older
think i need someone older, just a little bit colder, take the weight off your shoulders
synopsis: all your friends say you're delusional for thinking you have a chance with jungkook, the handsome older man you've known since forever, but you just can't seem to let him go.
word count: 18k
pairing: older!jungkook x afab reader
genre: age gap au (seven years), social media au!!!, childhood acquaintance au, fluff, comedy, angsty, outta pocket, alludes to sexual innuendoes
warnings: character death (not jk or y/n), cursing, nudity,
author's note: i am so overwhelmed with the support i've gotten for this fic!! obviously this isn't going to be the best written fanfic, but i genuinely enjoyed writing it!! and yes, there will be a part 2!
“Girl.. be for real. He doesn’t want you.” Beomgyu’s opinion bounces off your bedroom wall but shoots into your heart like an arrow; you subtly glare at him through your vanity mirror. Though, the Snorlax plush headband and unblended concealer in triangles under your eyes is far less than intimidating.
“Okay, fuck you-”
Beomgyu shrugs. “You can wear all the makeup in the world and you would never get his attention,” he nonchalantly utters, not caring enough to even look at you while he addresses you. You pout, sulking as Beomgyu’s very real assertion settles into your system.
Jeon Jungkook would never see you that way.
He adores you because you’ve been acquainted since childhood- your parents being close friends. He’s seven years older than you and has witnessed you blossom from a childish boy-crazy kid to an equally boy-crazy adult, the same way you’ve seen him go from a prepubescent pre teen to a hot, older, rich, man.
“Look, and that’s not to say that you’re not pretty or whatever because you are pretty and a lot of guys want you, but Jungkook… he’s just too old for you,” he offers you an empathetic smile before attempting to assuage the petulance in the air. “Honestly, I would be even more concerned if he responded to your advances because that would be.. hella weird.”
Beomgyu’s claims often transform your brain into a philosophical battlefield. Would it really be all that inappropriate for Jungkook to see you as a woman? An age gap of seven years holds no real significance if you were both in your 20’s, right? But does Jungkook knowing you since childhood completely nullify any chance you have with him?
“Oh fuck off with that. I’m not a little kid anymore. I’m already 19 years old, almost 20-”
“The delusion is never escaping this one…” Beomgyu mumbles. He finally looks up from his phone when you spring up from your chair and stomp over to him. You hold your manicured claw up to scratch his face, but Beomgyu grabs your wrist before you can do any damage.
“You’re such a horse girl, don’t try to scratch me- wait are you crying?” Beomgyu’s gaze melts after noticing the tears accumulating in your waterline.
“No!” you respond, the tip of your nose becoming slightly red. You raise your sleeve to wipe your nose.
“Wait Y/N! You’re going to get makeup all over my hoodie!-”
Beomgyu halts when he sees your unblended concealer transfer onto his very white and expensive hoodie. His lips form into a straight line while he stares at you blankly.
“Sorry?” you squeak. He gestures dramatically- blinking at you like a pissed off owl.
…
…
…
You bolt to the door, sprinting from Beomgyu before he quickly follows in pursuit of you. You run through the house, tumbling down the stairs frantically, and when you turn the corner, you stub your toe against the wall, stumbling over and falling flat on your face.
You shriek in pain, holding onto your toe. Your eyes immediately tear up, sobbing through the pain blistering in your toe. And for some reason, Beomgyu is nowhere to be found.
“Y/N? Are you okay?”
You freeze when none other than Jungkook pops out of his room, completely shirtless with nothing but gray sweats on. His abs are literally ripping in your face and his entire sleeve of beautiful tattoos are practically mocking you- especially the mask one. It's laughing in your face because it gets to be on Jungkook’s body and you don’t.
You begin to cry even harder. No physical pain would ever compare to the pain of not being able to have him.
“Whoa, whoa, what happened?” Jungkook kneels down and takes your foot in his large hands.
Thank God you got your toes done the day before. His thumbs press into the balls of your feet while he carefully inspects your toes. “Not fractured, I think. Think you can get up, baby?”
Baby. He’s been calling you that stupid nickname since forever. That’s what everybody used to call you when you were younger; you were the youngest of all your parents’ friends’ kids after all. But for some reason, the nickname only seemed to stick with Jungkook. He has this horrible tendency (not really) of doting on you, taking care of you, and spoiling you to oblivion.
You sniffle, shaking your head.
Jungkook’s handsome face crinkles into a subtle laughter, an amused expression etched onto his features. He takes his pointer finger and thumb, pinching your nostrils and wiping your snot onto his sweats.
You smile sheepishly, butterflies erupting in your stomach.
This man will literally touch your feet and boogers as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. That has to mean something, right?
Jungkook scoops you into his arms bridal style and takes you into his room.
Why Jungkook has a room in your house is beyond you. It seems like he was always over doing some errands for your parents- not that you were complaining, of course. He sets you down on his bed and uses his large palm to smooth over the frizzy hairs that are sticking up.
“Just stay here for a while. I’ll take you to Urgent Care if it hurts in a few hours.”
Truth be told, that shit didn’t even hurt anymore, but there’s no way you were going to pass this opportunity up. You nuzzle into Jungkook’s sheets, his masculine smell absolutely amplifying your will to live. His cologne smells so good, the musky elegance of his scent making you dizzy as you bask in his essence.
Anyways! Looks like you’re canceling your plans with Beomgyu. Apparently, he already knows that.
Shutting your phone off, your eyes drift towards Jungkook, owlishly blinking at the computer code projected onto his large monitor. He’s got everything going for him: rich, hot, smart, successful. You want to cry again. “Jungkook, can I ask you something?”
His focus remains on the screen, eyes still boring onto the monitor before he absentmindedly responds, “Sup?”
“What would you do if a bear, a lion, and a gorilla just walked into this room right now?”
Jungkook’s fingers pause, hovering above his light up keyboard. He swivels around in his chair, his handsome features crinkling in evident confusion.
“I’m serious. What would you do if a bear, a lion, and a gorilla showed up in your room? If you aren’t able to answer the question, then I don’t really know if I feel safe here,” you elaborate as you gesture with your hands, the bratty tone laced in your voice attempting to guilt trip him for not having a backup plan for this very specific specific situation.
“Easy. I would feed you to them and then escape,” Jungkook bites back a cheeky smile before spinning around and returning to his work.
You gasp dramatically, pouting before you pull his covers over your head.
Jungkook hums to himself, laughing at how obnoxious you can be.
Later on, another question is conjured in your imaginative little mind, and Jungkook’s lip twitches when he hears your classic Jungkook, I have another question.
“Hmmm?”
“Do you think you could put me on with your piercing guy?”
Jungkook swivels around in his chair once again. “Thought you already had your ears and belly pierced.”
“It’s not enough. I want more. Wanna be like you,” you murmur, eyes settling on his five piercings decorating his left lobe, the one in his eyebrow, and the two on his lips.
“It is enough,” he immediately counters, “You shouldn’t put holes in your body.”
You cock a brow at him. “I know you’re not talking.”
Jungkook’s lip twitches upwards at your cheekiness. “Yea, I’ll send you his instagram. Tell him you’re with me and he’ll squeeze you in as soon as possible.”
-
“And I told Soobin to not piss in the water bottle, but he did anyway. And guess what? I almost drank from the same water bottle. Can you believe that? I was so fucking pissed at him I almost threw his piss back on him…” Yeonjun can tangibly feel that you’re not all there, your eyes occasionally drifting off- so his eyes follow your train of vision until-
“Oh c’mon Y/N!” Yeonjun’s fingers release the grip on the gym equipment, causing the weights to thunderously slam back into place. You yelp, flinching a bit before you swat Yeonjun’s biceps.
“You scared me you bitch!”
“You scare me! And what the fuck are you wearing? What kind of basic bitch wears a pink set to the gym?”
You gasp dramatically. “You did not just say that.”
“And stop drooling over Jungkook! He doesn’t want you-mmmphh!” You clasp your palm over Yeonjun’s mouth mid-sentence, your boba eyes glaring up at him. You release your hand, pouting at him dramatically when you feel you’ve tortured him enough.
Hands on your hips, you continue glowering at him and he gladly reciprocates the scowl on your lips.
Yeonjun acquiesces from the glare-off almost immediately, too entirely soft to hold a grudge against his best friend. “Did you only agree to come to the gym with me to see Jungkook?” he asks, sincere disappointment laced in his words.
You immediately soften, disheartened to hear the crestfallenness in his tone. You shake your head at the notion. “No- I wouldn’t do that. I swear he’s here by coincidence,” you explain thoughtfully, “I’m sorry for being an inattentive friend. It wasn’t intentional. I just get distracted whenever I see him. I’m sorry.” Your eyes return to Yeonjun’s who smiles knowingly at you. He opens his arms, offering an embrace and you gladly accept, hugging all the problems away.
“You’re such a lovestruck girl,” Yeonjun teases.
“I can’t help it. He just looks so good. Look at his arms and his tattoos- oh Yeonjun, I’ll never get over him. What should I do?”
“We just have to kill him. That’s the only option left,” your eyes meet his, his empty gaze boring into your skull before you both burst into giggles.
“You’re right. That is the only option left.” You take a step back to stretch your arms, releasing the tension in your limbs until you sense a very familiar walking pattern approaching you.
“Hey Y/N,” Jungkook casually greets, creeping behind you to wrap a single arm around your shoulder. He pulls you closer to him from behind, nonchalantly nuzzling his forehead into the back of your head. You use both your hands to grip onto his thick forearm. “Um, hey Kook.”
Yeonjun bites back laughter, watching how you practically become hysterical at Jungkook’s casual gesture.
Jungkook uses his vacant hand to dap up Yeonjun- over your head. “What’s up Yeonjun?” Jungkook grins. Yeonjun reciprocates the friendly greeting. “Hey, how’ve you been? You looked great with the tricep presses.”
Jungkook beams at that. “Oh, you saw? I’ve been bulking so I’m trying to go super heavy with the weights.”
“I can tell. You look fucking enormous,” Yeonjun comments.
Jungkook immediately dismisses the compliment with a wave. “Don’t say that. You look good too…”
Tuning out of the interaction, your brain begins to malfunction when you realize that Jungkook is extremely familiar with all of your friends. You definitely aren’t the most social person, often opting to napping in your cozy bed instead of going into the harsh, unforgiving world, but you are lucky enough to have great friends like Yunjin, Yeonjun, Beomgyu, and Jungkook knows all of them. That had to be indicative of something deeper, right? Perhaps his underlying affection for you? Or a sign that he was possibly in love with you?
“What are you giggling about?” Jungkook teases, gently using his vacant hand to ruffle your hair.
You crimson intensely. “Nothing,” you sheepishly respond, skitterishly ducking under Jungkook’s arm to scurry behind Yeonjun, using your friend as a protective shield.
“What’s up with her?” Jungkook asks Yeonjun, to which Yeonjun feigns ignorance. “Not a clue.”
“Well then, I’m gonna head out. I’m actually staying at Y/N’s for a bit because her parents are out of town. Can you believe I still have to babysit her?” Jungkook says to Yeonjun, giving you a teasing glance.
“It’s just in case someone stalks me or tries to kill me! I don’t need to be babysat,” you emphasize, scowling at Jungkook and he can’t help but to reach out and pinch your cheek. The casual gesture sends you over the moon.
“Whatever you say. You need a ride home though? I can wait so Yeonjun doesn’t have to waste gas on you,” Jungkook suggests, eyes darting towards yours then Yeonjun’s to detect any traces of reticence or hesitation in his features.
You do the same, glancing towards Yeonjun who actually sports a look of indifference. You playfully link your arms with Yeonjun’s before sending Jungkook a downward smile. “It’s okay Kook. Wanna spend time with my friend today.”
A touched gasp leaves Yeonjun’s lips as he holds his hand over his heart, gesticulating dramatically to convey his surprise that you would choose him over the man you’ve been salivating over the past thirty minutes.
Jungkook has no protests about your preference. “Alright Y/N, see you at home. See you Yeonjun,” he gives you a little squeeze before he departs.
Yeonjun waits until Jungkook is out of ear shot to provoke you, mocking you in an obnoxious, high pitched voice, “I don’t need to be babysat! You’re such a baby- but thank you for choosing me, you know.”
You tilt your head, eyebrows pinching before you subtly frown at Yeonjun’s comment. “Of course I would choose you. You’re my friend.” You say it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world- because it kinda is. Bros over hoes any day.
Yeonjun’s lips quirk up at the sentiment, “Oh how touching, thank you so much for gracing me with your presence, my queen.”
-
Jungkook thinks you can be such a princess sometimes, especially when you drag your feet back into the house, a sour expression consuming your pretty features. Particularly receptive to your emotional fluctuations, he doesn’t hesitate to ask you what’s up.
He leans against the kitchen counter, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows as his eyes settle on your moping figure. “Who made you sad? Bring them to me right now,” he muses.
You pause, letting your light green gym bag (with little Snorlax’s decorated all over it) fall to the floor with a thud before gazing at him with a vacuous expression. “Why are you dressed up?” you point towards his work attire- a simple white button up and slacks. The buttons on his dress shirt are undone and messy, giving you access to his chest and it makes you want to roll around on the floor and cry. His slacks are tight- accentuating his long, muscular legs and you decide that you’d be okay with dying only if you were suffocated between his thighs.
“Had a work call,” he responds, indifference laced in his voice, “Now who made you sad? Want oppa to handle it for you?” he teases, releasing a breathless laugh at the way your nose scrunches up in disgust.
Nonetheless, you spill everything to Jungkook- because you always spill everything to Jungkook and because you trust him with everything in you. He makes you feel safe. Plopping yourself down on the seat by the dining counter, you wordlessly slide your phone across the counter. Jungkook effortlessly stops your phone with a single hand, his eyes scanning across the array of text messages popping up on the screen.
“Not this guy again,” he mutters under his breath, gauging the situation.
“I know!” you concede, “Wish he would leave me alone- but I feel like I have to respond.”
The text messages were from none other than your ex-boyfriend, telling you how much he misses you, how he’ll do better for you, and every other generic I want you back text in the book.
There are various reasons why you feel obligated to respond to him: (a) the whole breakup was a mess and (b) it was your fault. You were in a long-term, committed relationship with your high school sweetheart until you recognized your exponentially growing feelings for Jungkook. The guilt of breaking your ex’s heart haunts you- his crying, tear-stained face often popping up in your mind when you feel shitty, making you feel even shittier. Though you were no longer emotionally tied to him you do feel obligated to give him closure, or at the very least respond to his text messages.
But you’ve had this conversation with your ex numerous times. How much closure does one need in order to move on?
“You don’t have to respond to him,” Jungkook’s sonorous voice pulls you from the thoughts plaguing your mind. “You’ve already told him how you feel,” Jungkook is the rational force in your life, always tugging you towards the right direction, especially when your susceptible mind feels the need to please everyone and everything.
“I know,” you sigh, “I just feel bad. He was my first kiss, first boyfriend. It feels like I just abandoned him.”
A look of contemplation blankets Jungkook’s handsome face, evident by the way his fingers trace over his chin and lips. “That’s true,” he eventually asserts, “but no one as young as you should stay in a relationship out of obligation.” He approaches you and settles himself down on the vacant seat beside you. “Actually Y/N, I’m proud of you for building up the courage to let him go. It would be more painful if you forced yourself to stay.”
You purse your lips and nod, allowing yourself to enjoy the sensation of Jungkook comfortingly rubbing your back. “t’s just sad. I used to love him.”
“I know Y/N, but sometimes you just have to start living in the present instead of the past. If you respond you’re just going to give him false hope. Just let it be,” he articulates, using prudence to assuage you.
You nod, craning your head to sustain eye contact with him, making the conversation feel all the more intimate and personal, “How would you feel if you were him? I mean- if your girlfriend broke up with you and you were still like- in love- with her?”
He tilts his head, thoroughly contemplating the question because he takes your feelings seriously, and he wants to give you the right answers. “If my girlfriend loses feelings then she loses feelings, there’s nothing I can do about it. I definitely wouldn’t beg for her back, I’d go out and make a lot of money instead,” he smiles, “But I wouldn’t know how it feels. I’ve never been dumped before,” he adds.
“Seriously?” you interject, not believing that Jungkook has never been dumped in his 26 years of living. “What about that one girl you brought to Thanksgiving Dinner a few years ago? What happened to her?”
“Ahh her?” he somewhat grimaces at the thought of his ex-girlfriend, “She was getting a little too suffocating so I let her go. She was really pissed off- tried to key my car and shit,” he states.
You gasp. His ex-girlfriend was so sweet to you- she even bought you a Snorlax plush keychain. But you can imagine Jungkook trying to hold her back while she jostles out of his grip, trying to key his car- his baby. “No way? If she ever comes back, just let me know. I’ll throw hands for you,” you enunciate, showing him your fists to which Jungkook just scoffs in amusement.
“Yea, I’ll definitely call you,” he remarks sarcastically before getting up, “So are you good, baby?” he asks, casually resting his hand on your shoulder, and you nod.
“‘M good. I’m not gonna respond to him.”
Jungkook’s lips quirk up at that. “Good.”
-
Jungkook is livid. You can tell by the way he spam calls you even after you repeatedly reject his calls. You quietly sneak out of the lecture hall and answer his call once you’ve reached the hallway.
“What? I’m in class,” you impatiently mutter.
“You’re fucking kidding, aren’t you?” he scoffs through the phone, “I canceled your appointment, by the way.”
The color drains from your face once you realize what this is about. “He told you?”
“You’re out of your fucking mind if you thought you could go through me to get your nipples pierced! I can’t believe you thought I would let you do that!”
“Why? What’s wrong with it?” you whisper shout into his phone, “I’m an adult, I can do whatever I want!”
“No you’re not. Baby, you can’t even drink,” he reiterates, a little more calmly this time.
“Who cares? You’re not my mom! I can do whatever I want. Even if it’s through someone else!” you bark back. The silence that ensues intimidates you.
“Baby.” His voice is low, and it’s kinda hot but you don’t pay attention to it because of how angry you are at him trying to monopolize your actions.
“I’m not a fucking baby anymore so stop calling me that!”
“You’re not a baby?” Jungkook laughs lowly into the phone, as if the claim itself is ridiculous.
“‘m not.” He can practically hear your pout through the phone.
“You can’t even get on a plane by yourself.”
You gasp at Jungkook’s low blow. That was one time. A month ago, you took a flight to Vegas for EDC to meet up with Yunjin, who flew out the day before you. But you had no clue how to check your bag in, and were far too intimidated to go through the security check by yourself. What if they thought your ID was fake? Or worse what if they sent you to jail? There was just no way you could go through by yourself.
You remember the way Jungkook shook his head at your preposterous notions but nonetheless still agreed to take care of you.
So Jungkook drove you to the airport, carried your bag for you, weighed it, and checked it in. He also stood with you for the entire thirty minute wait at security and only left the airport when called and told him you were waiting at the departure gate.
You don’t respond, and he takes it as an opportunity to further his point.
“That’s what I thought. End of story. You’re not getting it done.”
He hangs up and you blissfully sigh. This literally takes feminism back 32904098 years, but you kind of love a man that can put you in your place.
-
Jungkook goes to the gym everyday solely so he can beat the shit out of Taehyung and Mingyu, who get off on tormenting him for his extremely complex and profound feelings for you.
Hooking up to the bluetooth speaker and blaring the sound of police sirens, going “Ayo! He’s right here, officer!” every time they walk past a policeman- they even go as far as putting handcuffs on him while he sleeps- hooting and howling in laughter when Jungkook wakes with his hands restrained.
Initially, it made his intestines twist and turn with pure guilt, guilt about harboring feelings for you, the little girl who used to prance around his room and do cartwheels in futile attempts to impress him.
His friends make him feel like shit, but they’re his friends for a reason.
“Hey, so how’s Y/N?” Mingyu casually asks, sinking into the welcoming leather of Jungkook’s sleek, black sofa. He props his feet up on Jungkook’s coffee table- mahogany brown and custom designed to suit Jungkook’s meticulous and elegant taste.
Jungkook narrows his eyes at the nonchalance of the comment, half expecting Taehyung to pop out of nowhere in policeman cosplay, ready to put him in cuffs. “Why’re you asking?”
When Mingyu detects the hostility blanketing Jungkook’s features, his jaw drops in realization of the reality of the situation. “Wait.. you don’t take us seriously when we tease you about that shit, right?”
Jungkook cocks his head in confusion, settling beside Mingyu, chopsticks in hand as he blows on his ramen. “I mean, kinda. I feel guilty about it.”
Mingyu eyes his friend for a while, and Jungkook slowly turns his head towards Mingyu when he feels lasers boring holes into his skull. “What, asshole?”
“Ah, sorry man. I didn’t know it bothered you. I kind of thought it was a given that you and Y/N are cute together. Didn’t know the age gap bothered you.”
Oh.
Jungkook pauses, setting his sizzling ramen back into the plastic container instead of into his mouth, and Mingyu feels the need to further elaborate.
“I mean, you’re always helping her out, taking care of her, that’s pretty cute.”
Jungkook blinks at Mingyu, raking his tattooed hand through his hair. “Doesn’t that just make me look like a dumbass?” he mutters, before letting out a bitter, light-hearted laughter at the reality of his assertion.
His emotions for you run deep and intricate, but one thing remains unequivocally clear: he doesn't do these things because he expects something in return. That would be selfish. Obligation doesn't factor into his decisions either. Jungkook doesn't subscribe to such motivations when it comes to his personal life. He views it as unnecessary and cumbersome—except when it involves you. Whether it's looking after you, lending you money, helping you with homework, or driving you to the airport, he does it all because he genuinely loves you.
He acknowledges the peculiarity of his natural inclination to care for you. In the past, he's ended numerous relationships due to girls he found excessively clingy, suffocating, or overbearing, all attributes he easily uses to describe you- but he lives for that shit when it comes to you.
Mingyu’s forehead wrinkles in confusion. “What? That girl loves you, Jungkook. If she does good in school and gets rich, you’d be bathing in that shit,” Mingyu jokes, causing Jungkook to sputter out laughter at the absurd thought.
“Right now though?” Mingyu continues, “She wouldn’t be able to change your tire or some shit, but she brings you this sense of peace, and that’s something every guy needs in his girl.”
Jungkook pauses at that.
-
Jungkook is abruptly awoken by the blaring sound of his ringtone. Groggily, he reaches for his phone on the nightstand, eyes barely open.
You, the only person that would call him at 3 in the morning, and you the only person he would answer at 3 in the morning.
Babysitting is the last word he would use to explain why he’s at your house right now. He’s at your house because, well, he would do anything for you, even if you aren’t aware of the lengths he would go to keep you satiated and happy.
He’s aware that men find you charming for your ditzy and oblivious nature, but Jungkook likes you regardless of whether or not you possess such an arbitrary trait. But it is true that there are a lot of things you aren’t aware of, like how utterly lovely you are. Jungkook knows you- sees how oblivious you are to the men who shamelessly ogle at you, or the boys who practically break their necks to get a glimpse at you.
You have this resonating effect on him. You drive him crazy and you don’t even know it.
Initially, Jungkook had never truly focused his attention on you, yet as time passed, an irresistible attraction began to pull him toward you. He vividly recalls an incident in particular that left him dumbfounded.
Jungkook’s mom visited yours to drop off some vegetable. Gifting fruits and vegetables from their gardens are the way the aunties demonstrate their love and appreciation for one another. Jungkook reckons you didn’t know he was there because you pranced down the stairs with the tiniest boy shorts and camisole top. Jungkook isn’t the type of man to become disoriented over the sight of a woman’s body, practically desensitized from all the women he’s been with, but he stiffens at your presence.
“Wow baby!” His mother giggles, using your classic nickname as she ogles you shamelessly, “You’re getting really sexy!”
She playfully nudges your mom, “Are you ready to have grandchildren?” The joke makes your mother roll her eyes, though a smile lingers on her lips, infinitely proud of her beautiful daughter.
“I wish someone would marry my daughter!” Your mom jests, “All she ever does is sleep! I just wish a man would even look her way!”
Jungkook’s eyebrows pinch in bewilderment. He knew your mother was only joking, teasing you as per usual- because clearly, you are captivatingly gorgeous. You make a sly comment in return to make his mom giggle, always so smooth and sociable with the old ladies.
Suddenly, you randomly swivel around, yelping at Jungkook’s presence. “Oh hey,” you greet, fidgeting in place, “I didn’t know you were here. Sorry- I should cover up a little.”
For the first time in his life Jungkook is speechless in front of you. You. You just look so pretty standing in front of him, your manicured fingers twirling a single strand of hair, gazing at him and gnawing your lips like he makes you nervous when in reality you make him tremble with just one look. It makes his chest tighten and he inhales deeply to compose himself.
“No. Not at all, you should be comfortable in your own home,” the smile he offers you is forced, polite, and you’re bewildered at the tension accumulating between you and him. Your eyes glint downward; you can’t even look at him, and suddenly a bold wave of impulsivity washes over you.
“Hey Jungkook, can we talk in the other room?”
Jungkook’s eyes flash towards his mother’s then rapidly back at you. Subconsciously, his eyes trace down your body and he feels like has to physically gouge his eyes out to prevent himself from looking.
“Yea, sure.”
He follows you upstairs into the guest room, taking extreme measures to keep his pupils focused on the ceiling lights above your head. However, his efforts work against him because the ceiling lights shine on you like a spotlight, illuminating your gorgeous figure as you make your way up the stairs.
Your fingers wrap around his forearm and you pull him into the room.
You waste no time getting straight to the point.“Jungkook, I think I’m pregnant.”
Jungkook blinks, processing what you just said. “Huh?”
You bite your lip anxiously, crossing your arms while you look down at your toes. “My period is late, and I don’t know what to do- you’re the only person I trust to talk about this.”
Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to confirm the sentiment. “You can trust me with anything. I’ll always take care of you- ‘m just a little shocked because I thought you were still a virgin.”
Gasping dramatically, you pout at him and stomp your foot. “I’m not a little kid anymore.”
Yea, clearly not, he thinks. “Just act normal. After I drop my mom off at home I’ll come back with a pregnancy test.”
You nod and give him a downward smile. “Thanks- ‘m just really nervous and I hope I’m not pregnant because I don’t even remember who the dad is and-“
Jungkook frowns at that, perturbation morphing onto his features. “Y/N, you don’t remember who the dad is? Please don’t do that- only sleep with people you trust. Please.”
“I trust you.”
The words tumble from your lips immediately, before you can even process your thoughts. You clasp your hand over your mouth, a small gasp leaving your lips as you gaze up at him in pure horror.
Jungkook doesn’t know what to think- doesn’t even know if that was just a fragment of his imagination. He blinks at you, brain too fused to even conjure a proper response.
“Wait- I didn’t mean it like that!” you blurt out. At that moment, you give up on any attempt to salvage the situation and scurry out of the room, stumbling back down the stairs.
Jungkook runs his hands over his face.
He’s going to hell for the thoughts running through his mind.
Thank God you weren’t pregnant but after that night Jungkook just never looked at you as just a family friend. It’s complicated . It’s morally conflicting, and it frustrates Jungkook like nothing else.
“Hello?” he speaks into the phone
“I bled on my bed,” you sniffle into the phone, “Just please come upstairs,” you say before abruptly hanging up.
He begrudgingly rises from his bed. Though tired, he doesn’t hesitate to throw his black t-shirt over his head to look presentable for when he checks up on you. Rubbing at his eyes with his knuckles, he shoves his hands into the pockets of his black sweats as he makes his way up the stairs. He gently opens the door to see you sitting idly under your covers, clinging onto your Snorlax plushie for dear life. You’re wearing
He sits on the edge of your bed. “You ran out of pads?”
You don’t say anything, remaining stiff like an ice sculpture, not melting under Jungkook’s warm touch like you usually do.
He nods at you and gently tugs on your oversized T-shirt, urging you to get up as he sticks out his hand. “Change the sheets and I’ll go out and buy you some pads-“
“Jungkook, I'm in love with you.”
Abrupt.
Impulsive.
Messy.
But you feel like you just have to say it. With a radiant glow on your rosy cheeks, you purse your lips in a demure manner, physically unable to look at him. You have to look at Snorlax to get your words out instead.
You inhale deeply. “I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable, and I’m sorry if it creeps you out but I’ve always had feelings for you- and I hate you for it because I don’t think I’ll ever have the capacity to love anyone else like I love you.” With glossy eyes you finally peer at him just to see an entirely indecipherable expression- you’re not sure if it conveys shock, bewilderment, or horror but it evokes the most unsettling and humiliating sensation in the pit of your stomach.
Just as day transforms into night, humiliation morphs into anger, and anger morphs into nonsensicality. Outrage bubbles within you and you chuck the Snorlax plushie at his face.
“Fuck you! How can you treat me the way you do and expect me not to feel anything?! I emotionally cheated on my ex with you! You’re the fucking worst and I hate you. I hate you so fucking much!” Your hands frantically search for every single squishmallow, plushie, and teddy bear you have and you violently chuck your beloved squishies at him. From zero to one hundred, you’ve escalated rapidly and you feel like you’ll die if you don’t convey everything to him right now, in this moment.
Jungkook remains stoic, somewhat resembling the statue of a Greek god: handsome and stagnant, not even flinching at the impact of your squishies hitting his built body or the way you nonsensically scream at him.
“This is all your fucking fault Jungkook. You ruined my life! You ruined love for me! I’ll never get a boyfriend, never get married, never have kids because of you! I’m going to die alone and it’ll be all your fucking fault! How could you do that to me? How could you do that to me?” You erupt into sobs, pushing your face into your hands as you violently cry. Snot, tears, and saliva leak from your face as the chagrin completely consumes you.
“Y/N.” The sound of Jungkook’s deep, baritone voice is barely audible over the sounds of your heaving.
“I’m sorry Y/N.” He does sound sorry, but you can’t help but question the authenticity of his words because he didn’t do anything wrong in the first place. It’s like he’s merely uttering an apology to appease you.
But for Jungkook, he’ll apologize a million times if it helps dry your tears. He never let his pride get in the way when it comes to you.
He sits at the edge of your bed, using his finger to tilt your chin up, revealing your disheveled, snotty, and glossy face. You whimper when your vision clears and focuses on him.
He wipes your face with your own shirt, tugging up the hem to absorb your tears, still gentle and attentive. You swat his hand away. “You need to stop doing that,” you mewl, blinking more tears from your eyes.
“You need to stop crying. It makes me sad,” he retorts, passing you the same Snorlax plushie you violently launched at him. You cushion the plushie on top of your thighs and bring your knees to your chest. You inhale and exhale deeply, trying to settle from your emotional high.
“You don’t even take me seriously,” you mumble, peeking up at him.
“I always take you seriously,” Jungkook responds, “but I want you to stop crying first-
“Jungkook, kiss me,” you breathe out, “If you don’t hate me, then kiss me,” you say, your eyes fluttering shut, delusionally- as if he was about to kiss you. Instead, you feel his large palm on your head, softly caressing your hair.
“I’m not gonna kiss you. You should get some rest.” His voice is deep, calm, and composed. How can he be so normal when you’re on the brink of losing your mind?
Your face scrunches up in indignation before you erupt in tears once again, practically screaming. “Fuck you! I hate you! I hate you!”
“Y/N.” He calls your name repeatedly.
“Y/N-”
“Shut the fuck up you asshole!”
“Y/N,” his voice becomes more stern with everytime he calls your name, but you don’t let him get a word in. You keep screaming at him, calling him every name in the book of insults, shaking him off every time he goes near you.
When he attempts to sit by you, you violently push him away. “Go away! I’m not a little kid anymore! I don’t fucking need you anymore! I’m gonna be single forever because of you! If you don’t want me to be single forever then just fucking leave and never come back!”
You’re aware that your words are horrible, but the overwhelming sense of embarrassment and shame erupting in your system prevents any rational train of thoughts from developing in your mind. You’re embarrassed and devastated that Jungkook doesn’t reciprocate your feelings, and it sends you spiraling.
He attempts to calm you once more by sitting on your bed, but you push him even more violently. “Don’t fucking touch me! I’m never gonna find love because of you! Just fucking die, just leave forever if-”
He staggers on his feet, caught off balance from the force of your push, and for the first time in his life Jungkook yells at you.
“Y/N!”
Giving you no time to say or think anything, he seats himself on your makeup chair, tattooed hand gripping onto its top rail. “Y/N,” he scowls deeply at you, features blanketed in exasperation, “We’ll talk about this later, but you need to calm the fuck down. You’re hurting me when you talk like that.”
Your eyebrows furrow deeply in horror, your cheeks tear-stained and your eyes filled with sorrow. The haunting realization of what you just said settles into your system. Your quivering lips barely enunciate your words. “Kook, I’m so sorry,” you blubber out. “I shouldn’t have said that, I didn’t mean it. I promise I didn’t mean it!” You shoot up, stumbling over your own feet and collapsing onto the floor. You’re a mess. Your face glistens with a layer of your own snot, and your hair is matted and tangled, the result of the countless times you tugged at it during this interaction.
Unbeknownst to you, there's a red blotch near the lower hem of your T-shirt, and droplets of blood escape you and drip onto the floor as you stumble out of bed. Jungkook notices though, eyebrows pinching in concern as a very disturbed expression morphs on his face when you collapse to your knees, your trembling hands holding onto him for support. “I’m so sorry. Please don’t leave. Please don’t leave. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it! It’s all my fucking fault!”
Jungkook doesn’t say anything.
“I’m so sorry, Jungkook,” you sniffle. “I’m so sorry I said that. That was so horrible of me. Please don’t die. I’m so sorry.”
A sigh of vexation leaves his lips, but nonetheless he remains patient, compassionate towards the devastation that consumes your face. “I’m not gonna die.” He cups your face with his tattooed hand, and uses his thumb to wipe the idle tears on your face. “I forgive you. It’s okay.”
“Promise? Promise it’s okay? I’m so sorry,” you cry even more, desperately latching onto his hands, using the side of his fingers to wipe your eyes.
“It’s okay,” he confirms, tilting your head upwards before wiping your face with a makeup wipe from your vanity. “‘M really tired. I’m gonna go get your pads then I’ll be back.
You sniffle. “Okay. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” The smile he gives you is forced, and it makes you feel horrible.
He motions his head towards your bed. “Get some sleep. I’ll wake you up when I come back.”
You tiredly listen to his words, getting under your covers and holding onto your Snorlax plush. “Good night Kook.”
“Night,” he says, somewhat emotionlessly, flickering the lights off and vacating your room.
-
Horrible. You wake up with puffy eyes, infinite eye boogers, and an awful pit in your stomach. The memories of last night come flooding in and you immediately check your phone to see if Jungkook texted you. There’s nothing there.
Why would he want to talk to you after what you did?
You decide to send him a text message to further emphasize how sorry you are.
You throw your phone on the bed and scream into the stomach of Snorlax.
Dry. He’s being so fucking dry and it’s all your fault.
The next few weeks are spent with you attempting to redeem yourself.
-
You have no idea why you’re in front of Jungkook’s work, let alone with a lunchbox cake in hand. Begrudgingly, you stumble inside the tall building, awkwardly smiling when you come face to face with the sweet old security man. Jungkook’s work place is fancy as hell. Every floor of the tower hosts the office of an aristocratic company. There are even enormous, airport-esque x-ray machines stationed towards the entrance. You have to walk through a metal detector to be granted access into the building.
“Why hello, young lady! What business do you have here today?”
“Um, I have a cake for someone. H-he works at HYBE Tech Solutions.”
“Alright, go ahead and put your bag and belongings here,” he says, motioning towards the tray on the X-ray machine conveyor belt. You watch as your belongings pass through the machine and come out on the other end. Then, you step through the metal detector, holding your arms up to be properly inspected. You bid the security man goodbye and walk towards the elevator.
An ominous feeling of stupidity washes over you as you press your fingers onto the elevator buttonsYou feel stupid. You feel dumb. You feel silly. You would never do this for a man, but here you are.
You take a deep breath before you stumble in, coming face to face with the lady that works at the front desk. Your eyes settle on the badge on her blouse. Dorothy. You vaguely remember Jungkook ranting about this woman, venting about how she crossed professional and ethical boundaries- often sneakily creeping her fingers up his chest while they spoke and even going as far as to dig into the company’s database for his personal information.
You clear your throat. “Hi, how’s your day been?”
“I’m great! Thanks for asking, hun. How can I help you today?” She asks, voice bubbly and uplifting, perfect for customer service.
“Oh! Um- I have something for Jungkook. He works in the tech department.”
Her bubbly and friendly atmosphere immediately diminishes, and she raises her eyebrows at you before eyeing you conspicuously. With a vacuous expression, she picks up the landline, pressing her thin fingers into the numbers. “Hey, can you let Jungkook know that there’s a child here for him?”
You purse your lips at that, rocking back and forth on your heels. You try to avoid eye contact with this woman by looking elsewhere- pupils frantically darting to the daisies on the front desk or the grandfather clock that sits idly against the beige walls- but she’s persistently staring you down.
Thank God Jungkook appears from the end of the hallway.
He sports a light blue button up and brown slacks, a stack of papers in his tattooed hand while the other rakes through his short hair. He looks delicious as ever and clearly Dorothy agrees because she practically moans as he walks down the hallway.
“Y/N?” He narrows his eyes in your direction, confirming that it’s really you.
“Um hi Kook. I brought you something.” You use two hands to present the styrofoam box to him.
Jungkook’s eyes scan from the lunchbox to you. He places the stack of papers on the front desk before accepting the box and popping open its lid. “A cake?” he questions, and you nod shyly, fidgeting in place.
“Thanks,” he plainly says, giving you an awkward smile before his eyes dart towards Dorothy, who is intensely scrutinizing the interaction. There is tension in the atmosphere, and Dorothy’s presence isn’t helping.
He clears his throat. “You didn’t have to, you should be studying,” he says, his words a little more light-hearted this time.
You shake your head. “I wanted to do this for you. I’m sorry for last night, Koo.”
He stares at you before letting a sigh escape his lips. “t’s okay Y/N. Told you I‘m not mad. We’ll talk about this later.”
You twiddle with your fingers, your puppy eyes flickering towards him.
“Hug?” he asks, cutting the tension, tilting his head while he holds his arms open. You pout, nodding before running into his arms. He holds you tight, and whispers into the top of your head so Dorothy wouldn’t catch heed of the conversation. “You made me sad last night, you know.”
“‘I’m sorry.”
“‘It's okay. I can never be mad at you for too long,” He subtly releases you from his embrace and pinches your cheek. “Now go home, okay?”
You take a step back and offer a nod. And for some reason, Jungkook feels that you’re looking at him as if you’ll never see him again. “Enjoy your cake.”
Jungkook smiles back, waving you goodbye. You turn to the office lady, who quickly averts her eyes once you notice her blatant eavesdropping. “Thank you auntie. Have a nice day!”
Jungkook has to physically restrain himself from laughing.
-
A heart emoji. Butterflies erupt in your stomach at his most insignificant actions. You hold your phone to your chest and bite back a smile.
Loud music booms and vibrates through the walls of this massive mansion. There’s a huge pool, complete with a waterslide and waterfalls spilling into the pool. You’re surrounded by tons of other like-minded college kids, clad in nothing but a white lace bikini. You’re able to acknowledge that it isn’t the most tasteful outfit, but you feel good and you look good.
After jumping in the pool and violently pelting water balloons at each other (effectively scaring away all the hoes), you and Yunjin lie under a cabana mindlessly scrolling through your phones. You only look up from your phone when you sense Yunjin holding up her phone for a selfie. Jungkook would have rolled his eyes at the sight.
“Can I show you something?” you abruptly blurt out, eliciting a cynical look from your friend. “Is it bad?”
You immediately shake your head, composing your posture so you can properly show Yunjin your texts with Jungkook. Her eyes rapidly scan over the phone in moments and she shoots you a sly glance.
“So do you think?-”
“I don’t know… but I really, really, really hope that it means something. I don’t want him to see me as a little kid anymore, you know?” Bashfully, you smile at her, your demure expression a complete juxtaposition to your practically naked figure.
Yunjin cups your cheeks making your glossy lips pouty. “Y/N! You’re about to pull Jungkook!”
“I am?”
“Yes you are-”
Yunjin flinches dramatically when a harsh stream of water unexpectedly drenches you. You both whip your head to the culprit in question: Beomgyu standing directly in front of you with a massive water gun.
“You bitch!” Yunjin shoots up and runs after him with you rapidly following your partner in crime’s lead. But as you’re running towards Beomgyu (who maniacally screams and dashes), another stream hits you from the back.
The second culprit. Soobin. You sprint towards, latching your claws onto his white T-shirt him while you tug him towards the pool. “Wait Y/N! I just dried off. I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”
No mercy for this bitch.
You position yourself behind him, using your whole body to push him into the pool. Splash! You jump and squeal in excitement when he emerges from the water wiping his face with his hands. You laugh hysterically in his face, childishly pointing your finger at him, finding it even more hilarious when he gives you the stink eye. “That’s what you get, asshole!-“
You pause and shriek in horror.
Somebody just pulled on the strings of your bikini top, exposing your boobs to the entire party.
You instinctively crouch, shoving your chest into your knees.The gasp of horror that leaves Soobin’s lips mirrors yours, and he immediately springs into action, rapidly lifting himself from the pool and sprinting after whatever asshole just violated you.
“Y/N!” Your savior, Yeonjun appears in front of you, crouching to your level. He rapidly rids himself of his shirt and pulls it over your entire figure. “You’re good, you’re good,” he whispers calmly to you, trying to prevent you from having a full blown panic attack. You stand up reticently, folding your arms over your chest, eyes trained on the ground and only looking at Yeonjun’s feet to gauge which direction you’re heading in.
“You okay?” Yeonjun settles under the cabana. “That guy is such a dick,” he mutters to himself.
You nod and sink into the cushion of the outdoor-couch. “I’m so fucking embarassed.”
Attempting to salvage the situation, Yeonjun immediately shakes his head. “No, no. Nobody saw anything.” You shoot him a skeptical look, knowing damn well everybody in the party saw your bare boobs.
“Is that Jungkook?”
You immediately whip your head towards the left, and indeed Jungkook is walking your way. You can’t believe he’s real. All heads whip in his direction as he makes his way towards you. He flicks his head back to prevent hair from falling in front of his eyes, barefoot, black T-shirt, and gray shorts. He looks so handsome you can’t even comprehend it.
“Y/N!” He shouts, quicklyducking under the roof of the cabana before he positions himself in front of you. He inhales and exhales deeply, the blistering sun forming particles of sweat on his forehead.
You look up at him and your heart melts. The sheen of sweat on his face, the way his eyes fixate on you. Your heart skips a beat. You want to cry. Again. Out of embarrassment, and how emotional you become at Jungkook’s mere presence.
You bury your head into your knees, making Jungkook's eyebrows pinch. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
Yeonjun opens his mouth, hesitatingly glancing at you to confirm if telling Jungkook is okay.
You shoot up and practically catapult yourself onto Jungkook, latching onto him like a Koala. “Nothing happened,” you say, nuzzling your face into his shirt. “Come swim with me. Please.”
Jungkook sighs, using his large palm to tame your frizzy stray hairs. “Y/N. We need to go home.”
You cock your head in confusion.“Wait why?”
His voice becomes oddly stern. “Y/N. It’s important and we have to go home.”
“To your place or mine?”
“My place. Just follow me.”
You haven’t a clue as to why Jungkook is behaving so urgently, but you follow him nonetheless. You pick up your purse and give Yeonjun a quick hug, running after Jungkook who cooly breezes past everyone, not a single person missing the hot guy who suddenly showed to the party.
Jungkook opens his car door for you and allows you to step in.
“Jungkook… is something going on?”
“Yes, there is,” he says grimacing slightly, shutting the door for you before he climbs into the driver’s seat.
This nauseating anxiety bubbles inside you and sends chills up your spine, making you flinch when Jungkook closes the car door on his side. Jungkook doesn’t say anything, just looks behind his shoulder to reverse from his parking spot before zooming out of there.
“Is this because of what happened the other night?” you ask, and he glances at you quickly.
“No, it isn’t.”
“Well.. are we going to talk about it?” you push, twiddling with your fingers.
Jungkook shakes his head, noticing your trembling fingers in his peripheral view. He reaches over and puts his hand on top of yours. “Not now.”
You don’t respond, shifting in confusion.
“Here,” Jungkook starts, throwing his phone in your lap, “You can play whatever song you want.”
You purse your lips and silently nod.
Sooner or later, you arrive at Jungkook’s apartments, and he leads you up the stairs and sits you on his black leather couch.
He cups your face with both hands, caressing the apples of your cheek with his thumbs. With your eyebrows pinched, you peer into Jungkook’s eyes, conveying your confusion through your scrunched facial features.
“Y/N, before I tell you what I want to tell you, I want you to take a few breaths. Just know that I’m always here for you.”
You nod steadily, pretty facial features still crinkled in confusion.
“Y/N, your parents were in a car accident, and they didn’t make it.”
“What?”
And as the haunting realization settles into your system, all you can remember are your shrieks of terror echoing throughout his apartment and the way Jungkook holds you against his body while he wipes your tears and assuages your loud cries.
-
The few days that proceed are a blur, but Jungkook takes care of you and is far more attentive than he ever has been. You cling onto him like fragile glass ornament hanging from a delicate thread- like he was all you had left because he was all you had left. He was your spring solace after a harsh winter, and the way he treated you indicated as much.
Jungkook works from home so you aren’t alone. For the entire day, you sit on his bed and watch him work. You eavesdrop on his meetings, falling asleep to the sound of his voice and whenever you wake up Jungkook ensures that he feeds you, constantly worried about your inability to eat.
You’re queasy just thinking about going back to your house, so your daily and nightly attire consist of pieces from Jungkook’s wardrobe. You haven’t verbally acknowledged what has happened- not ready to talk about the death of your parents. You’re just trying to survive, and you feel like you’re barely making it.
Thankfully, all your friends and family have been extremely helpful trying to get you through your grief. Jungkook’s mother stays with you for a few days, and after that Yunjin sleeps over with you for a few days- but you know that a piece of your heart has been ruthlessly ripped form you.
“Y/N, you need to take a shower,” Jungkook expresses, obstructing your view of the TV. His toothbrush hangs from his mouth, toothpaste residue bubbling around the perimeter of his lips. You owlishly blink at him, observing how his expression hardens at your look of indifference.
You scoot towards the left end of the couch, hoping to get a clear view of Ever After High projected on his flat screen TV.
“Y/N you haven’t showered in three days,” Jungkook interjects, “Please take a shower.”
“I will. Later.”
He pushes up his glasses, staring at you with intense disapproval. “Y/N,” he says sternly, trying to be gentle despite his qualms.
You acquiesce, pouting at him. “Okay, fine. Later.”
His frown deepens. “Y/N.”
You chew on your bottom lip, deeply contemplating what Jungkook has asked of you. His large frame remains frozen in front of you. No matter how you position yourself on the couch, he renders you unable to watch the princesses prance around on the TV.
“Okay… but will you at least come with me? I don’t want to be without you.”
Jungkook pauses.
“I don’t mean like getting in with me, but will you just sit on the toilet and talk to me?” You ask, sinking into the leather of his sofa and using your sweater paws to sweep your hair back.
“Yea, I’ll do that.”
Once you step in the shower, you close the curtains, and strip yourself from your clothes, handing the pile of clothes to Jungkook. You turn on the water, yelping at the sensation on your body. Jungkook was right. You needed this and you kind of do smell like butthole.
“Wait Y/N, do you want me to go to your house and get you underwear?”
After folding up your (his) T-shirt and boxers, he notices that you haven’t been wearing any undergarments.
“No!” you call back, “I don’t want you to go there! Not yet,” you call back.
“Then do you want me to buy you some?” he responds, placing the folded clothes on the bathroom counter.
“Um, maybe we can order some on Amazon.”
“Just send me the link and I’ll place the order.”
“Okay.”
A wave of silence washes over the bathroom, and you peek your head from the shower curtain to see what Jungkook’s up to: scrolling on Instagram. On his screen is some instagram model’s bikini pic, his fingers pausing on the screen so he can look at the photo.
“Who is that?” you ask, making Jungkook jump in his seat.
“What the- Y/N, just take your shower!” Jungkook feigns annoyance but can’t help himself but scoff in amusement at how petty you can be.
“Is she prettier than me?” you ask, glaring at Jungkook with disapproval.
Jungkook purses his lips and tugs the shower curtain past your face and holds it against the wall, preventing you from peeking your pretty head past the curtain. He holds it there for a good minute, unfazed by the thrashing against the shower curtain.
Swish.
You swipe open the shower curtain from the other side. Your eyes bore into Jungkook’s and Jungkook thinks you’re foolish not to realize how alluring and sultry you are. Your bare body is akin to a sculpture of the goddess Aphrodite. Water drips from the crevices of your body and you gaze at him with anticipation etched onto your face. You’re just standing there, but your posture is so seductive- or maybe it’s just the natural curvature of your body.
“Why don’t you join me?” your sweet voice makes his Adam's apple bob in his throat.
When he doesn’t respond, your features morph into humiliation, regret consuming you. You nod your head. “Sorry Kook, I’ll just-”
“Y/N, you’re gorgeous. Any man can see how lovely you are. Honestly, you take my breath away every time I see you,” Sensing the trepidation on your face, he solidifies his claim, “I mean it Y/N. You’re beautiful, and I want to join you but I’m not going to. You’re hurting right now and I don’t want to do anything to take advantage of you.”
And he isn’t lying, he yearns for every kind of contact with you, but he’s not going to go through with this. Not when you’re traumatized from the death of your parents. Not when you’ve been so unhinged for the past week, refusing to even shower.
You stare at him for a second, dazy eyed and your eyes darting around the room. “Okay Jungkook. I’m sorry.”
He smiles sweetly at you and gently closes the shower curtain. “It’s okay Y/N. I’m gonna head to my room. You’re welcome to come visit me anytime.”
-
Boys’ night. Jungkook being the handsome stud he is, happens to have friends that are also handsome studs. Jungkook offered to postpone boys’ night but you declined his attempts to make you more comfortable. Jungkook has exerted so much effort to take care of you. There’s no reason for him to forgo time with his best friends. Besides, you can always hide in your room.
You crack your door open slightly ajar, peeking through the crack to spy on Jungkook and his friends. Antisocial is the perfect word to describe you.
The sound of the doorbell ringing was your cue to lock yourself in your room. Jungkook knocked a few times, but you were too scared of other people that you didn’t even grace him with a response.
Clearly Jungkook got the message because he opted to leave a greasy piece of pizza outside your door, sending you a quick text message about it.
You just wanted to scout the scene, see who was there. Mingyu, Taehyung, Jimin, and Namjoon. Soju bottles are scattered around the table, and there’s some music blaring from the TV. You’ve met everyone here a few times- they all know you, but you aren’t close with Jungkook’s friends like he is with your friends.
“Oh Y/N! Come join us!” You freeze at Mingyu’s words, and all eyes in the room whip towards your direction.
“Umm..” you close the door gently and leap into the safety of your bed.
You overhear their banter through the wooden door. “Hey! Why are you making little kids uncomfortable!” Jimin yells, slapping Mingyu on the neck.
Your lip quivers, and you inhale deeply, gathering the courage to step outside of the room. You quickly put on deodorant, and step out stealthily, taking a seat next to Namjoon on the couch. No one seems to notice you, and you tap on his shoulder. Namjoon whips his head towards you, the confusion on his face melting into fondness.
“Hi,” you squeak out, fiddling with your fingers.
“Hi Y/N,” Namjoon greets, the kindness laced in his voice assuaging the trepidation bubbling on your inside. Jungkook’s red lava lamp illuminates the room with shades of crimson, and your eyes flutter shut when a ray of light shines on your face.
“Are you okay?” Namjoon inquires, holding his hand up to shield you from the light.
“Yea, I’m fine,” you blink a few times. You don’t say anything, just awkwardly take a bite of your pizza while your eyes dart around the room.
Namjoon doesn’t seem to know what to say to you either, so the two of you just sit and eat pizza in silence. For a moment, your eyes lock. You owlishly blink at him and he blinks at you for a good minute.
But then, to your surprise, Namjoon sets his pizza down, opening his arms. Your features scrunch up, and you let yourself melt into his warm embrace, glossy tears rolling down your face.
“I’m so sorry about what happened,” he expresses, gently caressing the back of your head with his palm. You sniffle. “t’s okay,” you sob, “but I’m so sad. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
“You’ll get through this. We’re always here for you.”
His words invoke a tornado of intense feelings in your system, and your strong facade crumbles as you become vulnerable in Jungkook’s friend’s embrace. By this point, everyone has noticed your presence, and suddenly the night becomes about you.
After wiping your tears with the back of your hand, you find yourself sitting in between Jungkook and Namjoon in a “friendship circle”. It’s quite cute that these grown men still sit criss-cross applesauce in a circle, but you’re overjoyed that you’re welcome to the group.
“I brought you a cake Y/N,” Taehyung announces, handing you a lunchbox cake. With your doe eye, you look towards him before opening the lid of the cake. A lunchbox cake with Snorlax’s face iced on the top. “Jungkook mentioned that you really liked Pokemon, so I thought you’d find this cute,” he continues, slightly trailing off. You’re Strong! Is what it reads, and you fall into pieces, your features crumpling up before you burst into tears.
Jungkook laughs in fondness at the vulnerability of your reaction, wrapping a single arm around your frame.
“Th-thank you,” you sniffle, offering Taehyung a crooked smile. “Can we eat it together? I don’t want to get f-fat.”
At that, a chorus of no’s echo through the room, and you giggle a bit.
Your heart is incredibly full. Family. Friends. People who care about you. This is something your soul desires, something your soul needs.
The night meets its unfortunate end, and you stand in front of Jungkook as you bid his friends goodbye. Before the boys walk away, you find your fingers clinging onto the hem of Jimin’s oversized shirt. Before he ventures off, he turns around and graces you with an endearing look of confusion. “What’s up?”
“Can I come with you?” you spout.
“You want to sleep over at our place?” Jimin questions, gingerly scratching the back of his head.
You shake your head steadily, “I just want to talk to you,” you clarify, gazing up at him shyly. Jimin’s eyes dart towards Jungkook’s for approval and Jungkook nods his head. “Go ahead. I’ll give you guys privacy,” he pinches your cheek affectionately before closing the door. You stand on your tiptoes, peeking through the window of the apartment to ensure that Jungkook isn’t eavesdropping.
Jimin leans against the railings, observing you carefully.
You tug on the hem of Jimin’s tee, urging him to follow you to the lobby of Jungkook’s apartment. He follows in your stead, not questioning you until your actions pause. You shift around uncomfortably for a bit, and you look up at him. Taking a deep breath, you find the courage to ask him the question that’s been lingering in the back of your mind.
“Do you think Jungkook and I could ever.. be a thing?” you finally question, shifting your weight between your feet, a crimson sheen sweeping over your cheeks.
Jimin’s eyebrows pinch, and he repeatedly opens and closes his mouth, looking for the right words to say. “Like romantically?”
Your eyes cumbersomely drift towards the painting behind Jimin. “Y-yea. I really like him, and I want him to be my boyfriend- and I know he’s attracted to me but won’t act on his feelings because of his ethical qualms,” you stutter out, pursing your lips after seeing how Jimin’s face morphs into astonishment.
“Well, I don’t think Jungkook is seeing anyone right now- but Y/N, if I’m going to be totally honest, I don’t think you and Jungkook being a romantic pair would be appropriate. I mean, he’s known you since you were a kid. Even if he does like you, I don’t think he would cross those boundaries.” he very gently explains, meticulously finding the correct wording to not hurt your feelings.
You bite your lip bitterly, sinking into the realization of his assertion. “Yea, you’re right. I don’t know. I guess it’s just a stupid crush,” you dismiss your confession with a wave and offer Jimin a shy smile.
Jimin pouts at your invalidation of your own feelings. “Don’t say that. I know you’ll find someone who cherishes and loves you. Someone you deserve,” he asserts. You smile at him, nodding before he ruffles your hair and leads you back up the stairs.
Someone you love.
Would you ever find it in yourself to love anybody that wasn’t him? Jungkook has successfully monopolized your heart, your soul, your very being.
Ping!
-
Tonguing his cheek, Jungkook impatiently and abruptly brakes at a red light, accelerating rapidly when the light turns green. He changes from his casual clothes to a black sleeveless shirt, loose leather pants, and a beanie. Mingyu sits on the passenger seat, frantically typing on his laptop as Jungkook zooms down the highway at record pace.
Breaking into a frat house to terrorize some dumb college kids definitely wasn’t a part of the plan tonight, but Jungkook was down for some last minute terrorism.
“So what are you gonna do? Threaten the kid? Call the cops?”Taehyung questions from the backseat, both hands gripping on the headrest of Mingyu and Jungkook’s seats.
“Look, I’m really trying to not sound corny, but I’m going to torture him,” Jungkook enunciates, which evokes a few seconds of silence.
“This bitch-”
“He’s lost his fucking mind,” Mingyu mumbles.
Jungkook laughs to himself, amused by the comments of his friends. Jungkook is an intelligent, rational person. Normally, he wouldn’t take it this far but he deems it extremely necessary for this particular situation.
“What the- now he’s creepily laughing to himself-”
“If we tell Y/N about this she’s going to be scared of you,” Mingyu abruptly comments, shooting Jungkook a pointed look.
Jungkook pauses, seemingly deeply considering the utterance of his friend, toying with his lip ring for a while he finally makes a comment. “I won’t do anything bad. I’ll just intimidate him a little.”
His friends sigh, not pressing further on the matter because Mingyu and Taehyung were pissed off too. Instead, Mingyu rolls down the windows of the car, allowing the breeze of the cool night to consume the interior of the car.
Jungkook considers this very night a milestone in your healing process. You isolated yourself in his apartment for two consecutive weeks, your grief severely limiting your social capacity and ability to normally interact with people. His friends were privy to your situation, purposely not coming to Jungkook’s home out of respect for you. But tonight, the color that reappeared in your aura overwhelmed his heart with joy.
While you were on the couch, talking to Namjoon about something, Jungkook got an alarming text from one of your friends- Yeonjun. Jungkook is cool with your friends, but not close enough to be sending private text messages, so his eyes brows pinch in concern when he sees the notification pop up from his phone.
Mingyu’s eyes drifted towards Jungkook, who was noticeably brimming with indignation. Jungkook scoffed to himself, a macabre smirk on his lips before he laughed erratically at the message. He repeatedly wiped his face with his hand, chuckling in amusement. Jungkook discreetly passed his phone to Mingyu without a word, with Taehyung looking over his shoulder, both of them gasping at the message.
This whole time, you were oblivious to the scheme Jungkook was contriving and Jungkook intended to keep it that way. You were carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders, and Jungkook would cut his limbs off to lessen that burden. The indignation and resentment bubbling within him threatens to erupt because he’s so fucking pissed off.
You’re everything to him, and the thought of you being violated makes him want to indulge in his violent impulses. He can’t imagine how you would feel knowing that video spread around, and usually he would confide with you about these things but right now he needs to sweep this under the rug and make sure it never comes back up.
Luckily, he and Mingyu both have degrees in computer engineering and know how to hack into technical infrastructures.
Jungkook pulls up to the frat house, rolling the window down steadily before he rests his elbow on the ledge of the window. He sits there for a second, toying with his lip ring while his eyes bore into the interior of the house. He’s sure he looks creepy as hell- just staring into the house.
After a few minutes of waiting in silence, some guy arises from the house and approaches the car.
Jungkook keeps his lips sealed until he’s close enough to perceive his features.
“Uh is there something yall need?” the guy asks, innocently scratching the back of his head.
“Yea,” Jungkook responds, voice firm and somewhat chilling, “Your name Josh?”
“Yea? What’s up-”
Jungkook kicks the door open, knocking Josh over until he’s rolled on the floor, clutching his leg as he shrieks in pain.
“Oh shit, are we really doing this?” Taehyung mutters before joining Jungkook outside the car.
Jungkook sits on top of Josh, continuously punching the shit out of him before he spits on the kid’s face. He uses a single hand to lift him by the collar, and violently pushes him against the car. “You mad Y/N rejected you? So you pulled that shit?” Jungkook menaces, his face centimeters away from Josh’s.
Josh whimpers, crying- too horrified to coherently respond. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” he pleads, tears and snot streaming down his ugly face.
“Shut the fuck up!” Jungkook repeatedly bangs Josh against the car. “I’m gonna say this shit once and I’m not going to repeat myself,” he seethes, satisfied by the way Josh whimpers and nods his head pathetically.
“You’re not shit. You’ll never ever be good enough for Y/N. You’re the same as the shit on the bottom of my shoe,” he breathes against Josh’s face, who whimpers and cries, “If I ever see you messing with Y/N ever again- I will ruin your whole life.”
Josh nods, unable to do anything else.
“Got it?” Jungkook seethes, pushing Josh’s head against the car door.
“Got it!”
“Good. We’re going inside, and you guys are going to watch us go through all of your iClouds, and we’re going to delete every single copy of the video there is, alright?”
“Yes! Yes! That’s fine! I’m sorry!”
Jungkook scoffs in amusement at his despicable demeanor, before he throws Josh on the ground and enters the house.
“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Mingyu mumbles, following Jungkook’s lead into the house.
-
You anxiously wait for Jungkook to return home, absentmindedly toying with the Switch to distract from the hysterical thoughts frantically racing through your mind. You’ve done everything you could to distract yourself, your restless heart aching to do something of substance.
You’ve been isolating yourself from society for the past month simply because you can’t bring yourself to leave Jungkook’s home, as if it was your safe haven.
You dread the moment you have to return to your home, memories of your family coming to mind. You’ve been trying to avoid thinking about everything, and you reckon that it’s time to process everything. There are aspects of grief that you find unfathomable- questions you have that make you want to throw up.
What will happen to the home that holds the memories of your family within its walls? How will you assimilate back into society without your father, without your mother? You’re not confident that it will ever be the same, and your heart sinks into your stomach at the notion- but you have to be resilient; you have to face it.
It feels worse to avoid the reality of your life than to face it head on.
You’re pulled from your thoughts by the sound of the doorknob turning.
“Jungkook!” The way you call his name is breathless, and his eyebrows pinch in concern when you pounce on him. Nonetheless, he allows you to nuzzle into his embrace and he soothingly rubs your back- like he always does.
“Wasn’t gone that long,” Jungkook absentmindedly comments.
“I know- just missed you. I’m sorry for being clingy,” you murmur, to which Jungkook shakes his head at the absurdity of your words.
“Not at all. Stay here for as long as you want. I’ll take you with me wherever I go,” he adds, settling into the leather of his sofa. You shuffle after him like a cute little penguin, sitting your ass directly next to Jungkook despite the vacant empty space on your right side.
“Then am I allowed to sit next to you?”
Jungkook’s features crinkle up in amusement, nose scrunching as he laughs lightly at how cute you are. He pinches your cheek, “It’s one thousand dollars for every minute you’re within a five foot radius of me,” he comments, tone stoic and firm.
He doesn’t have to look in your direction to visualize the way your pretty lips fall open, swatting at his bicep for his cruel words. “Jungkook, I don’t have that money! You know I only have 35 cents in my bank account!”
“Okay, then go sit over there,” Your eyes follow the trail of his pointed finger, the corner of the room.
“Fine! You fucking asshole,” you mutter bitterly, jumping up from the couch and stomping away with a hmph, until Jungkook slyly wraps his hand around the circumference of your wrist and pulls you to him. You collapse onto the couch, your back against his chest, and your butt between his legs.
He clings onto you, almost suffocating you with the way he wraps his arms around you, grabbing his elbows as he locks his arms over your head. “‘M just kidding- you know that. I can’t survive without my baby either, y’know?”
Your chest erupts with butterflies, and you hold onto his forearm with both of your hands. “I know.”
-
The next day, you return to school. Your professors were so empathetic and understanding to the nuance and confusion of your situation, allowing you to complete your coursework from the comfort of Jungkook’s home.
Grief isn’t a linear process. Though you’ve found it in you to return to school, it’s the mundane and the typical that you’re becoming increasingly bothered by.
No one in your Philosophy class is paying attention to this movie, clearly. You can tell by the lit up screens scattered within the clusters of students, and you aren’t diligent enough to not be one of those students, doodling flowers and Snorlax’s on your paper.
For the second you do look up at the movie, your heart stops. It’s always the most mundane, irrelevant details that get to you. The scene barely occupies a minute and it makes your chest tighten in the worst way possible.
The main character walks down the wedding aisle, her arm linked with her father’s. The haunting realization settles in your system- you will never ever experience that. You begin hyperventilating, your hand crumpling the paper, and you quickly rest your forearms on the table before shoving your face into your forearms. People are already looking at you and you can’t fathom the humiliation so you stay like that until class is dismissed.
You finally lift your head, rubbing your eyes to adjust the blinding ceiling lights.
“Hey, are you okay?”
You shriek at the unexpected voice and whip your head to the left.
“Hey hey hey- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he breathes out, rolling his chair towards you before rolling back so as to not scare you further.
“No no, you’re good,” you breathe out, inhaling and exhaling to bring you down from your petrified high. “Just having a shitty day,” you explain, sweeping away the hair dried to your face by your tears.
He seems to be unable to conjure a proper response, peering at you with an empty gaze and you sink in your seat, feeling the need to further explain yourself. “Well there was that part in the movie where Emma got married, and that made me feel horrible because I recently lost my dad.. And my mom.”
“Wait, I’m sorry. You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” he articulates, “I just noticed you haven’t been in class for a while and was kinda worried when I saw you crying. I’m sorry if I pushed your boundaries.”
“You know me?”
His lips tug up in embarrassment as he gingerly scratches the back of his neck. “Well we usually sit next to each other so I thought we formed an acquaintanceship or something,” he mumbles.
“Oh I’m sorry,” you pout at him, “I usually tap out during class so I never noticed you. What’s your name by the way?” You shyly stick out your hand, and he gives you a straight lined smile before shaking your hand gently.
“Sunghoon. I-I’m really sorry for your loss by the way,” he adds, and you find his nervousness quite endearing. You shyly smile at him, and he gazes back at you with similar amity. He ever so softly pulls your wrist towards his and scribbles his number onto your forearm. “Feel free to text me if you ever need help with homework. You missed a lot of school,” he offers, and you find yourself giggling at his forth forwardness.
“Thanks Sunghoon."
-
When Jungkook returns from work that night, the first thing he’s met with is you shoving your boots on, seemingly ready for a vivacious night out. Your figure is adorned with a white satin slip on dress, and your hair is put up in an elegant updo. Jungkook pauses, eyes settling on your figure before scanning up to your face; he thinks this is the first time he’s seen you with makeup on since he wiped away the mascara running down your cheeks the day he broke the news.
“Hey daddy,” you purr, “Where have you been? The kids have been waiting for you,” you giggle, sliding your mini purse down your arm.
Jungkook narrows his eyes at you, humorously scoffing at your corny choice of words.
You giggle, skipping towards him before jumping onto him, latching around his neck before you whisper in his ear. “‘m going out with my friends, don’t wait for me to get home because I might stay the night with Yunjin.”
Jungkook stiffens, remaining frozen while you back up from him.
“So, do I look like an angel, or what?”
“Always look cute,” because despite the infesting irritation bubbling in his system, he would never not tell you how it is. You are cute, always cute, always like an angel.
“Thanks,” you giggle, skipping towards the door but before you can skip past him, he latches onto your wrist. “Wait.”
You tilt your head, slightly confused. “I bought something for you.”
He digs in his backpack and pulls it out. Nipple pasties. “You never wear a bra, so I thought you’d be safer if you put these on before you go out.”
“You were the one who said I had small tits!”
“Okay, well you still have nipples- so at least put these on to keep you safe.”
You narrow your eyes at him, but he doesn’t back down. You snatch the pasties from his hand and march into the bathroom. “Fine!”
Jungkook lounges on the couch, eyes trained on you before you bid him goodbye and skip out of his apartment. He inhales deeply to settle the erratic palpitations in his chest. He needs to stop being so protective of you.
-
Your arms linked with Yunjin, you skip around from one club to the next, dancing and partying your little hearts out. When the night comes to a close you prance to the local ramen shop around your campus. From a distance, you can already make out Jungkook casually speaking with his friends. He’s always so animated when he’s with his friends, dramatically gesturing and hip thrusting in the air while his friends laugh at his immature jokes. He’s got a cigarette between his pointer and middle finger, taking slow puffs, allowing the smoke to fill his lungs before he tilts his head to exhale a long plume of smoke into the atmosphere.
That’s right. Jungkook smokes occasionally but never lets you do it. What a hypocrite.
His eyes drift off for a second until they land on you, and his lips curl up in your presence.
“Well look, if it isn’t my favorite girl,” he teases, letting out low laughter at the way you crimson when all his friends’ heads whip in your direction.
You narrow your eyes at him, giving him a dirty look that Jungkook cooes at. Even when you were trying to intimidate him you akin to a cute Snorlax, so adorable, eyebrows pinched and lips pouted- how could he feel anything but adoration at that?
“Aw angel,” he jests, throwing your words right back at you, “Don’t ignore me, ‘m sorry for teasing you,” he catches you as you walk past him, pulling you towards his chest before resting his chin on top of your head.
He casually smiles at Yunjin. “How’s my angel been doing? Has she been behaving?”
Yunjin’s jaw drops at the bold statement and you attempt to wrestle out of his firm embrace to berate him.
Just kidding. It’s getting late, though. Do you girls need a ride home?” he asks, finally letting you go just for you to stumble out of his grip and almost land on your face, but luckily Jungkook pulls your shoulders back without even looking in your direction.
“Jungkook, it’s literally 10,” you deadpan.
“Oh c’mon, I don’t want you girls to get kidnapped or something,” he snarkily responds.
“How about you give us some money instead?” Yunjin jests, clearly joking, but Jungkook takes it so, so seriously. He raises a brow at both of you. “How much do you need?”
“Wait no- I was kidding,” Yunjin quickly clarifies, her ears becoming slightly red, “you don’t have to..”
Jungkook looks from you to her, then back at you before whipping out his phone, taking another puff of his cigarette before blowing the smoke upwards, careful so you don’t inhale any smoke.
Ping!
Your eyebrows pinch in confusion when you get a notification, and you unzip your mini purse to grab your phone, allowing the screenlight to illuminate your pretty features.
JEON JUNGKOOK HAS TRANSFERRED YOU 500 DOLLARS VIA HYBETRANSFER.
“250 each, alright?” Jungkook laughs, taking another puff of his cigarette before he saunters off, his friends pushing him around and teasing him.
“Ayo, when did Jeon turn into a sugar daddy?”
You and Yunjin are left dumbfounded, even more so when Jungkook turns around and makes kissy lips at you.
You fall to your knees.
-
The next morning is the weekend.
You absentmindedly chomp on your cereal, eyes still crusty and mind still hazy from the morning daze. Jungkook arises from his bedroom, hair still messy and sticking out in various directions- but he still looks as handsome as ever, the tired and morning glow suiting him wondrously.
“So, I’m planning a trip with my friends at the beach. We’ll stay in an AirBnb. You wanna come with?”
You pause, features crinkling up in confusion. “Which friends? The ones from last night or Mingyu and them?”
“Mingyu, Tae, Jimin, Namjoon,” he counts off, before shrugging, “I already planned to take you with me so it’s not like you have a choice anyways.”
You scoff to yourself in amusement. “Aren’t you being too forceful?”
Jungkook narrows his eyes and graces you with a look of skepticism. “So you don’t want to go? or..”
“No!” you rapidly interject as you shoot up, clearing your throat and regaining your composure at the way Jungkook smirks at you.
You settle back into your seat. “I do want to go,” you exhale, “but do I have to pay for my own room or something? I’m broke.”
“Oh, I was just gonna have you stay in my room,” Jungkook responds, trailing off as he tries to detect any trace of apprehension on your features, “Is that alright with you?”
You don’t even realize you’re holding your breath until you breathlessly exhale. “That’s perfect.”
So that’s how you found yourself at the beach, in nothing but your black bikini, prancing around the waves with Taehyung.
“Jungkook watch!” you call as you swivel around towards Jungkook, who’s applying sunscreen to his legs, not really paying attention to what you were doing.
You stand in front of the upcoming wave, holding your arms out as if you were going to embrace the wave. “I’m going to stand against the wave!”
At that, Jungkook whips his head upwards, eyebrows pinching in worry as he shoots up. “Tae! Get her! She’s gonna get swept in by-“
And on cue, the wave collapses over you and you tumble into the unwelcoming water. “Motherfuck-“ You thrash and scream, powerless against the unforgiving currents until a pair strong arms pull you from your armpits and drags you to the sand.
“Holy shit Y/N, are you alright?” Taehyung asks, crouching beside you as he pats your back, allowing you to cough the water up.
“Y/N that was so dumb,” you hear Jungkook’s voice as he approaches you, crouching beside you as he hands you his black steel water bottle. “Take a sip,” he urges, and you nod shakily, grasping the bottle with both hands before you take a sip from it.
“I’m okay. Thanks for saving me Taehyung,” you smile at him and he releases a sigh of relief. “You scared the shit out of us!”
You gulp down the water and close the cap, returning his bottle to him. “Sorry, I won’t do that again, but can we get back to playing now?” you smile as you playfully fling a ball of wet sand at Jungkook.
Jungkook closes his eyes on impact, scoffing in amusement before he grabs you by your legs, signalling Taehyung to grab your arms before they both lift you and run into the ocean.
-
Jungkook waits outside your shared room, knuckles softly knocking on the wooden door. A towel loosely wrapped around his lower waist, water drips from every crevice on his body, but he can’t enter until you’re done changing.
“Oki! I’m done!” you call out, opening the door for him, a towel in your hand as you use it to scrunch up your damp hair.
“Wow. You’re really muscular,” you giggle, fingers hovering over his abs before you look up at him for approval to feel, to which he gently pushes your head aside and waltzes into the room.
When he’s done changing he beckons you back to the room, and you plop in the king sized bed, belly down and legs swinging back and forth in the air.
Jungkook lies down beside you, resting his head on the pillow as he scrolls aimlessly on his phone, only looking over when he hears your ringtone go off.
You answer the call almost immediately.
“Oh hey Sunghoon!” you greet, shooting up from the bed to touch up your appearance in the facetime camera.
Sunghoon. Jungkook knows all your friends and he hasn’t heard that name before.
“Hey Y/N, how’s your vacation going?” Sunghoon asks, and you take a seat at the desk, propping your phone up against the wall. You twirl an idle piece of hair around your fingers. “It’s really fun here, I feel great,” you explain, “so what’s up?”
“You look like you’re having fun- wait, is there someone in the room with you?”
You rapidly turn around and look at Jungkook, then tilt your phone at an angle where he isn’t visible. “Oh, he’s just a family friend, do you want me to go somewhere more private?”
“Oh no that’s cool, I was just wondering but I called to ask you about the homework…”
A family friend? Jungkook scowls at that. Wordlessly, he breezes past you and exits the room, closing the door and sits next to Jimin on the couch.
Jimin takes a few moments to acknowledge Jungkook’s presence. “Hey, is there anything going on between you and Y/N?” Jimin finally asks, eyebrows furrowing in concern when he perceives Jungkook’s sour face.
Jungkook pauses. “Why are you asking?”
Jimin shrugs. “I don’t know. Don’t you know she has a crush on you? Isn’t it inappropriate for you two to be sharing a room?” Jimin continues, nudging Jungkook with his elbow.
At that, Jungkook buries his face into his palms. He’s let this go on for far too long. “I know,” Jungkook murmurs, voice projection muffled by his hands.
“You know? The other day she asked me if it was possible between you two and I straight up told her that you wouldn’t go for it.”
Jungkook remains wordless at that, and he thinks he’s developed an idea of the reality of the situation.
Jungkook was too scared to address the subject with you; he let it linger for far too long. He didn’t want to burden you with anything else besides what you already had on your plate, and you got in your head about it. He never explicitly stated that he more than reciprocates your feelings, leaving you dangling on a string.
He’s going to fix that.
“No Jimin, that’s not it,” Jungkook clarifies, wiping his face with his palms. “I like her too, and I’m going to tell her tonight,” he states firmly, slightly craning his head to gauge Jimin’s reaction. His reaction isn’t what Jungkook expected. Instead of a look of concern, worry, or horror, Jimin looks over the moon.
“Well shit! I wish I knew that before! You guys look perfect together!” he exclaims before eagerly patting Jungkook on the back.
Jungkook raises his eyebrows at his friend. “Really? Don't you think I should wait a little longer? Until she's ready?”, to which Jimin simply shakes his head.
“Y/N's an adult. She can handle herself. I thought you wouldn't go for it because of the age gap, though. I guess I shouldn't have told her that," he says gingerly, scratching the back of his head. ”Sorry Kook."
Jungkook doesn't say anything, seemingly in deep contemplation. "It used to bother me,” Jungkook clarifies, "but it doesn't anymore."
“So what’s wrong with it?"
That’s right. There is nothing wrong with it.
-
A cool night on the beach. You feel the cool breeze through your air, the lunar radiance of the moon illuminating the beach. You’re adorned in a lovely, summer-esque two piece set with floral patterns running along the fabric, The top piece is cropped and strapless, exposing your collar bones and belly button piercing, and the bottom piece is a long, flowy skirt that blows marvelously against the wind.
You gingerly step outside the beach house, enjoying the cool sensation of the night breeze. The guys are all hanging out in the yard, soju bottles and beer cans scattered on the wooden benches positioned on the beach. Namjoon and Jimin are posted up on the benches, chowing down on meat whilst engaging in pretty animated conversation. You spot Mingyu and Taehyung running around the beach, slapping each other and chasing after each other, their dirty heels slipping against the coarse sand.
Jungkook is stationed at the grill, frying meat for his friends. His tall and built figure is concealed by his loose black T-shirt and black sweat shorts that you have worn a few times during your extended stay at his place.
You creep up behind him, swiping away the stray hairs that the wind blew into your face. Tapping him lightly on the back, you coyly skmile at him, a bashful glow illuminating your face.
Jungkook sensed your presence the moment stepped foot from the house, but still acts like it’s the first time he’s ever seen you. He does a double take, eyes scanning up and down your face and body- you look so lovely and elegant in your little two piece set. “Hey,” Jungkook finally returns your greeting, a little breathless.
“Can I have some?” you ask, pointing to the grill.
“Uh yea, I actually made a plate for you a second ago,” Jungkook takes the prepared plate of your favorite meats, but pauses before he hands it to you. He hasn’t a clue if you’re doing this on purpose, but you’re looking at him with the sultriest of eyes, and it drives him crazy. His Adam’s Apple bobs in his throat, and he collects himself before handing you the plate.
You tilt your head, sending him a look of confusion at his hesitance, but Jungkook sees it as a gateway to talk to you. “Y/N, can we talk? Like now?” Jungkook asks, rubbing at the nape of his neck.
“Sure, what about?” you solicit, setting the plate on the table.
Jungkook immediately shoves his hands in his pockets, and motions his head towards the beach, obliging you to follow him. “About what you told me at your house..” he trails off, “that one time in the middle of the night,” he adds.
He perceives the way your features morph into embarrassment, so he decides to take the lead on this conversation. He approaches you, standing beside you momentarily before smoothly lacing his fingers through yours. “Let’s go.”
Unable to conjure a proper response, you follow his footsteps in silence until your bodies appear as distant figures by the ocean. With your toes kissing the water washing up on shore, he turns back to look at you, fingers still intertwined. But you stop him before he can open his mouth.
“Wait- Jungkook. Let me explain myself first,” you begin, thankful that the night sky conceals the obvious bashful glow on your cheeks.
Jungkook who is seemingly expressionless nods his head, signaling you to let your words out.
You gently pull your hand from his, twiddling with your fingers before you can speak. “Firstly, I just wanna apologize.. to you,” you begin, ignoring the way his nose scrunches in confusion, “I feel like you’ve been so good to me- you always take care of me. Your family is the only family I have left,” you continue, bashfully tucking an idle strand of hair behind your ear.
“So I’m sorry for forcing myself on you, and I’m sorry for mistaking your care towards me as romantic affection,” you continue, subconsciously gesticulating with your hands. “I know you said you don’t like it when girls are clingy but I’ve been nothing but clingy, and you still take care of me and care about me.” Your words are passionate, and they’re true. “Everyone told me that a relationship with you would be inappropriate.. but I was too persistent and too selfish. I’m so sorry Kook. You must’ve been so shocked when I yelled at you and when I.. opened that shower curtain,” you finish, shaking your head in embarrassment.
When you finally complete the sentiment, you tilt your head upwards to gauge his reaction. His eyebrows pinch in confusion, and his mouth is slightly agape. “What?” he asks breathlessly, eyebrows pinching even further. He runs a tired hand over his face. “Y/N- just- I can’t believe you said that. Y/N, I love you. And I don’t care if you’re clingy, and I don’t care what anybody else thinks of us.”
You gasp at his words, a profound sense of emotion absolutely overwhelming you.
“What I care about is what you think of me, and whether you’re happy,” His fingers find yours, and he holds your hand and looks right into your eyes to properly convey his sincerity. “Y/N, I’m so sorry for not telling you sooner. You were just going through so much shit and I didn’t know if you were in the right headspace or if you were even serious about how you felt for me-”
He stops when you yank your hands away from him, using the back of your hands to wipe the tears streaming down your face. The shapes of his eyes turn into little crescents, petrified at your reactions. He removes your hands from your face, holding your wrists.
“Y/N, don’t cry. Please say something.”
“Jungkook, it’s too late. I-I don’t think I can do this- with you- I mean,” is all you’re able to say and Jungkook’s chest tightens impossibly.
His heart drops to your stomach, a crestfallen expression morphing onto his handsome features. “I-is that how you really feel?”
Another tear streams down your face and Jungkook itches to wipe it but suppresses that urge.
“I love you Jungkook. I do. I really do!” you cry out, “But I can’t date you, ever. I never want to lose you,” you sob between sniffles. “I’ve made up my mind. I’m sure of it!”
The situation is bitterly ironic. Jungkook spent months tiptoeing around his feelings, your feelings, because he wanted to ensure he was what you wanted. Even when you blatantly threw yourself at him, he made the conscious decision to not pursue you. He spent months deciding your feelings for you- and now you’re telling him you don’t want him and he can’t do anything but accept it.
“Y/N, you’ll never lose me. I’ll always be here. Even if you change your mind.. I’ll always be here.”
“Jungkook, I lost my whole family. You’re all I have left,” you explain, trailing off a little bit, “If I lose you then I have nobody.”
“No, I swear- Y/N, you’re it for me, and I mean it.”
You sniffle, wiping your cheeks, eyes, and nose once more. “What- hiccup- does that mean?”
“It means… whatever you want it to mean,” he concludes.
“Jungkook…” you trail off, “Don’t wait for me. If you find a girl you like, then you should go for her. All I want is for you to be happy. It’s what you deserve,” you offer him a soft smile, a direct juxtaposition to your tear stained cheeks.
His chest tightens at that and he shakes his head. “You’ll always be my priority. Me? I’ve dated enough girls, I can be single for the rest of my life.”
You immediately swat his chest at the sentiment. “No, Jungkook. You should be with someone who takes care of you, not someone you have to take care of all the time. I’ll just always be your family friend who had a stupid crush on you in college.” Your attempt to lighten the atmosphere is futile and makes Jungkook’s scowl deepen.
“You’re more than that to me. You’ll always be.” His hand latches onto yours, and you pull yourself from him.
“No Jungkook.. I’ve made up my mind. I really don’t think we could ever…” When your voice breaks and more tears accumulate in your waterline, Jungkook stops you, not wanting to cause you any more pain.
“I got it, Y/N. But just know I’ll always be here… in any way you’ll take me.”
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I Laugh Like Me Again... She Laughs Like You - Part 3
Azriel x Reader
Description: Azriel would give anything to hold you one more time.
Warnings: Angst, Memory loss, mentions of death
Word Count: 5950
Notes: Sorry for the wait but I had to map things out to answer all the questions I started in the previous chapters (set myself up there) and lack of motivation was kicking my ass. Still, I hope you enjoy!
Part 2 ○ Part 4
You were picking at the food on your plate as Azriel stared at you, looking like he'd rather feed you himself. As hungry as you were, everything was hard to stomach. You tried to tell him as much but had only been met with a scolding, he seemed extremely interested in your health. If you didn't know any better, you'd think he was content with watching you even if you never actually gave him anything. It seemed like the spymaster wasn't too preoccupied with the fact that he had caught you stealing from his High Lord.
Following your sudden breakdown, Azriel had managed to calm you down enough, insisting that you didn't talk about anything else until you ate and were ready for it. Your eyes still hurt and were probably puffy from the tears that had flowed not even an hour ago, and your head still ached, even if it didn't come anywhere close to the excruciating pain you felt before.
The same feeling as before still crawled under your skin, the same questions swirling around in your mind, but you managed to find your composure after the ache had transformed into something manageable and the tears had dried. Admittedly, you were a bit scared of prying into your mind and triggering the same reaction as before - it really had felt like your brain was trying to forcefully escape your skull.
You were still trying to make sense of everything, denying that you were missing important information wouldn't help you. There was no way Azriel was confusing you for someone else, not with the way your body reacted to him and the dreams you've had for far longer than you've been here. There was also the problem of you being a prisoner in this room, as nice and attentive as your prison guard has been there has to be a punishment waiting for you.
When your head felt like it was going to burst, you could swear someone else had barged into the room but you couldn't stay focused on it or hear what they were saying through your own desperate screams. You think you saw something red glinting, but didn't even make out anyone's form, your vision was too blurry. You're not even sure how many of them walked through the door. By the time you came to and calmed down it was only you and Azriel in the room again, and all you could feel was his arms around you, grounding you.
You bite down on another small piece of sausage, arranged as if they were meant to feed a child - you hadn't seen him cut them but you know it has to be his work - as you remembered how desperate he sounded in that moment. You're not sure if the soothing words he whispered in your ear were meant for you or for himself, he was just short of begging you to be okay. It was a little embarrassing to think about how fragile he had seen you in that moment but it was even worse remembering how intimately he held you.
Looking up at Azriel, you're not surprised to meet his eyes, they haven't left you for longer than a second, it's like he's scared you'll disappear if he looks away. You can still see the concern swirling in the beautiful hazel.
You had so many questions, knew he had even more, but you weren't sure where to even begin. Any hope of him starting to talk was evaporating faster with every second. He had told you he wouldn't bring anything up until you were ready but you thought he'd at least ask about the robbery, start off easy. You couldn't push your doubts aside any longer, it felt like you were both playing a part, ignoring the elephant in the room.
“Azriel?” His name triggers the same reaction every time you say it. You might have to go to a healer if you survive this, having your heart fluttering so often can't be healthy.
“Yes?” He leans closer letting his wings pull in closer to his body, ready to give you his undivided attention.
You've noticed how his wings move with him and can give you small clues on what he might be feeling sometimes, like a cat's ears, perking up or dropping with his emotions. The same happens with his shadows really, moving towards you when they're interested, like a tail you suppose.
“There's something wrong.” His eyes open wide and he's on his feet before you can even blink, standing over you and reaching out for your hand. That might not have been the best way to start.
“What's wrong?” He holds onto your wrist, feeling for your pulse. “Does it hurt again?”
“No, nothing hurts,” you try to calm him down, cheeks slightly flushed. “I mean this.” You gesture between the two of you, hoping he's aware of the terrified expression on his face. “You're worried about me.” He visibly relaxes at that, understanding you're not physically hurting again.
“Of course, I am.” He sits on the side of the bed, never letting go of your wrist but holding onto it a little softer, drawing circles with his thumb over your skin. You're not even sure if he's doing it on purpose, or if it simply comes naturally.
“Why would you be?” You have an idea of the answer, he's already made it more than clear that he knows you very well. “I thought you'd be guarding me to make sure I didn't escape but you've been taking care of me instead.”
His eyes roam over your desperate face, taking notice of every expression you make. He's probably scared of saying something that will send you into the same state as before, clawing at your head to stop, but you can see how much he wants to tell you, to stop pretending.
“You're my wife,” he admits, a small smile playing on his lips right after, like saying the word is enough to make him happy, and looks down at his hand still wrapped around your wrist, running his thumb down the veins to the palm of your hand, loosely holding it instead.
“I don't…” You thought there had to be some sort of romantic relationship between you and him, or the person he thinks you are, but you didn't expect him to say wife. “I've never been married.” You never even thought it would be a possibility with your job.
Him thinking you're his wife definitely answers a lot of questions, mostly the reason why you aren't in a dark dungeon after what you've done to them, but it just opens up a whole other box of chaos.
You set the plate aside, knowing you can't keep any more food down with the way the conversation has to go. You wish you could just crawl into your own bed, in your own home and wait until all of this mess passes. Running a hand down your face, you steel yourself, recognizing you need to get to the bottom of this, not only for your sake but his as well. Whatever was at play here was larger than you could have imagined.
“I don't remember you at all, Azriel,” you admit. He just nods, almost pouting, without looking away from your hand still clutched in his. “But I've dreamt about you.” He perks up at that, surprised eyes darting up to meet yours.
“I dream about you almost every night,” he admits softly, a reddish tint covering the tips of his ears.
“If I'm supposed to be your wife, should I be offended that it's not every night?” The lame joke does nothing to ease your nerves, as you intended, but the blinding smile he rewards you with certainly makes the next words easier to come out.
“What you called me before… that's not my name,” you continue slowly, “My name is Maya.”
“Maya,” he tries it out but the discomfort is obvious on his face. To your surprise, you don't like how it sounds coming from him either, while every other word he utters sounds like honey.
“I know that's my name. I know I'ver never been here or met you before,” you explain, “I know I never married you either. I can account for every year of my life, there are no gaps in my memories. You're not in any of them, neither is this house,” you look into his eyes the whole time, squeezing his hand slightly, wanting him to feel your sincerity, “but there's something wrong.”
He studies your face with an unreadable expression. If this whole situation is hard for you to wrap your head around, you can't imagine what it is like looking in from the outside. The only reason you believed him was because of your body's response to him, but all he can see is a female who looks just like his wife yet doesn't recognize him.
His hand leaves yours as he takes the ring he was wearing off slowly, taking your hand and depositing it on your palm gently.
“What's this?” It's a simple silver ring, worn out from what you assume is years of training and fighting while wearing it. Your heart palpitations come back the longer you study it, you know it.
“My wedding ring,” he almost whispers, “You had yours when…” You look up at him and he shakes his head almost imperceptibly, “I don't have it.”
You nod and let it fall on your finger, in place of where your own wedding ring would be. It's too big on you, it would likely be too loose even if you had put it on your thumb, but you almost don't want to take it off. Goosebumps spread all over your body, your heart rate picking up.
“Do you feel anything?”
“I'm not sure I can explain it,” you breathe, not fully understanding the reaction your body has to him.
“Try me,” he insisted.
“Ever since I heard about this mission and stepped foot into this city, it feels like my brain is screaming at me to remember something really important but I can't,” you say, watching the way the wedding band hangs around your finger, “and when I put this ring on just now.” You hold up your hand for him to see, the light catching on it.
You look up at him before continuing, “When I first saw you. When you told me your name. When I… When I stabbed you.” Your eyes travel to his stomach, where an open wound had been just a few hours ago. “I feel a pain in my chest.” It makes itself known again as you think of the way his blood had dripped down your hands. “Holding the ring feels right. Saying your name feels right. But hurting you… didn't.” You take a deep breath in, knowing there's no going back, “So, as insane as this whole situation is, I think I believe you, Azriel.”
The admission lingers in the air as both of you feel its weight. Acknowledging the particular situation you've found yourselves in is only the beginning. Now you must try to understand what happened and how to fix things, if you want that. Part of recognizing what Azriel told you as the truth comes with accepting that some of your life was a lie, and, at this moment, you have no tangible evidence for what is real or not aside from the goosebumps you get when the male in front of you touches you. You don't even know who you truly are.
“If you say I'm your wife then what made me leave?”
“You didn't,” the hesitation is almost tangible in his tone, “I thought you were dead.” Your hand immediately shoots up to your neck, feeling the softened scar under your fingertips. The movement seems to break the dam holding his emotions in check, making everything flow out at once.
“I don't know what happened,” he lets go of you and stands up, running a hand through his hair and pacing around as he explained with an anguished voice, “It was a simple mission. We never found out how exactly but it looked like you were taken by surprise and attacked by bandits. My shadows told me they couldn't sense you so I went to meet you but when I got there all I saw was blood. There was so much blood.”
When he meets your eyes again you can clearly see the tears gathering in them, the pain that still lingers from recalling that moment.
“I looked for you. We all did. We searched in every corner of the world, I sent spies everywhere. We found the bandits and made them talk but when they left your body was still there and your throat was cut.” His wings droop, the bottoms of it touching the floor. Azriel looks defeated. “We thought you were dead. I tried denying it for a while but it came to a point where I couldn't anymore. But now you're here and I- Fuck. I should have kept looking. I shouldn't have given up so easily.”
“Azriel,” you call for him, bringing his attention back to you. The desperation and raw pain in his voice were breaking your heart. “Whatever happened wasn't your fault.”
“I should have found you,” he whispers, completely contrasting with his tone mere moments before.
“You thought I was dead.” The words are hard to form, and you can't linger on them too long. You always knew the injury you suffered was severe, that it had been near miraculous that you survived but finding out there were people out there that truly believed you were dead was chilling. “This whole situation still feels impossible, there's no way you could have known I was still alive.”
He nods at you, but you can clearly see he can't let go of it. The attentiveness and overprotection he's been showing you makes much more sense now. Azriel sits on the chair he has barely left since you were brought to this room. He seems to try to regain his composure, combing back the hair he had tousled and bringing his wings up closer to his body again. But his eyes don't meet yours like before.
You fall back against the headboard, the impact softened by the pillows he fluffled out for you, picking at his wedding ring still on your finger. You feel like you're going insane. Maybe letting the guild find you wouldn't be so bad, at least they'd put you out of your misery. Though it's hard to ignore the fact that they seem to be the ones who put you in this situation, letting you live a lie for almost a century.
“It's been a century since then,” you repeated aloud, “And you still…” Love me? You wanted to say, but that wasn't really you, not for now at least. You don't remember anything of your time together, or about yourself. Maybe the only thing that survived was your body. There's a possibility that the female he loved had actually died, that he'll never fully get her back even if you regain your memories.
“I told you,” the smile you witnessed earlier comes back to his face, even if with only half the prior intensity, “I dream about you almost every night.”
“This doesn't make any sense.” You had moved to sit cross legged over the covers, tired of laying in bed when your body wasn't even hurting. Nibbling on a chocolate cookie the House, who Azriel told you is sort of sentient, gave you.
“I know.” He had calmed down since his outburst, going back to what you assume is closer to his usual demeanor, though he might not always act the same as when his dead wife is sitting across from him. His shadows seemed to have relaxed as well, most of them had left him in favor of swirling around the room like smoke. “When I saw you in the living room, I thought you came back.”
“But I came to rob you instead.”
He lets out a chuckle, “I couldn't have imagined that in my wildest dreams.” His gaze turns a bit more serious before he adds, “my High Lord and High Lady want to speak to you.”
“I figured as much.” You were actually surprised they hadn't shown up yet, the sun was already close to setting. “Did you tell them you think I'm your wife?”
“They know. You and Rhys were friends too.”
The thought that you could be friends with a High Lord is almost laughable, but so was being married to his shadowsinger and yet the fluttering of your heart every time he speaks to you in that deep, soft voice of his doesn't lie.
You think for a bit, remembering the information you had been granted before coming on your mission. Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court, the most powerful one in history and the bearer of one of the most sought-after and frightening abilities - daemati. It's said his mate, the recently turned fae, Feyre Archeron, shares the same talent.
“Is it true that he's a daemati?” He simply nods, knowing you're following his train of thought.
“You want him to look into my head.”
“He might be able to find out what happened to you,” he nods, “the reason you forgot me, forgot us.”
“And you're sure he'll want to help me after what I did? He looked pretty mad when I saw him last night,” you say as you chew on your lip.
Granting him passage into your mind might be more than a leap of faith. You've found it easy to talk to Azriel, to trust him, but you haven't met anyone else, and can't trust they won't want to hurt you. Azriel seemed to not care much about your initial reason for coming to the court or even what you did to him but you can't expect everyone to feel the same, even if they had been your friends a century ago. And a daemati could break you beyond repair, even just seeing their abilities in action has always left you unsettled.
“Rhys won't hurt you,” he tells you, his face showing he has no doubts about his words.
“It's not like I have much of a choice anyway,” you brush the crumbs off your nightgown, stretching your legs and moving until you are sitting at the edge of the mattress. It brought you closer to him, your knees brushing his, the feeling of the leather feeling oh so familiar against your bare skin, making your next words come out breathier than you wanted them to, “You can call them.”
Something flashes across his tantalizing eyes when he looks down at your bare legs, noting the change in your tone, but it disappears when he looks back at you, nodding softly and letting his eyelids shut as if to level himself. Some of his shadows come back to him and, as his silence prolongs, you realize he must be speaking to them in his mind, calling his High Lord just as you asked.
The pressure in the room changes as soon as he opens his eyes, the air getting harder to breathe. It's not as strong as what you'd felt the night before but the tamed magic is enough to have the hairs on the back of your neck stand, and a shiver to run down your spine. You truly hope Azriel is right about them.
Azriel stands just as the door opens to reveal his High Lord followed closely by his mate. His unreadable purple eyes study your stiff form, walking inside the room and letting Feyre close the door behind them. She seems more serene, not showing any obvious hostility towards you but you know not to underestimate the human who freed the fae of Prythian.
You stand when they stop in front of you, not letting fear make you appear weak. If they chose to hold you accountable for your actions you would accept their punishment head on.
The first word out of the High Lord's lips is the same name Azriel had called you before, and the same feeling of deja vu consumes you once more.
“Maya,” you correct. His head tilts to the side briefly, before looking over at Azriel who is watching the scene unfold warily.
“Well Maya,” his eyes meet yours again, “Are you going to explain why I've found you lurking around my house?” The venom was clear in his voice, but you expected as much.
“I was sent here on a mission,” you say as emotionlessly as you can, just like the guild taught you, “I was supposed to find an ancient book with a particular set of runes, it seems it belonged to your grandfather.” You hope the lack of information doesn't make you appear suspicious because it truly is the only thing the guild had deemed enough for you to be able to complete your mission. “Since I failed the mission, they've probably already sent assassins after me, in case I tell you or anyone about them.”
“No one is going to hurt you,” Azriel promises, anger rising at the mention of someone wanting to kill you.
“You were in the wrong place for that,” the High Lord responds after a moment, and watching Azriel's reaction. “The book is in the library under this House.”
“It doesn't matter now.”
“You're right, it doesn't. What I want to know is where you've been all these years and why you attacked my brother.”
The pressure in the room increased again but you could now see it was the result of him trying to hold his power down even though his temper was rising.
“Rhys,” his mate warns, but it falls on deaf ears, his striking eyes never leaving yours.
“I don't remember you or him,” you admit.
“So he's told me.” Rhysand didn't sound too convinced. “You won't mind if I check for myself right?” He barely made it sound like a question but you nod in answer all the same.
Black talons scrape along your mental walls as soon as you give him permission, you lower them for him, pushing everything the guild taught you aside, inviting the enemy straight into your mind. If they could see you now you would definitely be mocked and executed on the spot.
His presence is barely felt in your mind before a sharp pain takes your senses, similar to the one you'd felt before. You squeeze your eyes shut, hands moving to hold your head. Scarred hands are on you immediately, holding you up against a strong body before your knees meet the ground. As the talons retreat from your mind, the pressure lessens and you take a few deep breaths before opening your eyes.
When you manage to blink away the wetness making your vision blurry, you find the High Lord looking at you with wide eyes, remorse clear on his face and his mate holding onto his arm.
“What did you do to her?” Azriel's voice was rough with barely restrained anger.
The High Lord ignores him, looking into your eyes as he explains with a notably softer tone than earlier, “There is something blocking your memories. When I tried to bypass it… It hurt you.”
“What does that mean?” Your voice was scratchy, a dull ache lingering in your head. You lean away from Azriel and sit back on the mattress. No use trying to act tough, you're truly at their mercy.
“It means I can't access your memories for the time being,” the change in his demeanor would give you whiplash if the pain you were feeling gave way long enough for you to focus on anything else, “I've never seen anything like this, there's no way of knowing what it can do to you.”
“I think your memories aren't only being blocked,” he's still speaking directly at you but you can't really wrap your mind around anything at the moment, letting them discuss amongst themselves. “They're being overwritten at the same time.”
“That's why she forgot Azriel but remembers her life at the guild?”
“I've never heard of anything like that,” Azriel's voice sounds further away, you almost want to reach out and pull him back to you.
“Me neither,” the High Lord admits, watching your crouched form warily. “We'll have to ask Amren and research it in the library but it's the only explanation.” You find yourself nodding, even if you don't know Amren you understand the ancient creature might be able to help, if she wants to that is.
“At least your mental walls are still intact. They're the same ones I taught you to build.”
“No, I learned at the guild,” you finally look up at him, sweat still covering your forehead.
“There's still an open channel, like an open door for me to be able to talk to you.” So I can do this. You can't help but jump slightly at the sound of his voice in your mind, and the promise of a smile twitches on his lips. It doesn't go unnoticed that the talons moved a lot more carefully in your mind, almost tenderly.
“You're staying in this house until we can be sure you're not a threat.” His eyes move to Azriel's, an unimpressed look taking over his face at the scowl the shadowsinger sends him. “In the meantime you can fill Azriel in on everything you can about the guild. I want to know if there's a chance they'll try to attack us again.”
“We'll try to find any information on what is blocking your memories and keep you safe from the guild in exchange,” the High Lady adds, “It's a fair trade for both parties.”
You can't tell if she's saying it to convince you or her mate but appreciate the sentiment nonetheless. Also noticing how she omits the biggest reason for this mutual cooperation - the shadowsinger standing by your side.
⋆。°✩°。⋆
His hair was still wet when he started dressing himself, not wanting to leave you waiting for too long, as much as he hated to admit it he wasn't too happy about leaving you with Feyre either. He can tell everyone is still suspicious of you, even after Rhys tried to read into her memories to find nothing, stuck between their memories and stories they heard about you and the image of you stabbing a knife through his stomach.
Azriel knows his High Lady, his friend, wouldn't hurt you, but you're in a complicated situation at the moment and he doesn't want to find out what that guild has taught you to do in cases such as these, doesn't even want to think what Feyre would do to stop you. She didn't know you before, meaning she wouldn't have any reason to hold back if not for his sake - something he knows she wouldn't put above saving Velaris, he would never ask that of her either.
It's hard to accept he doesn't know how you'll react in certain situations, there was a time he knew you better than he knew himself. Now, he can't even begin to understand what you must have been through working for a world known assassin guild.
He'd obviously heard about them before, he wouldn't be a decent Spymaster if he hadn't. There wasn't much information on them, no one knew how large the group even was since there were rumors other groups were actually integrated in the guild. Names for it vary as well.
Even if you hadn't tried to steal from his High Lord, he knows he'll have to try getting as much information about them from you as he can, for his court's sake, and he can only pray you'll give it to him willingly or he'll have to let go of his position.
He doesn't know how you've been able to bear the guilt a job like this brings. As much as you've forgotten, your personality didn't seem to change a lot. You always reminded him of Cassian at times like these, gratuitous killing had never been for you. He hopes you don't have to deal with the torment he had been through in the first decades of working for the former High Lord, his soul had never recovered from everything he'd seen and done during that time.
Noticing his shadows reach up his shoulders, he physically shakes the dark thoughts out of his brain. Everything has been going better than expected, not only did you agree to cooperate but Rhys had given you the benefit of the doubt. You also agreed to have dinner with him so you could talk more.
He just told you he'd be joining you for dinner, omitting how excited, downright giddy, he felt at just the idea. It had been so long since you two shared a meal, talking for hours while enjoying the tasty food the House prepared for you.
He couldn't recall the last time he'd been this nervous for an outing, even if it wasn't exactly that - it was simply a trip to one of the House of Wind's guest rooms. Going as far as picking clothes in your favorite colors on him, letting the top buttons on his shirt undone because he knows how much you liked seeing the beginnings of his swirling bargain marks.
All of this could be for nothing, you don't remember him after all, but, he was almost certain your body did in some way and it gave him hope. You calmed down in his arms just as you did a century ago, said his name in the same sweet cadence and never shied away from his touch, from his hands. His shadows told him as much. Sang to him about the way goosebumps rose in your skin at his touch and attentiveness, how your thoughts and intuition warred in his favor. He refused to let his thoughts deter him.
When he gets to the room he sees you and Feyre standing by the dresser, almost wanting to apologize for winnowing in instead of knocking first, but he can't seem to find any words as he sees you've changed as well, ditching the nightgown in favor of a sleeveless dress that went down to your knees. The cobalt blue was as striking against your skin as he remembered, the garment in itself was simple enough yet in his eyes you had never looked so stunning.
Feyre must have been the one to give you the dress, he was only surprised it had taken her so long to meddle in your relationship. If there were any doubts, they were quickly answered when she threw him a knowing smile before excusing herself from the room.
“I'm guessing the blue is supposed to match those gems you wear.”
“Siphons,” he offers, entranced by the way you walk closer to him, the silky fabric moving with your body and giving you an ethereal glow.
“Did I used to do that a lot?”
“Yes.” He observes the way your eyes run over his body, lingering on the unbuttoned shirt. Seems like his old tricks still work. “I always loved seeing you in blue.”
You tilt your head to the side slightly, biting the inside of your lip the way you always did. He tries to stand as still as possible without appearing too awkward, making sure you knew it was alright to do with him anything that crossed your pretty brain. You seem to make up your mind as you walk closer to him.
“Can I see them?” You hold up your palm and he holds his hand over it without hesitation, letting you grab onto his hand to study the glowing siphon. The swirling light shone in your eyes and he can't help but be reminded of the first time you asked him to do the same exact thing shortly after meeting him.
“All Illyrian warriors have them,” he explains, “They're used to help us control our powers.”
“It's beautiful.” He tries not to let his wings twitch as you now hold his hand with both of yours. “I don't think I've seen anything like this before.”
“You have,” he can't help the somber smile that crosses his face. The reminder makes you look away from his hand to watch him, a conflicted expression falling over your pretty face. “You always liked them.”
The abrupt change in the atmosphere has him asking the house to get the room ready for your dinner. Not being able to hide the smile as he watches your amazed expression at the table that pops up beside you, full of delicious looking food and decorated with candlesticks, the faelights around the room dim in favor of the candlelight.
“I only asked for the food,” he admits with a bashful expression. He's glad you can't tell that, aside from the candles, the plates were also some of the fanciest ones. The House was going all out for the two of you.
He uses the grip you had on his hand to guide you to the chair and help you sit before making his way to his own seat, settling down and giving order for the House to serve both of you. Letting himself enjoy every little expression you made as you eat and listening to anything you felt like telling him, also answering all your questions about the House and the food.
He knows this doesn't have the same meaning to you as it does to him, knows that, as much as you don't seem to hate his company, you're more interested in finding out more about the version of you in his memories, trying to make sense of your own identity. It's hard to imagine how this whole thing must feel for you, finding out half of your life was made up and that you forgot such an important part of it. Still, this must be the best night he's had in a century.
You set your elbows on the table and rest your face on your hands, watching him with undivided attention as he tells you about his sparring match with Cassian. Your eyes don't leave his face after he finishes, appearing lost in thought. He lets you gather them, relishing in the comfortable silence. He'd be content with simply watching you for eternity.
You let out a soft sigh and lean back against the chair, closing your eyes for a few seconds before meeting his gaze again.
“What happens if I never remember you, Azriel?” Your voice barely above a whisper.
The question and the uncertainty in your voice as you asked it make him pause. He keeps trying to push back the thought that you won't regain your memories but it seems you were having the same doubts.
Just last week, he wouldn't have believed having you back was even a possibility, so getting your memories back can't be out of reach, it just can't. He was ready to give his life to make it so.
Still, he witnessed how painful it had been for you when Rhys simply tried to access your memories, he'd also told him trying harder, forcefully, could break your mind completely. If their research doesn't go well, if they can't find who did this to you, there might not be another way of bringing your memories back.
But he'd sooner die than live another day without you, whether your memories come back or not.
“I'll make you fall for me again.”
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