🥀 77.  𝐀𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐀𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

Enjoy 🌸

Taehyung sat on the couch, leaning back, one arm draped over the armrest while the other rested on his lap. His knuckles were raw and bloody, the result of his earlier outburst against the world—or perhaps himself. But the pain in his hands was nothing compared to the peace blooming in his heart as his gaze followed Jungkook.

Jungkook sat on the smaller couch, facing him. She held his injured hand and laid in her lap, her delicate fingers as she gently cleaned the dried blood and tended to his wounds. Her lips set in a pout that was both endearing and filled with reprimand, though her furrowed brows betrayed her anger.

Taehyung watched her, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips despite the sting in his knuckles. 

His pretty, angry wife.

Jungkook hadn't said much since she sat him down, but the way she handled his hand—firm but careful—spoke volumes. Her fingers moved dabbing antiseptic onto his wounds with a touch that made his chest ache.

"I don't even know where to start with you, Mr. Kim," Jungkook began, her voice sharp, each word laced with frustration. Her fingers tightened around his wrist, holding his injured hand firmly in place as she worked.

 "Do you have any idea how reckless you've been? How insane?"

Taehyung sighed, leaning back against the couch, his free hand resting against his forehead as he peered at her from beneath damp lashes. "I wasn't thinking," he admitted. "I was just—"

"Exactly!" she snapped, cutting him off, her voice rising an octave. "You weren't thinking! Who punches the ground in anger? What did the poor earth do to you?"

Taehyung blinked, a slow smirk tugging at his lips despite the way his knuckles throbbed under Jungkook's less-than-gentle treatment. "It was there."

Jungkook's hands stilled for a split second before she let out an incredulous scoff. 

"It was there," she mimicked, eyes flashing with irritation. "Oh, brilliant logic, Mr. Kim. I suppose if the sky was annoying you, you'd try to punch that too?"

"If I could reach it," he said with an easy grin.

Jungkook growled under her breath and pressed the antiseptic-soaked cotton harshly against a particularly deep cut.

"Ow—Jungkook!" Taehyung jolted, his entire body tensing at the sharp sting.

"Oh, now you feel pain?" she snapped, tightening her grip on his wrist when he tried to pull away. "Good. Maybe that'll teach you to think before you act next time."

Taehyung exhaled a long breath through his nose, watching the way her brows furrowed, her lower lip caught between her teeth as she continued tending to his wounds. Despite her harsh words, her hands were gentle, her fingers brushing over his skin with the kind of tenderness that made his chest tighten.

"You're so dramatic," he murmured, his lips quirking slightly.

Jungkook shot him a deadly glare. "Dramatic? Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot I was supposed to calmly accept the fact that my husband decided to use his fists against solid earth and nearly fractured his own damn hand."

Taehyung hummed. "When you say 'my husband' like that, it makes me feel all special."

Jungkook's eyes twitched. "I swear to God, Kim Taehyung, if you ever pull something this stupid again, I will personally make sure you regret it."

Taehyung chuckled. The sound low and rich only fueled her frustration. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Jungkook accused, dabbing at another cut with more force than necessary.

Taehyung winced again as she pressed the cotton against another cut, her actions more forceful than before. The sting in his hand made his breath catch, but it was the way she was treating him—like a child who had done something stupid—that made him feel smaller than the bruises on his skin.

"This macho act? It's not attractive. You standing in the rain, fists bleeding, looking like the cover of some tragic romance novel—it's not romantic. It's dumb! And dangerous!"

"Are you done scolding me?" he asked, trying to lighten the atmosphere, but his voice was softer, almost apologetic.

"You think it's funny, don't you? You think it's cute that you get yourself all beat up and I'm supposed to just patch you up like it's nothing?"

"No, I—" Taehyung started, but she cut him off.

"Don't you 'no' me, Kim Taehyung!" Jungkook snapped, her brow furrowed as she glared at him.

"Do you know what I felt when you came home, all bloody and wet?" Jungkook's voice wavered between anger and something far more vulnerable. "I was terrified."

Her fingers trembled as she pressed another cotton swab to his knuckles, but this time, the pressure wasn't out of frustration—it was out of the sheer fear that had gripped her chest the moment she'd seen him standing in the doorway, dripping rainwater and looking like he'd just walked out of a battlefield.

Taehyung's smirk faded.

"Jungkook—"

"Do you even care about yourself?" she snapped, eyes blazing as she looked up at him, searching for any sign that he understood what he'd put her through. "Or am I the only one who worries about what happens to you?"

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. "That's not fair."

Jungkook let out a humorless laugh, shaking her head. "Oh, so now it's not fair? You get to run around, throwing punches at the ground, acting like some tragic hero in a drama but I'm the one being unfair?"

Taehyung exhaled, running his uninjured hand through his damp hair, his patience thinning. "I didn't mean for you to see me like that, okay? I just needed to let it out."

"And what if next time, you're not just punching the ground? What if it's someone else? What if it's yourself?!" Jungkook's voice cracked, and that was when Taehyung realized just how much he had scared her.

His chest ached at the sight of her like this—her lips wobbly, her lashes damp from unshed tears, her hands gripping his like she was trying to keep him from slipping away.

He had been reckless.

Not just with himself, but with her heart.

Jungkook sucked in a deep breath to compose herself. "Do you know what I felt?" she repeated, her voice quieter now, but no less firm. "I felt like my heart was about to stop. I felt helpless because I couldn't do anything to protect you from yourself."

Taehyung was silent. Jungkook huffed, sniffing slightly as she went back to tending his wounds, her touch now soft, gentle—so different from her anger-filled dabs from earlier. 

"You always do this," she muttered under her breath. "You take all the burden onto yourself. You let it eat you up until you explode. And then I'm the one left to pick up the pieces."

"You think I'm scolding you because I enjoy it? I'm scolding you because I care. Because I can't—I can't just sit back and watch you hurt yourself like this."

Her voice broke slightly at the end, and Taehyung's gaze softened, his amusement giving way to something deeper. He straightened slightly, leaning forward, his free hand brushing a strand of damp hair away from her face.

"I know," he said simply, his tender tone making her chest tighten.

"Well, then act like it," Jungkook shot back, her voice still sharp, though her hands slowed their movements. She carefully placed a fresh bandage over his knuckles, her fingers lingering as she smoothed it down.

"Act like you know I care. Act like you understand what it does to me when you come back like this, all battered and broken."

Taehyung didn't respond immediately, his eyes fixed on her face, searching for the words to say. Instead, he exhaled softly, the tension in his shoulders loosening as he allowed himself to simply be in her presence.

Jungkook, oblivious to his gaze, returned her attention to his hand, carefully inspecting her work. "You're lucky I'm good at this," she muttered, her tone softening as she brushed a finger over the edge of the bandage to ensure it was secure. "Otherwise, you'd probably bleed out from sheer stubbornness."

He chuckled lightly, the sound low and warm, and for once, she didn't reprimand him. Instead, she sighed, setting his hand down gently in his lap.

"Done," Jungkook said quietly, though she didn't move away. Her fingers lingered against his for a moment before she finally pulled back.

But before she could fully retreat, Taehyung reached out, his hand catching hers. He didn't say anything, just tugged her gently toward him, giving her the choice to resist.

Jungkook didn't.

Jungkook let herself be pulled closer, her knees brushing against his thigh as she shifted to sit beside him on the couch. Taehyung wrapped an arm around her shoulders carefully as if he was afraid she might slip away.

Jungkook leaned into him until her head rested against his chest. She could feel his heartbeat beneath her cheek, and it was oddly soothing. He smiled softly, his thumb brushing against her damp cheek.

"I'd be a fool to push you away again," he said, his voice thick with emotion.

"Damn right you would," she muttered, though her lips curved into a small smile. "You' are an idiot,"

"I know," he said softly, his hand moving over her back.

"But you're my kind of idiot" she added, her lips twitching into a small smile despite herself.

Taehyung smiled too, his chin resting lightly against the top of her head as he closed his eyes. "I'll take that," he murmured, his voice laced with quiet gratitude.

They stayed like that, wrapped in each other's presence, the storm outside a distant memory compared to the calm that had settled between them.

Neither spoke nor they needed to.

After a while, Jungkook sat up slightly, her hand slipping to rest on Taehyung's chest, right above his heart. Her fingers pressed against the damp fabric of his shirt.

"You won't push me away again," Jungkook said with the kind of tone that left no room for argument.

It wasn't a plea; it was an edict, delivered with the strength of someone who knew her worth and his.

Taehyung opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, she cut him off with a raised hand.

 "Don't you dare say something noble and self-sacrificing, because I'm not in the mood to hear it. You're not some tragic hero, Kim Taehyung. You're my husband. My stubborn, self-destructive husband who thinks he can carry the weight of the world alone. And I'm sick of it."

He blinked, momentarily stunned by Jungkook's fire. Her hair, damp and clinging to her flushed cheeks, framed a face that was as fierce as it was beautiful. 

"I'm tired," she continued, her hand pushing against his chest as if she could drill her words into his heart. "Mr. Kim, I didn't marry a coward."

His jaw tightened but Taehyung remained silent, knowing full well that anything he said would only dig his grave deeper.

"And another thing," Jungkook huffed, pulling back slightly only to jab a finger into his chest. "You don't get to decide what's good for me. That's my job. So, the next time you think about running off in the middle, remember that you have a wife who will hunt you down."

Taehyung fought the twitch at the corner of his mouth. Her anger, while justified, was laced with a kind of adorable exasperation that made it hard for him to take his eyes off her.

"Are you even listening to me?" Jungkook demanded, crossing her arms when she noticed his lips twitch. "Don't you dare to laugh! This is serious!"

"I'm listening,"

"Good. Because I'm not done."

Jungkook stood up abruptly, her sheer shrug falling completely to the floor as she began pacing the room. She didn't seem to notice, too busy pacing back and forth as her anger fueled her movements.

But Taehyung noticed—oh, he noticed.

Jungkook's black dress clung to her curves like it had been painted on, the sleeveless design revealing her arms and collarbone. The damp fabric molded to her every line, highlighting her hourglass figure. 

The sheer lace at the hem was enough to make his throat dry. Her flushed cheeks and tousled hair gave her an almost otherworldly allure, like a siren that had stepped straight out of the storm to torment him.

"And what was that earlier?" Jungkook's voice snapped him out of his reverie, though his eyes remained locked on her. "Not answering my calls? Coming in here drenched, leaving your muddy coat and boots all over the place? Do you think I'm your maid? Huh? Should I start calling you Master Kim now?"

Taehyung instead of looking apologetic, leaned back on the couch, his arms draped lazily over the armrest, his dark gaze following her like a predator stalking its prey. "Master Kim," he repeated, his voice dropping to a husky murmur.

"I won't mind it. It's nice, isn't it?" he mused, his tone teasing.

Jungkook stopped in her tracks, her jaw dropping as she spun around to glare at him. "Excuse me?" she sputtered.

His lips curved into a slow, sinful smirk. "I'm just saying, if you're offering to call me that, who am I to refuse?"

Jungkook blinked at him, her brain short-circuiting for a second before she let out a strangled noise of pure outrage.

"Are you insane?" she hissed, stomping over to him, her bare feet silent against the floor but her anger loud enough to shake the walls. "I'm yelling at you, and you're sitting there—sprawled like some lazy king—flirting with me?"

Taehyung's gaze flickered down to where the soaked fabric of her dress clung to her thighs with every step she took. His tongue darted out to wet his lips before he met her eyes again, this time with something much darker, much more sinful curling behind them.

 His eyes trailed down her body, lingering on the neckline of her dress dipped just enough to leave him wanting more.

 The heavenly view.

"Well," he murmured, his voice dropping an octave, "I do like it when you're bossy."

Jungkook saw red.

She reached out, gripping the collar of his already unbuttoned, rain-damp shirt and yanked him forward. The smirk on his face didn't waver; if anything, it deepened, his nose barely brushing against hers.

"Say that again," The wife dared, her voice a furious whisper. "Say it, and I swear—"

Taehyung chuckled, the sound vibrating between them. "You'll what, hmm?" His free hand came up, brushing against her waist, just barely, just teasing. "Throw me out in the rain?"

Jungkook scowled, but her grip on his shirt only tightened, the heat between them tangible, suffocating.

Taehyung's smirk widened as his fingers flexed against the fabric of her dress. "Or..." His voice dipped lower, molten and slow. "Maybe you'd rather make me regret it some other way?"

Jungkook's breath hitched, her nails digging into his chest through the damp fabric.

Oh, he was impossible.

But two could play this game.

A slow, wicked smile stretched across her lips.

"You want regret, Mr. Kim?" she murmured, her fingers tracing down the exposed skin of his chest, featherlight.

Taehyung's breath stilled for a fraction of a second.

Jungkook leaned in, her lips brushing just over the shell of his ear as she whispered, "Then sleep on the couch tonight."

She pushed him back with a smirk, stepping away before he could react, snatching the towel from the table as she did.

Taehyung chuckled under his breath, his voice rich and warm, as he watched her huff and fume. 

"I like it when you're angry, Mrs. Kim. Makes you even more beautiful." he countered smoothly, his gaze unabashed as it traveled from her flushed face to her still-damp hair, then back to the way her dress clung to her frame.

"Stop staring!" Jungkook squealed, clutching the towel against her chest as if it could shield her from the heat of his gaze.

"But it's hard not to," he said, his tone innocent as he stood up, towering over her. His steps were slow and predatory, his eyes locked on hers. "Especially when you're stomping around, yelling, looking like the most stunning angry bird I've ever seen."

Jungkook's indignation reached its peak as she threw the cushion at him, her cheeks puffing adorably. "Stop calling me an angry bird!"

Catching the cushion mid-air, Taehyung placed it back on the couch and closed the distance between them. His smirk softened into something more genuine as he reached out, tucking a damp strand of hair behind her ear.

"I scared you, didn't I?" he asked quietly.

Jungkook blinked. "What?"

"Earlier," he murmured, reaching out to brush his fingers over her wrist. "I saw it in your eyes."

Jungkook stiffened. She wanted to deny it. She wanted to roll her eyes and tell him he was being dramatic. But the words refused to come.

Because he was right.

Her silence must have been answer enough because Taehyung exhaled slowly, his fingers tightening just slightly around her wrist. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice softer than she had ever heard it. "I didn't mean to make you worry like that."

Jungkook bit her lip, her gaze dropping to their hands. His knuckles were still bandaged, the sight of them stirring something deep in her chest.

"You're always like this," she muttered, voice thick with emotion. "You carry everything on your own. You act like you have to suffer alone, and it drives me crazy."

Taehyung's jaw clenched, but he didn't look away.

"You're not alone," she whispered. "I wish you'd just let me in."

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then—

"I know," he said. "I'm trying."

Jungkook sighed, reaching out without thinking and placing her palm against his cheek. "Try harder."

He leaned into her touch, closing his eyes briefly before opening them again, something unreadable swirling in his gaze.

Then, in true Taehyung fashion—

"So... does this mean I can sleep here tonight?"

Jungkook groaned, shoving him back with a scowl. "You ruin every moment, I swear to God."

Taehyung grinned, catching her wrist and tugging her forward until she nearly toppled over him. "I like how soft you get when you're worried about me," he mused, his nose brushing against hers. "It's cute."

Jungkook flushed. "I hate you."

"Liar." His lips curled mischievously. "You love me."

Jungkook huffed, trying to shove him away, but he only tightened his grip, pulling her closer until she was pressed against his chest.

"You know," he murmured, his voice softer now but no less teasing, "I like it when you're mad. Your cheeks go red, your voice gets all high-pitched, and you stomp around like..." He paused, letting the word linger in the air.

"Like what?" she challenged, her hands on her hips, her eyes blazing.

"Like my adorable, angry little wife," he finished, his deep voice wrapping around the words like a caress.

"Your angry little wife is going to strangle you," she muttered, shoving his chest lightly, though her strength didn't match her words.

Taehyung caught her wrist before she could throw it, pulling her close enough for her to stumble against his chest. "You can try," he whispered, his breath brushing against her ear.

Her face turned even redder, and she shoved him away with all her might. Jungkook stomped over to grab his muddy coat from the armrest and thrusting it into his lap.

"Here! Take your stupid coat! And your filthy boots—clean them up yourself! I'm not your maid, Kim Taehyung!"

Taehyung took the coat from her but his smirk didn't waver. If anything, it grew wider as he leaned back again, tossing the coat to the side without a care.

"I'd rather watch you stomp around like this. It's... entertaining," he said, the playful lilt in his voice driving her even crazier.

"Entertaining?!" Jungkook shrieked, grabbing one of the cushions from the couch and throwing it at him. It hit his chest with a satisfying thud but he didn't even flinch. Instead, he caught it effortlessly, holding it against his chest as he grinned up at her.

"Now you're throwing things at me?" he teased, his tone mock-scandalized. "Violent, angry, stunning wife—what more could a man want?"

Jungkook's face turned even redder, and she stomped her foot in frustration. "Get out of my sight, you shameless man!" she yelled, pointing toward the door.

Taehyung smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he obediently grabbed his coat and boots and started to walk away. But just before leaving the room, he glanced over his shoulder, his smirk returning.

"By the way," he said, his tone teasing again, "if you ever want to yell at me while wearing that dress again, I won't mind."

"KIM TAEHYUNG!" Jungkook's shout echoed through the room as he quickly made his exit, laughing under his breath.

Taehyung barely managed to hold back his laughter as Jungkook's exasperated voice followed him till the bathroom. He paused, leaning against the door for a moment, a fond smile tugging at his lips.

Jungkook's image replayed in his mind—a siren in a sleek black dress, more mesmerizing than any storm he'd ever faced.

Shaking his head, he finally shrugged his coat into the laundry bin. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't purposefully winding her up, knowing exactly how captivating she looked when she was angry.

"Shameless man," he muttered to himself with a chuckle, mimicking her words as he opened the tap of the shower.

Inside the room, Jungkook paced furiously, clutching the cushion she'd thrown at him earlier as if she were debating whether to run after him and pelt him with it again.

"That man!" she fumed, her cheeks still warm, her heart racing. "Who does he think he is? Talking like that—looking at me like that!"

Her rant trailed off as she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her dress clung a little too tightly from the dampness, her shrug abandoned on the floor. Her hair, still slightly tousled, framed her flushed face. She looked every bit as alluring as Taehyung had implied, and that only made her angrier.

"Stupid, shameless Kim Taehyung," she muttered, yanking the cushion off the floor and throwing it onto the bed. But as she began tidying up the mess, her movements slowed, her frustration giving way to a reluctant smile.

He knew exactly what he was doing, didn't he? That smirk, those teasing words—he had her wrapped around his finger, and he was all too aware of it.

"Next time," she murmured to herself, her tone resolute, "I'm throwing a vase."

✨

Taehyung stepped out of the bathroom, his damp hair sticking to his forehead as he adjusted the towel slung over his shoulders. His muscles relaxed after the hot shower, and for a moment, he thought the storm of the evening had passed.

That was until he saw the couch.

A pillow and duvet were neatly arranged, his blanket folded on top like a cherry on a very pointed sundae. His gaze shifted to the bed, where Jungkook lay sprawled across its vast expanse, one arm hugging Mr. Bunny, the other tucked under her cheek.

The message was loud and clear: couch tonight.

Taehyung sighed, running a hand through his wet hair as he stepped closer. Jungkook stirred, her eyes fluttering open just enough to glare at him, her lips set in a firm line.

"You thought you could get away with everything tonight, didn't you?" she said, her voice laced with sharpness.

He raised an eyebrow, leaning against the armrest of the couch. "Get away with what, exactly?"

"Oh, don't play innocent with me, Kim Taehyung," she snapped, sitting up abruptly. The black strap of her dress slipped off one shoulder, and she adjusted it hastily, her cheeks flushing—but not in the way that had him smirking earlier.

This was full-on Angry Jungkook and Taehyung knew better than to interrupt her.

"For starters," Jungkook continued, pointing a finger at him, "you disappeared for hours, didn't answer my calls, came back drenched, acted like a pervert, and then had the audacity to look at me like—like I was dessert!"

"You are dessert," he muttered, unable to resist, though he immediately regretted it.

Jungkook's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"That's exactly why you're sleeping on the couch!" she yelled, crossing her arms. "I've had enough of your shameless antics for one night."

"Okay, okay," he said, his voice calm and soothing, though his lips twitched as if suppressing a smile. "But the couch? Really? Isn't that a little...dramatic?"

Jungkook scoffed, lying back down and yanking the blanket over her. "You deserve it. And while we're at it, maybe I should draw up those divorce papers you so generously suggested earlier."

"Divorce?" Taehyung repeated, his voice dipping lower, his teasing demeanor evaporating. He moved closer to the bed, his towering presence casting a shadow over her. "I was confused, Jungkook."

She peeked out from under the blanket, her pout fierce and her glare unwavering. "Well, I'm not. You can't just say things like that and expect me to forget it."

He sighed, kneeling beside the bed so their faces were level. "Listen to me," he said, his voice softer now, his gaze locking onto hers. "I was angry, reckless and stupid. But I didn't mean it—not even for a second. Do you think I could ever let you go, even if I wanted to?"

Her lip quivered but she quickly turned her head away, refusing to let him see the tears welling in her eyes. "You don't act like it," she muttered. "You push me away, say stupid things, and then...and then you look at me like that."

"Like what?" he asked, leaning closer.

"Like you're completely smitten, and it makes me feel stupid for being mad at you."

Taehyung chuckled, a deep, warm sound that made her heart skip a beat despite herself. "That's because I am completely smitten. And I'm sorry for everything I said and did tonight, Jungkook. You're my wife, my world. I don't take that for granted—not even for a second."

Jungkook sniffled, still not looking at him. "You're still sleeping on the couch."

"You're really going to make me sleep on the couch?" he murmured, his voice all honey and warmth.

Jungkook peeked at him from the corner of her eye before shutting them tight again. "Yes."

"Even though I might wake up with a sore back?"

"Yes."

"Even though I'll be cold and lonely?"

"Yes."

"Even though you'll miss cuddling me?"

Jungkook's brows twitched, but she remained silent.

Taehyung leaned in, his breath ghosting over her cheek. "You will miss me, won't you, Mrs. Kim?"

"Go. To. The. Couch."

Taehyung sighed as if utterly defeated, standing up with exaggerated reluctance. 

With one last dramatic sigh, Taehyung trudged toward the couch, flopping down with unnecessary theatrics. 

Silence settled over the room, save for the ticking of the clock and the soft sound of rain outside.

A minute passed.

Then two.

Then—

A rustle.

Jungkook peeked over her shoulder, her lips pressing together as she watched Taehyung curled up on the couch, his broad frame looking entirely too uncomfortable.

She huffed.

Another minute passed.

Taehyung was just beginning to drift off, the couch less comfortable than he'd hoped, when he felt it—a warm weight settling on his chest. His eyes blinked open, adjusting to the dim light of the room.

The first thing he noticed was the bed—empty, its blankets rumpled but abandoned.

Then his gaze dropped to the source of the weight, and there she was.

Jungkook, his fiery little angry bird, was sprawled across him, her cheek pressed against his chest and her arms clutching his shirt as if he might disappear if she let go. Her black hair falling messily around her flushed face.

Taehyung lifted a hand, brushing his fingers through her hair, untangling the strands gently.

"You really talk big for someone who can't sleep without me," 

"Don't," she cut him off without looking up, her voice muffled against his chest. "Just...don't speak."

Taehyung couldn't help the small smile that tugged at his lips. His hands instinctively moved to rest on her back. "I thought I was banished to the couch," he teased lightly, though his tone was far from mocking.

"You were," the wife grumbled, finally lifting her head to glare at him, though the effect was diminished by her droopy eyes and flushed cheeks. "But I got cold."

Taehyung tilted his head, looking at her with an expression so full of affection it made her squirm. "Cold, huh?"

"Yes, cold," Jungkook snapped but the fire in her voice was more ember than blaze now. "Don't read into it, Kim Taehyung. I'm still mad at you."

"Of course," he said, his voice humoring her. "I wouldn't dare think otherwise."

Jungkook huffed, settling back down against him. She rested her chin on his chest, her eyes narrowing as she stared up at him. "This doesn't mean you're forgiven."

"Obviously," he replied, his fingers brushing lightly through her hair. "But does this mean I don't have to sleep on the couch anymore?"

Jungkook smacked his shoulder lightly, making him laugh. "No. It means you don't get to sleep alone. If you're going to make my life difficult, you're going to deal with the consequences."

Taehyung's laugh softened into a low chuckle as he leaned down to kiss the top of her head. "Fair enough, Mrs. Kim."

Jungkook sighed, her body relaxing against his despite her best efforts to stay mad. Taehyung pressed his lips to her hair again, holding her closer.

The night stretched on, with Jungkook nestled against him and her breaths softening the room, Taehyung couldn't help but feel like the luckiest man alive—even if his angry bird wasn't ready to let him off the hook just yet.

Taehyung's gaze softened, drifting toward the ceiling, though his attention remained wholly on her. His fingers moved instinctively, threading lightly through her hair, his touch so delicate it was as if he feared waking her again.

How did I get so lucky? The thought was as intrusive as it was undeniable. She had every reason to keep him at a distance tonight—his careless words, his thoughtless actions, and that maddening smirk he couldn't seem to hold back when she was scolding him.

His free hand moved of its own accord, brushing a stray strand of hair away from her face. He let his fingers linger on her temple for a moment longer than necessary, tracing the delicate curve of her cheekbone with his thumb. She was so small, so delicate in his arms, yet she held more strength in her tiny frame than most men he'd ever met.

Taehyung's jaw clenched as his thoughts pressed against him. She deserved so much more than his broken pieces, more than the darkness he couldn't seem to escape. And yet, here she was, her tiny fingers clutching his shirt like she was the one afraid he might slip away.

His thumb brushed her knuckles now, tracing the faint lines of her hand where it rested against his chest. He shifted slightly, pulling the blanket higher over her shoulders, his movements careful not to disturb her.

When Jungkook stirred, mumbling something incoherent, Taehyung froze. Her hand tightened briefly in his shirt, and he swore he heard her whisper his name, soft and vulnerable in a way that made his heart ache.

He wanted to hold her tighter, wanted to keep her safe, but more than that, he wanted to make her believe in him.

In them.

In the man who wasn't just a collection of scars but a person who—despite everything—still had the capacity to love.

But his love was messy. It was twisted and dark and it made him a coward.

His heart clenched at the thought of ever letting her down, of watching her walk away, of her seeing him for what he truly was: flawed, broken, unworthy.

But I can't keep doing this. I can't keep breaking her.

He couldn't help it. His hand moved of its own accord, cupping the back of her head, pulling her closer, if that was even possible.

Why do you still trust me, even after everything I've done?

It was the question he had no answer for. He knew he couldn't keep running from himself, from his past. But as he lay there with her in his arms, he realized there was something he could do.

He could try.

He could try harder than he'd ever tried before.

His lips brushed against her forehead, so light, so gentle, as if he were afraid of breaking her. "I'll try, Jungkook. I'll try to be the man you deserve. I swear to you."

I'll try. The words were a vow. A promise he wasn't sure he could keep but one he would die trying to honor.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a golden hue over the room. Jungkook stood in front of the mirror, brushing out her hair. She wore a soft blouse tucked into a flowing skirt. She was trying to focus on the act of getting ready, but her mind was anything but calm.

Last night's words lingered like an electric charge in the air. Taehyung's confession played over and over in her head, stirring something deep within her.

She reached for a pair of earrings on the dresser, but her hands trembled slightly. With a frustrated sigh, she set them down, staring at her reflection as if searching for answers.

The door creaked open behind her and she didn't need to look to know who it was. Taehyung's presence was unmistakable like a storm that had finally calmed. Her heart stuttered involuntarily as his reflection appeared in the mirror. He was already dressed for the day—a charcoal suit tailored perfectly to his tall frame.

The white shirt beneath the blazer was unbuttoned at the top, giving him an effortless sophistication.

"Good morning," he finally said, his voice deep and low.

Jungkook didn't respond immediately. She adjusted the clasp of her necklace, pretending not to hear him. When she finally met his gaze through the mirror, her expression was neutral, though her eyes held a warning.

"Morning," she said curtly before returning to her task.

Taehyung moved closer, the sound of his footsteps making her shoulders tense. He stopped just behind her, his reflection towering over hers in the mirror. Slowly, he raised a hand, reaching out to brush a strand of her hair that had fallen out of place.

"Don't," Jungkook said sharply, stepping away from his touch. She didn't turn around, but her tone was enough to stop him in his tracks.

 "No touching. You lost that privilege last night."

Taehyung's lips parted slightly, Jungkook's words had struck a nerve but he didn't argue. Instead, he studied her—her flushed cheeks, the way her damp hair framed her face, the faint glimmer of hurt still lingering in her eyes. 

"I'm sorry," he said finally, his voice sincere.

"You've said that," Jungkook replied, her tone sharper than she intended. "But sorry doesn't erase the fear I felt. You shut me out. You ignored my calls. You come back drenched and hurt, and then you..." She trailed off, her hands gesturing vaguely in frustration. "And then you say things like you want me to divorce you. Do you even understand how cruel that is?"

Taehyung's jaw tightened, her words settling heavily on him. "I wasn't thinking straight," he admitted. "But I never meant it. You know that, don't you?"

Jungkook huffed, turning back to the mirror and grabbing her earrings. "You have a funny way of showing it," she muttered, her hands fumbling slightly as she tried to clasp the tiny jewelry.

Taehyung stepped forward, the urge to close the distance between them pulling at him like a magnet. His hands twitched at his sides, aching to touch her, to soothe the invisible wounds he'd caused.

But her warning rang in his ears, halting him mid-step.

He let out a slow breath, his dark eyes softening as they met hers through the mirror. "How can I make it up to you?" he asked, his voice low and tender, laced with an emotion that made Jungkook's heart falter for just a beat.

Jungkook kept her gaze fixed on her reflection, refusing to turn to him, her lips set in a pout that he found maddeningly adorable.

"Tell me," he murmured, his tone dipping lower, almost pleading now. "Tell me what I need to do to win you back."

The vulnerability in his voice caught her off guard, her fingers pausing midway through fixing her earring. Slowly, she turned to face him, her expression unreadable.

"Win me back?" Jungkook repeated, her voice carrying a teasing, though her heart fluttered at his sincerity. "Do you think it's that easy, Mr. Kim?"

He held her gaze, his own unwavering. "I don't think it's easy. It's necessary."

Jungkook's cheeks flushed faintly, but she masked it with a playful huff, crossing her arms over her chest. "Well, since you're so eager..."

Taehyung stepped closer, careful to maintain the distance she'd set between them, his hands flexing as if he were resisting the urge to reach for her.

"Eager is an understatement, Mrs Kim," he said, his voice like a quiet storm. "You're my everything. I'd rewrite the stars if it meant putting the smile back on your face."

Her breath hitched at his words, her resolve wavering for just a moment before she straightened her posture, determined not to let him win so easily.

"Big words," Jungkook said, her tone tinged with skepticism. "But actions speak louder, don't they?"

"Then tell me," Taehyung urged. "Give me a chance to prove it. To show you that there's nothing I wouldn't do to make things right."

Jungkook stared at him for a moment, her eyes narrowing slightly as she weighed his sincerity. The intensity in his voice softened something within her, though she wasn't going to make it easy for him.

 A faint smile tugged at her lips, playful and just a little mischievous.

"Alright," she said, tilting her head slightly. "Have you seen Wife No. 1?"

Taehyung blinked, caught off guard. "What's that?"

Jungkook's smirked vanished, replaced by a done look. "It's a movie! You know, like the ones you sit and watch with snacks? Big screen? Popcorn?"

"I know what a movie is," Taehyung said flatly, his brows furrowing.

"The Fierce Bride?" Jungkook asked casually, turning back to the mirror to adjust her necklace.

"No."

"Revenge of the Scorned Queen?" 

"Never heard of it," he replied, his voice growing more cautious now as the titles began to register.

Taehyung stared at his beloved wife, his brows furrowing as the wheels in his head turned. The titles echoed in his mind—Wife No. 1, The Fierce Bride, Revenge of the Scorned Queen—each one dripping with themes of fiery passion and retribution. 

Slowly, realization dawned, and his eyes narrowed.

 "Wait," he muttered, pointing at her with narrowed eyes. "All of those... they're about husbands who—"

"Who?" Jungkook prompted, her voice lilting with innocence.

"Who become..." He paused, swallowing hard. "Overly doting, henpecked husbands?"

Jungkook's grin turned positively wicked. "Bingo."

Taehyung's shoulders sagged. "You want me to—"

"To make it up to me," Jungkook interrupted smoothly, tilting her head as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "If you think a simple apology is going to cut it, think again, Mr Kim."

"Jungkook—" he began, his voice half-pleading.

"You brought this on yourself," she cut him off, turning back toward the mirror, completely unfazed by his protests.

Taehyung sighed, running a hand through his hair as he watched her from behind. "I feel like I'm walking into a trap."

"Oh, you're not just walking into it," Jungkook quipped, her tone sharp and playful. "You built the trap, dear husband."

Taehyung's brow furrowed slightly, intrigued by the challenge hidden in her response. "A doting husband? What exactly does that entail, Mrs. Kim?"

Jungkook didn't answer right away. Her hand moved purposefully as she rummaged through the drawer of her vanity, pulling out a neatly folded piece of paper. Without a word, she turned and handed it to him, her expression calm but mischeaviousness was dripping from the face.

Taehyung's brows knit further as he accepted it, unfolding the paper. His eyes scanned the list, and though his face remained composed, the corners of his lips twitched upward slightly.

Written in Jungkook's neat handwriting were the words:

Manicure my nails properly (don't mess it up, Mr. Kim).

Apply nail polish—no smudges allowed!

Make sure I eat well (and not just the healthy stuff—desserts count too!).

Compliment me at least five times a day (meaningful compliments, not lazy ones like "you're cute").

Help me style my hair when I ask.

Surprise me with snacks during the day (bonus points if it's something I'm craving).

Hold my bag when I'm tired—like a true gentleman.

Say "I love you" every night before bed, with a hug.

At the bottom of the list, she'd drawn a little bunny doodle holding a heart, with the caption:

"Failure to comply = indefinite couch sentence."

Taehyung's dark eyes lingered on the little doodle before flicking back to Jungkook, who was watching him with a smile far too innocent for the glint of mischief in her gaze.

"You said you wanted to make it up to me, didn't you?" she said sweetly, tilting her head. "This is me helping you fulfill your promise to be the doting husband you're aiming to be."

For a moment, Taehyung didn't say anything. He stood there, list in hand, his unreadable expression fixed on her. Jungkook couldn't tell if he was annoyed or simply processing her audacity.

Then, slowly, his lips curved into a faint but unmistakable smile—a rare sight that made her breath catch. 

"Manicure your nails?" he murmured, his deep voice sent a shiver down her spine. "I suppose I could manage that."

Jungkook blinked, momentarily caught off guard by his calm agreement. 

"Oh, really?"

He folded the paper neatly and tucked it into his pocket. "You went through all the trouble of writing this for me, didn't you?" he said, stepping closer, his tone soft but undeniably firm. 

"It'd be a shame to let your efforts go to waste."

Her cheeks flushed and Jungkook spun back to her vanity, pretending to busy herself with the brushes and anklets scattered across it. 

"Well, don't think I'll go easy on you," she muttered, her voice just shy of a grumble. Her fingers fumbled with a comb, a clear attempt to avoid his piercing gaze. "You'd better follow it to the letter, or—"

"Or I'll be sentenced to the couch," Taehyung finished smoothly.

The way he said it made Jungkook falter, the comb slipping from her grasp. She caught her reflection in the mirror, and there he was—standing tall and composed, a soft smirk tugging at his lips.

"I see you've memorized the punishment already," Jungkook shot back, trying to sound stern despite the warmth creeping up her neck.

"I always take your words seriously, Mrs. Kim," he replied, his gaze unwavering as if to prove his point.

Jungkook glanced away, her lips curving into a smile she couldn't quite suppress. "Good," she said, her tone lighter now, though she tried to sound indifferent.

From behind her, Taehyung's expression softened, his eyes taking in the way her fingers fidgeted and her cheeks glowed. 

His wife was bossy and demanding, yes—but in the most endearing way possible.

His feet moved before his brain caught up, and within moments, he was standing behind her. His hand instinctively reached out, his fingers grazing her shoulder.

"Mrs Kim—"

Jungkook stiffened instantly and turned, her eyes narrowing at him like a storm brewing. "Ah, ah, ah," she said, her voice sharp but playful as she backed away.

"Did you forget already?"

Taehyung froze, his hand still mid-air, caught like a guilty thief. "Forget what?" he asked, though his expression gave away that he knew exactly what she meant.

Her smirk was devilish, her eyes sparkling with triumph. "The punishment," she reminded him, crossing her arms. "No touching."

Taehyung stood frozen, staring at Jungkook as if she'd just announced the end of the world.

"No touching?" he echoed. "You can't be serious."

"Oh Mr Kim," Jungkook smirked, her arms crossed over her chest. She stepped closer, her voice dripping with playful malice. "Your wife is dead serious."

Her dark eyes sparkled mischievously and the corners of her mouth curved into a devilish smile that made Taehyung both nervous and intrigued. 

"Kim Jungkook," he started cautiously, his voice lowering to that velvety tone that always made her knees a little weak, "don't play games with me."

"I'm not playing games," Jungkook shot back, taking another step closer, her head tilting up defiantly to meet his gaze.

 "This is your punishment, Kim Taehyung. For disappearing and for—" she jabbed a finger at his chest, "—asking me for a divorce!"

"That wasn't real," he argued, his voice dropping as he leaned slightly forward, his gaze flickering between her defiant eyes and her pouting lips.

Jungkook took a step back, placing just enough distance between them to make him ache for more. "It felt real enough to me," she said with a huff, her tone sharp but her cheeks betraying a faint blush.

"And if I don't make you regret blurting out those haunting words, then my name isn't Jungkook Taehyung Kim."

Taehyung froze. It wasn't the playful challenge in her tone or the mischievous glint in her eyes that got to him—it was the way she said it. 

Jungkook Taehyung Kim.

His name, tied with hers.

The words echoed in his mind, louder than his own heartbeat, which had abruptly lost its rhythm.

 A strange sensation ran through his body—a fluttering, like the rush of wind beneath fragile wings, tickling the pit of his stomach. His heart felt as if it had stopped, stolen in that instant, only to thud back to life disorienting, pumping-up.

Taehyung's fingers twitched at his sides, suddenly aching to hold her. 

The name left him breathless. It felt surreal, yet so achingly right. His name on her lips—no, their name—it was a sound he hadn't known he was longing to hear until this very moment.

Jungkook, noticing his pause, furrowed her brows. "What?" she asked, her voice laced with confusion, though the hint of blush on her cheeks betrayed her awareness of the slip.

His throat tightened, a lump forming as his gaze softened. He tried to speak, to form words, but his mouth went dry, his tongue betraying him.

"Say it again," he whispered hoarsely, the words slipping out without permission.

"Say what?" she asked, flustered, her eyes darting everywhere but at him.

"Your name," Taehyung said. He stepped closer, his gaze never leaving her, holding her in place like an unspoken promise.

Jungkook's fingers toyed nervously with the hem of her sleeve, her heart racing as she felt him move closer. "I already said it," she mumbled, trying to sound casual, though her voice stuttered under his stare.

"Once again," he replied softly, almost like a plea, though there was no mistaking the demand in his tone.

His hand reached out slowly, brushing the soft curve of her jaw, and Jungkook stilled. The feeling of his touch after so many days sent her stomach into a swirl, but she refused to let him see how much his closeness affected her.

"Mr Kim ..." Jungkook tried to deflect, tilting her face away, but his fingers followed, tilting her chin back up so their eyes locked.

"Say it, Mrs Kim," he urged, his voice dipping into a gentler tone. His thumb grazed the corner of her pillowy lips in a touch so light it felt almost accidental, but the fire it sparked was anything but.

Jungkook swallowed hard, her lips parting slightly as she searched for some escape. Her mind raced for a witty comeback, but his eyes—soft yet intense—made her lose every ounce of composure.

"Jungkook Kim..." Jungkook began, drawing the words out slowly, teasingly.

Taehyung's gaze darkened, his hand slipping from her jaw to rest on her waist. He didn't wait for her to finish her teasing. 

Swiftly, he pulled her closer, until their fronts collided, leaving no space between them. Jungkook gasped softly at the sudden proximity, her hands instinctively bracing against his chest. She could feel his heartbeat beneath her palms.

"I said all of it," he murmured, his deep voice dropping into something almost dangerous, brushing against her ear like a velvet command. His other hand found the small of her back, pressing her closer, and she felt the heat of him seep through her dress.

Her breath hitched, the teasing smirk lessening on her lips as his intense gaze locked onto hers. Her fingers trembled slightly as they clutched at his shirt. 

"You're awfully impatient, Mr. Kim," the wife managed to quip, though her voice was barely above a whisper, wavering under his undivided attention.

His lips curved into a wicked smirk, but his eyes softened slightly as he tilted his head closer, his breath fanning across her cheek. 

"And you're awfully cruel, Mrs. Kim," he murmured, his voice a rich, low timbre. "Dragging it out like this. Do you enjoy making me lose my mind?"

Jungkook swallowed hard, her pulse quickening as the tension in the room thickened. The heat of his body enveloped her, his musky scent making her head spin. Her lips parted, but no words came out.

"Say it," Taehyung demanded softly, the grip on her waist tightening slightly, his thumb tracing against her side. His face was so close now that her nose brushed against his, the faintest touch sparking something electric between them.

"Jungkook Taehyung Kim," she whispered, finally giving in. The name slipped from her lips like silk.

And Taehyung—Taehyung lost himself.

The sound of his name tied with hers washing over him like a tidal wave. His lashes fluttered briefly as he exhaled, the tension in his body shifting from demand to something softer

"You're awfully weak for a man who claims to be in control," she whispered, her tone teasing, though her voice carried a warmth that misrepresented her words.

Taehyung let out a slow, husky chuckle, his forehead coming to rest against hers as his eyes flickered shut for the briefest second. 

"Weak for you," His lips barely grazed hers as he whispered, "Just for you."

They stood there, locked in each other's warmth. Taehyung's fingers traced mild patterns on Jungkook's waist, his forehead resting lightly against hers. His lips were curled into a faint, boyish smile, completely unfinished by her mere presence.

Jungkook's hands remained on his chest, her thumbs absentmindedly brushing the soft fabric as her heart raced. 

But then, like a bolt of lightning, it hit her—the punishment.

Her eyes widened slightly, and she stiffened in his arms, causing Taehyung to tilt his head in confusion. Jungkook quickly stepped back, untangling herself from his hold despite his attempt to keep her close. 

"Mr Kim!" the wife exclaimed, her voice filled with fake anger as she placed a hand on her hip.

"What?" he asked, genuinely baffled as he tried to close the gap between them again, his hands instinctively reaching out for her.

Jungkook stepped back further, her lips pursed in a dramatic pout. "You're breaking the rules!"

"Rules?" His brows furrowed, and then, as if struck by realization, his shoulders sagged slightly. "The punishment," he muttered, his voice low, almost like a child caught sneaking candy.

Jungkook nodded, crossing her arms over her chest, the tiniest smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Exactly. No touching, remember? You agreed to it."

Taehyung blinked at her, utterly betrayed. "You expect me to survive that after this?" He gestured between them, his tone doubtful. "You were the one who just said my name like that, and now you want to enforce that punishment?"

Jungkook tilted her head, feigning innocence. "Rules are rules, Mr. Kim."

Taehyung's jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists at his sides as if to physically control himself.

 "This is cruel and unusual punishment," he muttered, his gaze dropping to her lips for a second before snapping back up to meet her eyes.

Jungkook shrugged, turning her back to him and walking toward the vanity. "Well, you should've thought about that before you decided to test my patience."

"This is torture," he said dramatically unknowingly, his voice dropping into a low groan as he dragged a hand through his hair.

Jungkook caught his reflection in the mirror and couldn't suppress the giggle that escaped her lips. "Consider it character building, my dear husband," she teased, picking up a lip tint and pretending to be entirely unbothered by his dilemma.

Slowly, he walked up behind her, stopping just far enough to abide by her rule but close enough for her to feel his presence.

Jungkook carefully began to apply the red lip tint, her eyes focused on her reflection in the mirror. She was clearly enjoying her husband's current difficulty, the faint smirk on her lips giving her away.

Taehyung, however, had been standing behind her, his restraint hanging by a thread. His dark eyes flickered between her lips and the lip tint in her hand, watching every delicate movement. 

Finally, he reached his breaking point.

In one swift motion, Taehyung stepped forward and gently caught her wrist, halting her mid-application.

"What—," Jungkook started, her eyes darting to their reflection in the mirror.

Jungkook barely had time to react before she was spun around, her balance momentarily lost as she stumbled into the solid warmth of Taehyung's chest.

A gasp slipped past her lips, but before she could protest, he claimed them in a kiss so sudden, so deep, that it stole the very breath from her lungs. His free hand slid to the small of her back, pulling her closer against him while his lips moved with unrelenting tenderness against hers. 

The taste of the lip tint mingled between them, sweet and intoxicating.

Jungkook let out a soft whimper as his tongue brushed against her bottom lip, tasting the lingering tint before deepening the kiss. His grip on her wrist tightened—not forceful but possessive, his thumb stroking gently against her pulse point, feeling the erratic rhythm pounding beneath her skin.

The red tint smudged instantly, painting his lips in a sinful shade, staining the corners of her mouth like evidence of his impatience, his desperation.

Jungkook's mind spun, her resolve shattering like glass as her fingers curled into the front of his shirt, gripping onto him for support. The slim body of the lip tint loosely dangled from her fingers. 

Taehyung finally pulled back—just an inch, just enough to let his breath mingle with hers, to let her feel the heat radiating from his skin. His eyes flickered down to her lips, now swollen and messy, streaked with red. A smirk curved on his own lips, tainted with the same hue.

Taehyung meet her stunned gaze. He licked his bottom lip lazily, his tongue sweeping over the tint, tasting her again in the aftermath. His voice dropped into something husky, something dangerous.

"Guess I couldn't help myself," he murmured, his thumb brushing her bottom lip where a faint hint of her lipstick remained.

Jungkook blinked at him, her brain scrambling to process what had just happened. Then her eyes darted to the vanity mirror.

There it was: the evidence. 

Her lips wore the smudged remnants of her cherry-red lipstick. And Taehyung? His lips bore the unmistakable mark of her colour, a smudge across the curve of his mouth.

"You—" Jungkook whispered, her voice dangerously low as realization dawned, her eyes narrowing into sharp slits.

Taehyung merely tilted his head, the smug curve of his stained lips only deepening as he watched the slow flicker of horror and fury dance across her face. His thumb dragged lazily along her bottom lip, smudging the color even further, like a painter admiring his masterpiece.

"Me?" he echoed innocently, though the glint in his eyes was anything but.

Jungkook sucked in a sharp breath, her fists clenching at her sides. "You absolute—"

Before she could finish, Taehyung leaned in, his voice a husky whisper against the shell of her ear. "Irresistible husband?"

Jungkook's entire body burned—from rage, from embarrassment, from something far more dangerous.

Her hands shot up, pushing against his chest, but Taehyung barely budged, standing firm, reveling in the way her breath hitched at their proximity.

"You cheated," she hissed, pointing an accusatory finger at him. "You broke the punishment."

Taehyung chuckled, stepping impossibly closer, caging her against the vanity. "You were the one tempting me, Mrs. Kim," he drawled, his voice dripping with sin. "Standing here all pretty, pouting those lips like you wanted me to ruin them."

Jungkook's breath hitched, her body betraying her as heat coiled low in her stomach. "I—You—" she spluttered, taking a step back, only to be met with the hard edge of the vanity.

Taehyung leaned down, lips ghosting just above hers, his fingers curling under her chin, forcing her to look at him. His gaze was molten, swallowing her whole.

"Go ahead," he murmured, his lips barely brushing against hers. "Punish me, darling."

Jungkook's pulse thundered. She should push him away. She should be furious. But then his teeth caught her bottom lip, tugging gently and her knees almost buckled.

Taehyung took a single step back but his grin only widened. " A punishment's a punishment, but I never agreed it would start immediately."

Jungkook gawked at him, her brain short-circuiting as Taehyung's words sank in. Her mouth opened, then closed, then opened again—like an outraged little fish—before she finally stomped her foot.

"You sneaky—"

"Strategic," Taehyung corrected smoothly, running a hand through his tousled hair, still damp from his shower. He tilted his head, watching her, his gaze dark with amusement and something deeper.

"Besides, Mrs. Kim, you didn't specify when the punishment starts. I simply took the liberty of enjoying my last moments of freedom."

Jungkook's fingers twitched at her sides, itching to throw something at him.

The husband was already retreating, his long strides taking him toward the door as he laughed over his shoulder. "We'll start after this kiss, Mrs. Kim!" he called, his tone full of shameless pride.

Jungkook stared at him, utterly dumbfounded, as he disappeared around the corner, her mind replaying the audacity of what had just happened. 

Slowly, her eyes shifted back to the mirror, catching sight of her reflection—lips smudged, cheeks flushed, and her heart still racing from the stolen kiss. Her fingers grazed her lips, the faint warmth of Taehyung's boldness still hanging back.

And then it hit her.

"You sneaky, shameless man—ugh!" Jungkook stomped her foot, the sound echoing faintly in the room.

Her gaze darted toward the door where her husband had made his hasty retreat, his laughter still ringing in her ears.

 "I'll get you for this!" she yelled, pointing toward the empty doorway as if he could still see her.

Grumbling under her breath, Jungkook turned back to her vanity, snatching a tissue to fix the mess he'd made of her lips. "He thinks he can get away with that just because he's cute," she muttered to herself, dabbing at the smudged tint. 

"I'll show him cute."

But even as she fumed, a traitorous smile tugged at her lips. The thought of Taehyung's wide grin and the pride in his voice was enough to make her stomach flutter again, much to her dismay.

"That intolerable man," she mumbled, though her voice had softened, the corners of her mouth betraying her annoyance with an amused curve.

 "He'd better hope I don't catch him, or he's sleeping on the couch for a month!"

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───