For a long time, the two of you stay there.

His hand stays still and soft on your thigh, thumb tracing up and down the same length of skin in a numbingly-gentle motion.

His forehead stays pressed to yours.

Both of you have your eyes closed, savoring the moment of peaceful serenity between the two of you. Without your vision, all you can feel is the soft heat of his skin on yours, your mind breaking the feeling into an abstract stained-glass window of golden softness and creamy sage sweetness.

Eventually, though, the atmosphere has to split.

And you're the one who has to do it.

Mostly because you're dying.

"The water," you mumble, pushing at Jungkook's chest. Your voice shatters the colorful glass of the silence into nothing, the fragility of it so contrasting to the strength of Jungkook's chest beneath your fingers. It's solid and warm beneath his now-damp T-shirt, not budging under the measly strength of your shove. "Turn it off. I feel like I'm breathing soup."

The steam from the hot water pattering against the cold file has now completely encompassed the room, dogging up the surface of every cool, smooth object in the room. Underneath you, the marble countertop you're placed on is soaking through your clothing, giving your skin that icky wet feeling that clings like plastic wrap.

Scrunching his nose up at your imagery, Jungkook paces back to flip off the water, returning to your arms instantly after. He wraps his hands around your waist, pulling you forward to slide off the countertop and onto the floor.

You catch his eyes with yours, and smile a little.

"Ugh," he says. "You look like someone drowned you. Why does your hair do that?"

Glancing over your shoulder, you see with horror that your hair has begun to dry in a knotted, poofy bush around your head.

Primly, you hold your towel secured around your collarbones with one hand and ball the other one up before slamming it into Jungkook's stomach.

He doubles over around the hit, wheezing.

"I can fix my ugly hair," you comment casually, hooking the hand-towel from beside the sink around your finger. You dab up some water that's dribbling down the side of your neck. "But can you fix your ugly soul?"

He laughs through the wheeze, a strange sound that could've come from a broken lawn mower trying to chop up stubborn weeds. "My soul is whiter and brighter than Yoongi hyung's complexion."

Speaking of Yoongi...

You glance at the locked bathroom door, wondering how many ways Yoongi's come up with to kill Jungkook since he became the recipient of Mina's affections.

After the entirety of the tattoo-adoring event that's happened moments before, the black-haired man beside you seems to have forgotten that Yoongi is on the hunt to tear out his throat with bare hands. Quietly, you unlock the bathroom door and peek out.

Empty and serene, your uneaten muffin still sits lonely by itself on the bedside table, no Yoongi in sight to keep it company. You dart out, slipping a little on the wet tile, and close the bedroom door. "Okay, no demons in sight. You're safe."

Jungkook's eyes shine brightly when he sticks his head around the corner of the bathroom door, a mischievous child escaping free of punishment from the best prank.

"Time for my escape?" he asks innocently, toeing the doorframe.

"Time for your escape," you agree.

Smoothly, he lopes out of the bathroom and makes for the bedroom door. His long legs eat up the distance between you, and Jungkook throws you a flirty grin.

As he starts to pass by you, you stick an arm out to halt his progress, wincing when the impact of his chest sends your arm bending backward in an unnatural way.

"Wait. I think we had an agreement." You hold your hand out, fingers scrunching and anticipating.

He might be distracting with all his sexy aura and magic touch, but he's not distracting enough for you to forget why you gave in in the first place.

Whatever that blackmail is, it's yours now.

Jungkook tilts his head, like he's confused. You happen to be able to see through that, though, to the way he's trying to get out of the situation without giving up his leverage. "What's that for?"

He tries to pass again, and you kick a foot out, wobbling unsteadily on one leg as you use one half of your body to block his exit point.

"Give it up, Jeon," you bark, kicking halfheartedly at him and tilting in result. One of your hands holds your towel firmly in place. "What blackmail is it? Give it."

Although your frail barrier between him and the door could be easily broken by the lightest push from him, Jungkook stops, his lips tilting up into a tiny smile.

"You wanna see?" he asks in a mellow voice. He taps at your arm, and you have to lower your foot to the ground before you go tumbling down. "I'm not sure you want to. You might regret it."

You almost roll your eyes, but then that might actually give away the fact that you think he's an idiot.

"You're cute," you simper with saccharine sweetness. "Let me have it or I'll shove this muffin up your nostrils and choke you. You'll die by muffin suffocation. Realize the danger."

Jungkook places a single finger on your outstretched arm and pushes down lightly to.

Unfortunately for you, 'lightly' for Jeon Jungkook is about the same amount of strength he would apply to arm wrestle King Kong. Any resistance is futile as your arm smacks down against your side.

Your muffin threat obviously had no affect on him.

"Look, Y/N, we've got bigger fish to fry than some little ole blackmail. Remember? Crashing the biggest mob party in town and all that? Eat your pastry and calm down." Jungkook pats your head like a child, the tattoo encircling his wrist flexing with the motion.

Grabbing his wrist, you push him away and glare. "No. My fish is currently the biggest. We made a deal." You hold your hand out again and set the other on your hip to let him know you mean business.

Jungkook sighs, a big heaving sigh that lifts up the broad span of his shoulders and slumps them back down, shaking his whole body.

"Fine." He pulls his phone out his pocket and tap tap taps on the screen, then slaps it, screen-up, into your palm.

Shining there within the fluorescent rectangle is a video, the play button begging to be pressed over a black-set starting scene. Still having no memory of this supposing event, you curiously press play and watch as the flash kicks on in the recording.

The room is dark and so is the bed, striped acrossways with moonlight dripping in from the window blinds. The sight triggers a bit of familiarity in the back of your mind.

"What am I, Y/N? Tell me again?" Jungkook's voice in the video is raspy and tired, but amused all the same.

Then, like some ghost from a horror flick, your pale face drifts into view.

"Crap," you mumble as you watch yourself on the recording. Your hair looks like it belongs to a freaking Furby, and your eyes are half-closed and dumb looking like you've just snorted a billion lines of cocaine.

All in all, this blackmail is definitely worth a few hickeys for.

Your horror only grows when video-you begins to speak. "You're a star, Jungkook," video- you says, eyes blinking stupidly. "You're my star. You're my moon."

Your voice is somehow high pitched but low at the same time, a tiny mouse that's loved cigarettes for years and, in result, squeaks like a smoker.

You're a drugged out rodent in this video, one who's apparently obsessed with celestial entities and how the ink-covered baboon recording you should be one.

Oh heck.

What did Jin put in that food?

"This is undoubtedly going to be deleted," you say in real time, going for the trash can-shaped button at the bottom of the screen.

Jungkook's voice once again chiming in the video makes you pause.

"So frickin' cute."

"Hold up a sec," real life Jungkook says suddenly, his ebony black eyes widening at the sound of his own voice speaking again. "Give that back. Delete it!"

But now, curiosity rampaging through your veins, you avoid Jungkook's grabby hands and scurry around him, holding the phone out as the last few seconds of the video run.

"Goodnight, Princess," video-Kook whispers, almost sweetly. Then the camera leans in toward you and Jungkook's profile appears in the view. His lips, pierced by those danged hot twin rings, press ever so gently against your moonlit forehead as you fall back asleep.

Real Jungkook snatches the phone from your hand, wincing at the pull on his shoulder, and holds it to his chest protectively.

His cheeks are burnt red, jaw clenched. "You never saw that."

Oh, but you did.

And you don't think you can ever unsee it - the gentle, almost awe-filled motion of his kiss against your head, eyes squeezed shut to express blissful tranquility.

It'll never leave your mind.

But Jungkook isn't looking at you, eyes trained off to the side, all confidence gone. The usual bluster is leaving him hanging, and he looks like he doesn't know quite what to do.

So you give him an out, because you know exactly how he feels.

Like all his feelings are out in the open.

He's done that to you on more than one occasion.

"Never saw what?" is your response, innocent and curious. "I'm not sure what you're talking about. All I know is that we have bigger fish to fry, and I most definitely was not letting you give me hickeys in the bathroom to hide you from Yoongi. Because he definitely is going to kill you."

Jungkook exhales roughly, buying one lip ring lightly. Relief flows across his face, shoving the shyness out of the way. "Yeah. I guess I should go meet my fate, huh?"

"It's about time," you agree, and watch as he makes his way to the door.

Jungkook opens it and hovers there for a second, his knuckles highlighted white and black as they jut up from the curl of his fingers around the side of the door.

His eyes meet yours, dark and soft, velvet and embers.

"I gave it up, Y/N," he says quietly.

Then, like a specter vanishing into the night, he's gone.

[A/N]
...but the muffin is still there so who's the real winner?

Unedited

Thank you guys for your patience, and for your thoughts and prayers and encouragement through this really difficult time. I appreciate it more than you will ever know.

❤️ PB