Enjoy 🌷

The morning sun spilt in through the tall, arched windows of Jeon Manor, lighting up the bedroom with soft golden hues. Dust motes floated lazily in the air, shining like glitter caught in the still dawn.

Taehyung stirred beneath the covers, his brow creasing as the sunlight kissed his face. With a sleepy grunt, he turned, reaching instinctively across the bed, only to meet with empty, cold sheets. His lashes fluttered open, heavy with sleep, and for a moment, he simply blinked at the golden ceiling.

He sat up, letting the quilt slide down his chest as he leaned back against the headboard. His gaze drifted toward the open window, then to the quiet room. Taehyung exhaled, raking a hand through his hair as he muttered under his breath, "Where'd you run off to now, Mrs. Kim?"

Taehyung stayed still for a moment longer, listening to the silence. Then, with a soft sigh, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood. After freshening up, he emerged from the bathroom in loose grey pants and a soft cotton shirt, running a towel through his still-damp hair.

His movements were half-lulled by sleep, as he padded toward the bedroom door. He reached for the handle absently, but the moment he pulled it open, he stilled.

Taehyung blinked, Then blinked again.

The floor outside the bedroom was no longer bare. Flower petals were scattered across the hallway tiles like a story written in blooms. The towel slipped from his fingers, forgotten.

Taehyung stepped out slowly, eyes tracing the path as something warm and fluttering stirred inside his chest. His bare feet sank gently into the scattered petals; the cool marble beneath their touch was softened.

His feet moved almost automatically, following the petal path as it turned at the corner of the hallway. The path curved again, guiding him past the tall foyer doors, sunlight spilling in from the high windows above.

Finally, it stopped right at the entrance to the main hall. Taehyung stopped at the threshold, hand resting lightly on the carved frame, breath caught somewhere in his throat. Then, slowly, he pushed the door open.

What greeted him inside stole the rest of the air from his lungs.
The main hall had been transformed.

Candlelight—despite the morning sun—flickered gently from two tall, elegant candlesticks at the center of a beautifully arranged table.

The table itself was draped in a sheer net cloth, ivory white with intricate lace edging that cascaded gracefully over the sides like a bridal veil. Beneath it, glimpses of glossy wood peeked through, giving the entire scene a touch of old-world charm.

Petals were scattered across the tabletop in a soft mess, nestled between a polished tea set, neatly folded napkins, and small glass dishes filled with jams, butter, and cream.

Taehyung stepped forward slowly, bare feet brushing through a final layer of petals that had been spread around the base of the table. His heart thudded wildly against his ribs.

Everything spoke of someone who'd woken up early with love in her hands and crafted something beautiful without needing to say a single word.

He swallowed, gaze sweeping across the space with awe and tenderness stitched together.

A faint, delicate chime broke the stillness. Taehyung's ears perked up.

"Happy birthday to you~"

Taehyung froze. His heart gave a sudden, unsteady thump as he turned his head toward the sound, and the sight before him made his heart slow... then beat faster.

Jungkook stood at the end of the hall like she had stepped out of a royal painting. The crimson silk dress clinging to every graceful curve, the fabric shining like wine under the light. The dress was sculpted perfectly to her, cinching her waist before spreading out into sweeping drapes.

Jungkook was holding a birthday cake. But he could barely see it.

All he could see was her.

Taehyung was stunned and silent. The hall, the petals, the breakfast—it all blurred behind her now.

"Happy birthday, Mr. Kim," Jungkook said softly, finally stopping just in front of him, holding the little cake like an offering. Her eyes twinkled—nervous, hopeful, warm.

"Make a wish?"

Taehyung didn't move. He simply looked at her, from the way the dress hugged her like it was made for no one else, to the heat dusting her cheeks, to the slight nervous glint in her eyes despite all her boldness.

Taehyung lowered his eyes to the cake, then back at her, barely able to decide where to look. He leaned in slightly and blew out the candle. The little flame vanished, replaced by the soft golden haze of morning sun and candlelight.

Jungkook stepped forward and placed the cake down on the table. When she straightened again, Taehyung reached out and tugged her hand softly, just enough for her to turn fully toward him again. His eyes searched hers as his thumb brushed over her knuckles.

"How did you even know it was my birthday?" he asked, voice low and touched with wonder. "I don't remember telling you."

Jungkook's eyes narrowed playfully. Without warning, she tiptoed and flicked his forehead—not too hard, but enough to make him blink.

"What kind of wife would I be if I didn't know my husband's birthday?"

Taehyung chuckled under his breath, rubbing the spot she'd flicked. "A very mysterious one."

Jungkook slipped gently out of Taehyung's embrace, cheeks still faintly flushed, but her smile holding something a little more mischievous now.

"Save your breath, okay," she announced, stepping back just a little.

Taehyung's brow furrowed slightly. "What?"

But before he could say more, she turned. And Taehyung... choked on absolutely nothing. His breath caught mid-throat, eyes widening as they fell on her back.

The dress—oh, the dress. From the front, it had been elegant, the deep red fabric wrapping around her like a second skin. But the back... the back was a whole other story.

Thin, delicate straps held the gown together at her shoulders before vanishing into a scandalous plunge that left her entire back bare, smooth skin glowing under the golden morning light. At the base of her spine, right above where the fabric gathered at her hips, sat a perfectly tied bow.

It was bold, taunting, and dangerously beautiful.

His gaze followed the line of her shoulder blades, the gentle curve of her spine, the soft dip where the bow rested like a secret waiting to be untied.

Jungkook's hair had been swept up loosely, pinned with a single blooming rose that matched the dress, letting a few soft strands fall to frame her face, but leaving her nape entirely exposed.

"You're trying to kill me."

Jungkook glanced coyly over her shoulder, lips twitching. "I figured birthdays should be memorable."

Taehyung was already stepping closer, hands twitching at his sides. "This isn't a surprise. This is a trap."

Jungkook turned around slowly, her gown whispering against the petals beneath her feet. The deep red coulour of the dress caught the morning light like fire, and Taehyung had to remind himself to breathe.

With a smile tugging at her lips, she reached for his arm. "Sit," she said, guiding him toward the chair. "Before you combust."

Taehyung resisted—just a little. "You expect me to eat when you're standing there looking like a forbidden sin in silk?"

Jungkook rolled her eyes, but her cheeks flushed anyway. "Mr. Kim, if you don't sit and try my handmade sandwiches, I will personally revoke your husband privileges."

That made him huff a laugh. He allowed himself to be seated, catching the faint shimmer of highlighter on her collarbones as she leaned in slightly to push the chair in. Her scent wrapped around him—roses and something sweetly vanilla, familiar.

"God," he muttered, glancing at her from beneath his lashes. "Even your threats are elegant."

Jungkook gave him a look. "Eat."

He picked up a fork with a sigh, like it was the heaviest burden of his life. "Fine. But I'm only doing this because you threatened me."

Jungkook leaned down just slightly, placing a soft kiss on the top of his head. "That's more like it."

Taehyung froze for a second, heart thudding deep in his chest at the closeness. Then, with a slow grin, he reached up and tugged her gently by the wrist, pulling her into his lap. A startled gasp slipped past Jungkook's lips as she stumbled forward, instinctively gripping his shoulders. "Tae!"

"New plan," he murmured, voice low against her ear as he adjusted her carefully, guiding her to settle on his right thigh. His legs were comfortably sprawled on the wide chair, and she fit against him like a memory he never wanted to forget. "You feed me. It's my birthday."

Jungkook's breath hitched as her hands slid to his chest, steadying herself. The way he looked at her made it hard to tell if the heat blooming in her cheeks was from embarrassment or something far more dangerous. His arm curled around her waist, holding her securely.

"I made all this," she muttered, trying to sound exasperated, but her voice came out too soft, too fluttery. "So that you could eat with dignity."

"And I am," he said, tilting his head, lips brushing the shell of her ear, "in the arms of luxury."

Jungkook turned her head slightly to scold him, but his gaze had already dropped to her lips, lingering like a slow caress. She swallowed. Her dress shifted with the movement, the soft red fabric brushing against his thigh, and Taehyung felt every bit of it.

"Your heart's racing," he said suddenly, his palm splaying across the small of her back where the dress dipped scandalously low. His thumb brushed the base of her spine, right where the silk bow sat, dangerously close to skin.

"So is yours," she whispered, matching his intensity for a heartbeat before her eyes flicked away, too shy to hold his gaze for long.

Jungkook shifted slightly in his seat—well, technically his seat was Taehyung's thigh, and the realization made her cheeks heat all over again. She was trying to ignore the molten warmth spreading in her belly at how close they were. She reached for a fork and carefully scooped up a bit of fruit from the bowl on the table.

The movement gave her hands something to do, something to focus on besides the heat of his palm tracing lazy circles across the bare dip of her spine.

Scooping up a bite of fruit from the bowl on the table, she lifted the fork to his lips. "Eat," she said, trying for her usual sass, but her voice came out soft. A little too breathy.

Taehyung didn't obey immediately. His eyes stayed locked on her, unreadable, dark lashes shadowing his gaze. Then, he leaned forward and took the bite.
Jungkook turned her face quickly, pretending to focus on the teapot, cheeks blooming with colour.

"You remember a few days ago..." she began, voice casual but quieter than usual, "...when you told me I should let you be the trophy husband for a day?"

Taehyung went still behind her, a pause in his touch, before a deep sound rumbled in his chest—a low chuckle, equal parts fondness and mischief. "How could I forget?" he murmured, his grip tightening just slightly, pulling her an inch closer into the curve of his body. "You turned bright red and threw a pillow at my face."

Jungkook huffed, pouting. "That pillow was self-defence."

Taehyung tilted his head and nuzzled gently into the side of her hair, the tip of his nose brushing against her temple with lazy affection. "It was outrageously cute."

A smile tugged at her lips despite herself. She rolled her eyes and twisted in his arms just enough to face him, her hands coming to rest lightly on his chest.

The moment slowed—her breath steadying, her heart tapping fast under her ribs.

"Well..." she said quietly, "consider today your wish come true."

Taehyung's expression shifted, surprise flashing in his eyes. For a moment, he didn't speak. His gaze fell to the table in front of them, the spread Junkook had laid out with her own hands. Crisp toast, carefully peeled fruit, his favourite blend of tea, and, the delicate lace net draped over the table like something out of a storybook.

His eyes returned to her face—glowing, a little nervous, lips pressed together as if second-guessing herself.

"You're serious?" he asked, his voice softer now, head tilting just slightly as though trying to catch a bluff that didn't exist.

Jungkook didn't hesitate this time. She turned fully in his lap, curling closer, the edge of her dress catching gently against his thigh as she moved. Her hands settled just over his heart, and she gave a quiet nod.

"Yes," she whispered. "You might act all cool and collected, Mr. Kim, but you wear your tiredness like an extra coat. You deserve soft mornings, too. Even if it's just for one morning. I want you to have it."

His throat worked around something unspoken. The usual witty joke sat on his tongue, but he swallowed it down in favor of letting his forehead rest gently against hers.

"You're going to ruin me," he murmured, lips barely brushing hers in the air between them.

Then, before Taehyung could say another word, Jungkook reached forward with a little hum and plucked a flower from the small bouquet on the breakfast table. It was a tiny yellow bloom, something most wouldn't even notice in a wild garden. But in her fingers, it looked precious.

She gently tucked it behind his ear, brushing aside the strands of his hair with a touch so light it made his skin prickle. Her fingers lingered near his temple, brushing once, twice, as if savoring the moment. Her eyes flicked to his, and for a heartbeat, something soft and unguarded passed between them.

Jungkook let her fingers linger just a second longer by his temple, then slowly drew them back, the same way you'd pull your hand from warm water, unwillingly and gently.

"You look so pretty," she whispered.

The words came out barely louder than breath, but they struck like thunder between them. She didn't meet his gaze immediately after. Instead, her eyes darted to the collar of his shirt, where her fingertips now nervously fidgeted with a loose thread.

Taehyung's breath caught, his heart thudding at her quiet praise. No one had ever said that to him before at least not like this.

Then, Jungkook leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

Taehyung's eyes shut at the sensation. It was the softest thing he'd ever felt like butterfly wings. Her lips lingered for only a second, but it seared him more than any fever ever had.

And Jungkook... oh, Jungkook looked flustered even though she was the one who initiated it. Her nose crinkled slightly as she hid half her face against his shoulder, giggling quietly into the linen of his shirt.

Taehyung chuckled low, the sound vibrating beneath her ear.

"You're very dangerous like this," he murmured, his arms tightening around her waist, drawing her more securely onto his lap. His right thigh flexed beneath her, perfectly cradling her small frame. "Pretty wifey... sweet assassin."

"I'm not dangerous," she protested weakly, voice muffled by his shirt.

"You're worse," he teased, turning his head slightly so his lips brushed her hair. "You're adorable."

Jungkook groaned softly, burying herself further into his shoulder, smacking his chest once with her hand in half-hearted protest. "I'm trying to be romantic here, not adorable..."

"You're both."

She made a sound of complaint, but her arms snaked around his neck anyway, fingers playing lightly with the hair at his nape. And when she tilted her head up again, cheeks pink, eyes warm, lips parted just the slightest—

Taehyung thought maybe there wasn't a single candle or flower in the world that could rival her in that moment.

"Happy birthday," she whispered again.

He kissed her forehead in reply and in the quiet hush that followed, the cursed man who had long forgotten how to hope... began to believe he might really be saved.

"So I just get to sit here and be pampered on my birthday?" he asked, his voice low and touched with wonder.

"Exactly." Jungkook straightened up a bit, her hands coming to smooth out an invisible wrinkle in his shirt. Her thumb brushed lightly against the fabric near his open collar, then lingered. She was focused, trying hard to stay composed, like she wasn't trembling from how close they were.

Taehyung tilted his head. "You're being awfully bold for someone who threatened me with a pillow just days ago."

The reaction was immediate—and adorable. Jungkook's eyes widened, her fingers froze mid-smoothing, caught just at the edge of his chest. Then she gasped softly, scandalized and flustered all at once, her cheeks coloring as she gave him a small, incredulous glare.

It might've had more bite if it weren't delivered from someone wearing a backless red dress and sitting on his lap like a storybook wife.

"That was... that was before," Jungkook mumbled, attempting a haughty little sniff, though it didn't quite land with her voice wobbling. She turned her attention back to his shirt as if she hadn't just been caught red-handed, smoothing it again as a way to hide. "Before I discovered my inner strength."

Taehyung raised a brow, amused. "Inner strength, huh?"

"Yes," she said with more certainty this time, crossing her arms for half a second before thinking better of it and resting her hands gently on his chest again. Her chin lifted slightly—adorably defiant, like a bunny trying to challenge a lion without realizing how soft her own paws were.

"Today, I'm the pampering wife," she continued. "You're the birthday king. Trophy husband. No work. No stress. Just food, flowers, and me."

His heart did something strange at the casual way she said me. Like she was part of the gift, part of the whole day's warmth and thoughtfulness, part of the reason the morning sunlight felt so golden.

He smiled slowly, the kind of smile that started in the corners of his mouth and touched every part of his face. "If this is what birthdays look like with you," he murmured, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear, "I want to turn a year older every week."

Jungkook ducked her head shyly, but her grin betrayed her. "Don't push it, Mr. Kim."

"Oh, but pretty wifeys should spoil their husbands on their birthday, shouldn't they?" he asked, leaning just a little closer, his voice teasing but heavy with something more tender underneath.

Her answer was a soft whisper, barely above the quiet morning breeze.

"Always."

Taehyung was still admiring the curve of her smile when Jungkook tilted her head, eyes gleaming with a mischievous spark.

"But you know," she began casually, trailing a finger along the edge of his collar, "you're officially thirty now."

Taehyung's grin faltered slightly. "Wow. You didn't even sugarcoat that."

"I'm just saying," she said sweetly, leaning in like she was sharing a scandal, "I'm still twenty-one. And you, Mr. Kim... well, you're kind of ancient now."

He blinked at her. "Ancient?"

"Mmhmm," Jungkook hummed, nodding with mock sympathy. "You'll need eye cream, back support, and maybe a knee brace by the end of this month."

Taehyung narrowed his eyes playfully. "Aren't wives supposed to encourage their husbands on their birthday?"

"I am encouraging you," Jungkook giggled. "To embrace your graceful decline."

He let out a dramatic gasp, then without warning, slipped his hands to her waist and leaned back in the chair, tugging her down more securely into his lap. Jungkook squeaked again, hands flying to his chest for balance as her knees tightened around his thigh for support.

"Watch your tongue, smol wifey," he warned in a low voice, eyes gleaming now. "Or this ancient man might still have enough strength to carry you straight back to bed."

Jungkook flushed from the base of her neck to the tips of her ears. "Y-You wouldn't."

"Try me."

But then his hands softened again, one of them gliding up her back to rest between her shoulder blades, fingers brushing her bare skin with slow reverence.

"You're still barely twenty-two," he murmured, quieter now, almost to himself. "I forget sometimes... how young you are."

Jungkook's smile softened too. She touched the side of his face, thumb brushing his cheekbone.

"I may be younger," she said, voice just a breath, "but I'm old enough to know I want you. To spoil you. To make your birthdays beautiful."

Taehyung swallowed, his throat tight with emotion. His hand moved to cover hers where it rested on his face.

"You already have," he whispered.

Taehyung was still watching her with that warm, amused glint in his eye when Jungkook's expression began to shift. She quieted. The smile on her lips faded, not completely, but softened into something more fragile. Her fingers brushed down from his cheek to his jaw, then fell to rest gently over his chest, where his heart beat strong and steady beneath her touch.

"I was teasing," she said after a pause, eyes lowering briefly. "About the age thing."

"I know," Taehyung replied gently, his thumb brushing her waist. "You always tease with love."

Jungkook gave him a little nod, but the twinkle in her eye was now replaced with something heavier—something that had clearly been waiting.

"There's something else, though," she murmured, curling her fingers lightly into his shirt. "Something real. A gift I want to give you today... not wrapped in ribbons or petals or even silk."

Taehyung blinked. His body stilled beneath her, the air around them thickening subtly, as if the world itself was leaning in to listen.
"I'm listening," he said, voice lower now, gentler.

Jungkook took a deep breath, looking straight into his eyes.

"For years," she said softly, "you've lived like this. Trapped beneath a curse no one truly sees but you."

Taehyung's eyes darkened, but he said nothing.

"A curse that's not just magic. It's pain. Isolation. It's silence in rooms where joy should live. It's waking up at night and wondering if you're still yourself."

She swallowed, her voice beginning to tremble.

"For almost twenty years," she went on, "you've carried the weight of that Djinn's mark—buried under your skin, bleeding into your bones, stealing light from your life bit by bit."

Taehyung exhaled slowly, gaze flickering away. But Jungkook reached up, cupping his face with both hands now, forcing his gaze back to hers.

"I see you, Taehyung," Jungkook whispered, "I see how heavy it is. I see how you smile so others don't worry. I see how you isolate when the dark thoughts start echoing again. I see the marks it's left, even if no one else ever noticed."

His jaw clenched, something raw shimmering in his eyes.

"And that's why," Jungkook said, leaning forward until their foreheads touched, "for your birthday—this year and every year until it's done—I promise on my soul, my magic, my breath and blood... I will make your soul curse-free."

Taehyung's breath hitched.

"I will break it," she vowed, voice shaking but steady with conviction. "If it takes every ounce of me. If it takes decades more. I will stand between you and that Djinn until it has no power left."

"Jungkook..." he rasped, barely able to form the word.

Taehyung's throat worked around her name like it was the only thing he remembered how to say. His hands calloused from battles both physical and unseen, trembled where they held her.

"You don't have to keep pretending to be whole for me," Jungkook whispered. "I've loved every broken, cursed, sleepless part of you since the moment I saw the man behind the silence. The boy who never got to grow without fear."

Taehyung brought their joined hands to his lips and kissed her knuckles, like he was praying over them.

Their foreheads met again, the press of skin warm and full of aching closeness. Taehyung closed his eyes, as if the feeling might be too much. But Jungkook kept him grounded with the anchor of her hands, her breath, her vow.

"Then that's my gift. Every part of me... until you're free."

-——-—————

The late morning sun was golden, stretching lazy beams across the hood of their car as it moved along the winding countryside road. The windows were down just enough for the breeze to filter in, tousling Taehyung's hair gently as he sat in the passenger seat, legs crossed, one arm resting on the door, the other adjusting the strap of his luxury watch.

His eyes flicked sideways, only to land on the sight that had been amusing and endearing him for the past twenty minutes.

His pretty wife was driving the car. It still felt like an out-of-body experience.

Especially considering they were both dressed in matching outfits. Taehyung had barely finished his breakfast before Jungkook was already dragging him by the wrist.

Taehyung leaned his head against the window, the corner of his mouth curling into a barely-there smile as the countryside blurred past. The sunlit fields weren't half as vivid as the memory replaying in his head, the absolute production Jungkook had made of getting him dressed that morning.

It had started with a command, not a request.

"Sit," she had ordered, hands on her hips, already dressed in the ivory linen blouse and golden-studded earrings that shimmered with the sun.

And like the loyal husband he was, he flopped down on the stool and let her begin her madness.

First came the moisturiser, which she applied with a level of care usually reserved for antique porcelain. Her fingers worked softly across his cheekbones, her brow furrowed in concentration like she was preparing a canvas for art. She dabbed under his eyes, tapped his forehead, then gently pinched his cheeks.

"Dont frown. That causes forehead lines."

"I'm not frowning. I'm... resting my face in confusion."

"Be less confused. And more glowy."

He had tried not to enjoy it. Truly. But when Jungkook stood in front of him, lip caught between her teeth in concentration as she combed her fingers through his strands, tilting his chin this way and that... yeah. He wasn't made of stone.

When she finally stepped back and gave an exaggerated gasp, clapping once like she'd completed a masterpiece, Taehyung had blinked up at her, dazed.

"You look so handsome," she said, absolutely beaming. "Like the first sunbeam after a rainy morning."

Taehyung looked in the mirror and barely recognised the version of himself staring back.

"You look like my most expensive possession," Jungkook had sighed proudly, standing beside him and taking a mirror selfie before he could even react.

Now, hours later, sitting in the passenger seat—dressed head-to-toe in a coordinated outfit he didn't even pick, his hair still falling the exact way she styled it—Taehyung glanced sideways at his wife and couldn't stop the warmth curling at the edges of his mouth.

He was pampered, spoiled, dressed and chauffeured. And despite all his teasing and fake grumbling... he didn't mind being her trophy husband for the day.

Especially not when she looked so smug and beautiful behind the wheel, her sunglasses pushed up, a pink gloss on her lips, wind flirting with the ends of her hair.

Taehyung's eyes drifted to her again. She looked utterly in her element, like a painting brought to life. The wind kept tugging at her hair, and she kept tucking it behind her ear in this rhythmic little motion that was doing unspeakable things to his heart. Her lips were glossy, her cheeks a little pink from the sun, and she had this proud, self-satisfied look on her face that made her seem both regal and infuriating.

"Where exactly are we going, Madam President of Surprises?"

Jungkook didn't even flinch at his question. Her lips curved into an annoyingly pretty smile, one that was pure mischief and satisfaction, the kind that said she knew exactly what she was doing—and was enjoying every second of it.

The wife tilted her sunglasses down slightly to peer at him over the rim, her gaze was playful and unbothered, "You'll see, Mr. Trophy Husband. Sit back, look pretty, and stop interrogating your pretty wifey."

Taehyung let out a theatrical sigh, throwing his head back against the headrest. "So that's it? I'm just supposed to be quiet and mysterious now?"

"Tit for tat, husband dearest," she said sweetly. "Remember that time you dragged me two towns over to see the orphanage and didn't tell me until we were already halfway there?"

"That was different."

"No, it wasn't. You looked smug the whole drive and said, 'Trust me, wifey.'"
"I did not sound like that—"

"You did sound like that. And now it's my turn." Jungkook shot him a sideways grin. "Trust me, hubby."

Taehyung stared at her, blinking. Then chuckled under his breath, slumping back in his seat like a man who had surrendered to fate. He was being driven through the countryside, forbidden from asking questions, and treated like a walking Pinterest aesthetic.

Birthday perks, apparently.

Jungkook drove on for a few more minutes. Then, with a decisive turn, she slowed and pulled over near a quiet spot. Taehyung blinked, glancing out the window as the car came to a gentle stop. He spotted a lake stretched out before them at a distance, its surface catching the sunlight. Nestled beside the water was a charming building with wide windows and a small wooden deck reaching toward the lake, framed by tall grasses swaying in the breeze.

Jungkook's voice broke the silence, light and bubbly as ever. "Okay, listen up, Mr. Trophy Husband—don't come out yet, okay? Just... trust me on this one."

She fumbled hurriedly with her seatbelt, undoing it with an excited tug. "Promise me you'll stay put."

Taehyung raised an eyebrow, amused but curious. "I'm a man of my word."

"Good boy." She beamed.

He chuckled softly as she slipped out of the car. The soft click of her door closing echoed in the quiet air. Taehyung saw the light skip in Jungkook's step as she rounded the car and came to his side.

Jungkook opened the car door like a K-drama boyfriend arriving to pick up their beloved under a cherry blossom tree. Her hand shot out toward him, palm up, fingers wiggling with a cheeky command, "Come, my prince."

Taehyung let out a deep, amused chuckle, already half in love with the absurdity of it all.

"Are you auditioning for a role or rescuing me from a pumpkin carriage?" he teased, sliding his hand into hers.

Jungkook grinned, unapologetically smug. "I'm rescuing you from being boring on your birthday. Now, get out, Your Highness."

As she helped him out—needlessly, given his fully functional limbs—Taehyung allowed himself to be guided like a pampered guest. The breeze tousled her hair, and the sun lit up her face in golden brushstrokes as she grinned up at him.

Jungkook was practically bouncing on her feet, a mixture of excitement and nervous energy bubbling in her bright eyes. Whether Taehyung would like what she had planned or not, she was determined to make this moment perfect.

She led him toward the building by the lake. The sun filtered through the tall trees, dappling their path with shifting patches of gold and shadow. Around them, the air was fragrant with the fresh scent of earth and wildflowers.

As they neared the rustic wooden cabin nestled by the lake, Taehyung's eyes flicked up to the little wooden signboard hanging over the entrance. The soft curls of handwritten paint read Pottery Studio, adorned with a doodled swirl of vines and clay pots.

He slowed slightly, a brow quirking. "Pottery?"

Jungkook froze beside him for a half-second, visibly gulping. Her fingers automatically began fiddling with the strap of his watch—his expensive, leather-banded birthday gift she had insisted he wear—and he felt the gentle tug as she twisted the band in tiny, nervous motions.

"Yeah..." she began, voice light but just a tad breathless, "I thought, y'know, we've already done so many typical things—like eating by a lake, so I figured, why not try something different this time?"

She glanced up at him, eyes wide like she was preparing to be roasted. But before Taehyung could reply, she continued—her chatterbox mode fully activated.

"I just thought, like, imagine us making our own little cups or bowls! Messy hands, aprons, and it's your birthday, so obviously you deserve a peaceful, warm, earthy experience. And I read somewhere that couples who do creative stuff together have lower chances of arguing, not that we argue a lot, except when you say your hairstyle is fine when it's clearly not and I fix it anyway—"

Taehyung blinked slowly, the corners of his mouth twitching as her words continued in a melodious blur.

"—and like, come on, when will you ever have the chance to shape wet clay with your bare hands while I judge you lovingly from across the table? It's romantic and wholesome! I packed hand cream and wipes and extra clothes in the trunk just in case you get too much clay on you and freak out about the fabric, and oh, they even let you paint your pots after they dry—"

Jungkook finally paused for breath, biting her lip and nervously brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. Then, in a much smaller voice, she added, "But if you don't like it... if this pottery thing's too weird or boring or not very Mr Kim type... we can go back. It's okay. I just wanted today to feel different. Special. Like... something only we would do."

She tugged at his watch strap again without realizing it, her eyes cast down and her usually bouncy energy folded inwards with hesitation. Taehyung looked at her.
This smol wifey of his.

With her big eyes full of mischief and worry, her mind that worked ten ideas a second, her mouth that barely stopped, and her heart—her very, very soft heart—that always showed up for him in unexpected ways.

Taehyung stepped closer, his tall frame casting a soft shadow over her in the golden light, and gently cupped Jungkook's face in both hands. His thumbs rested against the soft curve of her cheeks. Her lips parted, caught off guard by the tenderness in his gaze.

"It's never bad to try new things," he said quietly, "Especially not with you."

Jungkook swallowed, her throat suddenly tight. The breeze caught her hair again, rustling it across her cheek, but she didn't move—not when his hands were holding her so still, so gently. He finally let his hands fall from her cheeks, but not before pressing a brief kiss to her forehead.

"Let's make a very wobbly, embarrassing pot together," he said softly, the smile in his voice unmistakable. "And then let's name it after you."

Jungkook blinked.
He added with a wink, "Because it'll be small, loud, and dramatic."
She gasped, offended in the most theatrical way possible, then smacked his arm before bursting into delighted laughter.
And just like that, the nervous energy melted away as Jungkook grabbed his hand again, her grin stretching wide as she pulled him toward the studio's open doors.
They were about to make a mess—together.

They stepped inside, the wooden door creaking softly behind them, and the moment Taehyung crossed the threshold, the world seemed to hush.
The studio was wide and open, exhaling the scent of damp clay and sun-warmed wood. It felt like stepping into a space untouched by time—peaceful, grounded, and honest. The natural sunlight streaming in through enormous arching windows carved into the walls, their panes slightly fogged at the edges like breath on glass

The gentle creak of floorboards announced the arrival of a woman, elegant in her simplicity, dressed in a faded cotton dress with clay-streaked fingers and silvering hair tied in a bun that seemed to carry decades of quiet wisdom.

She gave them a warm, knowing smile.

"Jeon Jungkook?" she asked.

Jungkook straightened immediately, a spark of familiarity in her eyes. "Yes! Ma'am!" she chirped, practically bouncing on her toes. "We spoke over the phone—I booked the private spot for this morning? For two?"

The woman smiled wider and nodded. "Of course. I've prepared the back corner by the windows, just as you requested. A little privacy, some space... and no distractions."

Taehyung looked over Jungkook's head, curiosity glinting in his eyes. Through a low wooden partition at the far end, there was indeed a cosy nook.. It was separated just enough to feel intimate, with its own wheel, tools, and a tiny round table covered in aprons, folded cloths, and an instruction sheet that had clearly been hand-written

"It's beautiful," Taehyung murmured.

The woman bowed her head slightly. "We try to let the space speak."

Jungkook turned back to her. "Thank you so much again. I know it was a last-minute request and a birthday slot too—"

"It's always a good day for love and mess," the woman replied, a quiet twinkle in her eyes.

Taehyung glanced around. A few other couples were scattered across the room, one older pair quietly working side by side. A young woman sat alone, hands gently shaping a lump of clay. In another corner, two friends laughed over a wonky bowl that had clearly caved in on one side.

The owner placed a small towel on the side table and offered them both a kind smile, this time looking more directly at Taehyung, as if sensing he was the one new to this world of wet clay and spinning wheels.

"We like to leave people alone here," she said softly, folding her hands in front of her. "This place was built to let people sit with their thoughts, their hands, their messes—without interruption. You don't need to be perfect here. Or even good."

Taehyung looked at her, attentive. The gentleness in her voice wasn't rehearsed—it was lived in.

"But," she added, her eyes now crinkling warmly, "if it gets difficult—if the clay won't listen or your patience runs out—you're allowed to call for help. We don't believe in suffering in silence, especially not for art."

Jungkook tilted her head, clearly charmed. "That should be a life motto."

The woman chuckled. "It is, for me."

Then she gave a small bow. "Take your time. Everything you need is here—water, cloths, tools, and space. Just don't forget to breathe."

With that, she turned and walked away, the hem of her dress brushing softly along the wooden floor as she returned to the quieter edges of the studio, letting them fall back into their little sanctuary by the window.

Taehyung moved toward the side table where a tray held folded aprons and a small linen cloth. He unbuckled the strap of his watch. It made a gentle click against the table when he placed it down.

Jungkook, meanwhile, was halfway into her apron, wrestling with the ties behind her back. Her hands kept fumbling, trying to pull the strings into some kind of knot but failing spectacularly.

"Ugh—why are these things always so long?" she muttered, twisting around, her fingers tangling more than tying. She looked comically frustrated, lips puffed in a pout as the apron hung awkwardly on her body.

Taehyung turned, his own apron already secured, soft cream linen wrapped around his frame like second skin, sleeves rolled up to his forearms.

Then he heard it.
A soft, desperate whine.

"Mr Kimm... help me," Jungkook huffed, her voice lilting and dramatic, full of helplessness and charm. "I'm going to choke myself if I keep trying. Come do it, please?"

He didn't say anything at first. With a little smile, he walked toward her. Jungkook stilled, watching him approach. Something about the look in his eyes made her heart start to thrum. He didn't stop behind her like she expected. Taehyung came to stand in front of her.

Her brows rose. "Aren't you supposed to be at my back—?"

Jungkook didn't finish because Taehyung reached for the apron strings that dangled from either side of her waist, trailing over her hips. He grasped both ends and slowly began to pull. The fabric tightened, drawing in slowly.

And then, Jungkook was pulled forward straight into him. Her body collided softly against his front, and she let out a breathy little gasp as her hands braced on his chest. Her nose nearly brushed the hollow of his throat, the heat of him sinking instantly into her skin.

"Problem solved," he murmured.

Jungkook stayed frozen, wide-eyed, lips slightly parted. She could feel his heartbeat under her palm, the strength of his body curved just enough to fit hers like puzzle pieces.

"T-Tae," she breathed, not even sure what she was objecting to.

"Hmm?" He didn't step back. His fingers moved deftly at her back, tying the knot tight and clean—but he stayed close, closer than necessary.

She tilted her head up. "You did that on purpose."

His lips curled in a smirk, eyes glinting. "You whined on purpose."

Jungkook flushed. "I did not."

He reached up, brushing a loose strand of hair from her cheek, fingertips barely grazing her skin. "You did. I know that voice."

Still smiling, Taehyung finally took a step back but not before letting his fingers trail along the edge of her apron one last time, like he was memorizing the feel of her through fabric.

Jungkook huffed softly under her breath, cheeks still tingling from the way he'd yanked her right into him like it was nothing. She picked up the instruction manual from the table, trying to distract herself before she did something like throw clay at her annoyingly charming husband.

Taehyung was already at the table, casually running his fingers over the smooth slabs of clay, feeling the cool texture. His brows furrowed slightly in concentration as he examined the lumps before him.

Jungkook approached him, the manual still open in her hands, her voice a bit breathless as she read out the next steps. "Okay, so the first part is wedging the clay. It says here we have to knead it really well to remove any air bubbles, fold it, and press it down. That makes it smooth and ready to spin."

Taehyung glanced up at her, a slow smile spreading across his lips. "Sounds like the heavy lifting," he joked, eyes sparkling.

Jungkook watched with curious eyes as Taehyung began pressing down on the clay, his sleeves rolled up to his forearms, veins flexing slightly with each firm movement.

Still, doubt fluttered in her chest.

"Do you think we'll even be able to do it?" she asked uncertainly, tilting her head, eyes flicking between the heavy mound of clay and his hands. "Like... make an actual pot and not a collapsed mushroom?"

Taehyung glanced up at her, a confident smirk tugging at his lips. "Don't worry, wifey," he said, casually dusting his palms. "You forget—we're not mere mortals. Just a flicker of magic, and things will happen."

And as if to prove his point, he held out his fingers over the clay and flicked them gently. A soft golden shimmer arose from his fingertips, like threads of sun weaving into the air.

Jungkook's eyes widened in horror. "Kim Taehyung—no! Don't you dare!"

Before he could even blink again, she had lunged at him, swatting at his hand like he was reaching for the last piece of cake instead of casually defying the laws of non-magical pottery studios.

He laughed as she tried to yank his wrist away from the clay, face twisted in anger. "Are you seriously trying to cheat at pottery?"

"I'm trying to survive pottery," he quipped.

"You are not magic-ing our date!" she scolded, her cheeks puffing, nose scrunching as she tried to glare and pout at the same time. "This is supposed to be us doing something normal! Not you playing Earth God!"

"But it would be so symmetrical—" he tried, laughing harder as she shoved him lightly in the chest.

"Put those fingers away, sir!" she huffed, grabbing his hands and cradling them dramatically. "These hands are under strict wifey surveillance today."

"Yes, ma'am," he grinned, leaning a little closer. "As long as you're the one watching over me."

Jungkook blinked, momentarily stunned, before pushing his face away with her palm. "Don't flirt. We have mud to conquer."

Taehyung chuckled, finally settling down and giving the clay a firm, very non-magical press. The golden shimmer had faded, but his smile lingered.

The muscles in his forearms flexed and moved with each push. It was messy. Earthy, sticky, squishy. And within minutes, there was clay smeared across his knuckles, the base of his wrist, even a bit near his jaw where he'd scratched an itch absentmindedly.

Meanwhile, Jungkook had taken it upon herself to be his overly dramatic support squad. She sat perched on the edge of a stool beside him, swinging her legs as she fanned him with the pottery manual like it was the summer of 1882 and he was an emperor building pots instead of palaces.

"You're doing great, husband," she said, voice syrupy sweet, fanning with flair. "Such strong arms. So much wrist strength. Look at those... bold circles."

Taehyung paused, giving her a side-eye. "Bold circles?"

"That's what it says in the manual," she grinned. "We must knead the clay in bold circles. Your circles are... outrageously bold."

Jungkook giggled and leaned closer, blowing a puff of cool air toward his cheek. Except this time, the breeze shimmered faintly with her magic, like a playful whisper of wind. It made the clay dust around his hands swirl gently, almost like petals in a breeze.

Taehyung raised an eyebrow, amused. "Aren't you cheating now?"

"I'm cheering," she defended dramatically, fluttering her lashes. "There's a difference."

"Oh?" he said, glancing at her with mock sternness. "You said no magic, remember?"

"This is air," she said sassily, lifting her chin. "Natural resource. I'm just distributing it... efficiently."

The wife began blowing again, her magical breeze cooling the back of his neck this time, making him hum in comfort.

Finally, after what felt like ages of kneading, folding, and pushing the stubborn lump of earth into obedience, Taehyung gave a satisfied nod. The clay was smooth, pliable, and warm from his hands—finally ready for the next step.

"Alright," he exhaled, brushing his palms together and smearing even more clay across his skin like war paint. "It's your turn, potter princess."

Jungkook's eyes lit up like sparklers. "Really?! Me first?"

"You earned it," he said with a fond little smile, stepping back and wiping his hands on a nearby towel. "All that wind-blowing and dramatic encouragement must've been exhausting."

With a gleeful squeak, Jungkook practically skipped to the potter's wheel, dropping herself onto the little stool in front of it. She wiggled in place excitedly, trying to find the right height, then patted her thighs proudly like she'd taken a throne.

Taehyung stood beside her, arms crossed, the ghostly smile pulling at the corner of his lips as he watched her try to center the clay on the wheel.

"Okay... okay wait, is this the middle?" she asked, leaning forward, elbows on her knees, eyes narrowed in deep focus. Her tongue peeked out in concentration as she pressed the clay with both palms.

Taehyung stepped closer, watching as the lump wobbled slightly off-center with each turn. "Mmm... you're about three universes to the left."

Jungkook groaned, "Don't mock me, I'm new at this."

"I'm not mocking," he said, kneeling beside her now, close enough that his shoulder brushed hers. "Just observing."

"Well, observe quietly," she huffed, brows furrowed cutely. "This clay has a destiny. A very vase-shaped destiny."

Taehyung chuckled, but kept his silence, choosing instead to simply watch—his eyes tracing the curve of her arms, the mess on her apron, the clay sticking adorably to her jawline where she'd unknowingly brushed her face.

Jungkook gasped a little too loudly as the wheel spun too quickly and the clay lurched under her palms, wobbling with rebellion. A wet splash of clay water spattered up, streaking across her apron and dotted down the front of her blouse.

She blinked at the mess, then burst into a giggle. "I think it just attacked me."

Taehyung shook his head fondly and moved without a word.

Before Jungkook could react, he lowered himself behind her onto the stool. Jungkook stiffened slightly as she found herself nestled between his thighs, her back pressed against his chest. His knees framed her on either side, caging her in, and his arms casually, confidently slid around her.

Jungkook blinked rapidly, momentarily forgetting where she was, who she was, and what she was supposed to be doing with the muddy mess in front of her.

"You could've warned me," she muttered, breath hitching just slightly as she felt his chest behind her, the brush of his lips near her temple as he leaned in.

Taehyung's voice was a whisper, "Would've taken the fun out of it."

His hands came up to gently guide hers, their fingers brushing together above the spinning wheel. "Slow and stable," he murmured, his chin barely grazing her shoulder as he looked past her, "You have to control the rhythm. The clay listens to touch... not force."

Jungkook swallowed, nodding faintly, though her mind wasn't following pottery tips anymore. Not when she was cocooned between his arms, sitting snugly against him like he'd built this very pose from muscle memory.

His breath fanned against her neck, his palms warm over hers, clay-streaked fingers intertwining. She felt every rise and fall of his chest behind her.

Jungkook tried to focus on the spinning clay beneath their fingers—the soft whirr of the wheel, the way the mud curved and yielded with every slight motion—but it was hopeless. Her heart wasn't following the pottery. It was chasing something warmer, something quieter, fluttering madly inside her chest.

She swallowed again, her throat suddenly dry, eyes flicking down to where their hands met.

Her own fingers looked so small beneath his. His palms enveloped hers completely, steady and strong, the pads of his thumbs pressing gently to help mold the rim of the clay. Every time his fingers shifted, hers followed automatically, and every time hers hesitated, he stilled with her, as though they were tethered by some invisible thread.

The intimacy of it all—their hands so close, smoothed by the same wet earth, their breathing tangled, their bodies locked close—sent a flurry of butterflies through her belly. She could feel it now, not just the contact but the connection. The trust. The quiet, charged heat that built when someone touched you like they knew how.

A soft gasp left her lips when his fingers pressed just a little firmer over hers to guide a curve. Taehyung's chin brushed her shoulder again, his lips so close she could almost feel the words before he said them.

"Just like that," he murmured, voice low and velvet-rich. "You're doing good, wifey."

The praise made her cheeks flame.

Jungkook dared a glance sideways at him, her lashes fluttering, and sure enough, Taehyung was already looking down at her with that quiet intensity of his—soft, proud, and something else... something that made her want to curl into his arms and never move again.

Her hands moved again on the clay, but slower now, like her whole body was aware of the press of his thigh against hers, the curl of his fingers over her knuckles, the weight of him around her.

The clay began to take shape under their joined hands. It was wobbly, messy, uncertain. But it was theirs. Crafted with shared breath, shared space, and something far more delicate than mud.

Intimacy carved into every curve.

Their fingers moved in slow circles over the damp clay, guiding, pressing, smoothing but soon the rhythm began to falter, not because they were doing it wrong, but because the world around them had started to melt away.

Their hands had long stopped being separate. The lines between his and hers blurred into something whole.

The wheel spun gently beneath their palms, but the clay was forgotten.

Jungkook's gaze drifted sideways, slowly, tracing the line of Taehyung's forearm where the veins stood out beneath the streaks of clay. Her eyes moved upward, trailing past the bend of his elbow, the faint dip at the collar of his apron, the strong line of his throat. When she tilted her head back slightly, her cheek brushed his jaw, and she froze.

But so did he.

Taehyung's eyes met hers, so close, just above her shoulder, just slightly tilted down. His gaze was dark, golden under the warm sunrays that filtered in through the tall windows, and focused entirely on her now.

Their breath mingled in the tight space between them.

Jungkook swallowed, throat dry. "You're... not paying attention to the clay anymore."

"I was never paying attention to the clay," Taehyung murmured against the shell of her ear, his voice so low and warm it made her shiver.

Her eyes fluttered closed for a brief second, lashes trembling against her cheeks as she let the sensation of his nearness wash over her. Jungkook shifted in his husband's lap. She turned sideways, her knees brushing against his thighs now, chest lightly angled toward him. Her eyes flicked once, subtly, to his lips.

Taehyung saw it.

And yet, the kiss didn't come.

Instead, his hands still gloriously coated in wet clay, lifted gently to her face.

Jungkook blinked, brows raising in the split-second it took for her brain to register what was about to happen. But by then, it was too late.

With the softest smirk pulling at his lips, Taehyung pressed the pads of his fingers against the apples of her cheeks and slowly dragged them downward, painting her with cool, slippery clay. The damp smear clung to her soft skin, cooling against the flush of her warmth.

Jungkook froze, lips parting.

Taehyung's hand didn't stop, his fingers slid down from Jungkook's cheek, curling along the slope of her jaw before trailing further—lower—dragging a long, twisted line of wet clay down her neck.

Jungkook's breath hitched as her head tilted slightly to the side, baring her throat instinctively to the touch. Her lashes fluttered, mouth open just a little, the flush that had started at her cheeks now blooming down to her collarbones.

The cool clay was nothing compared to the heat Taehyung's palm left behind.

His thumb smoothed over the hollow of her throat, his fingers curving along the side of her neck.

Jungkook's hands were equally messy and smudged with earth and water. They found their way to his chest, then slid slowly upward, leaving streaks of brown and gray across his apron, his neck. One palm curled behind his head, fingers lacing into the hair at his nape. The other landed squarely on his shoulder.

Their clothes were already splattered from the earlier mess at the wheel. They were forgotten entirely. The messier they got, the closer they leaned. The less the world mattered.

"You're not going to kiss me, but you'll ruin my entire neckline?" she whispered, breath warm and a little shaky.

Taehyung's lips curved, just barely, but the look in his eyes was anything but teasing now. It was deep. Intense. Devoted.

"I'm still crafting," he murmured, voice a velvet hum. "Not done shaping what's mine."

Jungkook's breath caught again. Her gaze fell to his lips, hovering so close now that even the smallest lean forward would close the space between them.

Taehyung moved in. His nose brushed hers, lips hovering, and finally pressed his mouth to hers. The kiss smeared the clay between their chins and cheeks. Their aprons clung together. Their thighs touched, his boots scraping the legs of the stool as he shifted for a better hold.

When they finally pulled apart, breath mingling, Jungkook licked her lips, tasting earth and salt and something that was all Taehyung. Her eyes were glassy, dreamy.

Jungkook pushed lightly at Taehyung's chest, a flustered chuckle escaping her lips as she broke their haze. Her hands left faint clay prints against his apron, but she didn't care. Her heart was thudding too fast, her lips tingling, and the remnants of that slow kiss still clung to her senses like honey on skin.

"You..." she muttered, half-breathless, half-sassy. "We're here to make pottery, not... sculpt each other with our mouths."

Taehyung leaned back just a little, but the smile he wore was far too pleased with itself. "You started it," he murmured smugly, eyes drifting down to her lips once more before he leaned in again—only to be met with her palm right on his face.

"Mr. Kim Taehyung," she said firmly, lips twitching upward despite her best efforts to stay serious. "Focus. Clay. Spinny wheel. Art. Remember?"

Taehyung's eyes crinkled with amusement, a low laugh rumbling from his chest. "Spinny wheel?" he echoed playfully.

"Don't mock me," she warned, smacking his shoulder softly. "You're lucky your face is pretty."

Taehyung caught her hand before she could pull it away and brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "And you're lucky I'd sit through a thousand spinny wheels just to have you on my lap," he whispered against her fingers.

Jungkook blinked, caught between exasperation and swooning.

"Focus!" she hissed again, cheeks pink.

"Fine, fine," he chuckled, finally releasing her hand and helping her shift forward on the stool, back to the wheel. He placed his hands over hers again, their fingers sticky with clay and affection.

"Let's finish this masterpiece," she murmured, glancing at him sideways, eyes still soft.

Taehyung grinned. "You mean our masterpiece."

And with that, they turned their attention back to the wheel, the clay between their hands finally taking shape.

Finally, after hours of molding, spinning, wiping smudges off each other's faces, and far too many fits of laughter mid-wheel-turn, they stood back and looked at what they'd created—a pair of humble little mugs.

One stood tall and proud, sleek in its structure, clearly boasting the precision of Mr. Kim himself. The other... well, the other had character. A wavy rim, a slightly uneven base, but undeniable charm.

Mrs. Kim's masterpiece, as Taehyung had proudly declared, kissing the top of her head like she'd just won an award.

"I have to admit," Taehyung murmured, hands on his hips as he surveyed their handiwork, "that wobbly one is starting to grow on me."

Jungkook shot him a glare over her shoulder, feigning offense. "Wobbly? That's an artistic curve, Mr. Kim. Learn the language of pottery."

He chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from her clay-dusted cheek. "Ah, forgive me. Your vision was clearly ahead of its time."

She grinned, smug and satisfied, and together they stepped back to admire their mugs, one clean and refined, the other quirky and uneven, yet both undeniably theirs.

Now came the next step.

"Alright," Jungkook said, stretching her arms with a dramatic groan, "where do we go to fire these babies up?"

Taehyung looked around, spotting the stone-lined kiln area tucked toward the back of the studio, where warm orange light flickered from an open oven. It was tucked beneath a canopy of rustic wood and open air, smoke gently trailing upward into the evening sky.

"There," he said, nodding toward the kiln. "Time to make them strong."

They carried their creations carefully, like treasures. Taehyung cradled both mugs like they were fragile children, while Jungkook followed with the manual in hand, still reading aloud the steps for firing—temperature, timing, cooling.

The kiln keeper was an older woman with soot-streaked hands and kind eyes. She gave them a small smile and guided them through placing the mugs inside one of the already-burning chambers. The heat pulsed gently against their faces.

"They'll take a few weeks to fire," the woman said. "You can leave them. Come back a week later to see what they've become."

Jungkook looked at the glowing kiln, her lips parting slightly in awe. "It's kind of magical, isn't it? All that softness turned to stone. All that shaping sealed in place."

Taehyung turned to her, a slow smile curving his lips. "Like us."

She blinked, caught off-guard, eyes fluttering up to meet his.

"Shaped with a little mess... a lot of touch," he continued, his voice quieter now, more tender. "And fire, to make it last."

Jungkook didn't reply at first, only reached out to gently take his hand in hers, fingers locking.

Their mugs glowed faintly behind the kiln's heavy door, waiting to become something permanent. And as the sun dipped low and the sky softened into twilight, they stood hand in hand, letting the warmth of the fire sink deep into their bones.

—————-
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