Pretty Thoughts | Jungkook

pretty thoughts | jungkook

♠ pairing: jungkook x you ♠ genre: fluff, domestic, parenthood au ♠ word count: 6k ♠ honorary mention: @jungkookiemycutebias and her beautiful moodboard ♠ description: visiting your husband at work as the youngest senior barista, when he couldn’t get off on time as promised because of a sudden surge of customers. You met someone from the past that wasn’t supposed to know where you are while you wait, and Jungkook wasn’t very fond of him.

♠ author’s note: A spin off to Granite Glow.

When you first met Jungkook, you didn’t think he was going to take this much space in your heart.

That time when you were in the cave, you only had one thought. If you couldn’t see those galaxy eyes again, you’d be damned forever. As you sunk deeper in the depth of darkness, accompanied by the remnants of the memories you had with Jungkook, you felt serenity and despair all at once. They played like montages in the back of your mind, pulling you in and then out of nowhere, you heard him. Heard him calling your name. With it, you gained a newfound strength that allowed you to carry the weight of the yellow line and into the next mound where you could find surface. When you did, you took a lungful of air, and the sounds echoed through the granite walls of the cave.

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Snaps – jjk

Summary: A tale of you as Jungkook’s assistant while he goes around with a camera strapped to his neck. More accurately, you being annoyed at him treating you like a mini helper and him cheekily taking more than six months to admit he loves you.

Genre/warnings: photographer!Jungkook, assistant/music producer!reader, neighbours au, pure fluff

Word count: 10,359

Pairing: Jungkook x reader

Author’s note: This is my very first JK post. Thank you for reading!

Your ringtone and alarm must have decided to conspire together the night prior since both were screeching at the unconscious depths of your brain to bring you back to reality. Checking the caller ID wasn’t required – there was only one person who would give you such a rude awakening.

“Hel-“

“Snow! Finally! What took you so long?”

“... it’s seven thirty. In the morning. You told me to be up by eight.”

“But I’m hungry,” his whining on the other end was nearly as bad as the alarm, one you shut off with a slam. “I want bean sprout rice with kimchi, galbi and cold cucumber soup. And pork tonkatsu.”

Your face took on the same expression as an emoji with three short lines for its eyes and mouth. “Will that be all?”

“One cappuccino too, please.”

“Alright Jeon, thank you for ordering room service,” sweet sarcasm dripped from your tone like honey, “your food will be delivered shortly.”

Unbeknownst to you, your muffled groan was audible through the speaker, making him chuckle.

***

A white pot of violet orchids perched on the small corner of your designated desk reminded you that your boss wasn’t as annoying as you thought. Jeon Jungkook didn’t buy gifts for you often, or even at all, so to say you were surprised by it six months into your time as an assistant was an understatement.

It confused you from the very beginning as to why a professional photographer had placed a job offer for someone to be his administrative assistant. You had soon discovered the reason after taking a curious peek into his online portfolio and resume – the number of pictures and videos he had taken during his time as a freelancer, all organised under specific categories you might add, starting from before college to various art galleries he had featured at, had made him one of the most sought-after photographers in your small town.

Weddings, parties, galas, magazine covers, news coverage, birthdays, family portraits, Christmas or Halloween... the list was seemingly endless. For someone at the tender age of twenty-two, he had a dream he set out and accomplished, but with the rise to fame came hectic schedules and tight deadlines, which was the entire reason you were there.

Saying “no” to events meant denying himself the source of his rather large income. Jungkook became aware with his increasing popularity that he needed someone to manage his time for him, answer calls for commissions, pen down his arrangements on a planner, freshen up between shoot sessions and made sure he ate three square meals a day. In essence, you felt like weren’t his secretary so much as you were his maid. You just thanked your lucky stars that your uncle’s chef expertise had rubbed off very well on you before you moved out of your home.

A combination of convenience and cooking skills were the main selling point for him to take you in immediately, not the degree you had in music and composition you actually poured your blood, sweat and tears into for four years. “Convenience” referred to the fact that your new apartment sat directly opposite his, yet his still insisted you go over five days a week to keep him, more correctly his kitchen, company.

Metal creaking jolted you out of your thoughts, stare shifting from purple and white petals to the figure gliding past your desk after Jungkook exited his studio, coming to a stop in front of you to shoot his smirk your way.

“Ready to go, snow?”

Your compulsion to roll your eyes at the nickname was overpowered by shoving a planner you used for him into your work bag. The only time you remembered him calling you by your actual name was when you had first met him along the corridor. Winter had overtaken autumn in November, the same month you moved in, snowflakes stuck themselves into your eyelashes and hair, refusing to melt and causing him to call you out for it.

You reviewed his schedule for the day after slipping into his car. Words you’d scribbled in black informed you of the location you were headed for the day; a magazine shoot for three important businessmen, who had gone from creating codes for protecting computers from malware to developing an artificial intelligence personal assistant to help the disabled, particularly those who were illiterate.

“Did you bring everything?” Jungkook spoke over the classical music streaming from his speakers, casting a glance at you briefly.

You peeked into a backpack you always brought along with you. “Water bottle, fan, spare batteries, extra SD card, and–“ you jabbed a thumb over your shoulder “–your tripod’s in the trunk.”

“And my camera?”

“Back seat. Or attached to your neck.”

He chuckled at your bluntness, “You know me too well, snow. How about lunch?”

“Lunch?” The grip you had to hold the book open went slack, thoughts picturing his fridge that you knew could use refilling, “I didn’t have time to cook this morning. You’re almost out of food, by the way.”

“Hm…” four of his fingers drummed in a wave pattern on the wheel, eyes fixated on the road, “then let’s eat out for today. Oh, and we’re going shopping after this, so add that in.”

“Shopping?”

“I’m attending a gala one week from now,” the words had you scanning the calendar for the exact date to write it down, “I need a new suit.”

“If you say so. Where’s the gala going to be held?”

“Luxe Resort.”

The five star hotel’s name would have made anyone else choke on air, but not you. Accompanying him extravagant places were something you had gotten accustomed to in knowledge of his line of work. He could knock on your door with tickets to New York, Milan or Paris and you wouldn’t even blink.

“Got it.”

Sky blue reflecting off the glass panels of the building’s exterior with steel lining the edges greeted you upon stepping out of the outdoor, sheltered carpark. Still, your time to admire the company’s name etched in gold on the glass double doors was cut short in order to pull the backpack and tripod, both of equal weight, over your shoulders, trudging behind him while frowning at the black leather strap he slung around his neck. His camera was the only thing he willingly carried with him.

Entering the reception with his long strides paired with his usual confident swagger caught the attention of the lady behind the counter, and this time you did roll your eyes at the wink he gave her in thanks for confirming the appointment. A fake smile pulled the corners of your lips when he slipped the guest ID lanyard over your head with an affectionate ruffle of your hair.

“There you go, snow. Now follow me.”

Once you reached the studio, you fell into your usual routine – Jungkook shaking hands with the set designer and models, you setting up the tripod where the camera was fitted on top. There were no interactions with anyone except those who approached you first. The models were especially off-limits, as well as those with a higher-up position who visited the set just to monitor the progress.

You positioned yourself in a corner at a distance from the rest of the staff where you didn’t bother them, but close so you could help your boss. This was him in his element, peering through a lens, directing the positions of the models in that polite yet slightly authoritative tone, making requests for adjustments to lighting, searching for the perfect angle and shot size.

Tripod standby came next, the part of the shoot where Jungkook transferred his camera to and fro from the stand to hand-held shots, you adjusting the height according to what he wanted, then pulling it away entirely if he didn’t need it.

It was in the switch from group to solo shots did he need you to be on what you deemed “assistant duties”, because nothing irritated you more than him snapping his fingers at you, a sign he wanted a drink from his water bottle. Gazes of those around you burned the same way your cheeks did watching you wait on him to finish taking a gulp, a second pat on your head prompting someone to murmur behind you Is she his assistant or his girlfriend?

You weren’t sure which was worse.

The end of the shoot came precisely when the hour and minute hands signified one on your watch, everyone thanking each other for their hard work, models clapping Jungkook on the back or shaking his hand as he promised them he could be back the next time they needed him. None, save a mussed-hair stressed intern who gave you a thumbs-up, spared you a glance while you packed up, trailing behind him to the car after depositing the lanyards.

“Where to now?” You sighed at him settling in the driver’s seat, placing the tripod in the backseat carefully.

“Shopping, remember? Seokjin said Jewel Mall sells the best suits.”

Three digit numbers slashed across price tags in bold set alarm bells off in your head, but it was his bank account taking the hit and not yours, so you voiced out, “Okay. You’re the boss.”

***

More concerned stares were thrown your way, this time by the attendants stationed around the suit shop who watched the sole patron place blazers and pants over your outstretched left arm. After six, you lost track of the number, busy hoping your glare burned through his button-down shirt every time he had his back to you.

The fanciful changing rooms gave your feet welcome relief as you sank down into one of the cream couches, all of his choices laid out next to you to be handed to him one by one. Jungkook wasn’t kidding about the whole “personal assistant” deal. You just hadn’t see it coming that it included this, not as you picked at the gold fabric lining the exterior of a throw pillow.

You should have felt out of place in your casual attire – white shirt, light wash jeans, sneakers and clover green jacket – though you learnt three months into the job that the workers cared more about the person with a heavier wallet and sparkling credit cards filling the spaces between them. Piano music streaming through the speakers softly, a song you recognised to be Nocturnes in E Flat Major Op. 9 by Chopin and Rubinstein, relaxed your stature that little bit more into the back rest and had your hands gently tapping on the top of your jean-clad knees to the rhythm.

Till the curtain of Jungkook’s changing room was yanked aside with a dramatic flourish.

The number one reason females you met in his photo shoots stayed was because they were makeup artists, but being in the background, you observe their eyes trailing onto your boss and staying there, whispering to each other behind cupped hands to hide flushed cheeks. Because of one simple fact, a fact your imbecilic heart couldn’t deny since the first day you met him in the corridor.

Jungkook was undeniably more handsome than you gave him credit for. Watching him then, donning a navy blue blazer and matching dress pants in the same white button-down, your vital organ couldn’t help its little stutter. How he hadn’t dated anyone was a mystery to you; he had the ability to charm anyone into falling for him.

“How do I look, snow?” Long, slow steps accompanied the equally dramatic sweeping of his hair away from his forehead, coming to a stop inches away from you with a smirk.

“Try the rest of them on and we’ll see,” your flickering gaze was in time with mentally counting those laid on the couch. “You still have eight more to go. Yay.”

“Aww, come on,” the jut his lower lip paired with large puppy eyes almost had your heart doing another flip, “would it kill you to admit that I look good?”

“Probably. But…” against your self-control, you got to your feet and helped insert the sole button into its little placement, “you’ll have to find someone else to be your assistant when I die, and I don’t want them to go through that sort of pain, so yes,” you sighed, “you don’t look half bad.”

The effect of his scoff was diminished by the smile perking the corners of his lips up. “Half bad? Please. I’m handsome. Say it.”

“For real?”

“Say I’m handsome.”

“Why?”

One tug on your waist had Jungkook’s breath fanning your face, any distance between you eliminated, “Say it.”

His touch seared through your clothes, translating into rose clouds traitorously dusting the apples of your cheeks, silence stretching for a prolonged period of time where none of you were able to break eye contact, you being much too distracted by the sudden deafening pound in your ears to do anything.

When your brain could resume its normal function, you quipped, “You look better in a hoodie.”

His groan and complaint about your stubbornness made you beam for the first time that day.

***

Twelve straps threatening to pierce through the sleeves of your jacket had the glare returning to the crease of your eyebrows. Jungkook had finally made his mind up to buy three suits. The first in navy blue you refused to admit he looked half-decent in, the second in black and the third in sea green which many other guests who weren’t him couldn’t pull off, according to a cashier who dared to blatantly flirt back.

His shopping trip didn’t stop there, evidenced by three bags decorating each of your arms like they were branches of a Christmas tree. A new winter coat, a flannel, a couple shirts, and two pairs of jeans nestled themselves in soft white tissue and weighed you down. Your own bag was the lightest thing on you, resting on your back so it didn’t get mixed up in his purchases, jostling between your shoulder blades with every movement.

Plastic bags hanging off the crook of his fingers soothed your annoyance just a little. He was nice enough to carry his own groceries but busy enough to let you organise them for him in his refrigerator, tapping a finger to the space between your narrowed eyes for you to loosen up.

You took the liberty to pour your irritation out on the stand-up piano back in your living room, taking full advantage of the forte and crescendo printed against the score sheet stored in the back of your memory, then disregarding them altogether in the next few bars in your refusal to play softly. Only by propping your phone on the leather bench beside you were you able to hear it buzz over the keys, eyes widening at the notification that wasn’t from Jungkook.

It was your other source of income – people who commissioned you to score their published, online comics or animated videos for YouTube videos where they credited you at the end – a job where your college degree came into play. A quick jab of the pad of your thumb to the fingerprint passcode later, you were reading the author’s stamp of approval of the music file you had sent to him two days ago, the first draft he referred to in the current message asking you to finish it quickly because he loved it and wanted to listen to the whole thing.

You abandoned the piano, tucking white jade keys beneath a velvet cloth, in favour of the keyboard in your studio. The same file the author cited on your monitor hiked up against the wall displayed colourful round-edge rectangles while you triple-checked the plug connecting your keyboard to the recording app.

Hours into the process of playing around with your equipment and instruments, hands only leaving both when you made notes to a hardcopy sheet music for piano you’d edit digitally on a later date, a melody one notch louder than the violin strings through your headphones and coming from behind you had you spinning in your swivel chair, just to receive a full frontal of Jungkook’s smoulder where his shoulder braced against the door frame.

“You look adorable while you’re working, snow.”

How he took advantage of you leaving your gate open for him wasn’t surprising anymore. “Exactly how long have you been standing there?”

“Five minutes,” the photographer crossed the distance between you in three long strides, but your gaze trailed to the bay window where sunset painted the sky in streaks of gold, realisation hitting you of how late it had become.

A ceramic turtle paperweight almost toppled over in your frantic scramble for his notebook lying on a file of old score sheets. Scribbled in neat handwriting on his to-do list was Complete video of photo collage for a young girl’s birthday, whose parents had kindly requested of him through a phone call you received.

“You’re done with work?”

He was a blur of black in plopping down onto the cream love seat, leaning against the L-shaped corner of the desk. “Yup, are you?”

“Almost.”

The notebook was discarded back on the wooden surface to unplug your headphones and switch to using two speakers resting under the monitor when you saw his curious eyes wandering to the play button.

You merely gestured to the mouse in silent agreement, wheels of the chair moving you aside so he’d have space to sit in front of the screens. It was the first time you could actually see how someone reacted to the music and nothing else besides it, rather than just give you feedback in the body of an email, and it had butterflies flitting around inside the confines of your stomach.

A worse reaction came three minutes and forty-five seconds later, which was the entire duration of the song, your pencil clattering to the pieces of paper as a sudden weight dropped itself onto your shoulder.

“It’s amazing,” he grinned, fluffy locks tickling the exposed skin of your neck and shell of your ear you failed miserably to ignore, “you’re amazing.”

You managed a short huff, “Compliments won’t make me cook your favourite.”

“I mean it,” Jungkook punctuated each word more firmly. “You’re talented. Always have been.”

You barely dared to move. Eyes flickered around the room like candlelight to find something interesting to watch but they fell on his hand, noticing how it lay limply in his lap, fighting the sudden urge to slot your fingers through the gaps in his digits to see whether they’d fit by gripping the edge of your table till white formed around your knuckles.

Then, quietly, “I still want curry, though… can you cook curry?”

The usual annoyance in your sigh was gone thanks to those butterflies perching on the edge of your heart, “Okay. For you, Jeon.”

He lifted his head with a smile you couldn’t see, “Snow?”

Three inches separated your faces when you turned to him, shutting you up for a second. You were so close, his charm took effect in the way you could almost count each of his midnight lashes the edges of his dark bangs fluttered against, the adorable slope of his button nose leading to his petal lips that you would kill yourself to admit appeared tantalising.

“Y-yeah?”

“You know you’re my plus one for the gala, right?”

That, you didn’t, but it sent a shockwave through your vital organ for the butterflies to jolt away. “You… could have told me that sooner.”

Jungkook had the audacity to shorten the gap by an inch for you to see stars glittering in his chocolate irises, “Why?”

“I need a dress.”

Crystal chandeliers, glass flutes of champagne and small portions of fine dining on china platters flashed through your brain as fast as camera shutters clicking at the remembrance of the five-star hotel’s name. Nothing in your wardrobe was even close to their standard of formal attire.

“Alright, we’ll go back to Jewel tomorrow,” his smile was a little too easygoing compared to the slight furrow of your brows.

“I can’t afford that type of dress.”

“Then I’ll buy it for you,” a casual shrug, “no big deal.”

“I can’t let you do that either,” your frown deepened. “Never mind. I probably have an old dress somewhere I can–“

His warm lips chastely pressing themselves to the middle of your forehead came without prior warning. You went silent for a different reason this time, completely, utterly speechless in the wake of his actions, capable of doing nothing except stare at him with your mouth identical to that of a goldfish.

If Jungkook was affected too, it didn’t show in the smile dimpling the sides of his cheeks, “I’m buying it for you. End of discussion,” his large palm ruffled your hair affectionately, trailing down to ghost against your jawline. “Gosh, you drive me crazy sometimes, you know that, snow?”

Only after he exited the room did the person manning the controls in your mind thaw from the frozen state his kiss rendered it in, his words registering within five seconds and it took you half that time to leap out of your seat after him, your indignant yell echoing down the hallway,

“I drive you crazy?”

***

Jungkook pulled your hands away from the price tag you’d snatched up the moment you approached the first gorgeous garment on a rack an attendant led you to, turning your widened eyes from the three digit number to his.

“I already told you I’d pay, didn’t I?” A nonchalant tilt of his head towards the dresses was useless in soothing the nervous thrum of your heart, “Go ahead. Try them on.”

He settled on a white leather couch in the middle of the circular changing room, the effects of the role reversal crashing over you like tidal wave to freeze you in place between the floor-to-ceiling mirror and the door. Three beautiful pieces hung from hooks nailed into the wall on transparent hangers, waiting for you to try on, though the soft, pliable material between your fingertips nearly had you bolting out of the mall in fear of ruining their luxuriousness.

The first you pulled on was a black off-the-shoulder with a pleated skirt, the top half hugging your silhouette not tight enough to suffocate but not loose enough to enjoy parading around in it for a whole evening. Looking at your skeptical expression frowning down at the garment told Jungkook all he needed to know. The second one was white and had thin spaghetti straps pressing themselves into your shoulders, flaring out to an A-line skirt from the waist down, yet your boss ushered you right back into the cubicle on account of getting something that could keep you warm so no additional jacket was necessary.

All doubts gathered from the first two garments erased themselves when the final one settled around your form. Pale blue was calming to the eyes of everyone who you’d come across two weeks from now, lace going over your left shoulder to give the illusion of a strap, the rest of the smooth fabric modestly covered your chest down to your knees. The only part of the material that cinched around your waist flowed down the skirt in the same direction as the lace.

“Um…” you squeaked in the silence, a tad louder than the classical music streaming through overhead speakers, “Jeon?”

Footsteps shuffled on carpeted ground, two gentle knocks against the closed door separating him from the view of you that he probably wouldn’t recognise, “Everything okay, snow?”

Fabric pinched between your thumb and index fingers reminded you that this wasn’t a dream. “I think this is it… yeah. This dress will do.”

His chuckle was sweeter than the B major key still playing above your heads, “Are you gonna show me?”

Panic had you whipping around, one hand flying to the handle to double check the lock, the other grasping the hem to pull it up and off of you, “Nope. It’s a surprise.”

“But that’s not fair, snow,” being temporarily blinded by the blue coating your vision in tugging the dress over your head didn’t stop your mind from seeing the pout in his whine, “I let you see me in a suit.”

“Too bad,” your giggle resonated with the clang of hangers together as you hid the garment between the first two you tried on. “Be patient.”

You sped past him the moment the lock clicked open and granted you access to the outside world, heading to the attendant who had helped you out earlier where she waited by the counter. Long strides quickened your pounding heart – you wouldn’t be surprised should Jungkook manage to catch a glimpse of the blue fabric she was carefully tucking into a black and white shopping bag.

“I should at least know what I’m paying for,” his quipped, eyeing the black satin straps gripped in the curve of your left palm and then the playful smile pulling at your lips, making one dimple into his own cheeks, “but okay.”

“Thank you,” you meant it with all the sincerity you could muster, the second part as well, “you can take the amount of my pay check if you want.”

“What? No way.”

“I’m not sure how else I can repay you, Jeon.”

Fingers softly grasped the edge of your chin to tilt your head up where you were granted a full view of the constellations in his irises, “First, call me Jungkook.”

You hoped your mute nod would suffice.

“Second,” he let go but intwined his digits in the spaces between your free hand to lead you both to the exit, “you can cook curry tonight, after the shoot.”

The tingling spreading up your arm affected your brain’s regular function, though it pulled up the schedule you were filling in that morning for him at your usual desk that he had a wedding shoot in the late afternoon in time for you to mumble, “Sure, okay.”

***

A combination of overhead and umbrella lights reflecting off the chandelier strung above your head cast silver flecks onto your bare arms where you bent to adjust the height of the tripod legs. What shadowed them caught your attention midway through unscrewing the tight leg locks, gaze trailing up midnight blue chiffon where it flowed from the bride’s waist like a waterfall up to her gloved hand that was sending you a small wave.

“Hi, sorry,” her name surfaced in three seconds for you to match it to her face, Jiyeon, “I saw you come in with Jungkook and I was wondering; are you two a couple?”

Scorching heat coating your face a rosy red appeared to contradict the next words spoken in a rush to amend the misunderstanding, “Oh, no, we’re not. He– he’s my boss.”

“Ah,” Jiyeon giggled delicately, pearl pink lips hidden behind her white satin-covered palm, “I see. Apologies, Joon didn’t mention anything about him having an assistant so I thought, well…”

You shook your head, “It’s okay.”

Her heels clicked against the marble floor en route to a sofa set up in front of a white wall, though she looked back at you, a gleam in her eyes made verbal in expressing an afterthought, “You two look cute together, though.”

For once, you were grateful for the distance separating you from Jungkook, leaning against a corner of the studio with his bag clutched in knuckles whitened due to your harsh grip. This wasn’t the first wrong assumption you’d experience, definitely one of the bolder ones where the models asked about your relationship status outright, but compared to the whispers of the makeup artists in the last appointment her comment had your head spinning.

Couple, dare you say it aloud yourself, had numbness returning to where Jungkook sponged his lips to your forehead the night prior. An impulse decision on his part that kept jolting you awake just before dreams could overtake your subconscious. You didn’t know what it meant, too indignant because of his final statement to question his intention behind it, not to mention the normal bickering you went back to after it happened.

A sudden possibility crossed your mind, instantly spinning the room and adding a slight stumble in your step over one of the stray wires from an extension cord on set when he called for you, ignoring his gaze searing through your skin as you hoisted the tripod away from his spot.

There was no way he liked you. You blamed the ridiculous thought on the theme of the photoshoot getting to your head.

Jiyeon’s groom, Kim Namjoon, was the next to approach you when you retreated back into the corner to tick Indoor studio off the top spot of the to-do list, your eyes scanning Beach as the next location before his polished shoes came into view.

“You must be _____,” He stuck out a hand, flashing adorable dimples straight at you, “I’m Namjoon.”

“Nice to meet you,” you smiled, “and congratulations on your wedding.”

“Thank you. Just curious, you’re really Kookie’s neighbour?”

“Yup,” a chuckle made its way past your lips, “crazy coincidence, huh?”

There was a teasing sparkle in his eyes, identical to his fiancée’s in her last comment, “Does he treat you well?”

You hummed in pretend thought, though you stuck to the truth, “If you consider going shopping with him, cooking for him everyday and managing his schedule as him treating me well, then yes.”

Loud and unabashed laughter startled you slightly, “You sound more like his wife than his assistant.”

Time was cruel in not giving you enough seconds to find a suitable response to the second romantic reference of the day, as well as not telling you that the guy in question would wrap his hand around your waist.

“Don’t worry, hyung, I’m working on that,” Jungkook shot you an equally unabashed wink, reaching out to shove his friend’s shoulder. “Not everyone decides to tie the knot as fast as you. Anyway, we better get to the beach.” A quick tilt of his head to the first hues of orange that had begun to streak through the azure sky, “Don’t want to miss golden hour.”

Said golden hour was a term photographers used to describe the sunrise and sunset, one of the perfect times during the day to capture aesthetic shots behind the click of his camera shutter. It was a silent fifteen minute drive where you perched next to him, piano keys from a song you knew to be Clair de Lune the only thing that settled comfortably in the air around you both, though you knew your boss was never one to listen to this type of music lest he was subjected to it by hearing you play from across the hall.

Your fingers itched for your stand-up instrument, but you clamped them down on a tightened grip on the bag you hugged to your chest. Noticing one of his hands resting unoccupied beneath the steering wheel left deep crescent moons from your short nails on the black straps.

Wind picked loose flyaways up where you’d gathered your hair into a ponytail upon opening the car door, and you could almost taste the saltiness of the water spraying upwards where it crashed against rocks near a harbour to the far end of the beach. Overwhelmingly bright sunshine had you facing sideways to switch your view from the magnificent blend of gold and blue to Jungkook, crouching carefully on the sand with his camera angled towards the couple, directing them in different positions with compliments you could hear over the gentle lap of waves against the shoreline.

Asking Namjoon to hold Jiyeon by the waist, then brush his hands over her cheeks, pretend to dance on the shifting sands, then dip her but nearly topple over entirely did nothing to steal your attention away from him. It took Jiyeon tapping your shoulder, asking you to help hold her bouquet of assorted flowers, that made you realise you were staring at the way light made the outline of Jungkook’s figure glow for more than five minutes.

You quickly found a distraction in white petals of lilies curving beside periwinkles and daisies. Pink and white seemed to be the theme for their ceremony even if the pictures they took had the bride dressed in blue. The soft texture and sweet smell messed with your imagination, crafting a scene in your mind in which a boy you liked in the future would present you with a different bouquet, holding it out to the shy smile that would adorn your lips.

But the fake bunch of flowers soon changed into a tiny white vase of orchids identical to the ones growing on your desk.

You blinked in time with a familiar camera shutter going off much louder in your right ear, bringing you back to reality, but seeing Jungkook’s pointing it at you had you second-guessing.

“What are you doing?”

He grinned, cheeky bunny teeth and all, “What does it look like?”

“Wrong subject, Jeon.”

The white light of the small, digital screen added an extra star to his pupils, seasoned thumbs fiddling with the buttons to present you with the one snapshot he wasn’t paid to take, “Can’t help it. You look too pretty.”

You willed yourself not to bite your lip or break eye contact, or worse, admit that it was a nice photo despite being unplanned.

“Does that mean I have to pay you if I want it?”

It was his turn to hum thoughtfully, leaning down so your faces were nearly as close as they were that night. “Just this one? How about the others?”

“There are others?!“

“I’m a photographer. What did you expect?”

His fingers brushing lightly against the shell of your ear to tuck a stray lock away sent shocks through your skin, “You’re my favourite thing to photograph, snow. I thought you knew that by now.”

Any sort of response died in the back of your throat when he turned tail to jog back to Namjoon and Jiyeon, sand kicking up in the wake of where he had been but you couldn’t find it in you to be annoyed.

Not when he took your heart with him.

***

Soft, golden lighting from the sconces in the corridor provided some clarity for your blurry vision to make out the outline of the keyhole, jamming the key in after three failed attempts. The sound of metal clicking was somehow louder that the muffled patter of rain against the building, loud enough to have the door behind you slamming open to see Jungkook, hoodie ridden up and revealing a lick of skin where his hand combed halfway through mussed dark locks of hair.

“Snow?”

Rubbing your eyes spread a dizzying array of colour behind closed lids. “Hey,” you brought your hand up for a wave, though a small yawn had the back of your wrist covering your mouth instead.

He made his way over in four strides, worry replacing the usual stars glinting in doe eyes, “You’re back late.”

A client who wanted his soundtrack to be finalised had called you in for a personalised visit in the early afternoon, unlike the usual customers who stated their comments in a bulleted point list in an email. Jungkook had understood that you were going to be gone for a couple of hours once you were done answering a few phone calls for him, half of them to arrange future shoots, the other half to confirm those you already jotted down in the calendar.

The laptop, keyboard and MIDI device tucked carefully away in your backpack weighed heavier courtesy of the rain you had been caught in on the way home. You were too tired to be irritated at the memory of said client who had fiddled around with nearly every button, more out of insatiable curiosity than the desire to find the right sound for his comic strip. You were exhausted at yourself too, for giving into replaying the main melody of the song on the keyboard each time he discovered a new sound, just to endure him saying nope, not it, next two bars into the score.

His resulting indecision had layers of additional sound you hadn’t planned to add into the music at random, though appropriate, points in time. The multicoloured rectangles on your editing software blurred together to give you a headache that didn’t leave, instead manifested further in a dull ache in your fingers from over-exertion and the chill of the storm battering against your glass windows.

A lock of your hair, slicked down by droplets of rain, was plucked off your shoulder, gripped by the pad of his thumb and index, “Have you had dinner?”

You were, honestly, too worried about the client’s greasy fingers pressing down on your precious equipment too hard to remember to eat, so you shook your head. Jungkook sighed in tandem with guiding you through the door, hand not leaving your shoulders until you passed the threshold of your bathroom and he aided you in slipping your bag off.

“Go take a shower,” it was a gentle request from concern you could now hear in his voice, “I’ll see if I can find something to eat.”

Twenty minutes later, when you had scrubbed out the rainwater from your hair and soreness from your muscles, you stepped out into your hallway, lavender and vanilla scent of your soaps overwhelmed by that of something delicious wafting from the other end.

You found Jungkook walking to the dining table, a bowl of curry from a day ago when you cooked it for dinner and another of rice placed gently beside a pair of chopsticks and a spoon. He turned to grab something else but paused in looking at your pyjama-clad self, your grey shirt advertising a black cat sticking out of a small pocket and white shorts peeking out beneath.

“I hope you don’t mind, I, uh…” a quick gesture to the food, “I heated the curry from yesterday, but if you want something else, I can order in–“

“It’s great, Jungkook,” you slid into the chair, offering him a small smile, just the tiniest quirk of your lips upward, “thank you.”

He joined you after a quick trip to your kitchen island, returning with a mug of hot chocolate brewed by hand and not the coffee machine you used for making his drinks. At this hour, food didn’t re-energise you, just warmed you up on the inside to lull you to sleep later. Yet the tiredness clinging to your half-open eyelids didn’t help in pretending that he hadn’t taken his gaze off of you.

Maybe breaking the silence would help in distracting you from that little detail. “Did you eat?”

“You came back late and you’re still worrying about me? I’m touched, snow,” he chuckled, tugging on your shower-fresh hair. “How was your meeting?”

Your shoulders slumped, recalling how you needed to clean each crevice of your equipment still sitting in your bag. “He was being… difficult. Not because he’s a perfectionist; he kept changing the sound to what he thought was nice,” you sighed. “It’s completely different from the original now, and he wants it by tomorrow night.”

“I mean,” fingers gently rubbed your eyes that had you seeing stars, “I know I shouldn’t complain because it’s work, but-”

An equally gentle tug on your wrists had you seeing those same celestial bodies in his irises, paired with an equally brilliant smile though it was meant to comfort you more than stun you into silence.

“That’s not true. You’re allowed to complain. You were there to see me ranting sometimes too, remember?”

“I guess,” you couldn’t help the pout that pulled at your bottom lip, “but it feels… wrong. I love music. I’m supposed to love my work, too.”

“I’m sure you still do,” one of his hands left yours to cup your cheek, running his thumb over the pink blush that began to spread under his touch. “It’s okay to feel stressed at times, especially when you deal with difficult people. Sure, they make your job harder, but that doesn’t mean you love it any less. Just don’t keep it to yourself.”

The downpour had quietened down to a drizzle, soothing ambient music in comfortable silence that had settled around you both that had your tired stature leaning into his warm touch, absently wondering when it had begun to feel like home.

“You shouldn’t say stuff like that…” your own voice was soft, mind hazy, “makes it hard to find you annoying.”

Jungkook laughing merely added to the ongoing music, “You think I’m annoying, snow?”

“Not…” your eyes drifted close for longer than a second, “…not right now.”

Feeling yourself being lifted off the chair and braced against the broad planes of his chest, his arms supporting you so you didn’t fall, garnered zero protest from you as you succumbed to the sleep taking over your consciousness, not before the warmth of a blanket tucked to your chin registered in your brain.

A dip in the mattress beside you preceded his hand caressing your face again, “What do you think of me then?”

Right in that moment, the answer was simple, feelings you’d thought about all day escaping your lips in a sincere whisper meant for him, and him alone.

“You drive me crazy, Jeon.”

***

Piano keys in C major streaming through the car speakers had you perking your head up where you were flipping through the schedule for that day, soft pattering of rain in the background of the track causing memories to resurface.

Jungkook’s smirk was directed at you, despite his eyes fixated on the view beyond the windshield, “Recognise this?”

It was a playlist of lofi songs you had mixed together from your high school days, per your friends’ request to make one for them to study or chill to. The earliest ones had been when you were experimenting with new equipment you were now familiar with, should muscle memory prove anything; the ones in the middle were created with inspiration from your surroundings, proven by titles such as Autumn Leaves, Train by the river and Winter Nights; those near the end lasting three minutes or longer after more thorough training from two years in college.

Uploading it to your personal Spotify account granted your friends easy access, though you didn’t know that those who followed were still listening to it in the years that had passed since you’d gone back to it, and certainly hadn’t expected Jungkook of all people to find it. Yet the melody was unmistakable and filling the chilled air around you as you continued to stare at him, unsure of what to think.

A clack of his phone resounded next to the gear shift, screen showing the first of one hundred and fifty songs out in green font while the rest were white and waiting for their turn, “I wish you told me about it sooner. It’s my favourite thing to listen to while I work.”

You fiddled with your fingers, “I forgot I had it.”

Juggling doing covers of songs with friends for their YouTube page as a pianist or drummer, preparing for finals, and creating original compositions for an incredibly talented and hard-to-please lecturer, you’d barely had time to get back to producing your own beats. Back then, you had been more worried about getting sufficient hours of sleep.

“Like I said, snow, you’re talented,” he reached over, patting the top of your head without the usual roughness. “Seriously, how’d I get so lucky…”

You pondered on what he meant by that for the rest of the trip, settling on him appreciating you as his assistant and his friend despite the corner of your heart that stood up to protest otherwise.

The adorable glass bell in the shape of a fish chimed to announce your arrival at Manggae Bakery but Jimin was already at the door to pull it open for you, excited at the sight of the camera slung around his friend’s neck.

“JK!” Said camera thankfully wasn’t squished between their chests in the hug they exchanged. Crinkled eyes turned to you over Jungkook’s shoulder, widening at your small wave. “Hi, _____!”

Jimin all but dragged the two of you over to a table in the middle of the shop, treats on display. Bright colours of the rice flour cakes resting on their stands, particularly the rosettes, were the first to overwhelm you then draw you in by eliciting hunger in your stomach currently filled with the sandwich you had for breakfast. A reminder in the form of a lilac sticky note pasted itself in the forefront of your memory to ask him for one before you left, while a real sticky note in the pages of his schedule told you that the gala was just two days away.

“You can start with these,” Jimin swept his hand in a wide semicircle towards the treats. “I was thinking you could take a pic of all of them first, maybe from different angles. There’s a wall there too–“ he pointed to his left where the tables for customers to sit had been removed, leaving space before a white brick structure with a brown window and tendrils of curving ivy from the top, “–if you want to use for individual shots.”

“Got it, hyung,” he was already fiddling with the plastic buttons beside the screen, the familiar mechanical sound of the lens zooming in reaching your ears.

A couple of red roses adorning the top of a white cake behind the glass counter had caught your eyes, till you saw the gradual approach of bakery owner through its reflection, the same grin you dared to believe was permanently etched on his lips fully directed at you.

“I’m glad you’re here, _____,” over the shutter clicking away, you heard a rustle of paper within Jimin’s pocket that he soon produced to you, save the flourish from earlier. “Do you know the company Namjoon and Yoongi-hyung work at?”

You nodded; it was hard to miss the skyscraper high glass and steel building whenever you drove to town for a shoot.

“They have a job opening for a music producer,” his index tapped the large black words printed on the top of the page. “Details are all here. You can try applying if you want. I’m not sure if you get to- wait, Yoongi-hyung said you will get to collaborate with them if you get it. Pretty cool, right?”

Silence overtook the bakery to allow you time to process this new information as well as allowed the words on the page to look like they would jump off and swallow you whole. You were blind to everything else except the feeling of Jungkook’s gaze searing a hole through your cheek, neurons in your brain screeching to a halt in their tracks the longer you stood there, numb.

You barely registered Jimin snapping his fingers alongside an excited comment of retrieving more of his creations from the back room, your eyes accidentally flickering down to the business email in (thankfully) smaller font at the bottom left of the page even though it froze your vital organ up all the same. A soft call of your name, quiet footsteps, and warm fingers softly touching the underside of your chin to lift your face up was what it took to break you out of your trance.

“Snow,” Jungkook’s voice was as gentle as the twinkle in his chocolate irises, “are you okay?”

“Hm? Oh…” you blinked, “yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”

He hummed. “Can you help me move that table? I need to start on those individual shots now.”

“Sure, of course.”

You placed the paper deep into the pocket of your jacket, thoughts swept by an imaginary broom to clear them to the back of your mind for future contemplation, or better yet, to be forgotten.

***

The fluttering of paper caught your attention when you shoved your jacket aside. Just looking at those words on the shelf of your closet made a boulder press itself against your ribcage, threatening to crush the air out of your lungs until you hid the gift from Jimin away from your sight in a drawer. Two days had passed since you’d visited the bakery, however, another planned event scheduled precisely half an hour from the present time preoccupied your concerns more than the job opportunity.

A final check in the mirror atop your dressing table confirmed that you had put on the most expensive thing you owned, the blue shimmering beneath your warm bedroom lights. Thin, silver drop earrings sparkled in your ears, another check of your hair assured you that no flyaways were sticking at odd angles outside the intricate bun you wove your locks into, and the snow white asymmetrical peacoat made sure your boss wouldn’t have the chance to even peek at the dress before you got there.

The pound of your heart had you tripping into the short pair of white heels you pulled on for the night. If your feet were going to behave this way, you honestly couldn’t imagine spending three hours or more in those shoes on sleek, polished marble floor, but it was too late to consider changing into another pair upon hearing the door opposite your own click open.

Jungkook, somehow, appeared more handsome now in the black suit he’d chosen than he did in the changing room, or perhaps it was his effect on you that had changed from annoyance to something else entirely. It was the cliche feeling of time standing still between the two of you where you openly stared at each other, your eyes tracing the ethereal glow of his figure to the contours of his face lit by a combination of soft lighting in the hallway and the evening sun.

His fingers slid in the gaps of your left hand as if they were meant to fit perfectly, raising it up to his petal lips to sponged the back of it, “You look beautiful, snow.”

You couldn’t fight the upturn of your mouth, “I’d tell you that you look handsome, but I already did, so…”

“You said I didn’t look half bad.”

“And you don’t,” his playful scoff was in time with you looping an arm around the crook of his elbow, leading the way for him to his car.

Opulent couldn’t begin to describe the inside of the hotel when you arrived. A golden chandelier hung from the ceiling, light reflecting off each crystal onto the sand-coloured walls. White marble tiles beneath you were polished to the point where you could see your reflection. There was a waterfall with the name, Luxe Resort, written in golden cursive font against the black wall, where a few children were peering into.

A coat collection area had you pausing to remove yours, finally revealing the blue dress as you turned to face where Jungkook was waiting for you in front of the grand double doors. The gala was one of those rare occasions where he didn’t need to work – it was merely an extravagant party he was invited to, a night of fun and celebration of someone’s anniversary whom you knew to be the parents of his friend, Seokjin. Although, you doubted his friend would have the same reaction as him at the moment, the starstruck look he had on in the corridor returning to his features.

You tried to play it off with your own quip, “Alright, I admit it, you look dashing. Happy?”

Tingles spread where he slid his arm across your waist, never once taking his eyes off of you, “I’m happier that you’re here with me, gorgeous.”

A teasing smack to his chest didn’t stop his next words, or the heat rising to paint pink clouds onto the apples of your cheeks, “I mean it, snow. You’re absolutely stunning.”

Tables of fine dining lined the sides of the room boasting a chocolate fountain and fancy cocktails and other finger foods you weren’t able to name. Sparkles reflecting off an even bigger chandelier combined with other priceless gems strung on necks or circulating fingers covered by satin gloves were blinding to the eyes. Your brain reeled in thinking that the price of all the designer dresses could pay your tuition statements at least twenty times over, even as you tried to keep your eyes from widening to rival the moon each time you passed a guest with a spiderweb of jewels attached to her neck.

The grip you had on his arm was the sole thing anchoring you to reality. It felt like this place was a whole other realm of its own purely because of the grandiose facade it had, and maybe your vision was starting to get hazy from the splendour as you spotted a whole ice sculpture near the middle of the ballroom. Distracted by the decor, you startled at the call of Jungkook’s name, amusement lining his smile dimpling into his cheeks.

“Jin-hyung!” He exchanged a quick hug with Seokjin who beamed at you in acknowledgement of your presence, already tons better than the other guests who knew were silently judging you over the edges of their champagne flutes.

“JK, _____, glad you could make it. So,” a wide sweeping gesture to the rest of the room you were still trying to get used to, “what do you think? Fancy, no?”

“Very,” you nodded, “your parents really went all out.”

“Well, my dad wanted to make it special,” he turned in the direction of an older couple who, even from that distance, you could tell were looking at each other with unadulterated love. “There’s also going to be a dance later. Not just for them; anyone can join in.”

“Are you dancing?”

“Me? No,” Seokjin chuckled a little at Jungkook’s question, proceeding to eye you and him with a mischievous glint, “but I don’t see why you shouldn’t.”

“Oh, no,” you were firm down to the shake of your head, “I don’t dance.”

Music that suddenly began to stream from the small band you just realised had gathered on stage caused the surprised ah that left Seokjin’s mouth, glancing back at his parents who were making their way to the dance floor, among other people who were intrigued by the music.

“Well, I better go help my brother take some nice pictures of them,” the elder winked at your boss, straightening his blazer. “They won’t turn out as well as yours, but I’ll try. Enjoy the party!”

You were in the middle of wondering how a pair on the dance floor managed to pull off a flawless spin and dip when a hand came into your line of sight. Jungkook’s smoulder was purposeful this time, a butterfly fluttering around your stomach prior to his next request.

“Shall we?”

“Didn’t you hear me earlier?”

“Just one,” his arm and gaze were unwavering, “I promise I won’t step on your feet.”

Your mouth dropped open a little, “Does that mean you were planning to?“

“No. I plan to sweep you off your feet instead. Now,” he peered just that little bit closer, “may I have this dance, snow?”

It was the chance to hold his hand again, you tried to convince yourself, that you found yourself being led to and then around the marble floor. He was gentle in the way he held your hand and waist, guiding you into a twirls, some with the full extension of his arm before he was pulling you back in. You should have known the stars on the horizon making an appearance in his doe eyes would be the only thing that was able to outshine the costume jewelry in the room – you weren’t physically capable of looking anywhere else.

Neither was he, for that matter, both of you openly, willingly, gazing at each other for an indefinite amount of time.

“You’re not half bad at dancing,” Jungkook teased with a pinch to your hip, eliciting a bout of giggles from you rather than the usual irritated frown.

“I said I don’t dance, never said I couldn’t.”

“Good,” he winked, “because we’re gonna do this at our wedding.”

You would have landed another smack on him if your hands weren’t intwined, “Don’t joke about stuff like that.”

A quick twirl, then a tug of his fingers to draw you closer till the distance between your chests was thin enough to fit a piece of paper, “I’m serious, snow.”

“Is that so?”

“As serious as me saying you should send in an application for a producer.”

The room was the one spinning now as you broke eye contact, “Oh.”

He halted in his administrations, jabbing a thumb over to the outdoor balcony. “Do you want to talk outside?”

Leaving the ballroom brought back some semblance of normalcy. Jungkook guided you with a hand pressed to your back to a marble bench wrapped in fairy lights, reminiscent of your own at home, though more romantic since you weren’t alone. He made sure you were looking at him, serious in his tone but gentle in his gaze.

“You know something?” His hands were placed on his lap, inches away where yours lay on the seat. “I always meant it when I said you were talented in music. You’re passionate about it too, more than the job I offered you.”

“I’m a photographer because I love the art of taking pictures, but you,” only then did he intwine your hands, “you love music. And I don’t think what you’re doing now is as fulfilling as it can be. You definitely weren’t planning on being my assistant forever, and quite frankly, I don’t want you to.”

“Then…” you bit your lip, “why did you hire me in the first place?”

His smile had never been more beautiful under the light of the moon, “Because I’m in love with you, snow. I always have been. I’m surprised you haven’t caught on by now, but I guess it’s my fault for taking so long to admit it,” he sighed, genuinely apologetic. “That, and using the whole assistant job thing as an excuse to spend time with you.”

Your heart was about to burst, fingers tightening in his grip to remind you that he was real, and so was all of this.

“Promise me, when we go back home, you’ll write in to them?”

A pinky was held up to you with his free hand, and you held up your own, though you didn’t link it through his yet.

“As long as you promise me something in return.”

“Sure.”

“If I get the job–“

“When you get the job.”

You laughed, “When I get it, will you take me on a date?”

“Of course,” Jungkook wrapped his finger with yours, “but honestly, I already consider all the time we spent together as unofficial dates.”

“That’s just it,” your shoulders slumped, leaning your head on his arm, “I’m not sure if we’ll spend so much time together if I become a producer.”

Lips pressing to the crown of your head had you looking up at him again, “We can still, snow. When we both work from home, or when you have free time, you can come with me to shoots. It’ll be like nothing has changed.”

“I’ll cook for you. You won’t eat anything otherwise.”

“Good,” he leaned his forehead against yours, noses brushing, “I love your food. It’s way better than the steak portions they’re giving out in there.”

Another peal of laughter bubbled past your lips, “Jungkook.”

“Seriously, have you seen them?”

***

You had expected Jungkook to pull you in for a passionate kiss once you stepped through the doorway of your home, but you hadn’t expected to see an album that you recognised on the dining table, gleaming within its plastic cover and waiting to be unwrapped.

“How was your day?” He spoke between sponging more sweet affections down your jawline, “Did you get the new flowers I sent you? I specifically asked the delivery guy to bring it up to your studio–“

Your lips on his cut him off for you to giggle, “Yes I did, Kookie. They’re lovely, now–“ an index finger was shoved in the direction of the table, “–what is that?”

Laughter filled the air around you, leading you by your entwined hands over to it, “Oh, I think you know.”

The protective plastic covering was ripped away by muscular arms in three seconds, tossed aside on the wooden surface before he was unveiling the CD you knew Namjoon poured his heart into, removing the little book inside with eager fingers turning to a specific page.

“How can you expect me not to buy an album that my girlfriend-“ a step to close the distance and peck your forehead, “-has producing credits on?”

“Aw, I’m sure Namjoon would appreciate you supporting him.”

“Snow–”

You slung your arms around him in half the time it took to tear the album open, “Just kidding, babe. Thank you.”

In the months that had gone by since you were hired by the panel of interviewers for the job, you had gone beyond making music for comic strips or small production videos (though Jungkook would disagree in the making of the small collage for your hundred-day anniversary), and you had never been happier. There was a plus side for the both of you; the money he had previously been wiring to your account was now used to treating you both to dates, or cooking him homemade meals that he insisted were better than the food at the gala that had brought you together officially.

“Kookie,” you rested your chin on his chest to stare up into his chocolate doe eyes, “do you like his music?”

“Of course I do, but,” he kissed the pout of your bottom lip, “I love you more.”

Your smile shone as bright as the stars glittering in his eyes, “I love you too, you dork.”

692 notes View Post

koorosie

3 years ago

A fallen bookmark on a Thursday afternoon

Pairing: Jungkook | Reader Genre: ANGST, Fluff and soft Smut Word Count: 19k

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2K notes View Post

koorosie

2 years ago

to err is to love

synopsis: planning your twins' mario theme bday party with your baby daddy/ex husband makes you start to feel weird things .. but no, you will not walk down that path again !!!

word count: 6k

pairing: dilf!jk /ex husband!jk / ceo!jk x afab reader

genre: fluff, angst, comedy, jk and oc's rich friends spoil their kids 🙄, guest appearance from g idle and enha

authors note: if u have any comments plss put it in the asks bc this is a secondary account😭ily all, this may be a part of a series if the feedback is good. i have winter break for the next three weeks so im popping these fics out very quickly!

read the first drabble here!

to err is to love masterlist

They say you find the purest love on earth by looking into your mother's eyes- and you've never really understood that until you had your own kids.

The pure adoration you have for your children is unimaginable, indescribable, unmeasurable. Your heart aches, is inter-permeated with the sweetest types of love when you think about your children. Menial tasks like simply waking them up for school in the morning, drool on the corner of their small mouths, have your very being beaming with captivation. Even the tiniest gesticulations have you enchanted, an absolute fool for your kids. It takes constant internal berating to remind yourself your kids need discipline, but it's instinctive of you to spoil them, which is precisely why you often find yourself begging your friends to join the three of you in a late night game of Among Us.

Your love for your children is also why you agreed to co habitat with your ex-husband Jungkook.

You and Jungkook were victims of a young pregnancy, one that had you ripping your hair out when you peed on that stupid stick. Though not a teenage pregnancy, getting pregnant at the tender age of 22 wasn't the most ideal of situations. Who knew that such a horrific time in your life would turn into the greatest of blessings?

Jungkook was your first boyfriend; you consider him your first love, basically the only man in the world you have been in a serious relationship with.

The night after your second anniversary date, Jungkook decided that you had him way too obsessed to just let you waltz back into your home, practically having his balls in the palm of your hand. So he insisted that you stay in his car a little bit longer; he then abused his power as son of Jeon Enterprises to take you to one of his dad's luxury hotel rooms. Jeon Enterprises runs Korea's largest and most popular chain of hotels and casinos, and surely his father the CEO was livid once he discovered what his son had done.

His father called him up to his office, and Jungkook was gnawing on the inside of his cheeks when he took that elevator forty stories up. Jungkook took the berating pretty well- after all he had the best night of his life with the girl of his dreams. That was the second most angry he's ever seen his father.

The most angry he's ever seen his father was when he broke the news to his dad that you were pregnant. That day he took a pretty harsh beating that left his ass sore for weeks .

Flash forward seven years his dad is absolutely enamored with his grandchildren, being the principle contributor to how spoiled his kids are- but flash forward seven years later he's also lost you.

A couple years after your children were born, you and Jungkook had your dream wedding in Paris at only twenty four years of age, and three years after that was the grim and ugly divorce.

A series of grievances and humilation that were a result of your relationship left you so broken, and you would never forgive yourself if you allowed yourself to stay with him. For the sake of your children did your relationship remain amicable and cordial; you refused to let them grow up in a broken home.

Your little babies were Haru and Hina, and may or may not be named after your and Jungkook's favorite anime characters; but that's what the younger versions of yourselves decided on and are the names you've chosen for their precious little faces. Your fraternal twins are objectively the cutest little kids you've ever seen, even though you may be a teensy bit biased. Nonetheless the twins wonderfully compliment each other like the perfect peanut butter and jelly sandwhich, which is sorta expected- they literally have the same DNA.

Time has flown by, with your kids entering first grade. Hina's a little clumsy, still falling over her own feet despite having fine tuned her motor skills for the past four years, but luckily Haru's always there to pick her up and wipe the dust from her knees. Even so, your kids are kids, and often bicker and quarrel with each other. Often did you find yourself dragging one twin to a corner of the house whilst Jungkook drags the other somewhere else, sitting them down and having that stern mom/dad talk which encouraged them to love and forgive each other (which may be hypocritical because their parents weren't even capable of doing so). A nasty fight had you and Jungkook almost violently tearing your kids away from each other when Haru dropped a banana right in front of Hina's cart in Mario Kart. just when she was about to get second place.

In fact, it had taken a whole week for Haru and Hina to agree on a shared birthday party theme for their sixth birthday. You were convinced that they would never come to a unaninmous agreement, and almost made the plan to go with the "beach" theme, which you really didn't want to do because that was boring. So you were absolutely delighted when they waddled towards you and Jungkook at the dining table and announced that they wanted a Nintendo theme birthday.

It's yours and Jungkook's deep and profound shared love for your children that have you working so hard to make this party a success. The clock reads 3:40 AM, T minus ten hours until the party starts. Albeit, it would have been so much easier to simply hire a professional party planner, but you both felt so much more accomplished doing it yourself. You and your ex husband Jungkook sit on the floor of your living room, systematically reviewing the checklist of tasks that need to be completed before the start of the party. A giant easel with a huge notepad stands in the middle of the room, and you use a fat ass sharpie to write everything down.

"You'll pick up the cake at ten?" you ask, words muffled from the sharpie cap in your mouth.

Jungkook shakes his head. "Namjoon hyung said he'll bring it, so I'm free to help set up the bouncy house when the guys arrive."

You nod, drawing a fat check mark next to the boxes that read 'cake' and 'bounce house'. You falter in your actions before pondering aloud. "Would it be fucked up to ask Jake and Heeseung to pick up the pizza?"

Jake and Heeseung were your kids' babysitters/tutors for when neither you or Jungkook could be home. Hey, your kids didn't have the new iPad 5's for no reason; work had to be accomplished. Jake and Heeseung were still college students, but a relationship based on courteous trust between you and them had flourished, so you and Jungkook both whole heartedly trusted them to watch over the twins. Jake and Heeseung love your kids, and your kids love them- maybe a little too much. Haru exposed Hina's crush on Heeseung, which made her dad have a splitting headache and Hina burst into tears while she rolled around on the carpet.

They are still broke college kids, so you did feel somewhat guilty asking them to participate in the preparations for the kids' party, hence why you're verbalizing the inquiry to Jungkook.

Jungkook's eyebrows furrow in confusion. "Why would it be fucked up? We pay each of them fifty dollars an hour, so they better be willing to do us some favors every once in a while."

"You're right, and I know we can count on them. Can you ask them in the groupchat?"

Jungkook does so immediately, and you check off the box that reads 'pizza'. You skim over the other boxes, one reading 'costumes', which refers to the handmade Mario and Princess Peach costumes you ordered. You check the box off, the costumes sitting in a box at the corner of the room.

Face paint? Check. Your friend Miyeon said she was happy and willing to paint the kids' faces. You would just have to reimburse her for the price of the materials.

Yoshi and Bowser mascots? Check. Jungkook's friends Hobi and Jimin were forced agreed to put on the bulky costumes to entertain the kids.

Decorations? Check. You and Jungkook collaborated on a plethora of the cutest DIY decorations- and you were absolutely enthralled with how they turned out. You used old Amazon cardboard boxes to create the item boxes in Super Mario; you used little headbands from the dollar tree to create Mario and Luigi hats for all the guests. AndyYou were particularly proud of the turf you used to create a grass-esque backdrop for the photobooth.

Balloons? Check.

Bubble guns? Check

You plop down on your couch, sinking into the welcoming beige leather of the sofa. "I think we're ready," you mumble aloud, stretching out your poor back muscles that were aching from hunching over.

Before your children's father can even sneak a word in, you’re shifting your body so that your head rests on the armchair, yawning dramatically from the vexing lassitude. “G’night.”

Jungkook smiles bitterly to himself at the sweet sight of you drowsing off.

You're awake just enough to feel him gently lift you bridal style, as if you are as light as a feather before he tiptoes up the stairs, careful not to make any thumping sounds that would wake up the kids. This isn't out of the ordinary. Despite not being together, he found himself carrying you and your children back to your respective rooms quite often. Jungkook often returned home late at night. after a long day of work at Jeon Enterprises, to find you and your little twins asleep on the couch, the TV still playing reruns of Ninjago- the twins' favorite show. Quite frankly he's surprised that they didn't ask for a Ninjago or Lego theme party.

Seeing the way you had each twin snug to your sides, your chest rising and falling while light snores escaped your lips made his heart twist and turn in indescribable ways.

The situation at hand is no different. "Wanna sleep in my room tonight?" Jungkook inquires softly, makes you lazily shake your head. "Too intimate," you sleepily mumble. "We're not together anymore, Koo."

Jungkook bites back a response and silently acquiesces. He walks toward your bedroom instead of his, still with gentle steps to make sure his children don't abruptly wake from their sleep. He gently sets you down on your full sized bed, pulling your thick comforters over your body to shelter you from the cold.

Just as he's about to leave, your fingers are reaching out to tug onto the hem of his oversized black tee. "Just tonight," you murmur, eyes still closed.

Jungkook silently nods, slipping into the bed with you. His breath hitches in his throat when you roll over and lean your head in the crook of his armpit, your hand sneaking up to rest on his chest. The familiar and intoxicating scent of your vanilla body spray debilitates his senses and makes his head dizzy.

It takes him a while to fall asleep that night.

"What the fuck?!" the blaring screech of your voice rapidly pulls Jungkook from his slumber. He rubs the crust from his eyes with a fist before blinking at his panicking baby mama who is pacing around the room.

"Did we- did we sleep together?" you whisper yell, as if your previous scream didn't already wake the kids up.

Jungkook sighs at your overt reaction, knowing that it was too good to be true for you to ever warm up to him. "No," he groggily responds, sitting up and resting his back against the bed frame. "We just fell asleep next to each other," he clarifies, somewhat dejectedly.

You huff, a pointer finger and thumb coming up to massage your pounding temples. "We can't do stuff like that!" you hiss behind gritted teeth, your hands thrown down petulantly, an incredulous look on your face, which just makes Jungkook scoff.

Jungkook pushes the comforters aside, sitting on the edge of the bed where he just buries his face into his palms and groans. "Yes Y/N, this is the worst thing in the world! God forbid that you lie next to the father of your children!" he enunciates exasperatingly, irritated that you are so unnecessarily and dramatically pulling your hair out at the mere idea of falling asleep next to him! Like he hasn't seen you butt naked; like he wasn't front row at the birth of his children.

You shoot him a dirty look. "We are not fighting on the day of our children's birthday party," you say sternly, eyebrows creased to show him how serious you are.

"I wasn't the one that started it," is all he mumbles before exiting the room, shutting the door a teeny bit harder than usual, the echo of door slamming leaving you somewhat shaken up.

"Thank you so much for bringing the pizza," you smile warmly at Heeseung, one of your kids' babysitters, a stark contrast to when you violently snatch the pizza boxes out of his hand and scurry toward the dining room table to arrange the pizzas around the cake.

Heeseung and Jake awkwardly trail behind you, unsure of what to do when you're basically prancing around the house making sure everything is in order.

"The decorations look amazing Ms. L/N," Jake speaks up, marveling at the Nintendo theme party you've successfully put together. You really are satisfied with how everything turned out. From the giant blow up Mario water slide that cascades into the pool to the mini mushroom cake pops, everything is as pretty as planned. The dining table looks spectacular, the grass back drop you DIY-ed is behind a huge neon sign that reads Happy Birthday Haru and Hina! in the same font as the Super Mario logo.

The kids have yet to arrive, only your and Jungkook's friends are spread around the house; some sit at the coffee tables, others lounged around the couch, Hoseok and Jimin in the upstairs bathroom trying to squeeze themselves into their costumes.

"Thank you," you smile sweetly at the two boys. "Honestly I put so much into it I'm starting to feel like it's my party, but I'm really happy with how it turned out."

Heeseung and Jake politely chuckle along to your attempt of a cordial joke; they had to do stuff like that in order to kiss your ass. After all, you did bless them with a very generous fifty dollars per hour pay rate.

"We have a gift for the kids, by the way," Heeseung adds, holding up and presenting two identical chrome gift bags in his hands.

You shoot them a mother like smile. "Thank you so much, guys. The kids are so lucky to have you in their lives," your words trail off and your attention inevitably shifts to the contents of the gift bag. "May I ask what you got them?" you whisper, the side of your palm on the right end of your mouth so that no one would overhear the shamless inquiry.

"Oh, of course," Jake responds, polite as always. "Just a barbie doll for Hina and some pokemon cards for Haru," he elaborates, a gentleman-like smile on his lips.

"Sorry Ms. L/N, we know it's not much but-"

You don't mean to cut Heeseung off with your hasty actions, but you are just so relieved. All yours and Jungkook's friends are so insistent in spoiling the shit out of your kids. A humble and simple gift like the one from Heeseung and Jake is what you have been begging God for. Your kids are six years old for goodness' sake! There is no reason for them to have overtly luxurious and brand name items.

Before Heeseung can finish the sentence, you're grabbing the two boys' wrists and dragging them over to the mini bar, where Jungkook's friend Taehyung and your friend Soojin sit, leisurely chatting and taking sips out of Caprisuns that were perfectly arranged on the snack table. Your friends are certainly a spectacle, both dressed up as if they were attending a top class business meeting instead of a children's birthday party. Taehyung's wearing a suit and tie, Gucci shoes on his feet while Soojin's adorned in a pink blazer and mini skirt set. She looks impeccable, and had it been a normal day you would have complimented her, but it's not.

"You see this?" you hold up the gifts dangling from your fingers, waving it in Taehyung's face, the two of them owlishly blinking up at you. "Barbie dolls and pokemon cards are what my kids should be getting on their birthday, not a Chanel wallet or Gucci tie!" you hiss, gesticulating towards the Chanel and Gucci bags that idly sit on the gift table.

Taehyung smirks at you, raising a brow while he teasingly gnaws on the plump of hit bottom lip. Soojin just raises her eyebrows in amusement; their eyes meet each other before they both burst out into a fit of giggles.

"Y/N, you're such a cute mom," Soojin cooes, reaching out to pinch the apples of your cheeks. Taehyung mirrors her actions, standing up and gingerly patting you on the head.

"Relax, girly pop," he teases. "No one will even know that the wallet was three thousand dollars. Your kid's not even gonna use a fucking wallet. Just take it for yourself," he casually shrugs, his suggestion making you roll your eyes.

Taehyung randomly gestures to Heeseung and Jake, looking towards you quizzically to request an elaboration of who the two were. "Y/N, don't tell me you.." he postulates, giving you a look that can only be described as perverse, and you understand exactly what he's implying. "Does Jungkook know about this?"

"Kim Taehyung," you say sternly behind gritted teeth, your mom tone jumping out. You inhale, composing yourself before you continue. "These are Hina and Haru's babysitters. They're both business majors at SNU," you explain.

"Ah, business majors!" Soojin claps her hands in excitement. "Let me tell you about my investment firm," she suggests with a cheshire smile, gesturing for the boys to come closer to chat.

Taehyung makes a psshh sound with his lips. "Don't listen to her. Her shit's plummeting on the NYSE. Let me tell you about Kim Estates. We're a private company- actually we're looking for summer interns next year." He slyly pulls out his business card from his shirt pocket with two fingers.

And of course, Heeseung and Jake are oggling at the sight, internally celebrating that they got plugged into one of the top socialite circles in Korea.

You shake your head, somewhat annoyed and somewhat endeared at your friends' antics. You rush upstairs to check on your kids, who are supposed to be changing into their costumes: a Princess Peach dress for your babygirl, and a Mario costume for your baby boy.

You step into the master bathroom upstairs, absolutely enchanted with the sight in front of you. Haru looks absolutely adorable in his denim overalls, red long sleeve tee, and red Mario hat. The brightest of smiles lights up your face, and you immediately pick him up, peppering his face with sloppy mom kisses on his chubby little face. Thank goodness he's not at the age to be grossed out by his mom's affection, so he just giggles in response.

Your mother steps out of the closet, Hina in her arms. Your daughter looks like the loveliest girl alive in her Princess Peach dress, a golden crown adorned on her cute little head.

"Oh my!" you exclaim, rushing towards her. "My princess looks so beautiful!" you comment. You reach out to her with a vacant hand and enveloping her securely with a single arm, so you had one kid on each side of your body.

Hina wiggles in your arms, pouting at you. "Mommy, I told you I can walk all by myself!"she complains, pouting at you whilst she glares at you with a not-so intimidating glare.

You giggle, setting her down at your feet. "Sorry baby girl, I forgot that you're all grown up now!" you tease.

Haru who practically worships his sister follows her lead, wriggling out of your embrace before standing adjacent to Hina. You don't mind it. You're not the type of mother that lives in the past, the type that constantly reminisces over when the kids were babies. You live in the present, enjoying every moment before it passes.

Your mother kisses her teeth, making a tssk sound with her lips before she shakes her head. "These kids are getting too entitled," she grumbles, both of her hands coming down to gently slap both of the kids in the back of their heads.

"Mom!" you hiss, kneeling down and rubbing your hands on their heads to soothe the pain.

Both of your children remain tight lipped, knowing better than to talk back to their sometimes violent grandmother. The apple doesn't fall too far from the tree, you suppose, deciding to relinquish any objection against your mom.

"So Heeseung and Jake are already here," you tenderly say, "Go downstairs and hang out until your friends get here."

Hina immediately crimsons, fidgeting in place at the mention of Heeseung, which elicits a snicker from her brother. "I'm going to tell Heeseung hyung you like him today," he mocks, an immature teasing tone in his voice, typical of a six year old.

Hina fumes, jumping down in place with her hands thrown down. "You better not!" she seethes before directing her attention towards you.

"Mommy, tell Haru that he's not allowed to tell Heeseung oppa I like him!" she cries, jumping up and down to prove a point.

You bite your tongue, briefly recalling when you yourself told Heeseung that your daughter harbored a little crush on him. "Haru," you say sternly, "You will not betray your sister. You guys are on the same team," you firmly instruct, eliciting a snobby look from your son.

"Now go downstairs and greet your friends, okay?"

"Okay, mommy!" they chant in unison before racing down the stairs.

Your mother crosses her arms before she lightly exhales. "They're growing up too fast, already knowing what crushes are," she sighs somewhat bitterly. You chuckle lightly, pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek. "Times change mom, kids aren't going to act like how I did when I was a kid."

Your mother simply makes the signature tssk sound with her mouth before vacating the restroom. On the way out, she bumps into your bumbling baby daddy, who politely greets her before stumbling into the restroom. When you lay your eyes on him your breath hitches in your throat, because he looks so good. Since the divorce you swore that you would never go back, but he looks so daddy in his white button up, sleeves rolled up to his elbows to show off the tattoos embellishing his forearms.

You're pulled out of your trance by his rambling. "Hina still has a crush on Heeseung?" he hisses, the most mortified haze on his face.

You just shrug, knowing how perplexed he gets at the mere thought of his daughter being romantically involved with somebody. Jungkook paces around the room, grumbling incoherent phrases to himself. "Y/N, should we get new babysitters?" he asks, to which you shoot him an incredulous look.

"No!"

"I just don't want Hina to start loving him more than she loves me, like what the fuck!" he grumbles exasperatingly, which makes you laugh a little.

The harmonious sound of your laughter pulls him from the wormhole of his thoughts. "So this is funny to you?" he satirizes, approaching you as you giggle.

"Yes," you curtly respond, making Jungkook playfully roll his eyes. A brief moment of silence washes over the situation, and you feel the urge to fill the void.

"Look Jungkook," you begin, trailing off a little while you lean against the bathroom counter. "I'm sorry for overreacting this morning. I guess we never really discussed boundaries," you continue, "And-and you are the father of my children so I guess sleeping next to each other shouldn't be that bad- I don't know." You begin rubbing your biceps with your palms, suddenly self conscious of yourself.

Your diffidence softens Jungkook, a familiar ache pounding in his chest. "Hey Y/N, it's okay," he quickly expresses to assuage any insecurities that are bubbling inside of you. He has always been a fool for you. "I think it would be productive to have a conversation about boundaries," he communicates, as polite and sweet as ever. You slowly nod, purposely not replying so that he would have to say something.

"So boundaries?" he ponders aloud, making his way towards you. "Can we hug?" he asks, opening his arms a little, making you pout at the ridiculous question. Nonetheless, you walk into his embrace and wrap your arms around his torso, only momentarily before you step back. "It would be weird if we didn't," you laugh, making him raise a brow.

"What about kissing?"

He asks the question with no particular tone in his voice; he looks serious as ever as he gazes you with his doe eyes, and it makes you gulp. His words have a profound effect on you, making it feel as if your guts are twisting up; you shoot him a firm look to disguise the butterflies bursting in your stomach.

"Jungkook, we can't do this."

"But why not? We live together, have kids together, why can't we?" his eyebrows are furrowed in desperation, and you have to rip your eyes away from the sight in front of you.

"No Jungkook," you calmly explain before inhaling deeply. "We tried before and It-it didn't work out. I don't want our kids to live in a household where their parents are constantly breaking up and getting back together."

Jungkook sighs, sitting on the ledge of the bathtub where he rests his elbows on his thighs. He purses his lips, attempting to conjure a redeemable response.

"Love," you blurt out. "Love. We can't do this because there's no love."

Jungkook slowly raises his head to peer at you. He does it so steadily that it becomes agonizing; you don't want to see the look on his face. When you see him, he just looks defeated. "Do you really feel that way?' he asks, despondency laced in his voice.

You falter momentarily before you look directly at him and nod. He purses his lips before bitterly nodding to himself. "Alright Y/N." And even if your words pierce through him like a bullet, he still speaks with composure and grace. "Let's go downstairs and wait for the twin's friends to arrive. I'll see you there, okay?" He gives you a polite tightlipped smile before walking out of the room.

Once he leaves, a relieving sigh leaves your lips. You know that no matter what Jungkook thinks he feels, his emotions just aren't a direct reflection of reality. You've been with him long tenough to understand that he's mistaking his attachment to you for love. It was only a matter of time for him to realize that the two of you aren't suitable for each other, that it was better for to remain co parents for the sake of your children.

Jumping back into a relationship would only complicate things and exacerbate the situation for the children. You will not let that happen. You recompose yourself, touching up your appearance in the mirror before rejoining the party.

Thankfully, the party goes exactly as planned. This would surely be one for the books, with the kids frolicking through the grass in the backyard with their water guns and Mario hats. Heeseung and Jake served as excellent chaperones/mood makers/life guards, with Hina on Heeseung's shoulders and Haru on Jake's shoulders whilst they sparred in an intense chicken fight. You swore you almost had a heart attack when Tyler, the baby brother of one of Haru's friends leaps into the damn pool. You jumped in with all your clothes on to pick him up and prevent him from drowning.

On top of that, you find Hina's incessant clinging to Heeseung a little excessive. She follows him around like a kicked little puppy, even waiting outside the bathroom while he takes a piss. Poor Heeseung doesn't have it in him to tell Hina to leave him alone, so you have to force Hina to revert her attention to her friends.

The kids absolutely ate the Yoshi and Bowser costumes up, tackling and climbing on poor Jimin and Hoseok as if they were playgrounds. Not to mention that it was absolutely suffocating and hot inside of the costumes.

"Heejoon! Get off poor Yoshi!" Heejoon's mother exclaims, rushing over to practically rip her kid off Hoseok's shoulders. She shoots you an apologetic look, making you laugh.

Towards the end of the party, Miyeon finally pulled out her face painting kit and painted the most beautiful designs on the kids' faces. Hina had a butterflies on the sides of her chubby cheeks, and Haru had the red Spiderman mask on his.

"Oh, try not to sneeze on me when you get your face painted, alright?" Miyeon captures everyone attention when she yells to the long line of children waiting to get her face painted. She wipes off some kid's saliva on her face and presents the kids with a faux smile, not like they'd be able to tell the difference anyways.

Another highlight of the party was when Jungkook's friend Namjoon showed up with his baby girl, Lauren. Unlike Hina and Haru, Lauren is actually a baby- only about five months old and she is the cutest baby you have ever seen in your life. (After Haru and Hina, of course). Lauren really turned out to be the star of the party, everybody crowding around her just to get a glimpse of the kid. You took plenty of photos of your kids with Lauren, pondering when all of Jungkook's other friends would finally have kids of their own. So far it was only Jungkook and Namjoon. You reckon Yoongi may be next since he recently married.

Once all the kids finally leave, you are spent, exhausted from the long and tiresome day that you just lived through. But hey, the all the kids went home in one piece and that's what matters. With much of your gratitude, your friends stick around to help clean up, but you ultimately decide that you would put the real deep cleaning off until tomorrow.

After showering your children and tucking them into bed, you and Jungkook are left sat in his bedroom with the plethora of multi colored gift bags surrounding you. Your friends and your kids' friends' rich parents have spoiled Haru and Hina so much that you the ground isn't even visible.

Jungkook looks equally spent, roughly tugging at the tie that was once neatly tied around his neck. He runs his hand through his hair, exposing his handsome forehead, and you have to force yourself to look away before you start having inappropriate thoughts.

He settles down besides you, leaning against the wall of his bedroom. He holds up a palm, gesturing you to give him a high five, which you gingerly comply to.

"Good job Y/N. You worked really hard today and the party turned out amazing." He offers his utmost kindness and support as he always does, and it's this cordial atmosphere that makes you think that you and he truly are better off as co parents.

You shoot him a confused look. "You did just as much work, Jungkook. Thanks for being such a great father," you grin at him, noticing how his features light up.

He chuckles lightly. "Well, it's our job," he shrugs.

You purse your lips before agreeing. "I think we're pretty good parents," you say half joking, which makes Jungkook laugh.

"Of course we are, the kids have manners, they're provided for, they're healthy- what else could they need?"

"I mean, you're right, but what if we somehow fuck up and cause them some unintentional childhood trauma?" you ponder aloud, which makes Jungkook shoot you a playfully incredulous look. "I highly doubt it," he says. "You're a great mom Y/N, truly. That's why I admire you so much."

His saccharine voice is laced with benignity, making you feel as if colors are bursting in your chest. Is it really necessary for him to be this sweet? He should have told you that you were a great mom and left it at that.

You turn your head just to see that he is already gazing at you with that sincere glimmer in his eyes. It's the same lovestruck look he had on his face at the wedding, honeymoon- the same look he gave you when he first laid eyes on his children. His adam's apple visibly bobs, drawing your attention to his thick neck.

Jeon Jungkook is and will most likely always be the most handsome man you have ever seen.

The thought terrifies you wholeheartedly, but the implication of it is so exciting- so intriguing that you can't help but want to be sucked back into Jeon Jungkook's world. The notion lights a fire in your heart, and your rationality ceases. Your eyes trail up to his eyes, then back down to his mouth, where you subconsciously lick your own lips.

A desperate haze is painted on his face; his eyes are following yours, ignited curiosity adjuring to know what's on your mind. Yet, he cannot bring himself to verbalize his thoughts, too entranced with how utterly beautiful you are.

He exhales slightly, his hot minty breath hitting your face, and that's when you decide fuck it, it wouldn't hurt to give in just once.

You close your eyes and lean in, gently kissing his bottom lip whilst his lips latch on to your top lip. His kisses are so sickeningly sweet, his tongue sneaking into your mouth to make contact with yours. His palm gently raises to cup your cheeks, cradling your face ever so softly while he bestows you with the most languid of kisses. His lips pull you in closer, the cold texture of the buttons on his shirt making you shudder.

You sigh into the kiss, prompting Jungkook to pull you into his lap, which he does with ease. Your legs sneak around his torso, your arms around his neck to be as close to him as possible.

His hands remain wrapped around your waist, holding you close to him. His embrace is so comforting- so secure and familiar that you want to stay in his arms forever.

To your surprise, you aren't nervous; you're eager as ever. You've succumb to the temptation that is Jungkook, and it feels perfect- it feels right, like you're finally home. The sensation of his lips against yours is so familiar, so comforting, so perfect- as if your lips were made to be against his. Despite it being two years since you've kissed him, the two of you make out as if you are professionals at eliciting the sweetest sounds from each other.

The sound of your phone ringing is what draws you away to him, your eyes glancing towards your phone that lights up. "I think Seojun's mother is here to pick up his iPad- he left it here," you explain to which Jungkook just nods.

"Do you want me to hand it to her?" Jungkook asks, slowly and steadily.

The atmosphere is confusing, because the two of you were just making out as if your lips were magnets and now you're speaking awkwardly to each other.

"No, it's okay- um- I can do it," you say, and then you're stumbling out of his lap and walking down the stairs.

find out why jk and oc divorced here!

Quarter Life Crisis

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre/warning: slow burn friends to lovers!au, friend zoning, being dense AF, swearing & sarcastic bantering, a smidge of angst, explicit implications of smut

word count: 25k

A/N: guys. i’ve never written something this long and in depth before and i honestly don’t know how to feel about it. but i do know i have a newfound respect for fic writers. i poured so much time and effort into this, and can only imagine what other writers go through so please remember to show your fave writers love for all their hard work!

In the movies, the recently graduated, mid-twenties protagonist sets off on the journey of life and seems to immediately land a fantastic job, find a stellar unit in an even more luxurious apartment complex, gets a fancy car with a name that’s impossible to pronounce, is in a long term relationship from college and is going to receive a proposal within the next few months (but doesn’t know it yet), and basically, has life all figured out. If movies are going to portray young adult life like that, then that’s ideally what your twenties should be like, right? Being young, educated, ready to take on the world, further discovering yourself and finding true love.

This, however, is not what you imagined your mid-twenties to be like.

Keep reading

—prologue: october sky

this is a part of my an ode to a broken heart drabble series.

pairing: jeon jungkook/reader

genre: unrequited love, best friends to (?), heavy angst, future smut

word count: 751 words

summary: it’s october, the sky today is clear and cloudless, just like your love for certain raven-haired boy. first is abnormality, second - a cruel reality.

chapter one

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413 notes View Post

koorosie

4 years ago

granite glow | jk

↳ words 7k

↳ genre slice of life, videographer jungkook au, marriage au, angst, fluff

How far are you willing to go, for the ones you love?

How far is ‘too far’?

Constraints.

“Come on, sweetie!” he hopes around, jogging in place, pestering you while you shut your eyes in an attempt to divert your focal point and find an inner peace that Jungkook chases away. “Shush, I’m trying to meditate,” you darted, sitting cross-legged on the wooden bench since you both came. “Do you know that toxins are expelled faster through sweats than through excretion?” he began and you gave him death glares.

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956 notes View Post

koorosie

3 years ago