, watching it drip out of your pussy. he hopes you'll finally allow it. he's feeling lucky tonight, perhaps you'll allow it since your walls are clenching so hard around his pulsing cock.

"want me to come inside, hmm?" please say yes, please say yes.

"no." you say, panting.

Jungkook bites the inside of his cheek, feeling bummed. but rest be assured, he will release inside you one day.

you release first, crying out his name. he thrusts inside you a few more times before pulling out and releasing over your belly with a groan. he looks at your belly messed with his come, it's not where he wishes it was but it's still so fucking hot. after he reels from his high, he collapses beside you, staring up at the ceiling for a long while. your chest heaves and your eyes threaten to close. despite your body feeling like jelly, you decide that you really have to shower. you turn toward Jungkook, placing your hand on his chest, over his racing heart and throwing your thigh over his hip. Jungkook feels warmth spread through his body at the contact. he turns to you as well, placing a hand on your hip to tug you closer.

"can we take a shower, kook?" you ask, so soft and tired.

Jungkook smiles at how cute you sound. he'll obviously take a shower with you, he's more than happy to do that.

"yeah, baby." he says before gently kissing your forehead. "we'll go soon. I'm too comfortable to move right now."

"Jungkook the sheets are wet and i have your come on me." you state, threading your fingers through his soft hair. "let's go now and we'll come back and cuddle."

Jungkook nods, happy with that deal. he helps you out of bed and picks you up, carrying you to the bathroom since you're drained and walking on very weak legs – it's understandable, he's done a number on you. inside the shower, he steps behind you and turns on the water, setting the temperature to exactly how you like it. you lean against Jungkook and sigh in contentment as the hot water washes over your sore body. the both of you spend a long time in the bathroom – washing up thoroughly and sharing heated kisses. Jungkook initiates more intimacy by reaching between your thighs, but you smack his hand away with a little laugh, telling him that any more of this would leave you rotting in bed due to the inability to walk. he pouts but respects your decision of course.

after the shower, you both change into sleep wear and cuddle just as you've said. Jungkook brings you right against his chest, holding you tightly against him while breathing you in. he feels so full of everything nice at this moment. you're where you're meant to be, safe in his arms. he wishes that all of his nights could be like this, instead of a few nights only. he does appreciate what you do give him. after all you are the woman he loves with all his heart. he yearns for you in a way that borders on madness, so he needs all of you entirely.

Now, as the members begin their solo careers and prepare for military enlistment, the stakes have never been higher. Y/n is tasked with her most ambitious project yet: Creating the choreography and performance identity for Jungkook’s global solo debut. What begins as late nights perfecting choreography and playful banter turns into quiet moments that blur the line between professionalism and something much more personal.

Their journey unfolds alongside Jungkook and Jimin’s newest travel show, Are You Sure?!, where Y/n travels with the Busan Brothers through the heat of a New York summer, the coastal winds of Jeju, and the deep snows of Sapporo.

Between the raw, unfiltered footage of life on the road and the quiet vulnerability that lingers after the cameras finally stop rolling, the show becomes the backdrop for Y/n and Jungkook’s evolving story.

As the seasons shift, they are pulled closer through creative passion, industry jealousy, and the looming shadow of distance. Amidst the chaos of global stardom and the quiet fear of a long goodbye, they are forced to make a choice only they can answer: Are they truly sure about each other, no matter what the world might say?

Pairing: Idol!Jeon Jungkook × fem dance choreographer!reader

Supporting Dynamics: BTS members as friends, teammates, and comedic chaos on/off the show. HYBE staff and industry peers are shaping the work/life conflict

Genre: Idol Variety Show (meta / show-within-a-show), Slow-Burn Romance, Strangers-to-friends, Friends-to-Lovers, workplace / Idol Industry Drama, Slice of Life & Found Family, Angst with Comfort, Humor & Playful Chaos, he-falls-first-she-falls-harder

Warnings / Tags: 18+ ONLY!!! idol industry stress & career pressure, public vs. private relationship tension, jealousy & possessiveness, emotional vulnerability & intimacy, occasional alcohol use, eventual mature/sexual content (later chapters), Heavy focus on cameras vs. reality(later chapters)

DISCLAIMER: This story is a work of fiction— a mix of imagination, emotion, and creative storytelling. While this will follow a few real-life events from 2023 or reference names for realism, most details have been altered or reimagined to fit the narrative I’m building and to create that gap between real life and fiction.

All portrayals of real people (including Jungkook, Jimin, other BTS members, and others) are fictionalized and NOT meant to represent their real lives, personalities, or actions.

The only character that belongs entirely to me is my oc. I don’t own HYBE/BIGHIT, BTS, or any related figures— I just love their art and the inspiration they bring.

This story exists purely for creative and entertainment purposes and should not be interpreted as factual or representative of real events.

Prologue

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven new!

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

TBA….

Playlist: here | Moodboard

----

From Author ♡

Thank you so much for being here. This story is really close to my heart— it's my first ever fanfic that I've written, and I've always struggled with writing. I can create a 6-page essay for a college assignment, but to write about the romantic tension between two characters? Forget it.

However, I wanted to challenge myself to write about something that I truly enjoy the most. Bts and dance. I started listening to bts when I was around 12 years old (10 years ago omg) and I've always dreamed of becoming a dancer. I never got to live that dream (Yet, maybe lol), but my love for bts never subsided. I've always had a soft spot for Jungkook as he is my bias and found his work inspiring over the years. I know he challenges himself; therefore, I felt inspired to improve my writing skills by writing this story.

it’s built from late-night thoughts, too many playlists, and that quiet ache between art and reality. It’s about movement, memory, and the things we never say out loud.

I'm writing because I love the what-ifs— the space between truth and fiction where emotions get to show.

A/N: Hi lovelies! Thank you so much for staying with this story until the very end. I’m honestly so attached to these characters, it’s a little bittersweet saying goodbye to them.

A very special thank you to my super sweet reader who commissioned this fic and trusted me with your idea. It means so much to me that you let me bring it to life in my own way. 💜

I’m open for fic commissions if you have a story in mind. Any trope, any idea, whether it’s just a small thought or a fully detailed plot, I’d be happy to write it with you.

Thank you again for always supporting my stories. I can’t wait to share the next one with you… and maybe you can guess which member is coming next?

----------------------------------------------------

Weeks passed. Then another few weeks. Then somehow spring began melting into summer.

Wedding planning slowly took over your life.

A venue tour here. A cake tasting there. A phone call during lunch. An email before bed. A hundred tiny decisions scattered throughout ordinary days.

The strange thing was that you didn’t mind.

Not this time. Because this time felt different.

Sometimes the difference hit you when you least expected it.

Like one Tuesday afternoon when you sat across from Mina and a wedding planner discussing table arrangements.

The planner showed photographs of reception layouts. Different styles. Different colors. Different centerpieces. You listened carefully.

Making notes. Asking questions. Thinking about what would make the evening feel warm.

Halfway through the conversation your phone buzzed. A message from Jungkook. Three photos appeared immediately.

The first was a reception setup from a hotel ballroom. The second was a garden wedding. The third showed candle arrangements.

Underneath was a message.

I like this one.

Feels cozy.

You smiled automatically. Mina immediately noticed.

“He’s texting you, isn’t he?”

You didn’t even bother denying it anymore. The wedding planner laughed. You showed them the photographs.

“He found these?”

“At rehearsal.”

The planner looked impressed. Mina looked personally offended.

“Why is your fiancé more involved than some actual brides?”

You laughed.

“Good question.”

Another message arrived.

Also, do we like candles?

You stared then laughed.

The planner looked confused. Mina looked like she was about to throw something.

“What now?”

You turned the screen toward her. She read the message then groaned dramatically.

“Oh my God.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

She looked toward heaven.

“Just another reminder that your ex was an idiot.”

You nearly choked on your coffee.

“Mina.”

She pointed at your phone.

“No.”

The planner immediately became interested. You already knew where this conversation was heading.

“Mina.”

“I am serious.”

You covered your face. Unfortunately that only encouraged her.

“Do you remember planning the first wedding?”

The answer arrived before she finished asking.

Of course you remembered. Some memories never completely left because they taught you things. Because they explained why certain moments mattered now.

The wedding planner awkwardly excused herself. Mina leaned closer.

“You literally begged that man for opinions.”

“Mina.”

“You sent him thirty venue photos.”

“It wasn’t thirty.”

“It was forty-two.”

You stared.

“You counted?”

“I was traumatized.”

Despite yourself, laughter escaped. Because she wasn’t entirely wrong. Back then planning a wedding had felt lonely.

You remembered sitting alone at your kitchen table comparing invitations. Sending photographs. Waiting hours for responses. Sometimes days. You remembered trying to sound enthusiastic.Trying to include him. Trying to make him care.

Every decision became another reminder that you seemed far more invested in the future than the man you planned on sharing it with.

Back then you explained it away.

He’s busy. He’s tired. He’s stressed.

You became very good at making excuses.

The problem was that excuses couldn’t create enthusiasm. They couldn’t manufacture effort. They couldn’t make someone want something they didn’t truly want.

Mina reached across the table and squeezed your hand.

“Look at the difference now.”

You looked down at your phone. Another message.

Do we need more flowers?

Maybe too many flowers?

Actually is there such a thing as too many flowers?

A second later.

Ignore me.

I know nothing about flowers.

A third message.

Still think the candles are nice though.

You laughed so hard tears gathered in your eyes. Mina looked victorious.

“Exactly.”

For once, you couldn’t argue because she was right. The difference wasn’t subtle, the difference was enormous.

That evening Jungkook arrived home close to midnight. You heard the front door open. The familiar sound instantly pulling your attention away from the wedding magazines spread across the couch. His footsteps echoed down the hallway.

Slow. Heavy. Exhausted.

A few seconds later he appeared.

Hair messy. Shoulders slumped. Eyes tired.

The second he saw you, his entire face softened. Every single time. Without fail.

As though seeing you after a long day remained his favorite part.

“Baby.”

You smiled.

“Hi.”

He immediately dropped onto the couch beside you. Then practically collapsed across your lap like a giant exhausted puppy.

You laughed.

“Tough day?

“I hate everyone.”

“That’s not nice.”

“I love you though.”

His eyes closed. You ran your fingers through his hair. The apartment felt quiet. The city lights glowed beyond the windows. Somewhere below, Seoul continued moving. Inside, everything felt slower. Jungkook opened one eye.

“What did I miss?”

You laughed.

“Wedding stuff.”

His eyes opened immediately. Interest replacing exhaustion. Every single time.

“What happened?”

You couldn’t stop smiling. The contrast still surprised you.

“You really want to know?”

“Obviously.”

You stared. He stared back. Genuinely confused. As though the answer should have been obvious. As though wanting to hear about your day wasn’t unusual. As though caring about wedding details wasn’t extraordinary.

Maybe that was why you loved him. Because he never treated your interests like obligations. He treated them like invitations.

You showed him photographs. Flower samples. Venue layouts. Color palettes.

For the next thirty minutes he listened. Asked questions. Made suggestions. Shared opinions.

Then suddenly you found yourself looking at him. The curve of his smile. The way he studied the venue photos. The way he kept asking questions because he genuinely wanted to know the answers. And without warning, emotion crashed into you.

Because this, this was what you had wanted years ago.

Not perfection. Not grand gestures. Not expensive gifts.

Just this.

A partner. A teammate. Someone who cared.

Someone who wanted to build something with you. Not watch from the sidelines. Not disappear when things became inconvenient. Someone who stayed.

Jungkook noticed immediately. His expression softened.

“What?”

You shook your head.

“You know what’s funny?”

“What?”

“The first wedding made me feel lonely.”

Silence filled the room. Not uncomfortable. Just honest.

You felt his hand find yours. Interlocking your fingers. Holding on.

“And this one?”

You looked around the apartment.

The magazines. The venue photos. The mess.

The man sprawled beside you.

Everything felt warm. Everything felt real. Everything felt shared.

You smiled.

“This one feels like ours.”

The look on his face nearly broke your heart. Because he looked so happy. Like those five words meant everything. Maybe they did.

A few minutes later the conversation somehow shifted toward children.

As it often did lately. Nobody knew why. It simply happened.

“I still think six.”

You groaned immediately.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I want to survive.”

Jungkook laughed.

“You’d be an amazing mom.”

“Two.”

“Five.”

“Two.”

“Four.”

“Two.”

He wrapped his arms around your waist.

Smiling against your shoulder.

“What if they’re cute?”

“They’ll be cute.”

“What if they’re really cute?”

You laughed.

“That’s not how children work.”

“It could be.”

“Two.”

His dramatic sigh filled the room.

The argument continued for nearly twenty minutes.

Neither of you winning.

Neither of you trying very hard.

Eventually you ended up curled together beneath a blanket.

The wedding magazines forgotten.

The venue photos abandoned.

The future stretching endlessly ahead.

For the first time in a very long time, thinking about marriage didn’t make you anxious.

It didn’t make you question anything.

It didn’t make you wonder whether somebody would leave.

Because this time you weren’t planning a wedding with someone who needed convincing.

You were building a life with someone who couldn’t wait to begin it.

And somehow that made all the difference.

The appointment had been sitting on your calendar for almost three weeks.

Three weeks of pretending it was just another item on your wedding checklist.

Three weeks of acting normal every time someone mentioned dresses.

Three weeks of smiling whenever Mina sent another TikTok of brides crying during dress fittings.

Three weeks of avoiding the fact that the last time you wore a wedding dress, your entire life had fallen apart.

You stared at your reflection in the elevator doors as they climbed toward the bridal boutique.

The mirrored surface reflected a woman who looked calm enough.

Hair neatly done. Light makeup. White blouse. Blue jeans.

Nobody would guess your stomach felt like it was filled with stones.

Nobody would guess your palms were already damp.

Nobody would guess your heart had been trying to convince you to turn around since breakfast.

The elevator dinged.

“Well,” Mina announced dramatically. “No escaping now.”

You glared at her.

She grinned.

Your mother immediately smacked her arm.

“Stop teasing her.”

“I’m helping.”

“You stress people for fun.”

“I stress people because it’s funny.”

Mina looked pleased with herself.

Jungkook’s mother laughed softly beside you.

“She reminds me of Jungkook.”

“Please don’t insult me like that.”

“You literally share one brain cell.”

“I do not.”

The elevator doors opened.

And suddenly there it was.

The bridal boutique.

Bright windows.

White flowers.

Elegant displays.

Mannequins wearing dresses that probably cost more than your first car.

For a second, you couldn’t move.

Because it wasn’t really about the dresses.

It was memory.

The first appointment.

The first engagement.

The first time you thought you were getting married.

The first time you stood in front of a mirror wearing white while convincing yourself everything was okay.

Even when it wasn’t.

Even when deep down you already knew.

You remembered standing on a pedestal.

You remembered looking over your shoulder.

Looking for him. Looking for some reaction. Any reaction.

A smile. Excitement. Interest. Something. Anything.

Instead he had been sitting on his phone.

Barely looking up. Barely listening. Barely there.

And somehow you had spent months convincing yourself that was normal.

Because love makes people stupid sometimes.

Especially when they’re terrified of losing it.

A gentle hand wrapped around yours.

You looked up.

Your mother.

She wasn’t saying anything.

She didn’t need to.

Mothers always knew.

She squeezed your fingers.

The way she used to when you were little and scared of doctor appointments.

And somehow that nearly made you cry.

“Hey.”

Mina’s voice softened.

A rare occurrence.

“You okay?”

You nodded.

Then immediately shook your head.

“Not really.”

Nobody laughed.

Nobody told you not to worry.

Nobody gave you some fake inspirational quote.

They just stood there.

Waiting. Giving you space.

And somehow that made it easier.

Because grief was strange.

Even years later.

Even after healing.

Even after finding someone new.

Sometimes old wounds still remembered.

“You don’t have to do this today.”

Jungkook’s mother said it gently.

The same way Jungkook always did when he wanted you to know there was no pressure.

And that almost made you smile.

Because apparently kindness ran in the family.

You looked toward the boutique.

Then down at your engagement ring.

Then back up.

And for the first time that morning you thought about him.

Not the past.

Not the ex.

Jeon Jungkook.

The man currently driving everyone insane because he wasn’t allowed to see the dress.

The man who had spent the last week showing you wedding venue ideas at three in the morning.

The man who had somehow become emotionally invested in flower arrangements.

The man who acted like wedding planning was his full-time occupation.

The man who looked happier about getting married than anyone you’d ever met.

Your phone vibrated.

The timing was ridiculous.

Mina immediately started laughing.

“Speak of the devil.”

You pulled out your phone.

Jungkook. Of course.

Jungkook: Have you arrived?

Three dots appeared immediately.

Jungkook: Don’t ignore me.

Jungkook: This is important.

Jungkook: I am your future husband.

Jungkook: I deserve updates.

You smiled despite yourself.

Jungkook: Can I see one picture?

Jungkook: One tiny picture.

Jungkook: One microscopic picture.

Jungkook: Please.

Mina leaned over your shoulder.

“Oh my God.”

Your mother laughed.

Jungkook’s mother looked completely unsurprised.

“He started asking me yesterday if I could secretly take photos.”

You stared.

“He WHAT?”

“He offered me lunch.”

She looked delighted.

“I declined.”

You immediately typed.

You: Traitor.

Jungkook: HI BABY

Jungkook: Can I see it?

You: No.

Jungkook: One picture.

You: No.

Jungkook: One sleeve.

You: No.

Jungkook: One thread.

You: Get a job.

Jungkook: I HAVE A JOB

Jungkook: MY JOB IS SUFFERING

You laughed.

And somehow that made breathing easier.

Because this was different.

Everything about it was different.

You never had to wonder if he wanted to be there.

You never had to convince yourself excitement would come eventually.

Because Jungkook had been excited from the second he proposed.

He talked about your future the way people talked about winning the lottery.

Like he still couldn’t believe it was happening.

And suddenly walking through those boutique doors didn’t feel quite as terrifying.

The consultant greeted everyone warmly.

Champagne appeared.

Mina immediately stole two glasses.

Your mother scolded her.

She stole a third.

Nothing changed.

Some things never did.

An hour later dresses surrounded you.

Dozens of them.

Lace. Satin. Beading. Long sleeves. Off shoulders. Mermaid silhouettes. Ball gowns. Simple dresses. Dresses so dramatic they looked like they belonged at the Met Gala.

And still, you couldn’t bring yourself to try one on.

The consultant noticed. Your mother noticed. Everyone noticed.

You kept pretending to browse.

Pretending to compare fabrics.

Pretending to care about necklines.

When really you were scared.

Scared of stepping into another wedding dress.

Scared of remembering.

Scared of hoping.

Scared of seeing yourself as a bride again.

Eventually Mina sat beside you.

No jokes. No teasing. Just silence.

Then she nudged your shoulder.

“You know what’s funny?”

“What?”

“The universe literally had to remove that idiot from your life.”

You snorted.

“Mina.”

“No, seriously.”

She looked at you.

“The universe looked at him and said absolutely fucking not.”

You laughed.

She continued.

“Imagine fumbling you.”

“Mina.”

“No. Imagine it.”

Your mother rolled her eyes.

Jungkook’s mother tried not to laugh.

“He had you.”

Mina pointed dramatically.

“And he somehow lost to Jeon Jungkook.”

“That’s not exactly an insult.”

“You know what I mean.”

You did.

And for the first time all day something loosened.

Not pain. Not sadness. Just perspective.

Because maybe the dress wasn’t the thing that mattered.

Maybe the person waiting at the end of the aisle did.

The consultant approached holding another gown.

Simple. Elegant. Soft satin. Nothing flashy.

“I think this one.”

You looked at it.

Something inside your chest whispered yes.

And twenty minutes later you stepped out of the fitting room.

The room went silent.

Your mother’s hand flew to her mouth.

Tears immediately filled her eyes.

Jungkook’s mother started crying too.

Mina whispered, “Oh, fuck.”

Which was probably the highest compliment she’d ever given anything.

You turned slowly toward the mirror.

And there she was.

A bride.

Not the woman from years ago. Not the girl desperately trying to make a failing relationship work. Not someone settling for scraps. Not someone convincing herself she was happy.

You.

Exactly as you were now.

Loved. Chosen. Safe.

Your eyes filled before you could stop them.

Because suddenly you could see him.

Waiting at the end of the aisle.

Trying not to cry.

Failing.

Smiling so hard his cheeks hurt.

Looking at you like you’d hung the moon.

And you knew.

Without question.

This time the groom couldn’t wait to marry you.

Your phone vibrated again.

Jungkook: How is it going?

Jungkook: Do you hate all the dresses?

Jungkook: Are you crying?

Jungkook: Please don’t cry.

Jungkook: Unless they’re happy tears.

Jungkook: Then cry.

Jungkook: Actually don’t cry.

Jungkook: I don’t know.

Jungkook: I love you.

Jungkook: I can't wait to marry you.

A tear slipped down your cheek.

Then another.

And suddenly you were laughing while crying.

Which felt embarrassingly on brand.

You typed back.

You: I found it.

The reply came instantly.

Jungkook: WHAT

Jungkook: WHAT DO YOU MEAN

Jungkook: SHOW ME

You laughed through your tears.

You: No.

Jungkook: BABY

You: No.

Jungkook: THIS IS ABUSE

You: You’ll see it on the wedding day.

Three dots appeared. Then disappeared. Then appeared again.

Jungkook: I am currently the saddest man alive.

You smiled at your reflection.

For the first time in years.

For the first time since the failed wedding.

For the first time since everything fell apart.

You looked at yourself in a wedding dress and felt excited instead of afraid.

And somehow that made all the difference.

Seoul looked different that morning. Perhaps it was because winter had finally arrived in full, dressing the city in soft white and silver. Perhaps it was because every major news outlet, entertainment page, and social media account seemed determined to figure out what was happening behind the walls of one of the most exclusive wedding venues in the country. Or perhaps it was because there were certain mornings in life that simply carried their own kind of gravity.

The morning of your wedding felt like one of those mornings.

The city had not fully awakened yet when the first snow began to fall.

Enough to soften rooftops and window ledges. Enough to settle across the Han River like powdered sugar. Enough to make Seoul feel like a scene from a movie.

The kind of morning people remembered. The kind of morning people told stories about years later.

You stood barefoot in front of the floor-to-ceiling window of your hotel suite, wrapped in an oversized cream cardigan, holding a mug of coffee that had long since gone cold.

Below you, tiny figures moved through the streets.

Cars crawled through the city.

The world continued.

Yet everything felt strangely suspended.

As though time itself had slowed down.

As though the universe understood that today mattered.

Today was not just a wedding.

Today was the end of every version of yourself that had spent years wondering whether love would stay.

A soft knock interrupted your thoughts.

Before you could answer, Mina pushed open the door carrying three shopping bags and enough energy to power an entire district.

“There she is.”

You looked over your shoulder.

Mina stopped mid-sentence.

Her eyes widened.

Then she immediately burst into tears.

“Oh, fuck.”

You stared.

“What?”

She pointed dramatically.

“You.”

“What about me?”

“You look like a bride already.”

You rolled your eyes.

“I’m wearing pajamas.”

A laugh escaped before you could stop it.

The sound seemed to relax something inside the room.

Something inside yourself.

Because the truth was that despite all the excitement, despite the planning, despite the countless venue visits and cake tastings and flower meetings and guest lists and fittings and rehearsals, there was still a small part of you struggling to believe this was real.

Months had passed.

And somehow every morning still felt like waking up inside a dream.

The door opened again.

This time it was your mother. Then your father.

And the second you saw him standing there, dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit while pretending not to look emotional, your eyes immediately started burning.

Your father noticed.

“Absolutely not.”

He pointed at you.

“We are not doing this.”

You laughed.

“I’m not doing anything.”

“You’re about to cry.”

“So are you.”

“I’m not.”

Mina immediately doubled over laughing.

Your mother smacked your father’s shoulder.

Your father ignored both of them.

His gaze never left you.

And suddenly neither of you were joking anymore.

Because for a moment all he could see was every version of you at once.

The little girl who used to run into his arms after school.

The teenager who slammed doors and insisted she knew everything.

The daughter he had watched fight her way back toward happiness.

And now.

This.

His daughter.

Getting married.

To a man who adored her.

You saw it happen.

The exact moment his expression changed.

The exact moment he lost the battle.

His eyes became suspiciously shiny.

Your own vision blurred instantly.

“Oh no.”

Mina pointed.

“Oh no no no.”

Your mother covered her mouth.

Your father looked away.

And somehow that made everyone cry harder.

Including you.

The room dissolved into laughter and tears and hugs.

Exactly the way family moments always did.

Messy. Imperfect. Beautiful.

A little while later the makeup artists arrived.

Then the hairstylists.

Then the photographers.

The suite transformed into organized chaos.

Music played softly.

Someone ordered breakfast.

Nobody touched it.

Everybody talked over each other.

The room buzzed with excitement.

Your phone vibrated. Then vibrated again. Then again. Then again.

Mina looked over immediately.

Oh God.”

She groaned dramatically.

“Tell him to stop.”

“He has separation anxiety.”

“He saw you yesterday.”

“He claims that was too long ago.”

Your mother laughed.

You unlocked your phone.

Twenty-three unread messages.

Jungkook: Are you awake?

Jungkook: Actually stupid question.

Jungkook: Obviously you’re awake.

Jungkook: It’s our wedding day.

Jungkook: BABY IT’S OUR WEDDING DAY.

Jungkook: I couldn’t sleep.

Jungkook: I’m nervous.

Jungkook: Why am I nervous?

Jungkook: ARE YOU NERVOUS?

Jungkook: Don’t answer that.

Jungkook: I love you.

Jungkook: Okay answer that.

You laughed so hard your makeup artist nearly dropped a brush.

“Jesus Christ.”

Mina leaned over.

“He is unwell.”

“He really is.”

“He texted Namjoon at four in the morning.”

Your head snapped up.

“What?”

“He wanted reassurance.”

“You are lying.”

“I’m not.”

“How do you know?”

“He texted the group chat.”

You buried your face in your hands.

“Oh my God.”

Your mother looked delighted.

“He’s excited.”

“Mom.”

“He loves you.”

That simple. That straightforward.

He loves you.

The sentence settled somewhere inside your heart.

Because nobody should have been that excited to get married.

Nobody should have looked forward to it that much.

Nobody should have spent months acting like every wedding decision was the greatest event of their life.

Yet somehow Jungkook had.

He had treated venue tours like dates.

He had treated menu tastings like adventures.

He had treated flower meetings like national emergencies.

Your engagement period had felt less like planning a wedding and more like watching a man slowly lose his mind from happiness.

Another message arrived.

Jungkook: I know you’re reading these.

Jungkook: Answer me.

Jungkook: Baby.

Jungkook: Baby.

You burst out laughing.

Your mother immediately asked,

“What did he say now?”

You turned the screen around.

The entire room started laughing.

Your father covered his face.

“I am trusting this man with my daughter.”

“Unfortunately.”

“God help me.”

The photographers snapped photos.

The laughter. The tears. The chaos. The happiness.

And years later, when people would ask about your wedding day, this would be the moment you remembered first.

A hotel suite full of people who loved you. A father trying not to cry. A mother already crying. A best friend losing her mind.

And a future husband somewhere across the city suffering from the most severe case of separation anxiety known to mankind because he hadn’t seen you in less than twenty-four hours.

The funny thing was that Jungkook had always loved you fiercely.

But engagement had somehow made him worse.

Or better.

Every night he slept with one arm around your waist.

Every morning he reached for you before he fully woke up.

Every overseas schedule turned into twenty-seven FaceTime calls.

Every grocery run became, “Come with me.”

Every errand became, “Stay a little longer.”

Every goodbye became, “Text me when you arrive.”

And every single time you teased him about it, he simply shrugged and said,

“I like being around you.”

As though that explained everything. As though that made perfect sense. As though loving someone so much that their absence physically annoyed you was completely normal.

Maybe it was.

Maybe that was what healthy love looked like.

Maybe healthy love wasn’t dramatic.

Maybe it wasn’t painful.

Maybe it wasn’t confusing.

Maybe it was just this.

Wanting another day.

Another conversation.

Another hour.

Another minute.

Never quite feeling finished with each other.

And as the morning slowly disappeared and the wedding day continued unfolding around you, one thought settled quietly inside your heart.

For the first time in your life, you weren’t walking toward uncertainty.

You were walking toward the person who had spent months proving that if he could choose you every day, he would.

And today he finally got to do it forever.

By the time the dress was finally zipped and buttoned into place, the entire room had gone quiet.

Not completely.

There were still camera shutters clicking softly. Someone was adjusting flowers. Someone else was fixing the train of the gown. The makeup artist was dabbing carefully beneath your eyes after the crying disaster from earlier.

Yet the atmosphere had changed.

The laughter remained. The happiness remained.

But underneath everything sat a growing realization that the day was moving forward whether anyone was ready or not.

And suddenly there was no more “later.”

No more “soon.”

The wedding was here.

You stood in front of the mirror while everyone watched.

The dress flowed around you like winter itself.

Soft. Elegant. Timeless.

Outside the windows, snow continued drifting across Seoul.

Inside the suite, your mother pressed a trembling hand against her lips.

Your father looked away entirely.

You caught him pretending to inspect a flower arrangement near the wall.

The poor man had spent the entire morning losing the same battle over and over again.

Every time he looked at you, his eyes filled.

Every single time.

“Dad.”

His shoulders immediately shook.

A defeated laugh escaped him.

“You have to stop saying that.”

“What?”

“You know exactly what.”

Your smile grew.

His voice cracked.

That was all it took.

Your mother immediately started crying again.

Mina cursed.

The photographers lost their minds.

Everyone laughed.

And somehow the tears became easier after that.

Because they weren’t sad tears.

They came from love.

Years of it.

A lifetime of it.

The kind that overflowed when your heart couldn’t contain anymore.

Your father walked over slowly.

For a moment neither of you spoke.

He simply looked at you.

The way parents do when they’re trying to memorize something.

As if they already know this exact version of today will never exist again.

“You look beautiful.”

His voice was barely above a whisper.

You felt tears rising instantly.

“Dad.”

He shook his head.

“I’m serious.”

A small laugh escaped him.

“You know, when you were little, you used to wear that plastic princess dress every single day.”

You groaned.

“Oh my God.”

“You wore it grocery shopping.”

Everyone laughed.

“You wore it to church.”

“Mom, make him stop.”

“You wore it while eating spaghetti.”

“Oh my God.”

“And every time someone asked what you were doing, you said you were practicing for your wedding.”

The room became quiet again. Your father smiled. His eyes shining.

“You were five.”

And suddenly he couldn’t continue.

The silence stretched. Not awkward. Not uncomfortable. Just full.

Full of memories. Full of years. Full of love.

Your father swallowed hard then gently kissed your forehead.

“I am so proud of you.”

That sentence nearly destroyed you. Because fathers rarely said things like that.

Not out loud. Not often enough.

Yet when they did, it stayed with you forever.

You threw your arms around him. And for a moment neither of you cared about cameras.

Or makeup. Or dresses. Or weddings.

You were simply a daughter hugging her father. One last moment before everything changed.

Across the city, Jeon Jungkook was losing his mind.

Namjoon had officially stopped trying to help. Yoongi had stopped pretending to help. Taehyung found the entire thing hilarious. Jimin was recording everything. Hoseok kept laughing. Seokjin was somehow making it worse.

“You need to sit down.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’ve stood up seven times.”

“I’m excited.”

“You’ve checked your watch fourteen times.”

“I just want to know when she’s arriving.”

“You know exactly when she’s arriving.”

“I know but what if she’s early?”

“She’s not.”

“What if she’s late?”

“She’s not.”

“What if she changed her mind?”

The room exploded.

Every member started yelling immediately.

“OH MY GOD.”

“SHUT UP.”

“STOP.”

“ARE YOU SERIOUS.”

Jungkook groaned and dropped into a chair.

His hands covered his face.

“Okay, sorry.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“She's inlove with you.”

“I know.”

“Then why are you panicking?”

Jungkook looked up. His answer came instantly. Because it was true. Because he meant every word.

“Because I still can’t believe she’s actually marrying me.”

Silence.

The kind that only happened between people who loved each other deeply.

Nobody laughed. Nobody teased him. Because they understood. Because they had watched him fall in love. Watched him stay in love. Watched him become the happiest version of himself.

Namjoon sat beside him.

“You know.”

Jungkook looked over.

“She probably feels the same.”

And somehow that made everything worse. Because now he wanted to see you even more.

The venue looked like something pulled from a dream. Winter flowers lined the aisle. Thousands of candles glowed softly against glass and crystal.

Outside, snow continued falling beyond enormous windows overlooking Seoul.

The city stretched endlessly beneath the gray winter sky. Yet none of it mattered. Because every guest kept looking toward the entrance.

Waiting.

The music began. Your father offered his arm. The moment arrived so quietly that it almost surprised you.

One second you were standing behind closed doors. The next second they were opening.

And your entire world changed.

The aisle stretched endlessly ahead.

Rows of family. Rows of friends. Familiar faces.

People crying already. People smiling. People raising tissues.

Everything blurred together. Because at the end of the aisle stood one person.

Only one.

Jeon Jungkook.

The moment he saw you, his entire face collapsed. Like every wall he’d spent all morning holding together simply disappeared.

His eyes filled instantly.

One look. That was all it took.

One look. And he was gone.

The happiest man in Seoul. The most emotional man in Seoul. Possibly the most emotional man on Earth. You laughed through your tears.

Because he wasn’t even trying to hide it. He stood there openly crying. Completely wrecked. Completely overwhelmed. And looking at you like you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

Your father leaned closer. Soft enough that only you could hear.

“He loves you so much.”

You nodded. Unable to speak. Because he did. God, he really did.

Every step toward him felt unreal. Like walking through every memory you’d ever shared.

Europe. The train. The first conversation. The first laugh. The first goodbye. The first reunion. The proposal.

Every moment. Every year. Every version of yourselves.

Leading here. Leading now.

When you finally reached him, Jungkook immediately grabbed both your hands.

As though he needed proof. As though you might disappear. As though this was still a dream.

You smiled. His eyes never left yours. Neither of you noticed anyone else anymore.

The officiant spoke. Guests listened.

Snow continued falling. The world kept turning. Yet it felt as though time itself had paused.

Waiting.

Just for you.

Then came the vows.

Jungkook went first.

His hands trembled slightly.

His smile trembled too.

He laughed once. Shook his head. Tried again.

“You know…”

His voice cracked immediately.

The guests laughed softly.

“So we’re off to a great start.”

You laughed too.

Jungkook looked at you. Only you.

Like nobody else existed.

“I spent a long time thinking about what to say today.”

He smiled.

“Then I realized every version sounded wrong.”

A small pause.

“Because how do you summarize loving someone?”

His voice softened.

“How do you summarize years of your life?”

His eyes filled again.

“You got on a train in Europe and completely ruined my plans.”

Guests laughed. You covered your mouth. Jungkook laughed too.

“I was supposed to enjoy that trip.”

More laughter.

“I was supposed to be independent.”

“Failed.”

Taehyung shouted. The venue erupted.

Jungkook pointed. “Exactly.”

Everyone laughed harder.

Then his gaze returned to you. And suddenly the room disappeared again.

“I thought you were beautiful.”

His voice became quieter.

“That was my first thought.”

You smiled.

“Then you laughed.”

Another pause.

“And somehow that became the sound I wanted to hear for the rest of my life.”

You immediately started crying.

“So I guess this is me making it official.”

His own tears finally fell.

“I want every version of my future.”

He swallowed.

“Every ordinary day.”

“Every difficult day.”

“Every birthday.”

“Every morning.”

“Every night.”

His voice broke completely.

“I want all of it with you.”

The room was crying.

Jungkook squeezed your hands.

“I loved you on that train.”

A soft laugh escaped him.

“I just didn’t know it yet.”

The tears fell freely down your cheeks.

“And I’ll love you for the rest of my life.”

Silence. Complete silence. The beautiful kind.

The kind people remembered forever.

By the time it is your turn to speak, your vision has already blurred.

You look down at the paper in your hands. The vows you rewrote dozens of times. The words you spent months trying to perfect. And suddenly none of them feel enough.

Your fingers tighten around the paper then you look at him.

The tears on his cheeks. The trembling smile. The eyes that have loved you through every version of yourself.

You stare at Jungkook for several seconds before saying anything. The entire venue waits.

When you finally speak again, your voice trembles.

“Jungkook…”

His eyes never leave yours.

“I’ve spent so much time trying to write the perfect vows.”

You laugh quietly.

“Every time I thought I had finally figured out what I wanted to say, I’d read it back and realize it wasn’t enough.”

Your throat tightens.

“Because how am I supposed to explain what you’ve done for me?”

Jungkook’s smile falters. His eyes begin filling again. Your voice grows softer.

“How do I explain what it feels like to be loved by you?”

The room falls completely silent.

“I don’t think you realize what you’ve given me.”

A tear slides down your cheek.

“You came into my life at a time when I had stopped believing in so many things.”

Your voice shakes.

“I stopped believing people stayed.”

The guests grow quiet. Your father lowers his head. Your mother wipes her eyes.

“I stopped believing promises lasted.”

You swallow hard.

“And if I’m being honest…”

A broken laugh escapes.

“I stopped believing there was somebody out there who would choose me.”

Jungkook’s expression crumbles. You can actually see the heartbreak in his face. As if hearing that hurts him, even now.

“But then you showed up.”

Your smile returns.

“And you made everything I believed about love feel wrong.”

A tear falls from Jungkook’s eyes. Then another.

“You never asked me to become somebody else.”

Your voice softens.

“You just loved me.”

The tears start coming faster.

“You loved me on my good days.”

“You loved me on my bad days.”

“You loved me when I was confident.”

“You loved me when I couldn’t see anything good about myself.”

The room is crying now. You step closer.

“I think that’s the thing I’ll always love most about you.”

Jungkook is openly crying now. No shame. No hiding. Just tears and love.

“So many people think love is found in the big moments.”

You shake your head.

“But when I think about us…”

A smile touches your lips.

“I think about grocery stores."

The room laughs. Jungkook laughs too.

“I think about late-night food deliveries.”

“I think about falling asleep on the couch.”

“I think about random Tuesday afternoons.”

More laughter. Your voice softens again.

“Because somehow, you made ordinary life feel extraordinary.”

You squeeze his hands.

“And I realized something.”

The room quiets.

“I didn’t just fall in love with you.”

Your voice breaks.

“I fell in love with living.”

Tears immediately fill Jungkook’s eyes again. You smile through your own.

“I fell in love with mornings because you were there.”

“I fell in love with the future because you were in it.”

“I fell in love with the idea of growing old because it meant growing old beside you.”

You look directly at him.

“I want you to know something.”

Your voice barely rises above a whisper.

“If tomorrow everything disappeared…”

You shake your head.

“It wouldn’t matter to me."

His lips tremble.

“Because at the end of the day…”

You place a hand over his.

“…you are still my favorite thing that ever happened.”

A sob breaks somewhere in the audience, probably Mina. You laugh softly through tears. Then continue.

“I can’t promise we’ll have a perfect life.”

“I can’t promise we’ll never get hurt.”

“I can’t promise there won’t be difficult days.”

“But I can promise this.”

Your voice steadies.

“I will never stop choosing you.”

Jungkook closes his eyes. Another tear slips free.

“I will choose you when life is easy.”

“I will choose you when life is hard.”

“I will choose you when we’re young.”

“I will choose you when we’re old.”

Your voice cracks.

“I will choose you every single day for the rest of my life.”

You pause, trying to hold yourself together.

Failing completely.

Then you say the thing that’s been sitting in your heart all along. The thing that matters most.

“Because if I had to live my entire life over again…”

Your tears spill.

“If I had to start from the very beginning…”

“If I had to search through every city…”

“Every country…”

“Every lifetime…”

You smile through tears.

“I would still spend all of them trying to find my way back to you.”

Jungkook completely breaks. His hand flies to his face. The room dissolves into tears. And as you stand there looking at him, the man who stayed. The man who chose you. The man who loved you through every version of yourself,

You realize there has never been a more beautiful truth than this:

You are finally home. And home is looking back at you.

For a few seconds after your vows end, nobody says anything. Snow continues to drift beyond the towering glass walls surrounding the venue, soft white flakes floating against the darkening winter sky, while thousands of tiny lights shimmer overhead like stars suspended from the ceiling. Yet despite the breathtaking view of Seoul stretching endlessly beneath you, despite the luxury, despite the guests, despite the significance of the day itself, your entire world narrows down to the man standing across from you.

Jungkook looks completely undone. His eyes are red from crying. His cheeks are damp. His lips tremble every time he tries to smile, and every attempt only seems to make him cry harder.

You have seen Jungkook laugh until he cried. You have seen him angry. You have seen him exhausted after months of touring. You have seen him sick, frustrated, excited, nervous, and heartbroken. But somehow, this version of him feels entirely new.

This is what happiness looks like. Pure, overwhelming happiness.

A shaky laugh escapes him as he wipes his face with the back of his hand.

The guests laugh softly. His shoulders shake.

“You really had to say all that.”

His voice cracks halfway through the sentence. You laugh through your own tears.

“It’s true.”

Jungkook immediately lowers his head. As if hearing those words hurts in the best possible way. As if he still doesn’t know what to do with being loved so openly.

Around you, people are wiping their eyes. Mina is crying without even pretending otherwise anymore. Your mother has completely abandoned the tissues she brought because they stopped being useful twenty minutes ago. Your father keeps clearing his throat and staring at the ceiling every few seconds. Across the aisle, Namjoon has his arm around Jimin, while Taehyung is openly sobbing and making absolutely no effort to hide it.

The officiant eventually clears his throat, though even he looks emotional. A wave of laughter moves through the crowd.

The spell breaks slightly. Jungkook lets out a breathless laugh. The kind that sounds suspiciously like another sob.

Then the rings are brought forward. The symbols of promises that have already existed long before today.

Promises made during ordinary mornings. Promises whispered during difficult nights. Promises spoken through actions instead of words.

Jungkook reaches for your hand. The same hand he has held crossing streets. The same hand he reached for during long flights. The same hand he searched for in crowds. The same hand he instinctively finds whenever life becomes overwhelming.

His fingers tremble slightly as he lifts it. Because this moment matters to him more than anything.

His eyes lower to the ring before returning to yours. There is so much love in his gaze that it almost becomes difficult to breathe.

“I love you.”

His voice is barely above a whisper. Yet somehow every single person hears it. The room collectively falls apart again. Laughter mixes with tears. You feel fresh tears gathering in your own eyes.

“I love you too.”

Jungkook smiles. The smile that changed your life. The smile you would recognize anywhere. Then, with a level of care that makes your chest ache, he slides the ring onto your finger.

Slowly.

As though committing the feeling to memory. As though he wants to remember every second of this for the rest of his life.

The ring settles into place. And suddenly the reality of it crashes over you.

Marriage. A future. A lifetime. Him. You. Forever.

When you take his hand, you notice that his breathing has become uneven again. He watches you with complete trust as you slide the ring onto his finger. There is something deeply intimate about such a simple gesture. Something almost sacred.

The moment the ring settles onto his hand, Jungkook looks down at it and laughs softly through his tears.

Then he looks back at you. And the expression on his face is enough to make your heart break all over again.

Because he looks grateful. As though being loved by you is still the greatest surprise of his life.

The officiant smiles warmly before finally speaking. The room quiets. Every guest watches. Every camera captures. Every heart seems suspended in anticipation.

“By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

The reaction is immediate. Cheers erupt from every corner of the venue. Applause fills the air. Laughter breaks through tears. Somebody whistles. Taehyung practically leaps out of his seat. The members lose whatever composure they had left. The room becomes a storm of happiness. Then comes the sentence everyone has been waiting for.

"You may kiss your bride.”

Jungkook doesn’t hesitate. Not even for a fraction of a second. The second the words leave the officiant’s mouth, he is already moving toward you.

The guests burst into laughter. You laugh too. Because of course he does. Of course Jungkook doesn’t wait.

His hands rise to your face. His forehead brushes yours briefly. And suddenly everything becomes quiet again.

All you can hear is your heartbeat. All you can see is him.

“I love you.”

His voice is soft. Full of emotion. The kind of love that cannot be performed because it exists too deeply.

Your eyes fill again.

“I love you too.”

Then he kisses you.

And in that moment, every road that led here suddenly makes sense.

Every heartbreak. Every disappointment. Every loss. Every wrong turn.

Every chapter that felt unfinished.

Every moment that convinced you love wasn’t meant for you.

Because all of it brought you here.

To him.

To this.

To the life waiting beyond this day.

And as confetti falls from above and the room erupts around you, you realize something beautiful.

The happiest ending was never really an ending at all.

It was simply the beginning of the rest of your life together.

End.

It’s been a long ass day. Jungkook’s white button-up feels stapled to his skin, his pants folding uncomfortably with every step he makes as he exits his office. A long finger comes up to his neck, digging underneath his striped tie, wiggling it a little to loosen the chokehold it has around his neck. His other hand feels bound to his briefcase, which carries so much importance in his life but yet so much burden at the same time.

It’s his first day back at work after his baby boy was born. The briefcase he holds reminds him of the duty he has to his family — of his passion and his support for you and your baby. But it also reminds him of the time it has ripped away from spending with you. He clutches it with so much strength at the thought of you, pulling his car keys out of his pocket and pressing the unlock button so hard, that he thinks he almost might just break it.

With a deep breath, he takes off his tie and tosses it in the passenger seat along with his briefcase. He’s ready to go home. That picture of you, him, and your son that you insisted on framing and Jungkook bringing to work has been a constant reminder of what he has to look forward to at the end of the day. If only his paternity leave could have been longer. You and his son are all he’s been able to think about. How you were doing, if you needed his help, if Jaemun was being feisty, how the cute crinkle on his nose resembles yours to a T.

It’s late January, and the winter air is unforgiving. He wonders if you have the heat on high enough; if Jaemun had enough blankets, or if the tip of your nose was cold like how it always is in the winter months. He can imagine you holding him close, swaddling him as you sing to him delicately. The thought makes his whole body warm, even though the air is so cold that it feels like glass is cutting against his skin.

He’s convinced he will take more time off. He’s the CEO, after all. He could take months off and it not matter. He wants to be with you always — at all times of the day to hold you and be there for you like he should be. If only the world had been that easy to where passions didn’t have a price. He got lucky, his passion having a heavy penny attached to it. But he wonders where that passion took something more valuable away from him — time. He finds himself now strapped between the choice of time and passion, and he fights the fact that he cannot choose both.

The door to your home is welcoming to his eyes as he pulls up to it. It’s not big by any means. Just homey and enough for the three of you. Even with the snow covering almost every inch of it, the reminder of how warm it is on the inside makes his drive to enter it even greater. He does so with a shiver, coming up to your shared home with a stomp of his boots to shake off the snow just before he enters.

To his surprise, he’s met with hushed music coming from the kitchen as he puts his winter coat on the hook, places his briefcase on the wooden floor, and shimmies out of his shoes. He looks at his watch first, making sure it’s not Jaemun’s nap time, to which he finds out it is. The soft music makes sense now, and he smiles when he makes his way down the hallway to the source of the noise.

The rest of the house is dark except for the kitchen-living room area that you and your baby rest in. Jaemun is peacefully sleeping in his bassinet by the couch, cuddling his dinosaur blanket, while you are by the stove, stirring something.

You look over your shoulder at the sound of familiar footsteps, and your heart immediately softens at the sight of your husband in the doorframe. He smiles back tiredly, running his hand through his hair in an exhausted attempt to pull himself together before he makes his way over to you. He looks relieved, like he’s finally received what he’s wanted all day. You’re happy to see him, knowing all too well that that’s what you’ve been waiting for all day, too.

Big, warm hands slide around your waist, a heavy chin rests on your shoulder as he kisses your cheek softly. He takes a deep breath, breathing in your presence as he releases the tension from work off his shoulders. You tend to have an instant effect on him — he missed you so much.

“You’re stirring water?” he laughs as he stares at the pot of water on the stove, unboiled, as you stir it as if it is.

“I’m trying to get it to boil quicker,” you explain with a defeated sigh. “Doesn’t seem to be working. I feel like I’ve been standing here for 20 minutes.”

He hums from behind you, taking your stirring hand and stopping your motions. You’ve never been a big cooker, but he knows you’ve been trying lately. “Just let it be, love. It’ll get there.”

You do as he says, putting the ladle down on the countertop and turning around in his embrace. You wrap your arms around his neck, staring at the tall man who holds you close against him. You’re met with a tired Jungkook who rests his forehead against yours as you play with the hairs at the back of his head.

“How was work?” you ask gently.

He groans, wrapping his hands around your waist and holding you tighter against him. It causes you to rest your cheek on his shoulder, hugging him in full.

“That bad?” you chuckle.

Your husband just sighs against your neck. “It’s too early to go back, Y/n,” he candors.

You tuck a strand of hair that fell in front of his face behind his ear. “We’re ok, Kook,” you comfort. But he only shakes his head, making the tucked strand fall out of its place again.

“I’m not,” he says. “I want to be here with you. Spend time with Jaemun before he’s suddenly 25.”

You chuckle at that. It does feel like that sometimes. It’s been three months since your son was born, but it feels like it was just yesterday that you were holding him for the first time.

You can only hold his cheek in response, running your thumb slowly against his soft skin. You feel for him, you really do. He’s such a good father. It makes your heartstrings tug and twist and pull every time you see him with your little boy. It’s only a matter of time before you have to go back to work as well. The thought makes your stomach turn, and you can completely sympathize with your husband dreading going back to work and leaving you and Jaemun.

“Your water is boiling,” he breaks you out of your daze.

“Oh,” you turn around. You smile, knowing he was right before. “I’m making pasta if that sounds ok?”

Jungkook kisses your neck in response, a gentle thing that has your tummy flipping for a second.

“You could also probably wake up our son,” you check the time on the microwave. “He’s been a little sleepy today, so I let his nap go for a little longer than usual.”

You add the pasta in and turn the water down, moving over to the greens left on the cutting board. You start chopping until your husband’s lips move lower.

“Our son,” he whispers, kissing your collarbone. The statement makes him jittery. It feels unreal still, even after nine months of waiting, and another three of actually having your little family here with him. You’re his wife, the mother of his kid, and he loves you more than anything in the world. You gave him something he can never find an equivalent to giving back to you. You gave him your heart and a family, and there’s nothing that can replace or overcome what that means to him. His soul lives for yours; it’s overwhelming what you’ve done for him. It’s overwhelming how you make him feel.

He kisses your collarbone softly once again, his heart full. You tilt your head to the side for more, and he gives it to you, kissing up your neck with slow wet kisses.

“Kook,” you exhale gently. You feel him hum against the skin just under your ear. Large palms cup your waist, his body moving closer to yours, trapping your hips against the countertop. Your knife feels loose in your hand when he bites at your skin gently, his tongue brushing over the bite mark afterward.

He stirs something within you. Something that you’ve missed terribly for the past few months. It makes your thighs tremble as he gently caresses your skin under his fingertips.

“The baby—“ you begin, but Jungkook’s motions cut you off yet again when his fingers slowly slide down your front. He’s unsure, his hand hesitating over your skin as his breath stops momentarily in thought.

“Is this okay?” He asks you genuinely. You nearly fall to your knees, dropping your knife onto the board, when his fingers put pressure over your clothed mound. It’s subtle, and much more gentle than what you’re used to with him. You know he’s being cautious, but god did you miss him. “If it’s too much, I’ll pull away.”

You shake your head.

It’s been a long time since the two of you have gotten intimate. Childbirth wasn’t easy, and your doctor just recently gave you two the “ok” for sex. The first time you tried since then wasn’t like what you’re used to with your husband. It was slow and painful, ending with a lot of apologies, embarrassment, and frustration. It’s safe to say that you have to get used to sex all over again.

“No,” you lean against him. “J-Just be gentle. I’m still a little sore.”

“Ok,” he whispers against your neck, kissing it softly. “Just relax for me, baby. I’ll make it feel good, I promise.”

You nod, loosening your nervous shoulders as your husband takes control. He stops swiftly for a second, turning the stove on the lowest setting before looking over his shoulder at his son to ensure he’s still fast asleep. Once he sees that he is, he immediately returns to you.

“So good for me,” he says, slowly circling your clit over your sweats. His other hand squeezes your waist before it moves up, sliding under your shirt and trickling over your breast. You’re wearing a soft bra today—one without an underwire—which makes it easier for him to slide his fingers under.

You whimper when he softly massages your boob, his fingers playing with your nipples gently. Your body, especially your breasts, has become 10x more sensitive since birth. You can feel everything, and everything either hurts or feels really really good. Whenever your husband seems to hold them, you’re a whimpering mess, melting like putty in his arms as he plays with you.

“Sensitive,” Jungkook smiles. His fingers rub harder against you, and you subtly buck your hips against him. His lips graze against your skin, his hair tickling your collarbone as he assaults your neck over and over again. 

“You’re so cute when you’re pregnant,” he rasps against your cheek before planting a sweet kiss upon it. “Wanna see you like that all the time. So full of me — carrying our babies.”

“Jungkook, I—” you whine, grasping onto his wrist. You’re unsure what to do with yourself, wanting him to do so much to you, but not knowing where to start.

The man behind you takes his hand away from your mound, and he chuckles when you whine in protest. But his thumbs hook on your pants and underwear, slowly pulling them down.

“Relax, baby,” he asks again. “I told you, I’m gonna take care of you. Don’t worry.”

His hand slides around your waist again, smoothing over your skin until it’s sliding between your folds. The back of your hand comes up to your mouth as your other grips the countertop for support as he plays with you.

“So wet,” he moans, feeling the effect he’s had on you with his fingers. “This all for me? I’ve barely touched you yet.”

You nod, feeling completely at the mercy of the man behind you. His other hand plays with your nipple again, and you feel another wave of euphoria go straight to your pussy.

His fingers gather your slick generously, smoothing it over your clit before circling it gently. He plays infinities over it, making your knees go weak. It’s getting harder to stay quiet, especially when he pinches your nipple gently, making you gasp at the soreness and pleasure it causes.

“K-Kook,” you whine, but he only chuckles, quickening his motions on your clit as he presses further into you. You can feel his dick strained against his work pants, and the thought of him inside you again makes you feel so needy for him. “Want you,” you pant. “Please.”

“Patience,” he shushes you, kissing your neck surely. “I haven’t even made you cum yet.”

“Wanna cum with you,” you whine in protest.

“You will,” he promises.

You gasp as he switches his finger, his thumb trading places with his middle. It circles over you just the same, except this time, it’s joined by his middle finger slowly inserting itself between your folds.

“Oh,” you exhale, feeling weak when he pumps it in and out of you slowly.

He lets himself test your reactions, seeing if the insertion is too much — if it hurts or feels uncomfortable. It doesn’t seem to be, and he slowly lets his ring finger join with his middle, causing you to roll your eyes back slightly.

“So good for me, baby,” he encourages. “Does that feel good?”

“Yes,” you reply almost immediately.

He kisses your neck. His lips leave hot, wet marks all over your skin as he curls his fingers against your g-spot. His other hand quickly comes to your waist, stabilizing you as you whimper against the back of your hand, trying your best to keep quiet.

He circles his thumb faster, his fingers circling and brushing against your g-spot in tandem with his movements. You feel your orgasm looming over you, and with a certain pressure against your clit, you’re coming undone just as he said you would all over his fingers.

“There you are,” he coaxes you. You’re a whimpering mess, and he feels his dick twitch at the sight of you falling apart on his fingers. He helps you ride out your high, his fingers very gently brushing over your clit as you come down.

Once you're calmed down, you reach around you, playing with his belt loop as you rest your head on his shoulder and look up at him. He looks back down, hesitating again knowing what you want but unsure if it’s too much for you to handle yet.

“What,” he smiles teasingly with a kiss to your forehead.

“I want you,” you candor, looking at up him with pleading eyes.

He kisses your nose. “Are you sure? You said it hurt last time.”

You nod. “Please, Koo,” you beg him.

His chest rises, and he takes a deep breath before he nods, kissing you gently as he unbuckles his belt. He places it on the counter before unzipping himself and pulling his pants down. It springs up, pressing itself against your skin gently. But he takes himself in his hands, hesitantly letting it slide down over your folds. 

“Let me know if I’m hurting you, okay?” He says, lining himself up to you with a few strokes of his cock. God, was he nervous. The last time sex hurt really bad for you, and that was just a week ago. He wonders if the prep was enough; he hopes it was, he really doesn’t want to hurt you again.

You nod, holding onto the countertop again as his tip rubs against your entrance. Your coat his cock in such slickness, even you’re surprised at how much you leak onto him. You miss your husband. You need this bad, and so does he.

“Oh, and try to stay quiet, yeah?” He says with a push of his hips. The motion has him covering your mouth with his hand, shielding your moans quickly. “The baby is still sleeping.”

His dick slips past your folds so smoothly, it has you gasping for breath at how good it feels. It’s nothing like the last time. He’s gentler, but still so so big, he fills you up just right.

“Fuck,” he whispers against your neck once he sheathes himself fully inside of you. The man behind you stills, completely overwhelmed with the feeling of you. He, too feels like he’s had to relearn sex all over again. How to please you right now that your body has changed, how to make sure that you are comfortable with his pace and size. You two haven’t had sex like this in so long, he feels overwhelmed when you feel almost too good for him to control. A part of him is embarrassed by how quickly he thinks he’s going to last. 

“How are you still so tight, hm?” he asks with a firm grip on your hip. “Y-You okay?”

You can only nod, pushing your hips down against him. The motion forces him further into you, to which both of you grunt at the feeling.

Testingly, Jungkook pulls out slowly, before pushing back into you a little quicker than before. You coat him generously, creating a motion that makes it easy for him to repeat. 

He develops a pace, fucking you against the kitchen countertop with your juices leaking all over his cock and down your thighs. The stove is on and your baby still sleeps; there are uncut vegetables in front of you and your husband still wears his work shirt. But he fucks you as if none of that matters. As if his only priority is to make sure you feel good, to let yourself go as he fuck you deep and just how you like it. 

His hand comes off from your mouth and settles on your hip. His other hand wraps around your front, holding you impossibly close against his body.

You moan softly when he bends you over slightly against the countertop, the new angle making it hard for you to stay quiet. But you push your hips against him anyway, telling him without words to go deeper.

The action causes him to moan, following your request with a snap of his hips.

“You like it that much, hm?” He grunts, cock ramming into you. “Like it when I knock you up good?”

“Y-Yes!” You whisper. “I love it so much, Koo.”

“Y-yeah?” He leans over you. A tattooed hand cups over yours, palm embracing the back of your hand as he intertwines his fingers with yours. “Gonna let me do it again?”

“Mmhm,” you squeeze his fingers. “As many times as y-you want.”

“A-Ah,” he pants, mind going into a frenzy over your words. The fact that he is yours, that you are his. That only he can hear you say that. That only he can make you feel this good. That only he has the privilege of calling you his wife. It makes his heart warm and his cock twitch. 

“God, I’m going to ruin you if you say things like that, Y/n,” he warns. But you are relentless, leaning your head back on his shoulder, giving yourself to him further. 

“W-Want you to,” you whimper. “I love you.” 

Your legs shake, completely weak from your past orgasm and your new one forming at the pit of your stomach. His cock makes you feel so full, like you’re stretched to the max capacity as he fucks you good. You know he’s close when his dick twitches inside of you after your words, which only encourages you to gain some strength and begin fucking yourself back on his cock.

“Mm, fuck,” he grips your hips tightly. “M’ gonna cum.”

He quickly reaches around you again, drawing infinities over your clit with his middle finger. His eyes roll back as your cunt naturally tightens at the feeling. Your hips jolt and the knots in your tummy slowly start to unravel themselves onto his dick as you come undone. Just as he had promised, with a final twitch, he’s cumming inside of you with hot, thick ropes filling you up with whispered exhales of your name on his lips.

He lets the two of you catch your breath, his forehead resting on your shoulder before he’s pulling out, shared cum leaking down your thighs and onto the floor. Quickly, he grabs a paper towel from the roll next to the stove and cleans you up a little.

With gentle hands, he helps you back into your sweats before he helps himself into his boxers. He still lingers behind you when he reaches a hand around you and turns the stove on a higher setting once again. 

You turn around, wrapping your hands around his neck as you pull him in for a much-needed kiss. “I love you,” you whisper against him again. His hair falls onto your skin, dark locks intertangling with yours as his fingers come up to hold your face against his. Soft lips sear over yours, telling you things that simply cannot be put into words. 

“I love you, too,” he brushes his nose against yours. “Was that okay? I didn’t hurt you?”

You pause, looking up at his dilated pupils. He looks at you like you're his world; like he's given you his heart with the full intent of never receiving it back from you. You nod, kissing him softly again. 

“You should probably wake up your son now,” you poke his cheek.

Looking at the time on the microwave, he snaps out of his daze. “Oh fuck,” he says as his fingers leave your side. You watch him leave you with a chuckle, turning back to your pasta wondering how in the world you go so lucky to marry and mother a kid to this man. You’d truly give him anything he wanted. 

***

[Bonus]

With gentle hands, so big against his baby’s frame, he picks Jaemun up in his arms, holding him against his chest. His dinosaur blanket swaddles him softly, and Jungkook does his best to make sure he’s correctly supported and held despite the extra fabric over his small frame. 

Jaemun stirs, and Jungkook places a soft kiss on his tiny head before he gets the chance to freak out and cry. The baby seems to know exactly who is holding him, and he nearly falls back asleep at the familiarity of his father’s arms. But Jungkook bounces him against his chest softly, slowly waking him up for dinnertime.

He makes his way over to you, making unnecessary airplane noises, from what you assume is Jungkook pretending to be an airplane and his son the passenger.

“You know, babies can’t laugh until they’re about 4 months,” you shake your head with a laugh.

“False,” your husband comes behind you again. “I swear he’s laughed before.”

You chuckle, taking the pan off the stove and pouring the insides into a strainer. Just the noodles are left in the strainer now, and you realize that you haven’t thought past the part of boiling the noodles. You ignore that you have no idea what kind of pasta you’re making when Jungkook rests himself against the kitchen island. 

Jaemun catches sight of you, and his arm reaches for you in Jungkook’s hold. You come over, giving him a kiss on the forehead before kissing your husband.

“Were you serious?” your husband asks you suddenly. 

“About?” you raise your eyebrow. 

“You know,” he gulps, holding Jaemun a little tighter. He rests against Jungkook's shoulder, his eyes tempting to fall back asleep again. “More kids.” 

You raise both your eyebrows again, looking at him as if he was serious. His heart beats faster when he realizes what you’re thinking, quickly rephrasing himself. 

“N-Not now, of course,” he gulps. 

You turn around, opening the fridge for some milk for Jaemun as you listen to him. You take out a pot, take the cased breast milk from earlier, and pour it in, turning on the stove afterward. 

“I just mean, like, in the future,” he explains.

There’s a long pause as you wait for the pot to heat up enough. The man behind you is weak, and you don’t know if you want to be mean and give him the blunt answer, or soften the blow. Watching how he cradles your son makes you want to go with the first choice. 

“Don’t you worry Jeon,” you start, as you stir the contents in the pot. You can hear him gulp behind you. “I planned on giving you as many babies as you want. But at least wait until Jaemun is in pre-school or something. I don’t think I can handle two infants at once.” 

You hear little from him at your answer, leaving you smirking knowing full well that you put the man behind you in a frenzy imagining the future you just laid out for him.

***