Fateful Alliance ∞

ⅤⅠⅠ

TAEHYUNG

After breakfast, Jungkook and I returned upstairs, the quiet hum of the house wrapping around us. With a rare stretch of free days ahead, I promised myself I'd use the time to bridge the gap between us. We were married, yes. but still new to each other. I wanted to know what made Jungkook smile, what made him shy, what softened his voice when he spoke.

In our room, he bent to unzip his suitcase. The sound of the zipper filled the silence, and I found myself watching the way his fingers moved with careful precision. "What are you going to do now?" I asked, more to start a conversation than because I needed to know.

He glanced up, a faint crease forming between his brows. "I was going to unpack... unless there's something else you'd rather I do? I can leave it for later."

I shook my head. "No, I was just asking. But if you'd like, I could help. Two pairs of hands are faster than one."

His lips curved, the faintest of smiles. "Sure. That'd be great. Thank you."

Side by side, we began folding his clothes, slipping them into drawers, hanging shirts in the wardrobe. The simple domesticity of it, the soft brush of his arm against mine, the way our voices filled the room as we traded small stories about books, music, childhood memories—made the task feel less like work and more like... something tender. Something almost sacred.

Then I opened the second compartment of his suitcase.

At first, it was the usual: T-shirts, jeans, socks. But tucked between them was something that made me pause. A splash of lace.

I blinked. Pulled it free. A pair of black lace panties dangled from my fingers, delicate and wholly unexpected. My lips twitched despite myself. "You have these kinds of inners too?" I teased, holding them up.

Jungkook's head snapped up. His face flared red, but instead of shrinking, he met my gaze, voice low but steady. "Yeah... I planned to wear them for you. Should I wear it now?"

My smirk came without effort. "Wear it the day you absolutely want me to take them off you."

He ducked his head, blushing furiously, and we carried on as if nothing had happened. But the image of him in those lace panties seared into my mind, vivid and dangerous. My jeans tightened uncomfortably, and I had to will myself back into composure. Gentleman, I reminded myself. Be a gentleman.

When the last of his clothes was neatly put away, Jungkook excused himself and padded downstairs. I sank onto the bed and pulled out my phone, dialling Jimin.

"Hey Tae!" His voice burst bright through the line. "How's married life treating you?"

"Better than I expected," I admitted, smiling despite myself.

"That good, huh? How's Jungkook? He's not clingy or annoying?"

I shook my head, even though he couldn't see me. "No. He's decent. Respectful. My family already likes him, I think."

"Respectful, talkative, and easy to connect with," I added after a pause. "Last night we talked for hours without even trying. It... felt natural."

"That's rare for you," Jimin said knowingly. "If he draws that out of you, he's something special. What does he do again?"

"He's an author," I said. "Fantasy, fiction, drama. but mostly romance."

"Romance?" Jimin whistled. "I like him already. I'll come by later today, meet him myself."

We hung up, and I made my way downstairs, following the sound of laughter.

There, on the sofa, sat my mother and Jungkook, their heads bent together in animated conversation. "What's caught you both so engrossed?" I asked, curious.

Mom turned, her eyes sparkling. "Jungkook watches Grey's Anatomy too!"

I nearly groaned. If there was one thing that could unlock my mother's endless commentary, it was that show. But seeing her light up like that, seeing her talk to Jungkook as if he were already her family, softened something in me.

Their chatter picked up again, names like Addison and Derek flying over my head. Jungkook listened attentively, nodding, smiling, asking questions. Even if he wasn't half as invested as my mother, he played along beautifully. The sight made me smile. For all her usual reserve, she was welcoming him in, one dramatic medical plot twist at a time.

Leaving them to their marathon of discussion, I slipped away, taking the lift to the third floor.

That floor was a world of its own: my office, the gym, a sprawling library, even a small theatre. It was designed for indulgence and balance, a space where I could work, sweat, or escape into stories.

Today, the gym called. I shrugged into a tank top and shorts, losing myself in the rhythm of lifting, of breath and strain.

The door creaked open mid-set. I turned, and there stood Jungkook.

He froze, his eyes wide, fixed on me. And then I saw it. the flicker in his gaze, the way his lips parted, the flush creeping up his neck. Admiration.

Amused, I wiped my brow with a towel and walked over. "What happened? Why were you frozen?"

His eyes darted away. "Nothing... you just... You look hot."

The words, soft and almost swallowed, sent a chuckle rumbling from my chest. I glanced at my reflection in the mirror: hair damp with sweat, tank clinging to me, skin gleaming. Dishevelled, yes. But apparently enough to make Jungkook's breath catch.

"Oh really?" I teased, letting a playful smirk curve my mouth. "So the sweaty gym look does it for you?"

His blush deepened, and I couldn't help but laugh. Seeing Jungkook flustered was quickly becoming my new favourite thing.

I gestured for him to sit, and when he settled on a bench, I joined him.

"Do you work out often?" he asked, his voice softer now, but curious.

"Whenever I can," I said honestly. "My schedule's a mess, so usually dawn or late at night. Days like this, when I get to work out at noon, are rare."

He nodded thoughtfully, his eyes lingering on me a moment longer before flicking away. That gaze, shy, curious, a little hungry, lingered with me far longer than any workout burn.