#marginalmadness

You could swear it wasn’t there a second ago, but it’s possible it darted out from under one of the surrounding bushes and you startled it as much as it, you.

Crouching down, you reach a hand out towards the small creature, which lifts its head, twitches its nose and shuffles towards you. It’s hard to tell under the sopping wet fur, but it doesn’t look like what you’ve seen of regular wild rabbits. Its fur is darker, but that might just be an effect of the rain. It also seems longer, but again it’s hard to tell when wet. The biggest giveaway that it’s no regular wild rabbit are the two long, floppy ears that hang down either side of its head, dragging along the path as it moves towards you.

“Hey cutie pie,” you say in as soft a voice as possible while shivering from the wet and the cold. “You don’t look like you’re from around here.”

The creature makes a full hop towards you and sniffs at your hand, and you’re almost 100% sure it’s a rabbit and not a hare. You slip your other hand beneath its tiny body and stand, clutching it to your chest. You wait to see if it’s going to resist or fight but it only snuggles into your coat. “Okay, let's get you home and dried off, and then see if we can find your owner,” you say, scratching its head gently.

Almost as soon as you tuck the tiny creature under your coat, the rain starts again, skies grey, water coming down in sheets as though it never stopped. You run the rest of the way through the park and across the road, not minding that you step into a puddle since your feet are already so wet. You barrel your way into your apartment building, stopping to catch your breath as you wait for the elevator.

As soon as you’re through your front door you carefully step out of your shoes, drop your bag and shuck off your drenched coat, vowing to come back and clean them up later. You’re so soaked your clothes cling to you, as though you weren’t wearing a coat at all, and you hit the thermostat on high as you run past on your way to the bathroom.

“Why don’t we get you all nice and snug in a towel? Let you warm up while I take a shower, hm, little buddy?”

Grabbing a hand towel, you carefully wrap the trembling creature in your arms, rubbing the wet fur carefully before placing the bundle in the sink and stripping down to jump in the hot shower.

The hot water stings your chilled skin the instant it makes contact, but it warms you up quicker than waiting around for your apartment to heat up or hiding under your duvet would. Stepping out of the shower, you wrap a warm, fluffy towel around yourself and notice the small rabbit has its eyes closed. You pick it up in its bundle, and it seems to blink in alarm at being moved.

“Awww,” you coo aloud. “Did the warm steam lull you to sleep, lil’ bun?” The rabbit looks up at you and then closes its eyes, nuzzling back into the towel covering it. You carry it into your room and place it on your bed before changing into something warm and snuggly and drying your hair. By the time you’re all done, the bunny has fallen asleep, curled up in a little cocoon of warmth.

You head back towards the front door, picking up your coat and moving your waterlogged shoes into the bathroom. You pick up your bag and hope your phone was buried deep enough inside to escape water damage. Luckily, all of the contents inside seem untouched and you send a prayer of thanks to whoever was watching over you to pull that one off.

Grabbing your phone, you quickly search for a local vet that’s still open, hitting ‘call now’ when you find a decently-reviewed one. You kneel at the foot of the bed until you’re eye level with the fluffy, dark-furred rabbit. It watches you with curiosity, whiskers twitching as your face gets closer to it.

“Hello, Park Place Animal Hospital,” a tinny voice says pleasantly through the phone. “Eric speaking, how can I help?”

“Hi,” you say cautiously. “I found a rabbit in the park, and think someone might have lost it. It doesn’t look like a wild rabbit.” Maybe it was a wild rabbit, you argue with yourself; you’re not exactly a rabbit expert.

“Can you describe it to me?” Eric asks.

“It’s got long, dark fur; black or maybe dark brown? Seems… fluffy?” you say with uncertainty. “It was drowned-looking when I found it in the storm, and it’s wrapped in a towel drying now. But its ears are long and floppy. Really long. Really, really long,” you emphasise.

There’s a chuckle on the other end of the phone. “Well it certainly doesn’t sound like a wild rabbit. Possibly a member of the lop family. It could be a lost pet, but are you sure it’s not a hybrid?”

That stops you. A hybrid? Never even crossed your mind. Why would a hybrid stay in animal form in a storm and let a stranger take them home?

“I-” you stutter. “I don’t know. I’m a mundane, I don’t know how I would be able to tell.”

“Well, scent is the easiest way to tell, but you wouldn’t be able to use that as a mundane and it’s a little late to bring it into the clinic. You could talk to it, ask it some questions.”

You frown down at the bunny. Maybe you were missing something. “I don’t speak Bunny.” You could hear Eric holding back his smile over the phone.

“But hybrids understand human speech,” he says, holding back his laughter. “Assuming you speak the same languages.” You purse your lips, eyes glancing around the room, cheeks burning in embarrassment. “Where are you right now?”

“In my bedroom,” you say. “The bunny-hybrid-whatever is wrapped in a towel on my bed and I’m kneeling on the floor at the foot of it.”

“And what is the ‘bunny-hybrid-whatever’ doing?”

“It's-” You look at the rabbit and are a little taken aback to realise it’s watching you, head raised, nose twitching inquisitively. “-watching me.”

“Okay, unwrap it and leave the room. Tell it, if it’s hungry, to follow you to the kitchen. If it’s a hybrid, it will understand and follow you.”

You blink owlishly at the creature, before nodding in determination. “Okay.” You unwrap the towel and move to the doorway. The bunny watches you leave.

“I need to make dinner. If you’re hungry, follow me. I have some veggies you can eat.” The bunny stands up on its hindquarters, giving itself a shake until its fur is sticking up in funny-looking spikes. It jumps down from the bed and lops after you as you walk towards the kitchen. You turn your attention back to Eric on the phone. “I promised the bunny veggies, and now it’s following me into the kitchen.”

“Congratulations, you have a hybrid-rabbit in your home.” Eric laughs. “It’s late now, we’ll be closing soon, but if they haven’t turned by morning you can bring them by the clinic and we’ll be able to either issue a T.o.C or take them in until we can find out where they came from.”

“T-O-C?” you ask slowly.

“Treaty of Care. Hybrids who stay in their animal form for extended periods of time need special care. It’s usually infant or adolescent hybrids born in animal form who haven’t turned for the first time yet, or hybrids hurt in animal form who need to heal before they can transform back. A Treaty of Care is usually served to a close friend or family member, but it can be anyone.”

“Even a stranger?” you ask, stopping in your tracks and looking down at the small creature by your foot. It looks up at you with big, dark eyes.

“If they didn’t fight you when you first picked them up, and they haven’t shown any signs that they want to leave, then they feel comfortable with you. At least for the time being. So the decision seems to be yours. Think about it tonight, and come in tomorrow.”

“Will do. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” you mutter, biting your lip and shuffling from foot-to-foot.

“No problem, have a nice evening,” Eric says politely.

“Thanks, you too.” You hang up the phone, motioning with your head towards the kitchen. “There’s apples in there.” The bunny-hybrid zooms off, hopping towards the kitchen, and you let out a little giggle at its enthusiasm.

Once there, you head to the fridge and pull out what you need to make yourself dinner, plus some extra veggies for your unintended guest. You dump them and the promised apple into the sink, making sure to give them a good wash before you start chopping things into rabbit-convenient pieces. A gentle pressure against your calf stops you, and you turn to find the long-eared bunny leaning against you as it stands on its hind legs, either trying to get a better look at what you’re doing or begging for a snack.

“Are you nosey or impatient?” you ask, and the hybrid drops to all fours before hopping around your feet. You lean down to pick it up, placing it on the counter next to you and offering it a slice of apple. Its tail—no, its entire body wiggles in appreciation as it munches on the apple slice, nibbling away with its eyes contentedly closed. You finish chopping the veggies and place a selection on a plate, setting it in front of the hybrid. The bunny hops high, kicking its back legs in excitement before diving into the pile to devour it.

With a tentative finger, you reach out to scratch behind the rabbit’s ear. To your relief, it doesn’t recoil. Encouraged by this, you settle your hand on its head and gently stroke its fluff. The hybrid leans up, nuzzling its face into the palm of your hand. You smile appreciatively, tickling the rabbit’s chin before you turn to cook your own dinner.

---

The rest of your night you spend relaxing, curled up on the sofa watching TV.  The hybrid decides to join you, settling at the opposite end away from you. Normally you wouldn’t allow a pet or an animal on the furniture, but it’s not really an animal and you’d feel bad forcing a guest to sit on the floor if there was space on the sofa. You’re second-guessing your decision, though, when the rabbit expresses opinions on your choice of entertainment, nudging the remote when it wants you to change the channel and thumping its feet when it sees something good. You spend a good twenty minutes having a one-sided argument with a creature that communicates through nothing but foot stomping and nose twitches before you come to a consensus: a superhero movie that you never got to see in the cinema. You drop the remote and the rabbit hops closer to you, shuffling into a loaf by your feet. Like that, the pair of you spend the night watching six unlikely heroes and their friends save the world from total destruction.

---

Your first real, big conundrum is when you go to bed and the little ball of fluff follows you, jumping onto your comforter.

“No. Don’t be ridiculous, you are not sharing my bed,” you try to say forcefully, but the surreal nature of what's happening makes your tone just a little bit hysterical. The hybrid simply lowers its head to the comforter, making itself smaller, lopping closer to your hand until it’s nudging it. It wiggles its head beneath your fingers. “Is this you asking for permission? No! Off! Down! Off the bed!” The creature shimmies its fluffy tail and doesn’t move an inch. “I know you can understand what I’m saying, and it’s weird,” you whine. The tail-twitching stops. Big, dark eyes blink up at you as it sits up on its haunches, front paw waving at you like it’s trying to grab you.

You can’t help but feel you’re in a pouting contest with a rabbit.

“Fine,” you huff, flopping back on the bed dramatically. The hybrid lops towards you and you turn to watch. Fluff obscures your vision as it boops you gently on the nose, and you laugh at the tickle of its fur. You shuffle under the comforter with a yawn and turn off the lamp. “Okay. Tomorrow, when I get your Treaty of Care, I’m picking you up an animal bed. This is only for tonight, because you’ve obviously had a stressful day, so don’t get used to it.” The second you say it, you know it’s a lie. You’d lose a pouting contest with that bunny every time.

---

Ten weeks later, the rabbit now has a side of the bed. 

The side of the bed where his animal bed sits unused on the floor. 

The vet had given the hybrid a clean bill of health, identified it as a young adult male and given you a T.o.C for as long as it wanted to stay with you. Or until you returned it. But that would never happen.

Somehow you’d just fallen into a routine; breakfast for the both of you, rushing to and from work, changing the litter box, dinner for two, TV in the evenings. And now somehow, suddenly, it’s summer. Gone are the spring storms that brought the two of you together. Now you have the stifling heat and humidity of the peak of summer.

All the windows in the apartment are open and have been for at least a week. You don’t even sleep with a cover anymore, just collapse on top of it in the flimsiest two-piece that can cover your modesty. Honestly, even that feels like too must most nights, sticking to you in the humidity. It’s so hot that the hybrid - who you had simply called “Bun” for lack of a better name - no longer lay close to you, but far on the other side of the bed, stretched out on his side, ears akimbo. The city desperately needed a storm to break the humidity.

Half way through summer, you get your wish. You flinch, even in your sleep, as the room fills with blinding, white light. The crack of thunder that immediately follows is explosive in the silence of your room thanks to all the open windows. The storm startles you awake. Turning away from the window, you bury your face in your damp, sweat-drenched pillow, just as the gentle roll of heavy rain starts to beat against the heated concrete city.

“You okay, Bun?” you ask in a sleepy, raspy voice as you reach for the small creature. But where you expect to meet soft fur, you meet soft skin, solid muscle coiled tight beneath it. It takes a second for your brain to register the foreign sensation, before your head snaps up and your eyes open. You’re used to sleeping next to a small rabbit-hybrid, but in its place is a very naked young man, curled in the fetal position. His large, terror-filled eyes stare at you.

You scream, scrambling off the bed and across the floor to press your back against the wall. The naked man shrinks in on himself when you yell, curling himself into a tighter ball. You can see just enough of him over the edge of the bed to spy a long, floppy ear drape over one of his arms.

“Bun?” you ask in a breathless voice. He lifts his head, and those eyes—those large, round eyes are just as dark as they were when he was a rabbit. 

They’re the same. 

He moves up onto his hands and knees, crawling cautiously across the bed to peer down at you. His fingers curl over the edge of the mattress, long ears dangling either side of his face.

“Sorry,” he whispers in a soft voice. He’s still tucked in on himself like a loaf, like he would sit when he was a rabbit. You can hear his foot tapping against the mattress; he’s agitated. “I woke up like this a little while ago, before the storm was over the city. I guess it scared me into transforming back.”

“Why didn’t you wake me?” you ask, finally getting a handle on your breathing. It’s not everyday you wake up with a naked man in your bed…or any day recently, if you’re being honest.

“You’ve had trouble sleeping because of the heat. I didn’t want to disturb your rest.” Your heart aches. You knew the hybrid living with you was friendly and sweet-tempered, but hearing it makes it difficult not to reach out and pet and coo at him like you regularly would. There’s just enough light coming in from outside for you to see him bite his lower lip in the darkness. Your heart pangs again when you notice that he has bunny teeth even in his human form.

You shift, getting to your knees and moving closer to the bed. The hybrid doesn’t stir, still huddled in on himself, floppy ears falling each side of his face. They blend seamlessly into his long, dark, wavy hair. His eyes are impossibly large, as dark as the night sky, and reassuringly familiar. Just over his shoulder, down the slope of his back, you spy a fluffy tail twitching at the base of his spine. Resolutely, your eyes snap back to his face.

“That was very kind of you,” you say softly, watching his face spread into a warm smile, front teeth prominent and pressing into his bottom lip.

“You’ve been very kind to me,” he practically whispers, and you smile in return, resisting the urge to pat him on the head. You don’t know if it’s appropriate now he’s no longer a rabbit.

“Do you have a name?”

“Jungkook, but you can keep calling me Bun, if you want. I like it,” he says, louder this time. Confidently. And you decide, screw it, you’re going to pet him. But then thunder crashes again, bright light simultaneously filling the room, and for a single, breathtaking moment, in the stark light of the storm, you take him in. 

And he is absurdly beautiful.

Jungkook ducks his head. Curling into himself, one of his feet taps incessantly against the bed. You reach out, threading your fingers through his soft, chocolate brown locks until you’re rubbing his head, fingernails scratching lightly.

“Don’t worry, Jungkook, you’re safe. I’ll not let anything happen to you.” Slowly, he raises his face; eyes searching yours. “Treaty of Care, remember.” You give him a small smile. Jungkook leans forward then, pressing the tip of his nose into your cheek. 

You still. 

He used to do this all the time as a rabbit. It’s normal behaviour. Your research told you hybrids behave similarly to their animal counterparts. When in animal form, that is. You never expected it in human form.

His nose skims across your cheekbone until he’s rubbing it against yours. You can’t help but sigh at how incredibly intimate the act feels, and Jungkook must take that as some sort of sign, because the next thing he does is gently caress your lips with his. If it weren’t for how focused his eyes are, gauging your reaction, you might write it off as an accident. But then he does it again.

You pull back suddenly, shaking your head as though to clear it. “Let me get you something to wear,” you say, climbing to your feet and closing the blinds on your way to your draws. “I don’t know if they’ll fit you, but these are some old sweats.” You throw them to him on the bed, turning back to find him a shirt; something loose. You dig out an old t-shirt you won in a radio contest.

“Are you covered?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook says in a small voice. You turn around, extending the shirt toward him and short-circuiting when he stands at his full height. Your eyes are immediately drawn to his sculpted abdomen. All of him could be cut from marble. You stare, open-mouthed, as he shuffles foot to foot, awkwardly rubbing his elbow.

“Is that for me?” He asks finally, motioning to the garment in your hand. You nod, holding out the t-shirt emblazoned with the logo of a radio station you don’t ever recall listening to. Just as he takes it, thunder claps again and brightens the room and his arm flexes, dragging you into his personal space before you can release your hold on the fabric. His chest heaves, breaths coming heavy.

“I’m tired. Let’s sleep tonight and we’ll talk in the morning, okay?” you say softly, going for the bed. Jungkook just nods and moves towards the door. “Where are you going?” you ask, laying a hand on his arm.

“The sofa.” He ducks his head, ears hiding most of his face. “I didn’t think you’d want me sharing your bed anymore since—” he motions to his human form.

You swallow. It’s loud in the quiet of the room. “Is that why you stayed a rabbit for so long? So I’d let you stay?”

Jungkook looks up at you through his lashes; you can see him biting his lip again. “Kind of,” he mumbles, avoiding your eyes. “You were so kind to me when you found me. I was scared you’d want me to leave if I transformed back, and I wanted to stay for a little while.”

“Why?” you ask softly. “Didn’t you want to go home?” He smiles, but it looks embarrassed, his nose scrunching.

“No, not yet,” he says meekly, dipping his head. He hides behind his chocolate brown waves and long, floppy ears. “Going home is… it’s complicated.” 

You lean forward, carefully reaching up to brush one of his ears aside so you can better see his eyes. His ear twitches but he doesn’t pull away, instead looking at you with all the stars of the cosmos in his eyes. “You can tell me when you’re ready,” you encourage with a soft smile. “There’s no rush. I’m also not going to make you sleep alone when you’re scared,” you say, taking him by the hand and tugging him towards the bed.

“Are you sure?” he asks, looking over your shoulder towards the bed. But his face is hopeful, so you can tell he’s only asking out of politeness.

“There’s plenty of space. And besides, you’ve had weeks to hurt me and you haven’t. I trust you.” You let go of his hand and clamber into bed.

Jungkook perks up and slips the shirt hurriedly over his head, inside out and obscuring those perfectly sculpted abs. He scrambles over the mattress to his usual side of the bed, a buck-toothed smile all over his face. His human form is impressively built, but somehow, when his head hits the pillow and he curls into a ball, he looks almost as tiny as he did in bunny form.

You lay facing him, watching him carefully. His eyes are huge and flitting between your face and the window, like he’s waiting for another crash of thunder. You sit up, reaching down to where your thin blanket had been kicked out of the way when the heatwave started, holding it up, your meaning obvious. Jungkook immediately shuffles closer, curling into your side and burying his head under your chin. It startles you for a second, your entire body going stiff, but you take a deep breath and wrap an arm around him, willing yourself to relax. You thread your fingers through his soft, brown locks, caressing his head the way you did when he was still a rabbit. 

And before either of you realise the storm has already passed, you drift off together into restful sleep.

At the end of your work day, you come home and thank God he’s still there. Sometimes he’s typing away on your laptop. Jungkook signed up as a freelance transcriber as a way to make money while staying with you. It was something to do while you were at work, too, restless soul that he is.  Sometimes, though, you come home to find him flopped on his side in a patch of sun, having a nap as a bunny. 

You cook dinner together now. Well, when you say together, you mean you take his direction, since Jungkook is a much better cook than you. He uses some of his free time to look up recipes he thinks you’ll like. 

It’s ridiculously heartwarming. 

After dinner, as is your routine, you split the washing up and curl up together to watch some Netflix. On the days you do all the washing up, Jungkook doesn’t fight you for control of the TV. 

You still tease him over the first and only time you watched a horror movie. The first jump-scare forced him into rabbit form and he leapt into your lap in fright. Jungkook spent the entire movie there, shivering. And the rest of the night he spent pressed against your side in a tight, furry ball. Of course, the next day he insisted he wasn’t that scared, he just didn’t want to bother you by transforming back and forth.

He did a similar thing when you were watching a sappy romantic movie, but you don’t tease him about that. The second you noticed him sniffling at the lovers’ separation, he turned into a rabbit and hopped off his chair and over to you. You expected him to come cuddle, but he scrambled onto the back of the sofa and situated himself by your head instead. Every time there was a particularly romantic moment, he would nudge you with his nose and tickle you with his whiskers. And when he was feeling particularly bold, he’d grip your shoulder with his front claws and rub his chin over your cheek and neck. It tickled so much it made you squirm. 

After extricating yourself from his clutches, a quick search on the internet told you that rabbits do this to mark their territory. You have trouble looking him in the eye the rest of that day. You know he’s attracted to you; have done since that first night. But he’s been ever so respectful. For some reason, the thought of him marking you as his makes your skin flush and burn.

Shopping for groceries is an experience, too. Jungkook skips around the store, picking multiple things up, asking you if you like them before throwing them in the shopping cart. It doesn’t matter whether you need them or not, just if you like it. That’s good enough for Bun. He’s so happy and energetic, his smile wide and eyes sparkling until you bend over into a freezer to pick up some ice cream. When you turn back, Jungkook is clinging to the cart, his eyes wide and entire body stock-still. All but his foot as it wildly pounds the ground.

“You okay, Bun?” you ask with a tilt of your head. His mouth drops open into a shape as round as his eyes. Mimicking you, Jungkook tilts his head before blinking and shaking it. And then he coughs, practically vibrates, before muttering something about cereal and running off in the opposite direction of the cereal. 

Ever since that peculiar day, Jungkook has insisted on going grocery shopping alone. Something about getting out of the house and becoming more independent. But he blushes and averts his eyes as he says it, foot tapping wildly until he kicks over a plant pot. He cleans up the mess without another word, chewing on one of its stricken leaves and purposefully avoiding your eyes for the rest of the day.

Your weekends become different too. Before Bun arrived, you’d spent them relaxing after your work week, alone and in peace. Now you have a tiny, demanding rabbit that follows you around your apartment, tripping you up. And now you also have a fully grown, demanding man. A roommate - for lack of a better word - with which to do things. Now you have Saturday walks in the park and Sunday brunches. Imagine that.

 Jungkook is incredibly physical. Forever moving, rarely still, bouncing from foot to foot, wiggling when excited. When you praise him, he claps and dances. The day you get a promotion at work, he hugs you so tightly, lifting you up and spinning you in the air because he’s simply that happy. He binkies about in excitement just as much as he did in bunny form, long hair and floppy ears bouncing wildly as his eyes crinkle in happiness, sending things flying in his excitement. You’ve already replaced one particular lamp three times.

But then Jungkook starts marking his territory in human form, too.

You’re chopping something for dinner on some nondescript day when Jungkook approaches you from behind, hands sliding gently over your hips. You could shake him off easily if you wanted to. But you find yourself not wanting to. His chin rests on your shoulder as though he’s just watching you work, but then the subtle rub starts. Across your shoulder and into the crook of your neck, until an involuntary shudder runs down your spine. It snaps Jungkook back to his senses and he pulls away.

—-

The day everything changed was the day from hell. Work had been awful, just one fuck up after another. None of which were even your fault, but all of which you were expected to fix.

You come home to a tidy apartment, subtle scented candles burning and soft music playing. Jungkook is in the kitchen cooking, and you’re sure the ingredients you can smell are ones he’s shopped for today.

“Welcome home.” He smiles over his shoulder at you. “Dinner is almost done if you want to get washed up.” He turns back to stir the pan on the stove. When you walked through the front door you were on the verge of tears. Now your eyes are misting up for the complete opposite reason.

You drag your sorry ass over to him and practically collapse against his wide, strong back, wrapping your arms around his tiny waist like he often does you.

“Thank you,” you practically sob into his shirt, screwing your eyes closed in an effort to not actually cry. You try to keep the emotion out of your voice but Jungkook knows you well enough to sense you’re upset by something. He immediately switches off the stove burners and turns to wrap his arms tightly around you, holding you without a second thought.

 “What is it? What’s wrong?” he asks, voice full of concern. Large, strong hands brush the hair back from your face.

 “I just had a really shit day, and you just—” You turn, arms flailing, motioning to the clean apartment and dinner on the stove. Jungkook nods in understanding. “—you made it all better.” His eyes go round as he blinks at you in shock, before melting into something warm. He tucks your hair behind your ears and tilts your head as he moves in, as though he were going to kiss you. Your eyes flutter closed as his nose brushes yours, but his lips never touch yours. “What’s this?” you ask in a whisper, blinking your eyes open to find him smiling at you softly.

 “A rabbit thing,” he says simply, resting his forehead against yours with a soft grunt of air. It doesn’t quite reach a growl. You know it's a rabbit thing; you researched. But you didn’t expect it in human form.

 “Okay.” You don’t push, don’t demand an explanation for a deeper meaning, just accept the affection from him. You lean in and brush your nose against his in return, causing him to gasp and grunt again, hand moving from your face to your waist. It lingers there for a few seconds before Jungkook gently, physically, pushes you away, his large eyes looking bigger than usual. His pupils are blown out, almost entirely black. Breath comes from his parted lips in short pants and huffs.

 “You should get cleaned up while I finish dinner,” he says softly, stepping backwards. There’s an arm’s length of space between you now. You nod at him, hands finding his, giving him a squeeze as you back out of the kitchen. You don’t let go until the space between you is too far for your fingertips to touch. His eyes don’t leave you until you’re completely out of sight.

 You close the door quietly, leaning your forehead against it and taking slow, deep, grounding breaths, trying to calm the racing of your heart. What was that? Sure, it isn’t the first time he’s done it; he did it on the night he transformed and kissed you. Somehow, though, it felt as intimate as him kissing you again. Is it wrong to feel this way towards Jungkook? He’s your Bun, your charge; you’re his caretaker. Are you taking advantage of him? Is he only acting like this because he’s thankful to you for taking care of him?

 You push off and away from the door, feeling heavy. It’s almost like there’s a rope connecting you to Jungkook and forever pulling you towards him. You change out of your work clothes into something more comfortable. If that more comfortable thing happens to be something just a little clingy in certain, flattering places, and it makes you feel pretty, then you tell yourself you need the ego boost after the day you had. It has absolutely nothing to do with wanting to look good for Jungkook. You head to the bathroom to wash your face and brush your hair into something more relaxed before returning to the kitchen. And Jungkook.

 “Nope!” Jungkook yells, stopping you before you can even enter the kitchen, two strong hands taking you by the shoulders, turning you around and practically marching you towards the living room. You pout over your shoulder at him, but he’s just grinning and laughing at your pouty face. You slump onto the sofa and he leans over the back of it, hovering over you, his eyes crinkling as he laughs musically. Ever so carefully he takes you by the jaw, rubbing his chin over your head, tilting you to the side so he can whisper in your ear.

 “Sit and relax, I’ll bring you dinner.” His voice is light and full of joy.

 You sit and pout, grabbing the remote to put some music on. At the exact moment you drop it back to the table, a bowl of food is placed in front of you. You blink up at a grinning Jungkook as he retreats eagerly to the kitchen, presumably for drinks. His enthusiasm is infectious. You pick up the bowl of pasta, twirling your fork in the creamy sauce and noodles, and take a big bite. It’s delicious. Delicious enough to have you moaning with pleasure and sliding back against the couch.

 “Kookie, this is amazing!” you groan, licking the sauce from your lips.

 Jungkook stares at you, eyes wide, focused on your tongue as it slides along your lips. You hadn’t even realised he’d come back from the kitchen. He places a glass of wine on the table in front of you, ducking his head and hiding behind his ears as he shuffles to his spot on the sofa, bowl in hand. You watch him slyly out of the corner of your eye. His face is so red, so glowing you can almost feel the heat radiating from it. “I made it,” he says, still staring intently at his food. “I found a recipe online I thought you would like.”

 “From scratch?” you ask, amazed. He nods, biting his lip and refusing to look at you. You reach across the space between you and thread your fingers into his soft, wavy locks, rubbing the spot just behind one of his floppy ears. “Bun this is amazing, it tastes amazing!” His head lifts up, eyes so big they sparkle in the low light. “You’re amazing,” you whisper in a soft voice. Jungkook ducks his head again, hiding once more behind his long ears and curly hair. He eats his food slowly, more picking at it than anything. You, on the other hand, tuck in enthusiastically, all manners and grace gone, letting him see and hear your enjoyment of the food. You know how much it pleases him when you unabashedly enjoy his cooking. When you ask for seconds, handing him your empty bowl, Jungkook binkies across the room to the kitchen, bouncing on his heels as he piles a second serving of noodles and sauce into your bowl.

 He hands it back to you soon after and sits beside you on the sofa, knees curling under himself. Reclining on the back cushions, he observes you as you eat, arms crossed and eyes sparkling. When you’re half way through your second serving and can’t eat a bite more, he whisks away the dishes and returns quickly to your side. 

 Jungkook flops over and places his head in your lap. “Will you…” He bites his lip, turning to bury his face in your sweater, his cheeks burning crimson again.

 “What? What do you want, Kookie?” you ask, carding your fingers through his hair and rubbing a thumb over the gentle fur of his ear. It twitches repeatedly.

 “Just this. Will you play with my hair? Stroke my ears?” he asks in a small voice. It’s unusually meek for him in his human form.

 “Of course I will, Bun. Anything you want.” You smile, running your fingers through his hair, nails trailing down his scalp. His leg kicks out, narrowly missing the coffee table. You hand him the remote. “Pick something to watch.”

Jungkook shuffles, turning to face the TV. With his head still in your lap, he curls up into a ball, enjoying your ministrations. You continue to pet him, running your fingers through his hair and stroking his ears, twirling locks of hair around your finger before releasing the resulting curl. You lounge there together, the stress of the day bleeding away from you thanks to a stomach full of good food and your hand tangled in the hair of—Jungkook—whatever he was to you right now.

You don’t know exactly when you fall asleep, but you wake to strong arms holding you, carrying you to your room. Jungkook places you delicately on your bed and you fling yourself backwards, curling up to drift off again. But before long you’re being shaken gently awake and sat back up. Soft, cotton pajamas are pushed into your hands.

“You need to get changed,” a soft, deep voice says firmly in your ear. A warm body presses against your back.

You pout, eyes resolutely closed, but begin taking off your sweater. Large hands help you when you get tangled on your arms. It’s even more of a struggle to unhook your bra. You flail for a while before dropping your arms and slumping back against Jungkook with a tired, pathetic whine. If you were properly awake you might have noticed how his breath hissed through his teeth, or how his nose rubbed your temple. 

With more force than is probably necessary, Jungkook grips you by the shoulder and props you forward. Then, with just one finger, he pulls your bra band away from your back, taking all care not to touch you at all. By some black magic he manages to unhook it, sliding the straps down and off your arms before discarding it on the floor. Not once does he look over your shoulder. He pulls the camisole of your pajama set over your head, guiding your arms through the straps before you wake enough to take over and pull both arms through.

“Now the shorts,” he grunts, low and gruff. It’s unusual enough that you pout at him over your shoulder.

“Bossy bunny,” you mumble, standing and kicking off the comfy leggings you had on. Somewhere in the back of your head you register a soft ‘”shit’” that you’re too tired to acknowledge. You pull on your shorts and sit back down, immediately flopping to your pillow. You feel your body being turned, tucked beneath the sheet pulled over you. Sleep comes easily to you after that.

—-

You wake up while it’s still dark outside. Jungkook’s chest is hot against your back, his knees curled and tucked behind yours. A muscled arm hangs heavily over your waist, keeping you close to him. You lift it as carefully as possible and slide out of bed, tip-toeing stealthily across the soft carpet and out of the room. You head to the kitchen and grab a glass in the dark, in search of a drink for your parched throat.

You drink your fill and shuffle back to bed, bringing a glass with you just in case. Although you slip into your room as stealthily as you’d left it, Jungkook is awake when you return. He sits with his arms wrapped around his knees, bottom lip snagged beneath his prominent front teeth.

“Kookie?” you ask softly in the darkness, making your way back to your side of the bed. “I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

“No, I just—I reached for you and you were gone,” he says, watching you place your glass of water down and climb back into bed. “I was waiting for you to come back.”

“Silly rabbit,” you coo. Jungkook rolls towards you, wrapping his arms around your waist and tangling a powerful, muscular leg with yours. You settle back, stroking his head and mulling over his unusual clinginess as sleep comes to claim you. 

But then you feel a pressure against your thigh, and you’re suddenly very awake. 

Jungkook undulates his hips to a subtle rhythm. “Wha-” you begin, turning to look at him. But he buries his nose beneath your jaw, his breath coming out in soft,  heavy huffs in time with his movements. He grinds against your hip with a desperation. You swallow audibly, forcing yourself to ask as your face burns. “Jungkook, what are you doing?”

“Sorry,” he whines. “I can’t help it, I just—” He throws his thigh over your hips, shifting until he’s hovering over you, weight on his knees and forearms. His hips drop to roll against your stomach, a thick bulge straining the thin material of the pajama bottoms you had bought him. Jungkook ruts against your sweat-covered skin as you stare up at him, eyes wide, frozen in shock. Heat floods through you, stirring your insides until you’re panting. He is, too. His mouth hangs open as he huffs in time with his thrusts, lips grazing your jaw until they reach your mouth. He caresses it softly with his own, barely a whisper of a touch. Once. Twice. Just like that first night he turned. The third time, he kisses you. Your eyes flutter closed and you kiss him back. Nothing more than a delicate tilt of your head and a careful brushing of your lips against his. This is wrong, a voice in the back of your head whispers. This man is practically a stranger.

Only he’s not.

He’s shared your bed as a human for the past two weeks, and ten weeks before that as a rabbit.

You’ve spent evenings curled up together, watching shows you both enjoy. You know his moods, as he knows yours. Your hand feels as comfortable tangled in his hair as it does amongst his fur, and you can read his eyes in both forms exactly the same.

He’s your Jungkook. Your Kookie. 

Your Bun.

He exhales heavily, his tongue lapping at your lips for more. Warm breath fans your face and you practically tremble with anticipation. Jungkook tears himself away to run his hands down the curves of your body, and as you look up at him, your mouth dries at the sight of his godly form. The ever-present glow of the city creates a subtle neon halo behind him, heightening his otherworldly, divine presence.

“I-I—“ As suddenly as he came onto you, Jungkook scrambles backwards off the bed, falling ungracefully to the floor. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry!” he yells, eyes watery and wide with terror. He rushes out of the room so quickly he doesn’t even stand up straight. Just heads straight for the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. You follow too late, reaching your bedroom doorway just in time to hear the bathroom lock snap into place.

You drop to your knees outside the bathroom door, knocking on it gently. “Jungkookie, what’s wrong? Please, come out,” you call.

“I can’t,” comes a whine from the other side of the door. It almost sounds like a sob. “I have to stay here. Can I have a blanket please?” The voice is strained and tight; unsure. It’s not like the warm, bright voice you’ve come to know at all.

“Okay,” you agree. “I’ll get that for you. I’ll be right back.” When you return with the requested blanket, you let Kookie know with a small knock on the door. He cracks it open just enough for you to push the bedding through. In doing so, you catch a glimpse of his eyes. They’re wide and a little teary, his pupils huge. His face and upper chest is worryingly flushed. Jungkook notices you scrutinising his appearance and slams the door shut before you can comment. You hover on the other side of the door, not wanting to leave him. “I’m not upset with you, Bun. I understand if you want some space. Good night.”

You shuffle your way back to bed, curling up under the duvet for the first time in weeks. Because despite the heat and humidity of summer, it feels far, far too cold.

—-

The fullness of your bladder wakes you, demanding you seek relief immediately. You can tell by the noise outside that it’s late morning, and you hope Jungkook is already awake. You roll out of bed and shuffle over to the bathroom, trying the handle and finding it still locked.

With a reluctant sigh, you knock. “Jungkookie? Bun, I need to pee. Can you let me in please?” A few moments later there’s shuffling behind the door and the soft click of a lock opening. A sunken-eyed Jungkook stands on the other side, eyes averted. The duvet you gave him wraps him like a shroud. It hangs over his head, hiding his ears, his hands clutching it tightly at his chest. He stares pointedly at his feet as he shuffles past you, and if it weren’t for your desperate need to pee you’d stop and talk to him. But that’s a conversation that can wait until you’ve made breakfast.

You finish in the bathroom as fast as possible and make your way to the kitchen, noticing how he sits curled up on the chair in the corner of your living room.

You pull out all the things you need to make pancakes and crank up the volume on an upbeat playlist; mostly songs Jungkook likes listening to in the mornings. “Jungkook, could you help me please?” you ask sweetly. “The strawberries and bananas need slicing.”

He perks up at that, ears twitching before his eyes dart over to you. He loves bananas, almost obsessively loves them. I knew that would work, you smile to yourself. Jungkook fiddles with the waistband of his pajamas and you try to forget the outline of his hardness straining against them. Try to forget how your skin flushed when he rocked it against you. You focus back on the batter, giving it an extra hard stir, making sure there’s no lumps in it. That’s the reason for you beating it so vigorously. No other reason.

You sigh, pinching yourself before switching on the burner on the stove.

Jungkook begins chopping fruit. Yes. You smile to yourself, watching him out of the corner of your eye as you work on two stacks of pancakes. The tension in the air between you two eases, and soon you’re both dancing to a song that Jungkook listens to often; its easy choreography something you developed together. The song changes into something new, something you’ve never heard before, but you sway your hips nevertheless as you ladle batter into the hot frying pan. Jungkook bounces from foot-to-foot, endlessly energetic as he works his way through half a bunch of bananas and the entire bowl of strawberries. He’s piling the chopped fruit up on plates when you push between him and the counter with a small, murmured excuse me. The step he takes back to allow you access isn’t quite big enough. Even then you don’t notice; so used to squeezing around one another in the modestly-sized kitchen as you are.

 Jungkook, however, notices.

Your ass slides firmly against him and he grips your hips almost painfully hard, pressing you into the counter.

“Ow! Jungkook, what are you—” Your question becomes a squeal of surprise when he buries his nose behind your ear and grinds his rapidly hardening cock into the cleft of your ass. Only two, flimsy layers of clothing separate you. 

“I need you so bad,” he growls as he rubs his nose through your hair, the underside of his chin skimming the column of your neck. You arch back into him, throwing your head back to expose more of your neck to him. You’re usually a lot more reserved with men—a lot—but something about Jungkook makes you want to be wild. Maybe it’s the way you feel so safe with him. His body is a solid presence against your back, his thrusting desperate and needy. Gone is the sweet, delicate Bun you’ve come to care about. He’s been replaced with someone who grips you, growls at you, and yet you still feel safe in his arms.

It’s Jungkook. He’d never hurt you.

You groan, something between a whine and a whimper being ripped from the back of your throat as he rubs himself against you. Then, suddenly - unwelcomely - cold air hits your back. 

Jungkook has torn himself from you for a second time. 

You turn but he’s not behind you. Spinning in place, you see a fluffy tail vanishing around a cabinet and a pair of light grey pajamas left in its wake. You follow fast enough to watch him hightail it out of the kitchen and across the living room, straight under the chair in the corner. He never sits in it as a human, preferring to sit next to you on the sofa, but it’s his favourite place to hide as a bunny.

You crouch, peeking under the chair, trying to coax him out.

“I’m sorry, Jungkookie. Come out and talk to me, please?” you beg to the huddled mass of fur under the chair. He stays where he is, shifting in a way you know means he’s settling in for the long haul. You stand up, running to turn off the stove before dashing to your bedroom and throwing on some clothes. After grabbing your bag, you check under the chair again. Jungkook is still there. “I’ll be right back, okay?” you tell him, before rushing out the door.

You all but run out of your apartment building, dodging people on the street as you head to the florist a block and a half away to get a custom bouquet made. It’s ugly as hell, but it’s not supposed to be for looking at. All of the flowers are suitable for rabbits to eat, and you get triple the ones you know Jungkook is particularly fond of.

You rush back to your apartment on a sliver of energy, taking extra care to preserve your gift, but the whole journey takes you less than twenty minutes. You discard your shoes and bag by the door and head straight for the chair, placing your peace offering on the floor before it.

“I have a gift for you,” you say, pulling a white hibiscus from the bouquet and presenting it to him. “Please come out and talk to me, Bun.” You watch as Jungkook hops forward, unable to resist the pull of his favourite flower. You untie the haphazard collection of flowers and lay them out on the decorative wrapping paper for him. It does the trick and draws him out from under the chair. You hold your hand out to him carefully, letting him come to you on his own terms. Jungkook devours a rosebud and hops forward, bumping your hand with his nose. You sigh, tension you didn’t know was building melting from your shoulders.

Somewhat placated, you head back to the kitchen. The pancakes are now cold but nothing that can’t be reheated. You store his breakfast in the fridge and slip a couple bits of banana onto the paper with the flowers. Jungkook leaps at them, devouring them with relish before following you into the kitchen and circling your chair as you eat your pancakes. He reaches up, nudging your foot to get your attention. And by attention, he wants more bananas.

Once you’re all done with breakfast, you move to the living room. There are several episodes of a TV show you and Jungkook have been watching together that you need to catch up on, and that’s your usual plan for the weekend. Jungkook, however, has other plans. He jumps into your lap, purposefully knocking the remote out of your hand. You tangle your fingers through his fur and feel him shudder under your touch.

“Do you want to tell me what's wrong now?” you ask softly, thumb rubbing soothing circles between his eyes. Beneath your hand, Jungkook transforms. He curls in on himself, doing his best to obscure his nudity, and buries his head in your stomach. You run a hand down his back and find his skin is clammy and feverish. “Oh my god, are you sick? Bun, you’re burning up!” you exclaim, panic injected into your tone.

“I’m going into heat. It’s why I keep—why I keep—” His voice is high-pitched and strained again.

“Why you keep rubbing against me?” you finish for him, raking your nails through his long locks. His ears and tail twitch and Jungkook whines. Nodding, he curls in on himself tighter. “You need a partner,” you say matter-of-factly, but he shakes his head in disagreement.

“No. I don’t need a partner...” he says simply, the implication left hanging. You move his ear carefully, brushing his hair from his face and cupping it with one hand. Your thumb strokes his cheekbone until his tightly-clenched eyes open.

 “Then, tell me what you want,” you whisper. His eyes narrow like he’s assessing you. Assessing the full implication of your words and trying to decide how to answer you.

 “Normally I’d mate with someone in a nest—” Jungkook starts before he’s racked by shudders. He buries his face in your stomach again and whines.

 “My bed,” you offer. “You can build a nest there if you need to.”

He shoots upward at your words, watching your face carefully. “But—” His eyes are wide, mouth agape as he draws the logical conclusion but not daring to hope. “--where will you sleep?” He asks as though he is scared of the answer.

 You carefully brush his hair back from his face, thumbing over a floppy ear. “I c-can—“ you stutter, before taking a deep breath. “I’ll figure something out.” You lean forward, pressing your forehead to his. Your lips are so close like this, close enough to brush against each other as you speak. It’s not quite a kiss, but your intention is clear. “If you need anything—if you want anything...” You trail off. 

 Jungkook wastes no time. He sits up and crawls into your lap, his bare, muscular thighs straddling yours as he kisses you deeply. His hands, no longer rough, cup your face delicately as though he can’t believe he’s been gifted something so precious. Even as his naked hips roll against your stomach.

 “Iwantyouwantyouwantyou. Need you,” he chants between kisses.

 And in an act of madness - or perhaps sanity - you give yourself to him completely.

Your second encounter, you heard him before you saw him. A light, almost childlike giggle rang out above the noise of overworked office workers, drawing your attention. It had been a few weeks since you’d seen him, and once again today was not your usual day to drop in but it had been a particularly crappy day, but it was definitely his. The booth in the corner was once again half filled with what looked like the same group as last time. His drink was halfway to his lips before it stopped suddenly when he noticed you looking over at him. His smile faltered, eyes going comically round and wide, before curving into something smaller and warmer. With a small smile, he ducked his head and shifted his body away from you.

He looks younger than the first time you saw him and you’re not surprised you didn’t notice him this time. His hair is still long, but this time falling freely around his face in wet-looking loose waves, his toned, built, frame he confidently flaunted in the grey suit is now hidden under an over-sized black hoodie and cargo pants. Gone are your fantasies of him being a lawyer, or high-flying businessman, he was obviously a college student. He probably had a job interview or something that day and borrowed the suit.

You follow his lead and turn away from him with a sigh, resolved to forget about him. College students were way too young for you, and more trouble than they were worth. Your gaze was still drawn to him nonetheless. He is unfairly attractive and, unlike last time, he’s not looking away. Not until his friends notice him staring and start nudging and teasing him, and then he only looks annoyed with them, not embarrassed.

By the end of the night you’re almost ready to leave, just settling up your tab at the bar and putting everything back in your purse when you feel a warm body settle close to you. Your eyes drift over to the hovering figure, and you find a pair of comically large, round, brown eyes blinking at you through dark lashes, and cute, slightly protruding bunny teeth pressing into his bottom lip.

“Can I help you?” You ask, holding back a smile as you zip up your purse and throw the strap over your shoulder.

“I was wondering if I could buy you a drink?” He asks in a timid voice, head slightly bowed, hair obscuring most of his face.

“As you can see, I’m settling up my tab, and heading home.” You give him a sympathetic look. He really is just a kid.

“Then can I get your number?” He asks hopefully, his head comes up fully and as he shakes the loose strands away from his face you’re struck. Struck by how unfairly handsome he is now you can see him up close; and how ridiculously young he is.

“I think I might be old enough to be your mother.” You say, raising a brow at him, and he purses his lips, the bow of his upper lip vanishing with the action.

“I’m older than I look.” He protests with a pout. A goddamn pout, and you hate that it endears him to you. “I’m twenty three, so unless you’ve had a lot of work done, I don’t think so.” Your mouth falls open incredulously. A minute ago he could barely look you in the eye, now he’s mouthing off to you. “And if you have, it’s very good. You should give me the name of your surgeon.”

“You sassing me, kid?” You ask, turning and cocking your hip against the bar.

“Maybe.” He smiles like he’s proud that he got a reaction; got your attention. You notice the lines around his eyes are deep for someone who is only twenty three. He must smile a lot.

“Okay, so maybe the age difference isn’t that drastic, maybe it is. But it’s still a significant difference for someone so young.”

“How about one date? Afterwards we can both decide together, like adults, if it’s going to be an issue?” He says with a shrug.

“Woooooow,” you draw out, “good line, how often do you use it on unsuspecting MILFs in bars?” You ask, unaware that you’re slowly edging into his space.

“I don’t know, this is the first time I’ve ever said it. I don’t like lines, I think it’s much better to be sincere.” He says, tilting his head almost imperceptibly towards you, like he’s telling you a secret.

“So… you’re always sincere when you’re hitting on women in bars?” You say with a tiny, challenging lift of your chin.

“I’m. Always. Sincere.” His eyes flick down to your lips, and your own eyes narrow as he licks his bottom lip; you’re not sure if it’s a move or not. “So when I say you were the most beautiful woman in the bar tonight, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since the last time I saw you, you can trust I’m being completely honest.” He says with a soft, coy smile.

You’re slowly falling into his space, getting lost in his big, brown eyes and the sincerity of his tone, but you really can’t help your reaction when his words penetrate your brain.

The bark of laughter is garishly loud, and in his face. “OH. MY. GOD,” you shriek, throwing your head back as you laugh. You would have toppled, if not for a strong, tattooed hand quickly reaching out to grab your arm. “That was so cheesy!” Your amusement subsides and you steady yourself. The cute stranger cautiously pulls his hand back from you. The teasing smile is gone and he’s nibbling on his lower lip again, bunny teeth dissolving your resolve to turn him down. You’re both adults after all, and he approached you. He didn’t baulk at the age difference, though right now he looks like he regrets coming to talk to you and is just waiting for a chance to run back to his friends with his tail between his legs. Whatever manners he has probably won't allow him to leave you until he’s sure you’re stable on your feet.

“Okay,” you concede. “One date.”

“What?!” He blinks at you, eyes large and round again as he takes a small step towards you.

“I said okay. One date. You’re super cheesy, but cute.” You turn, picking your coat up off the bar, sliding it over your arm.

“Really?” He smiles, and you find yourself itching to explore his smile lines with your fingertips.

“Yeah. My expectations are high though, Mr. Sincerity,” you say, holding your hand out for his phone.

“Jeongguk. My name is Jeongguk,” he says quickly, too quickly to be cool. He hands you his phone; a phone in a case covered in tiny carrots, and maybe it’s the alcohol, but his awareness and acceptance of his bunniness, juxtaposed with the goth boy in front of you, makes you want to get to know him better.

Definitely the alcohol.

You quickly type in your number and hand it back to him, and he looks at the screen in awe, like you’ve just handed him a sacred relic.

“Call me,” you say with a sly smile and a wink, pushing yourself away from the bar and around him, walking away and purposefully putting an extra sway into your hips as you leave. You look over to the booth where Jeongguk’s friends are sitting, but all six of them are silently inspecting the contents of their drinks very intently as you leave.

Just as the door swings shut behind you, you hear a cacophony of cheers erupting from their corner of the bar.

Jeongguk calls the next day, arranging to pick you up at the weekend. He promises to plan everything, saying he wants to surprise you. The only thing he told you is that you’d be outside, so dress appropriately. If you’re being honest, that scares you a bit. What if he wants to go skateboarding, or parkouring, or whatever men his age do these days?

You decide to keep it simple and dress like it’s a date. Which it is. It’s the beginning of summer, so you put on a nice sundress, and a cute jacket in case it gets colder. Keep it casual. Yeah. Appropriate. Just what all the kids wear on dates these days…

What the fuck are you thinking dating a twenty three year old?!

He picks you up looking delicious. That is the only word to describe him. Gone is the oversized hoodie he wore at the bar a few days ago, now he’s dressed in just a casual, white linen shirt, sleeves rolled up exposing thickly-veined, muscular, tattooed forearms. Tight blue jeans hugging his thighs, and a simple pair of Timbs. His hair is clean and shiny today, flowing in chocolate brown waves around his face, catching the light as the breeze disturbs it.

“Fuck,” you whisper to yourself as you literally stall in place while exiting your building, only to see him standing there. He’s leaning against a silver car that looks too fancy to belong to the guy who asked you out, but not good enough for the Daddy currently waiting for you. He has no right to look that good. None.

You realise you’re stuck staring when he pushes his sunglasses up on his head, breaking into a wide smile. He pushes off the car, opening the passenger-side door with a bow and a flourish of his hand. It takes a few seconds to convince your feet to work before you finally start stumbling towards him. He has the audacity to take your hand as you reach him and help you into the car, before closing the door and running around to his side.

Oh. Oh no.

You are completely fucked.

When you reach your destination you honestly think it’s a joke. He tells you to wait so he can run around to your side of the car and open the door and assist you out. Once you’re of the car and straightening the skirt of your dress, he runs around to the trunk and pulls out a goddamn picnic basket. It’s a woven basket, leather straps holding the lid down, red gingham fabric spilling over the sides. It’s like something out of a cheesy 50s Hollywood movie. You’ve seen this movie. You’re either going to end up a pregnant teen or dead.

“You have got to be kidding.” You frown with a quirk of your eyebrow. “A picnic?”

“Trust me,” is all he says, locking up his car and reaching for your hand.

“Maybe I should rename you Mr. Cliché?” you huff, rolling your eyes but taking his hand anyway. It’s big, and strong, and warm. And absolutely does not give you butterflies

“It’s Mr. Jeon to you,” he says again, leaning into your space, giving your hand a squeeze. “Trust me.” He pulls you along and leads you on a walk through a wooded area. The path is rustically paved… to be polite.

You continue the conversation you were having in the car. You telling him all about your job and how you hate it, and all about your friends and how you love them. He tells you he’s a YouTuber and you have to stop and laugh for a bit, but then you sober when he tells you how successful he is at it. He was craving a sweet roll after playing too much Skyrim once, so filmed himself making one and put it online for his friends to watch. And then Taehyung started requesting he make food from other video games, and he slowly built a following around it until random strangers on the internet were asking him to make different foods and give step-by-step instructions. And now he’s an accidental, self-trained internet chef and CEO of his own production company, with a following of 17 million people… and you’ve never heard of him.

You’re in a state of shock really. You don’t notice the trees around you, or the path; you’re moving automatically, enraptured by everything Jeongguk is saying, and how that nervous goth boy who asked you out is famous? And a CEO? He is truly fascinating.

The conversation turns to the night he approached you and he admits he only asked you out because he’d been pining after you since the first time he saw you and it was starting to annoy his friends, and if he didn’t ask you out his friend Taehyung threatened to come over and play wingman, ask you out on his behalf, impress you by showing you his nudes. This does snap you out of your stupor.

“Wait. Why does he have your nudes?” you ask, equal parts curious and horrified.

“Who else is going to give me a brutally honest opinion of my nudes, if not my gay B.F.F?” he says with a small frown, like it’s the most obvious explanation in the world.

“So you send your nudes to your friend… to get the okay before you send them to women? Like he’s your editor?”

“Yeah. I promise, it’s not as weird as you think. Tae is a model and photographer, he’s done a bunch of nude modelling, he knows all about light and ang-”

“Oh my god, this is amazing.” You cackle, tightening your hold on his hand but still clutching his arm to keep yourself steady. “You have professionally-assessed dick pics?”

“Shut up,” he says, trying to sound stern, but you can see the smile tugging at the corners of his lips at your interruption. “Anyway, one day, when I was a young and stupid teenager-”

“So, last week,” you interrupt again, fighting the urge to smile, as Jeongguk turns and glares at you playfully.

“A very long time ago, when I was a young and stupid teenager,” he emphasises, “Tae accidentally saw my nudes when I was scrolling through my pics on my phone, and when he stopped laughing and reenacting them for all my friends, he very kindly pointed out all of the things that were wrong with them.”

“Must have bruised your ego,” you say softly, no longer teasing.

“Yeah, I didn’t take it well at the time. I know he wasn’t doing it to be mean, but I was kind of a brat. Once I calmed down he offered to show me what I was doing wrong, and how to do it right, and since then, whenever I take a thirst pic I send it to him for his approval first.”

“…All pics?”

“Well, everything but dick pics. Since he and Seokjin started dating, it feels weird sending him pics of my junk, you know?”

“Are they the two, impossibly attractive ones that either look like they’re bickering or about to go at it on the table, with no in-between?”

“Yeah, that’s them,” he says with a light chuckle.

“You all sound like you’re very close.”

“We are. They’re my family.” He grins at you.

He brings you to the top of the overlook and you can see the entire sprawl of the city below you from up here. It’s an amazing sensation to see a city so large but have the noise of it dulled to a distant thrum.

You have no idea why this place isn’t packed with people. The view is beautiful, the sun is beating down from a perfect, blue sky with just the right amount of white, fluffy clouds, and the birds are singing in the trees. This place is perfect.

You spin with your arms spread wide, face turned to the sky. For the first time possibly since you were a teenager, a feeling of freedom runs over you that reminds you of summers from your youth. A chuckle behind you draws your attention and you stop, turning to Jeongguk, finding him kneeling on a blanket he’s spread on the grass, taking tupperware boxes out of the basket.

“Please sit.” He motions to the other side of the blanket.

You sit yourself down as gracefully as you can manage, straightening your skirt over your knees before you start helping him open up the tupperware boxes. You’re amazed by how delicious and homemade everything looks.

“You made this?” you ask.

“I did,” he answers simply, no offence in his tone.

“All of it??”

“Yes.” He beams up at you. “I didn’t know what you would like so I made a bit of everything. There’s some pasta salad, barbecued meats. I made some traditional Korean, cold noodle dishes, with sides I thought you might like, my famous brown sugar potatoes, rice--there’s a couple of dessert options, too, for after.”

You stare at him, open-mouthed. There’s a banquet before you and he made it all himself.

“You cannot be real,” you whisper.

“What do you mean?” he asks with a small frown.

“You… you can’t look like that!” you say, waving your hand at him. “With that body, and be charming, and have an amazing career, and be Gordon-fucking-Ramsey.” The worried look falls away from his face as he ducks his head and laughs the most delightful laugh you’ve ever heard. “And your laugh is delightful. You could be a Disney Princess. Do you bleed sunshine?” All this time he’s just beaming at you silently. His eyes are crinkled, and you resist reaching out to caress his eyelines. “What time did you even get up this morning to do all this?” you ask finally.

“Well, I got up at five to work out-”

“There’s a five in the morning?!” you almost screech, and he grins at you.

“Do you interrupt everyone, or just me?” You close your mouth with an audible click of teeth, but Jeongguk doesn’t seem upset. “I work long hours, so yes, I get up at five to work out and shower before I hit the different farmers’ markets to find the freshest ingredients.” He reaches out and takes your hand. “And I did all this because I wanted to impress you. Is that so bad?” He’s looking at you with those big, round, puppy-dog eyes again. You swear to yourself that you’ll never tell him how they affect you, because if he asked you for nuclear launch codes while looking at you with those big, brown eyes, you might just have to get them for him.

Instead, you blush and look away like a teenager.

“No,” you say in a small voice. “Everything looks delicious.” He smiles again, eyes vanishing, and you’re once again caught off-guard by how stunning he truly is.

By the end of the date he’s hand-feeding you strawberries dipped in homemade chocolate ganache, and you’re tracing your fingers over the smile lines around his eyes.

You agree to a second date before you even get in the car to go home.

~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~

That was three weeks ago. Twenty three days, to be exact, but it’s not like you’re counting or anything. Only teenagers count that stuff, not grown women in their- you sigh; you’re pathetic. Pathetic and whipped.

Your second date had been everything you feared your first date would be. A ‘Woodland Adventure Park’, with zip lines, sheer rock faces to climb, rope bridges and everything. Turns out Jeongguk is not just a shy goth boy masquerading as a self-made CEO, he’s also a bona fide adrenaline junkie, and this is his way of easing you into it slowly. This is an adventure park for children, after all…

You hate maybe the first thirty minutes of being there, before Jeongguk starts holding you, large hands firmly gripping you by the waist. He steadies you with his hold, whispering encouragement into your ear. “You can do it, Noona. I believe in you.” And hell be damned, if Jeongguk wanted you to do something, you would do it for him, as long as he kept holding you. In the end, you begrudgingly admit you had fun, but to yourself think it had everything to do with Jeongguk’s proximity and watching his muscles flex as he worked his way across various activities. And the many different activities you were imagining you could do together to make them flex like that.

~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~

For your third date he takes you to a fancy restaurant. The type of fancy where they don’t put prices on the menu, and sensing your hesitation to order anything but a tap-water, he reaches out for your hand and rubs a soothing thumb over the back of it, other hand pulling down your menu to look you in the eye.

“Don’t worry about the prices, everything is on the house,” he whispers with a wink.

“How did you manage that?” you whisper back, frowning at some of the items on the menu. You may not know what they cost specifically, but you know this bottle of wine costs more than a month’s rent.

“I shot some collab videos with the restaurant, so they gave me dinner-for-two on the house. Anything you want, it’s yours, pumpkin.” He squeezes your hand and gives you a smirk as you blush at the nickname. He’d taken to calling you all sorts of cute, food-related nicknames; pumpkin, cupcake, cream puff, and you hated how you blushed like a schoolgirl and he looked so smug each time. You felt like it was time to beat him at his own game. You look through the menu, looking for some very specific items. The waitress comes over, giving you her best customer service smile before asking for your order.

“Are you ready to order?” she asks politely.

Jeongguk gives you an encouraging look and you smirk at him, maintaining eye contact as you give the waitress your order.

“I’ll have the chilli and lime oysters as a starter,” you begin, holding your composure as Jeongguk blinks several times and then frowns slightly. “The marbled steak, medium please, and the strawberry and watermelon truffle chocolate cup for dessert.” You fold up your menu and hand it to her, sparing her a glance and noticing the way she’s pursing her lips to hold in a laugh, before looking back at Jeongguk.

“And you, Sir?” she asks Jeongguk. His mouth has started to gape, allowing you to see the tip of his tongue press against the edge of his teeth.

“Same,” he says simply, handing the menu back. “But I’d like my steak cooked medium-rare.” He flashes her a quick smile before turning his attention back to you, his eyes dark and intense, his hand reaching over the table to take yours, interlacing his fingers with yours. “Oysters?”

“Hmmmm,” you practically purr with a seductive smile.

“I… I don’t want to assume anything-” he starts hesitantly.

“You should.” You bite your lip and his eyes go almost comically wide.

“Noona, ah.” He sighs, lifting your hand and kissing your knuckles repeatedly, before pressing his forehead to them. “Noona, do you have any idea how crazy you drive me?” You remove your hand from his grasp, carefully brushing a strand of hair away from his face, before running your fingers down the side of his face.

“Yes,” you whisper, giving him a gentle smile. “I know exactly how you feel.” He takes in a deep, shuddering breath as a wide boyish smile breaks across his face, and you lean back in your chair, taking a sip of wine.

You spend the rest of the evening chatting idly, slipping in the occasional double entendre or coy remark, heightening the energy between the two of you. The food comes quickly, but you don’t taste it, the only thing you’re devouring is the man in front of you, and you’re doing it with your eyes. You hurry through your meal as best as you can without looking like you’re hurrying, throwing Jeongguk smoldering looks as he watches your mouth with utmost fascination while you work your way through three courses of aphrodisiacs.

You don’t touch again during dinner, not even as Jeongguk guides you out of the restaurant and into his car. It’s funny to watch his hands tighten on the steering wheel as his eyes dart your way. You cross your legs and your dress rides a little high, allowing him a glimpse of the lace of your stockings and the noise he emits is somewhere between a choked off sob and a deep growl. You gasp in surprise at how your body reacts to the sound, a thrill running up your spine and a deep, throbbing ache forming between your legs.

“Were those stockings expensive?” he asks, voice strained.

“Not particularly,” you say with a small shrug.

“Good,” he says, in a low, dark tone. “I won’t feel bad when I ruin them later.” You turn to look at him, taking him all in, feeling your heart pick up in pace as you watch his rapidly fraying control. White knuckles on the steering wheel, rapid breathing, tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek. You turn back to watching the road and pray you miss every red light and traffic jam. You do.

Your stockings last approximately ten minutes once you make it inside Jeongguk’s apartment, they however do not make it to his bedroom. Jeongguk offers to buy you a new pair but you convince him to keep the money and pay your half of the noise complaint fine.

That was day twenty, three days ago. The bruises and hickeys haven’t even faded, and when you put your foot up on a wooden post to tighten the laces of your boot, the hem of your shorts rides up, exposing a large purple bite mark, high on the inside of your thigh. You smile down at it. You should probably feel a sense of shame, that’s what society tells you, but if people see it you don’t really care.

You collect your giant backpack, swinging it onto your shoulders and adjusting it until it’s comfortable, before turning to help Jeongguk as he hoists his own backpack on his shoulders. It makes yours look like a clutch purse. He fastens it around his waist, and you start attaching different items to it. Altogether it’s got to weigh almost as much as you do, and you blush as you remember how he easily threw you around his apartment like you weighed nothing.

“Ready to go?” he asks, throwing you a big smile, tossing his head back to move the strands of hair that had come loose from his artfully tousled bun and fallen into his eyes.

“Yup. Everything is accounted for and attached to your backpack,” you confirm, patting his bag.

“Yay!” he says excitedly, in the tiniest voice ever, holding out a hand to you. “Let’s go!” He slams his car trunk shut and starts leading you toward the trail that heads up the through the woods; not up to the main peak of the mountain, but a view of the valley. You don’t get a chance to read the map at the beginning of the trail and Jeongguk pulls you along. You’re not reluctant, you’ve camped before, it’s just the three hour hike to get to the specific spot Jeongguk wants to show you that you aren’t looking forward to. Your old lady legs protest at the mere thought of a 3 hour hike, uphill, but Jeongguk promised it would be worth it.

It’s not too difficult at first; the trail is a well-used, gentle slope, and Jeongguk’s excited chattering makes the time pass quickly. It’s not until you’ve been walking for little over an hour that Jeongguk stops and waits for you to catch up, taking a sharp left into the surrounding wilderness, along a path that’s much harder to see and slightly overgrown from disuse.

“Erm, is this where you take me into the woods, kill me, bury me and I’m never heard from again?” you ask, pushing aside ferns and stepping over tree roots, smiling when he giggles. It blends in perfectly with the sound of the songbirds in the trees above you.

“Noona, if I was going to kill you, I would do it at home in my stainless steel kitchen and hide you in my walk-in fridge.” He throws you a cheeky wink over his shoulder and carries on walking. Your mouth falls open, agape.

“Um.” Your brain stops to process this information for a second. “Should I be worried that you’ve thought about this?”

“I’ve seen Hannibal,” he says with a shrug, glancing over his shoulder. “I started wondering if my own freezer was big enough to hide a body in.”

“And it is?” you ask and he turns around fully, giving you a mischievous look, wiggling his eyebrows. The tip of his tongue pokes out between his teeth. He spins back around and strides quickly ahead of you.

“Let’s hurry. The barbecue place--I mean campsite--isn’t far.”

“Funny!” you yell. “How did you even find this place? I didn’t even see where this trail connected to the main one.”

He stops at a boulder and waits for you to catch up, before slowing his pace to walk beside you. “I was kind of a brat when I was younger. I wasn’t a bad kid, just--I liked to get my own way, and when I didn’t I used to sulk. A lot. One day I had a big argument with Hoseok, over a banana of all things. The rest of the guys told me I was in the wrong and obviously I didn’t want to hear that at the time, I felt like they were ganging up on me. I stormed out the house, got in my car and drove. Just drove and drove until I ended up here and I was still so angry, so I walked. Right into the woods. I found this place by accident.”

“You just drove and then stormed off into the woods?”

“Pretty much,” Jeongguk says with a shrug

“Jeongguk, that’s literally how almost every horror film ever made starts.”

“Brat,” he says, pointing to himself. “Also an idiot. Anyway, this became my safe place. Where I came when life became too much and I just wanted to get away from everything and clear my head.”

“I- that’s understandable. Everyone needs a place to escape to when life becomes too much.”

He slips his hand into yours, linking your fingers together. “Tell me about yours?” You squeeze his hand and proceed to tell him about your safe place. The place you run to when you want to get away from everyone and everything.

You spend the rest of the hike chatting, you filling him in about your friends’ lives and how you still hate your job, and he offers to find you a job with his production company, but you think that’s a little inappropriate. He tells you about the anti-fracking rally Namjoon is organising for next weekend, and also tries to convince you to sign up for a class at Jimin and Hobi’s dance school which he also attends occasionally. And then he suggests the two of you attend a club night that Yoongi had recently written a review of for the paper he works at. It’s a dance club but the night consists entirely of classical remixes. It’s super chill and contemporary.

“So Jimin and Hoseok own a dance studio together? But they aren’t together-together?” you ask, confused.

“No, Jimin is with Namjoon, and Hobi is engaged to Yoongi. Jimin and Hobi are just business partners, because they both love dance and wanted to open a studio, so they did it together. Street dance and contemporary in one place.”

“Hoseok is Hobi?”

“Yup!”

“And Yoongi is the secret underground rapper and nationally-published music reviewer? Who is trying to convince us to go to a nightclub?” You’re a little cross-eyed trying to keep all the information about Jeongguk’s friends straight in your head.

“Ah, I’m so impressed, Noona! Yeah, he suggested the nightclub, he seemed really excited about it, and he is very rarely excited,” he says, shaking your hand which is clutched in his, in excitement.

“I’m a little old to be going to nightclubs,” you grumble as you attempt to climb over a fallen tree. Jeongguk hops over it like it’s nothing, even with the world’s biggest bag on his shoulders, and then holds out a hand to help you over the cumbersome obstacle. Once you’re over, he holds you by the hips as you right yourself.

“You’re only as old as you feel.” He smiles, pulling you closer until you’re as flush as you can get while trying to balance on uneven ground while carrying heavy backpacks.

“Then I must be a thousand,” you groan, burying your head in his shoulder, chest heaving with exertion as you cling to the back of his checked shirt.

“Then maybe you’re only as old as the guy you’re feeling up?” He chuckles lowly into your ear, giving your hips a squeeze. Your hands slide down his sculpted chest and around his waist to cup his backside, lifting your head from his shoulder, brow crinkling in consideration.

“You may be onto something. I’m suddenly filled with youthful energy.”

“If you don’t get your hands off my ass, you’re gonna be filled with something else soon.” He growls, teeth nipping at your ear.

“Jeongguk!” you say, pushing him away, tone high-pitched and scandalised even as you fight the smile on your face. “We. Are. In. Public.”

“So?” he asks casually, leaning forward to kiss you. “Let’s give Bigfoot a show.”

You lean away from him, laughing, hands running over his golden, tattooed arms to settle on his shoulders. “Bigfoot?”

“I have the most beautiful woman in the world with me, of course he’s going to be following us, and want a piece of this,” he says, squeezing your hips again, pulling them closer to his.

You laugh again, wiggling out of his grip and start on the path. “You’re too much sometimes, you know that?”

“No I’m not. I’m just enough, and you like it,” he says, reaching for your hand and bringing it to his lips for a gentle kiss before striding ahead, leading you along the trail, and you’re grateful because that means he can’t see the blush that spreads over your face.

“So does that mean if Bigfoot shows up to carry me off, you’re going to fight him?”

“Nothing and no one will lay a finger on you while I’m here,” he yells over his shoulder, and the look he gives you is unusually serious.

“Ooooh, my big strong man, going to protect me,” you tease with a giggle.

“Ah, I like the sound of that,” he says with an almost dreamy sigh.

“What? Fighting Bigfoot?”

He stops, turning, waiting for you to catch up, cupping your face in his hands as soon as you’re within reach, the smile on his face tender. “Being ‘your man’.” His voice is soft, and once again his sincerity makes you weak. A small gasp leaves your lips and you find yourself leaning into him, falling deep into his big, brown eyes. He meets you in the middle, the kiss nothing more than a soft brush of lips against each other.

“I like that too,” you whisper back. His smile widens, eyes sparkling and he lifts a hand to brush his fingers in a featherlight caress against your lips, looking at you like you’re a wonder. He makes a small hum in the back of his throat and starts walking backwards, taking your hands and pulling you with him.

“I’m going to show you something amazing.” He smiles.

“I’m already looking at something amazing.” You smirk, causing him to stumble backwards as he laughs.

“I think my cheesy romanticism is rubbing off on you, pumpkin.”

He leads you deeper into the woods, stopping only occasionally to remove a layer of sweaty clothing, drink some water, and briefly make out against a tree. Or a boulder. Or maybe just standing in a clearing. Eventually, despite the many, many distractions, you make your way to a clearing atop a cliff that drops for a thousand feet. The entire valley is before you and in a couple of hours, when the sun starts to set, it will turn the canopy of green trees into a blaze of orange that you know your camera will fail to capture.

“Noona! Come look!” Jeongguk giggles excitedly, pulling you closer to the edge by your hand. He runs right to the lip, a wide, bright smile on his face, no fear at all, while your feet do more of a shuffle, and you’re standing as far back as both of your outstretched arms will allow. You’re not usually scared of heights, but a sheer, thousand foot drop? That you’re afraid of.

“I like the view from back here just fine, thank you.”

“Noona!” He frowns before letting go of your hand and covering his upper half with his arms, trying to hide his broad, sculpted chest that’s only covered in a tight tank at this moment. He absolutely fails. He turns to face you, face twisted in mock scandalisation. “I’m a nice boy, not just an object for your perverted fantasies.” He side-steps around you, brown eyes larger and rounder than usual.

“Okay. Firstly, punk, you are not a ‘nice boy’,” you say, raising a finger. “The only thing boyish about you is your sense of humour.” When you say that, his serious facade breaks and he grins in a way that accentuates his bunny teeth. You raise a second finger. “Secondly, you spend the entire hike up here playing grabass with me, pushing me up against every vertical surface we pass, and several horizontal ones, and you have the audacity to imply I’m the pervert?”

“Yeah, I’m just letting Bigfoot know he doesn’t have a chance.” He smiles as he bites his lip and ducks his head, looking at you through his lashes. “I’m not a pervert, I’m just…”

“A man with a voyeurism kink?” You raise an eyebrow at him and his entire body wiggles his in response, the tip of his tongue between his teeth as he laughs. He slides his bag off his shoulders and reaches to help you remove yours, dropping it to the side. As soon as you’re both free of your burdens, he pulls you close and buries his nose in your hair.

“Have you made love under the stars before, Noona?” he asks, his voice unusually deep and husky. Your breath stutters as you imagine him under you, lit by nothing but the glow of the moon, the stars reflected in his eyes.

“No, not really,” you whisper, clutching onto his muscular forearms to steady yourself

“Not really?” he asks, moving to press your foreheads together.

“I’ve fooled around outside, but not anywhere the stars were actually visible, and I wouldn’t really consider it ‘making love’.” You sigh, and Jeongguk is so close your breath moves his hair and it caresses your face. “What about you?”

He shakes his head. “Nope.”

“What, so you just brought your other girlfriends up here and left them with blueballs?” you ask with a teasing pout.

“I’ve never brought anyone else up here,” he says softly.

“I… what? No one?” you gasp.

“Jin, once. I was upset and got in the car to come here but he insisted I was crying too hard to drive safely… So he drove me here. I, uh, kind of told him he could follow me if he wanted to and he did. He stayed with me overnight.” He lets out a small huff of laughter. “He didn’t even say a word all night, just sat by me and then offered to drive me home.”

“Wow,” you say, pulling back, carefully studying his face.

“Yeah. Hard to imagine a completely quiet Jin,” he says with a small smile.

“No, I mean…‘Wow, I’m the first woman you’re bringing into your safe place’. That’s… that’s huge.”

“No one ever felt special enough.” His arms wind around your waist tightly and you bury your face in his shoulder to hide your blush.

“Gguk, it’s only been three weeks,” you say, trying to smother your smile, because it’s only been three weeks, but he’s wormed his way into your affections so completely, it’s hard to imagine him not being there.

“When you know, you know,” he whispers into your ear, and you groan because it’s become part of your routine that you pretend to hate it when he’s being overly sappy, but you’re starting to think he might be right.

Between the two of you--or, rather, between Jeongguk and his many years of camping experience and bossing you around, you set the tent up in no time. You can’t even begin to talk about how attractive bossy Jeongguk is. 

He leaves you with a kiss on the forehead to nap, to rest your ‘old lady bones’ from the hike up here, and tells you he’s off to ‘forage’.

You lay on the air-matress trying to relax, but spend the entire time worrying about Jeongguk. You know it’s ridiculous because this is his place, and he’ll be comfortable here and know what he’s doing, but accidents can always happen and what if something does, what if he needs help and you need to go find him, and then you get injured? What if he’s fine but you stupidly go looking for him anyway and something happens to you, and he thinks you got overwhelmed and ran away and left him-

You flip yourself over and scream into your camping pillow while kicking your feet. The release of energy seems to help; your head seems a little clearer, a little calmer. Jeongguk will be fine. He knows what he’s doing. He would never leave you and risk something happening to you in the woods if he thought there was even the slightest chance something would happen.

Nothing and no one will lay a finger on you while he’s here.

Feeling restless, you push yourself up and exit the tent. Heading for Jeongguk’s bag, you pull out the stuff to start a fire. You set it to one side and start collecting suitable wood from around the campsite. This area seems pretty unused so there’s an abundance of firewood, and a circle of stones you guess someone set up as a firepit. It only takes a few minutes before you have an armful of firewood, and you dump it all in a pile and attempt to build it into something that resembles something you’ve only seen in movies and on TV. Sticks aren’t as easy to stack in aesthetically pleasing piles as they seem, but before too long your pile of wood looks like something that resembles an unlit campfire. You even put smaller twigs and dried grass under, tucked in the middle. Who knew that lazy Sunday marathons of Bear Grylls’ survival shows would actually come in handy? After one, or… twelve attempts, you use the flint firestarter to create sparks which catch and smolder. You gently coax them into larger flames by blowing on them, jumping up and brushing your hands clean on your shorts before throwing them above your head and dancing around the slowly growing fire, yelling and clapping with glee.

“I AM WOMAN! I CREATE FIRRRRRRRRRRRE! I AM UNSTOPPABLE!” you roar at the top of your voice, head thrown back to the sky, arms raised in triumph. A laugh behind you startles you and you spin around to find Jeongguk watching you with an adoring smile on his face.

“GGUKIE LOOK WHAT I DID!” you practically squeal, motioning to the fire that's burning quite nicely now, before you spin like a ballerina and run towards him in excitement.

“My wild woman.” He grins, leaning down to kiss you as soon as you’re within reach.

“My hunter-gatherer,” you say, winding your arms around his neck to pull him down for another kiss, which he chuckles into. “Were you successful in foraging?”

He holds out a tote bag. “Your man provides.”

“Mmmmm…my man,” you murmur, kissing him again. His eyes harden and he’s staring intently at your lips as you pull back, even as he slowly licks his own. You know what that look means; that look once ruined your stockings. “I know what you’re thinking, and you’re going to have to wait until the stars come out to get into these shorts, Mister.”

“But what if it suddenly clouds over?” He looks up, eyeing the cloudless sky.

“Then these shorts stay on. Warmth, obviously. You understand?” You smile, innocently batting your eyelashes as you pick bits of debris out of the strands of hair framing his face.

“What if it rains? You ever made love in the rain, jagiya?” His voice dips lower again, his tongue poking his cheek in that way he does when he’s feeling particularly cocky.

“No… I haven’t,” you muse, brushing his hair back behind his ear. Jeongguk’s smile turns dark and seductive and your heart races in response. You feel a little like prey that's about to be devoured, but prey that’s fine with it nonetheless.

“If it rains, I’m going to make you scream so loud that people mistake it for a thunderstorm.” You take a deep, shuddering breath, your every nerve tingling in anticipation. Your head swims from his ability to go from an adorable young dork with a bright smile and infectious enthusiasm, to a sex demon in an instant. A sex demon put on this earth solely to torment you and your inability to see the change coming, or control your reaction to it. You try to glare at him, but you can tell by his self-satisfied smile that he isn’t the least bit intimidated by you. “But first, your man is going to make you a delicious campfire meal. You’re going to need your strength.” His free hand spanks you as he walks past, a particular swagger to his step.

He pulls more items out of his bag, all he’ll need to prepare dinner - and there’s a lot - and the food he prepared at home. You hover, wanting to help, and he tells you to relax. But you really don't want to go back into the tent, or sit on the ground. You look around for a tree stump or something, and it’s a few minutes before Jeongguk huffs and walks past you into the woods. A minute or so later, he comes back into the clearing dragging a fucking tree. Your mouth gapes as he drags, maneuvers and drops the enormous log next to the firepit for you to sit on.

“You’re amazing!” You smile, as you surge forward to kiss him.

“I told you, your man provides!” He smiles too, teasing you with light kisses.

“Yeah, but I didn’t expect you to forage me a fucking redwood.”

Jeongguk chuckles, then. “It’s not that big of a tree, and I dragged it. Not that impressive,” he says, blushing.

“But you went and got it for me,” you sigh dreamily.

“Your man provides,” he emphasises.

“I want a pony,” you say instinctively, and he smiles.

“You know I’m rich enough to buy you a pony if you really want one.” He smirks, but it’s not arrogant; he’s teasing you.

“I want a unicorn, then,” you say, changing your mind. “No! Wait! A pegasus!” He chuckles, leaning down to kiss your nose.

“Anything my creme-puff wants. I’ll get to it as soon as we get home. But first, dinner,” he says, giving you a serious look and taking you by the arms, maneuvering you to the log and forcing you to sit. You settle in and watch him get to work, and he is a master. You can see how he made his career cooking food.

Most of the food was prepared at home; it just needed cooking and the finishing touches added. One finishing touch being wild garlic, which Jeongguk crushes with a knife and adds to a foil tray of dauphinoise potatoes which he places at the edge of the fire. Freshly-picked herbs and the remaining garlic are sprinkled over tenderised steaks, which he then proceeds to grill beside the fire. It smells delicious, and your mouth waters in anticipation.

“Aren’t you worried that your delicious cooking is going to attract Bigfoot? Or… you know… bears?” you ask, casting an anxious look around.

“There are no bears or large predators in this wood, cupcake. I would never risk you being in danger like that.” His large hand wraps about your bare calf and he uses it to pull himself away from the fire to drop a kiss on your knee, before turning back to tend to the food. He keeps his hand on your calf, running it up and down reassuringly. Your face flames and you cover your cheeks with your hands, resting your elbows on your knees. Wondering how you can be so much older than him, but he can make you feel like a giddy teenager. How he makes you feel weak but bold. Vulnerable but protected. You’re all messed up and it’s been a long time since any guy has made you feel drunk with giddiness.

He only removes his hand when he needs two to plate your food, and you immediately move from the log to help him. He instructs you to take the blanket out the bottom of his bag (the one from your first date), and lay it on the ground. You take the cutlery out of his pack and prepare it, and clear away the discarded utensils and foil trays to be dealt with after your meal. He notices you clearing up around him and beams at you, and for a brief moment you think about what it might be like if this was your life; him cooking up a storm in the kitchen, you setting the table, clearing the dishes… both of you, in some perfect, unrealistic, domestic bliss.

He sets the plate of food before you, and you gasp at what looks like a five-star restaurant meal, which was cooked on a campfire of all things.

“Bon appetit,” he says in a terrible French accent, but you just smile and tuck his hair behind his ear, a significant amount of which has now fallen out of his bun, and lean up and kiss him on his cheek.

“Thank you, Cookie. It looks amazing.”

“Cookie?”

“Sounds similar to Ggukie,” you say with a shrug.

“Ah, that is so unimaginative!”

“Oh, okay! Merci, mon petite fromage!”

He snorts. “I’m your little cheese, am I?”

“My little cheese,” you coo, entwining your free hand in his. “My little dumpling… noodle… my little cabbage.”

“Cabbage?” he asks indignantly.

“My. Little. Cabbage.” You kiss your way across his bare shoulder between words. His face twists like he’s trying to repress a smile and shoves a forkful of creamy, perfectly-cooked potatoes into your mouth. You hum in happiness, grinning at him as you chew. His food is as delicious as always. When you’re finally done, you nudge him. “So, mon petit fromage, what am I?”

“You’re my lil’ cupcake.” He smiles. “Pumpkin… jagiya, it’s Korean, it kinda means sweetie or honey,” he explains at your confused expression. “My little creme-puff.” He bites his lower lip, lifting your hand to his mouth, lips delicately brushing against your knuckles. “My everything.”

You stop breathing. Everything stops. There’s no air. There’s nothing but Jeongguk’s big, brown, sincere, hopeful eyes and those words hanging between you. You can’t breathe, nothing but short, shallow gasps. You turn away and swallow against the lump in your throat, tears pricking at the edges of your eyes.

“I’m sorry. Was I actually too much that time?” Jeongguk asks, his body tense, eager to reach out and comfort you, but restraining himself, knowing he’s the reason for your discomfort.

“No, no.” You shake your head, wiping at your eyes. “It’s… a lot, but it’s you, so it’s just right.” He smiles, but it’s tight. It looks fake, like he doesn’t quite believe you, and you don’t like that smile on his face. He’s let go of your hand and shifted back slightly to give you space, but you turn back to him, reaching for him, cupping his cheek. “A lot of men have said similar things to me in my life…” You take a deep breath-

“And that’s made you wary of hearing it again?” Jeongguk interjects as you try and gather your thoughts.

“No. It’s just…I think that’s the first time someone has said it and I believed it,” you say with a watery smile, rubbing your thumb over his cheekbone.

“I told you on the first night we met. I don’t say anything I don’t mean.” He tilts his head and gently kisses your palm.

“It’s just a little overwhelming. You saying I’m your everything.” You want to be honest with him, you know you can be honest with him.

“I can’t take it back, but I won't say it again. I don’t want to you to be uncomfortable, jagiya.” He reaches out and rubs away a teardrop gathering at the corner of your lashes.

“I’m not uncomfortable… not really. And I don’t want you to not express yourself, or think you have to hide how you feel, or hold yourself back from saying it. The fact you’re so free and open with your affection is one of the things I love about you. I just… wanted to be honest that… it feels like a lot right now.” Jeongguks smiles again, this time wide and bright. He reaches for your hand and kisses it before entwining your fingers again.

“Understood. Just… don’t feel pressured to say that kind of stuff back, especially if you don’t feel it. Do it in your own time, you know, if you ever do feel--erm…”

“You’re nervous rambling, Ggukie.” You smile softly, kissing his hand this time. He reminds you so much of the nervous young man who first approached you in the bar that night. You hardly see that side of him anymore, but behind the nerves he’s behaving so maturely; more mature and emotionally healthy than maybe all your exes combined. He’s not pushing or forcing, he’s not getting angry you were excited by his confession, he’s just… accepting your feelings. This… respect? Consideration? You don’t think you’ve encountered this before

“Yeah.” He chuckles, pulling you out of your wandering thoughts. He scratches at his reddening ears, eyes darting away, but he gives your hand a squeeze. “Now eat your food before it gets cold.”

You finish your meal in comfortable silence, Jeongguk refusing to let go of your hand even to cut your steak, so you figure out a system of holding onto both your cutlery and each other’s hand as you cut your steaks into bite-sized pieces. Occasionally, Jeongguk feeds you a piece of steak and follows it with a peck on the lips when you take it. And you do the same with him, a bloom of warmth growing in your chest every time he pulls a piece of meat from your fork and smiles at you, before leaning in for a kiss.

The sun disappears beyond the horizon, turning the trees in the valley into their own fiery pit of blazing golds and oranges. The sky is painted a rainbow of deep indigo blues, purples and pinks. You curl up to his side on the blanket, watching as the first sprinkling of stars appear in the darkest sections of the sky. His fingers lightly trail up and down your back as he hums into your hair.

“I do believe the stars are coming out…” you whisper, hardly daring to break the silence, but walking your fingers up the hard planes of his abs and picking at the fabric of his tank, looking at him from under your lashes.

“What about dessert?” he asks, and you glance up to see him smirking. You slowly and purposefully push yourself up and straddle his waist. His hands immediately go to your hips, thumbs rubbing comforting circles, but you’re not thinking about comfort right now.

You lean forward to nuzzle at the hollow of his throat. “I could be dessert,” you murmur, as you trail your lips against his flawless skin.

“But I brought homemade chocolate lava cakes and foraged wild berries for you. Does that mean nothing to you?” he sighs, leaning his head back, giving you better access to his neck.

“You know I would have been happy with s’mores right?” you say, edging your lips up the underside of his jaw, towards his ear.

“I’ve never had s’mores before,” he says simply, and you stop. Blinking rapidly, you sit up and look down at him like he’s just grown a second head.

“How?” Visible confusion is written all over your face. “How have you never had a s’more before? You come up here and do all this camping and you’ve never made s’mores? That’s like camping one-oh-one!”

“Usually I come up here to get away from things. I keep basic, non-perishable supplies for emergencies in the trunk of my car, but usually I’m fishing and stuff for food up here. This is the first time I’ve come up here with the intention of cooking anything.”

“Well it’s a good thing one of us came prepared,” you say, grabbing his wrists and lifting his hands away from your hips, before springing to your feet with an enthusiasm that would be considered excessive for a woman even half your age. Jeongguk lifts himself up onto his elbows, watching you with an amusing mix of confusion and frustration.

“If you knew I was bringing dessert, why did you bring the ingredients for s’mores?”

“You can never have too many s’mores, dumpling!” you yell from inside the tent as you fish the items out of your hiking bag and run back out, collapsing to your knees, dropping the ingredients before him. “And since you cooked me a delicious dinner, I will make you dessert!”

“What happened to you being dessert?” He smiles slyly, sitting up and reaching for you.

“You’ll enjoy me a lot more when I’m all sticky and covered in melted chocolate,” you say, leaning forward and kissing him. It’s supposed to be tempting, a teasing promise of later, but a strong, tattooed hand tangles in your hair, holding you in place as he licks into your mouth, deepening the kiss. A growl rumbles in the back of his throat as he pulls away.

“I’m convinced. Teach me something, Mrs. Robinson,” he says, tilting his head back to look at you through half-lidded eyes, his lips slightly pink and spit-slicked. He looks sinful. You lean forward and lick at his bottom lip, quickly pulling away as his adorable bunny teeth try to nip at your mouth.

“Behave,” you say, turning away from him and opening up packets. You hear him shift and moments later his chest is pressed up against your back, knees either side of you, arms wrapped around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder.

“I’m an angel,” he insists, and even though you can’t see it you can hear the pout.

“Uh huh,” you agree, skewering a marshmallow and resting it close to the fire.

“I’m your dumpling,” he says simply, swaying you side to side slightly as you prepare the chocolate and graham crackers. “Your cabbage.” He noses behind your ear. “Your petit fromage.”

You laugh, leaning your head to the side against his. Picking up the gooey marshmallow and sandwiching it between two graham crackers and chocolate, you slide the skewer out before turning slightly and holding it up to Jeongguk’s lips. He leans forward and takes a bite, eyes closing as he moans in delight. He attempts to lick sticky marshmallow residue and chocolate and crumbs off his lips and only succeeds in spreading the sticky mess more.

“Pumpkin, this is amazing,” he says, eyes bright, shining back at you. You roll your eyes at him.

“It’s just your basic s’more.”

“You made it for me, so it’s the best, most delicious s’more that’s ever been made,” he says, licking his lips in the most over-the-top way ever and smacking them together.

“You’re ridiculous.” You smile, biting into the s’more before shoving the rest of it into Jeongguk’s mouth.

“I-s-my-bes-fea-re,” he says around a mouthful of molten sugar and cracker. You smile. His childlike excitement and enthusiasm and how openly he shares it really is his best feature. His thighs come a close second, but the childlike enthusiasm wins. “I have an idea.” He picks up the skewer and pushes it through a marshmallow, placing it close to the fire. “Watch this for me, muffin.” He drops a sticky kiss to the side of your neck and jumps up to retrieve the bag he went foraging with, returning in moments, pressing his warmth against your back. He slips his arms under yours, putting together a s’more, but this time plucking out two, ripe raspberries and putting them against the chocolate. “Ah ah ah!” he yells as his marshmallow starts to burn, and he lifts it away from the fire to blow the flame out.

“Rookie mistake.” You chuckle.

“You’ll have to teach me your masterful ways, jagiya,” he says, as he slips the slightly burnt marshmallow between the prepared crackers and holds it out to you. “Be careful.” You blow on the s’more, making exaggerated, sexy eyes at him before biting into it. They drift closed in bliss. Wow. The tart juiciness of the raspberries, mixed with the sweetness of marshmallow and the creaminess of melted chocolate is heavenly. 

You open your eyes and Jeongguk is watching you with a look that tells you an item of your clothing is not making it through the night. “Taste good?” His voice has taken on a thick, gravelly tone. You nod mutely, licking your lips, only slightly aware you’re just smearing sweet stickiness all over them by the way Jeongguk’s eyes track the movement of your tongue. They darken in response. “Lemme taste.”

You turn in his arms, holding the s’more out to him, but he gently pushes it away with one hand, the other cupping the back of your neck, pulling you into a hungry kiss. He tilts his head to focus on the corner of your mouth, kisses more like sensual pecks and gently licks. His only mission in life seems to be to kiss the stickiness from your lips. You giggle as you attempt to kiss him back, but your lips keep sticking to his, and they turn into slight nips and lascivious licks. “I think you’ve gotten a taste by now,” you mumble around his very mobile and insistent lips.

“Tastes too good, Noona. Can’t stop,” he sighs, before deepening the kiss, wrapping an arm around your waist and hauling you into his lap.

“Wait, wait, wait.” You pull back, taking a bite of the s’more that’s still in your hand and giving the remaining piece to him. He murmurs in pleasure.

“I am good.” He smiles after he stops chewing.

“Yes, you are.” You wrap your arms around his neck and lean in. “Now where were we?”

“I was in my favourite place in the world, with my favourite person in the world in my lap. Her arms around me, her lips on mine.” He trails kisses along your jaw. “About to fulfil a lifelong first for both of us.”

“Dumpling… you hit puberty, like, last week.” You play with his hair, pulling it out of the bun, allowing it to fall loose around his face and frame it in a way that emphasises his jaw. God, you want to nibble it. So you do. “I’ve got socks older than you.”

He flips you over and pins you down with his hips, his strong, veiny forearms by your head, caging you in.

“You think you’re funny teasing me about my age, don’t you.” He raises an eyebrow. It’s not a question.

“Li’l bit.” You smirk, wiggling your hips.

“Well, Noona.” His voice takes on a dangerous edge as he lowers himself until he’s pressed flush to you. “Guess I’ll just have to show you how mature and virile I am, until these youthful hips give out, and start aching like your old lady hips.” He smiles, tip of his tongue peeking out from between his teeth. His adorable, perfect bunny teeth, and his adorable, perfect smile.

You throw your head back and laugh, hands sliding up over his shoulders to clutch them tightly. One carries on, up into his hair, pulling his forehead down to rest against yours.