Thread by @afuzzyowl

#taekookau where amnesiac Jungkook doesn't remember his husband, but he doesn't need to to know that /holy hell/, he hit the freaking jackpot.

ie. Mentally-21-year-old Jungkook taking every opportunity to flirt with Taehyung like a needy (but wholesome) fratboy.

➺ short
➺ crack, hurt/comfort, fluff
➺ for those in need of some cheer like me LOL
➺ busy week ahead but will try my best to write this this weekend!!!
let me know what u think hehe
ko-fi.com/afuzzyowl

The doctors tell him that he was the unfortunate victim of a drunk driver’s stupid life choices, and that although his body somehow suffered nothing more than mild scratches, chunks of his declarative memory are lost for the time being.

So basically, Jungkook still knows how to do algebra and ride a bike and all that fun stuff. He just can’t remember anything after his last year of college.

Which, yeah, it sucks, and Jungkook understands this even without analyzing too closely the expressions ranging from concern to fear to downright /doom/ of the little group crowded around his hospital bed,

the familiar faces of his parents and closest friends, older than he’s used to.

It’s just that if he’s being honest here, Jungkook’s having a hard time feeling sad right now. He can’t miss things he doesn’t know he had in the first place, and last he recalls of his life,

he was stressed the fuck out, sleeping less than five hours a day, pumping his abused body full of Red Bull to cram for a midterm—

Only to open his eyes and learn that he is thirty-one, exams haven’t existed in his life for nearly a decade, and he’s working his dream job as a web developer, like, what even??

Judging by the watch lying on the bedside table, he seems to be doing pretty damn good for himself, and a peek in the bathroom mirror earlier told him he was /hot/, too.

Most importantly, though.

Ohoho. Indeed, Most. Importantly. The one thing that surpasses each of these reasons for him to embrace his new life:

His apparent husband—that’s right, his HUSBAND. Of EIGHT YEARS.

The man who married him, who Jungkook tied down! For life!

Yes, He Who Must Not Be Named Out Of Fear Of Spontaneous Combustion On Jungkook’s Part—is the absolute, most stunning human specimen Jungkook has laid eyes on in the entirety of his twenty-one years.

Er, sorry, technically his thirty-one years (he doesn’t remember all of it now, but obviously no one he’s met throughout those lost years could possibly surpass that level of h o t anyway).

Yeah.

Jungkook hit the motherfuckin’ jackpot, people.

He has no idea what he did to land this scrumptious, captivating, majestic, Greek god-studmuffin, but he’d be an idiot if he didn’t take full advantage of the present that tumbled into his lap.

Jungkook is going to climb that man like a goddamn tree.

---

The first thing Jungkook said when he woke up, seeing Kim Taehyung’s worried face hovering over him (he was obviously joking about never saying his name because it would be a damn shame not to croon those three syllables in his mind with every breath he takes,

every move he makes, a name as gorgeous as the man himself), was: “Oh god, an angel. I have died. I am dead.”

At first, Taehyung simply laughed and rolled his eyes, but when Jungkook continued to gaze up at him in awe and adoration, he seemed to realize the younger man wasn’t joking, and his face went white as a sheet.

Jungkook couldn’t help staring at the man as the doctor examined him, asking him various questions that went through one ear and out the other. The devastation in Taehyung’s eyes at the diagnosis of retrograde amnesia broke Jungkook’s heart a little,

despite his lack of memory of Taehyung.

But even then, before he was informed of his relationship with the apparent non-angel, there wasn’t a doubt in Jungkook’s mind that Taehyung was special to him.

It was like his body remembered: the way his stomach squirmed just looking at him, how his hands twitched to reach for him, how his heart inflated to a painful size when Taehyung seemed to sense that need and stepped forward to curl their fingers together.

And now, Jungkook figures, he’s already half in love with the guy. Might as well flirt like it, right?

“Soooooo,” he drawls, sliding across the floor in his toe socks and skidding to a stop at the kitchen island. He leans his chin on his hand, flutters his lashes at Taehyung. “What do I usually call you?”

They’ve returned to their apartment, Jungkook’s discharge quick and uncomplicated with his minor injuries.

The doctor advised he stick with his regular routine since being in a familiar setting would joggle his memory, facilitate a smoother mental recovery, yada yada. Jungkook’s watched a billion movies like this, he knows how it goes.

Taehyung looks up from the toast he was making and smiles at Jungkook. It’s crooked, a little bit awkward. “You call me hyung, mostly.”

Jungkook pouts. “That’s boring. Can I make some suggestions for new nicknames?”

“Sure…?”

“How about,” Jungkook taps his chin, “sweetie-pie.”

“Huh?” Taehyung snorts.

“Teddy bear.”

“That’s...”

“Snugglekins. Shnookums.”

“What.”

“Casanova. Loverboy. Adonis.”

“Um.”

“Honeybun.”

Taehyung’s eyebrows shoot up and his lips purse, his expression finally breaking past that hitch of frozen surprise. “You’re more of a honeybun than I am, Kook,” he says with a smirk that has no business being that sexy.

Jungkook can’t help but gasp, his cheeks heating up. That’s a challenge if he’s ever heard one, and Jeon Jungkook does not back down from challenges. He slides a little further across the island and gives Taehyung a big, juicy wink.

“Ass Destroyer 9000,” he purrs.

The piece of toast drops on to the plate as Taehyung curls over the counter, his (big, veiny) hand covering his mouth, cheeks bunched up and eyes sparkling.

“What?” Jungkook slithers closer. “Do you like that? Does it match reality? I’ll bet it does.” Taehyung’s shoulders are shaking in silent laughter, his tiny, choked breaths the most adorable sound to exist on this planet.

Jungkook pumps his fist in the air. Yaasss, he made his heartthrob husband laugh, best hour ever.

“You’re just as shameless as before,” Taehyung sighs, wiping away a tear, and Jungkook beams, because if that isn’t a super-ultra compliment then he doesn’t know what is.

After their afternoon snack of peanut butter jelly toast, made for him by Taehyung (swoon), Jungkook is given a brief tour.

Their apartment is warm and cozy and lovingly lived-in, everything Jungkook imagined when he was a depressed college student barely getting by on fantasies of a bright future with the then-faceless love of his life.

In particular, it’s the unmade bed which smells like their soap that he finds himself stopping at, and the neat tofu stack of hoodies sitting on a chair that Jungkook can’t tell belong to who, the picture frames that fill their shelves, boasting twin ear-to-ear smiles in each.

It doesn’t take a genius to see that they must be the sappiest couple ever. Liiit.

When Taehyung makes a face into the empty fridge and groans about needing to drop by the grocery store later, Jungkook insists on tagging along, brushing off his soft suggestions for him to rest.

Who needs a nap when he’s being presented with an opportunity to get to know Taehyung better? Sign Jungkook right the fuck up, please.

Their shoulders bump as Jungkook pushes their cart along, curiously watching Taehyung pick up a container of kimchi.

“Is that our favourite brand?” he asks, peering over his shoulder.

Taehyung smiles sheepishly. “Yeah, it’s the least spicy one. We always get this when our moms haven’t dropped off homemade kimchi for us for a while.”

“Oohh.” Jungkook notes this down in his Mental Taehyung Diary. No spicy food. Gotcha. “Who cooks more, between us?”

“Ah. Mostly you.”

Jungkook tries not to look too surprised by this. He’s no cook and he’s never been interested in learning, so if he’s willing to do that then he must /really/ love Taehyung.

But let’s be real, did anyone not see this coming.

“I know,” Taehyung says. There’s an apology in his voice that has Jungkook’s hackles rising in some unknown but fierce instinct. “I always tell you I can help out more, but you said you liked trying new recipes...maybe if I were better at cooking, I—”

“Hyung.” Jungkook pokes him in the side. “I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t lie about that just to make you feel better. I don’t remember being a cook, but maybe I like feeding you my new inventions. Maybe I like watching you eat my food.”

For a second, Taehyung just looks at him, his eyes wide and glittering like the brightest diamonds. Jungkook wants to kiss his eyeballs.

“That’s what you always said before, too,” Taehyung laughs, his lips forming a perfect little rectangular grin, and Jungkook feels this weird wrenching sensation in his stomach, like diarrhea but a lot more pleasant. So this is love.

“Anything for a babe like you.” he waggles his brows, letting go of the cart to shoot finger guns at Taehyung, except he gave the cart too hard of a push and they have to run after it like panicked parents before it crashes into some grandma’s arthritic ankles.

“Dammit.” Jungkook mourns the ruined moment. “That was such a good line, too.”

“...I forgot how much of a fratboy you acted like at that age.”

“Still fell head over heels for me though, didn’t you, hyung? I bet I was the best boyfriend ever. And now the best husband.” Jungkook puffs out his chest. “Bet I was /the best/ at loving you.”

Taehyung lets out a loud, pained groan, but the fact that he fails to deny it doesn’t escape Jungkook’s attention.

“Come on, brat, let’s go get you some ice cream,” Taehyung grumbles, stealing the cart from Jungkook and quickly steering it away. “My token of appreciation for being such a good husband, I guess.”

“I can’t believe you’re buying me ice cream instead of punching me in the face for that obnoxious declaration.”

Taehyung shrugs. “I mean, it was obnoxious, but...not a lie.”

Jungkook watches him go, absolutely relishing the way Taehyung’s avoiding his eyes like a tsundere character of an otome game.

So, not only is Taehyung smoking hot, he’s also kind, attentive, and soft-hearted,

so much so that Jungkook’s moment of cheesiness has flushed his ears the prettiest baby pink and injected an extra pep in his steps as he stalks over to the freezers to pull out a box of Jungkook’s favourite ice cream bars.

/Noted./

---

It ends up being too late to make dinner tonight, so they order takeout. Jungkook is pleasantly surprised to find himself moving naturally through the kitchen, like his body remembers where all their dinnerware and cutlery are located.

When they settle in the living room, Taehyung pulls up a show and goes right to the last-played episode, before he pauses.

“Sorry, let’s watch from the first episode,” he says and starts scrolling through the episode list.

“No wait, it’s okay. Just give me a quick summary so far?”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” To be honest, Jungkook isn’t all that interested in the show anyway. He’s busy thinking of ways to woo Taehyung.

As they eat and watch the K-drama, Jungkook attacks Taehyung with all the silly questions and lame jokes he can think of, preening every time he makes Taehyung choke on his food in laughter.

On screen, when the male lead feeds the female lead a corny line, Jungkook turns to Taehyung. “I forgot to ask you something important when I woke up, hyung.”

Taehyung is immediately alert, sitting up straight with his chopsticks frozen on the way to his mouth. “What is it?” he demands. “Are you feeling okay? Does something hurt?”

Jungkook shakes his head gravely. “Not for me. But it must hurt for you.”

“Huh?”

“An angel falling all the way from heaven to grace us lowly beings with your presence. It must have hurt!”

He is met with a blank stare, and Jungkook stares right back, proud and unwavering. What, it’s not like he’s wrong.

“Legit thought I was in heaven when I woke up and you were the first thing I saw,” he adds, just to drive the point home. “I wanted to touch your face but then I was like, wait, would I get in trouble for touching an angel’s face?? So many decisions to make for an amnesiac.”

He expects something along the lines of another eye roll or an embarrassed “you sap,” and that would have been thrilling enough to feed his happy meter for a solid day. But Taehyung exceeds his expectations, instead reaching over to pat him on the head and fluff his hair.

It seems like a familiar action because Jungkook isn’t surprised by it. What he is surprised by is the sudden, violent rush of gooey honey warmth that surges through his chest and up his throat, suffocating him in its intensity.

“You scared me, idiot,” Taehyung says softly. Jungkook doesn’t know if he’s referring to his joke just now or the accident itself, but before he can try to apologize, Taehyung snorts, shaking his head.

“Such a himbo,” he sighs, finishing the hair-ruffling with a pinch on the cheek and then going back to eating like he didn’t just set fire to Jungkook’s internal organs.

“W-what’s that, new slang?” Jungkook manages. Taehyung laughs and tells him to look it up on urban dictionary later.

Jungkook is loathe to admit he has lost the flirting competition this time. But it is of no matter, as he has an entire lifetime ahead of him (squeal).

After dinner, he realizes he must be more tired than he thought he was when he starts conking out on the couch. Taehyung ushers him to bed after helping him through his five-step skincare routine,

including smoothing out his face mask for him and reminding him to take it off in ten minutes when it dries up, which Jungkook dies at again because his husband being so well-versed on his skincare routine?? That’s peak hashtag relationship-goals behaviour, come on.

“You’re not coming to bed?” Jungkook pouts at him, covers pulled up to his chin courtesy of Taehyung. “This bed is huge, what if I get lonely?” He bats his eyes.

Taehyung grins, wisely refusing to budge from the door. “I’ll just be a bit. I’ve taken two weeks off work so I’m just gonna tie up some loose ends first. Oh, by the way, I contacted your boss. You’re on indefinite leave,

it’s not like you know how to do your work right now, anyway.”

Jungkook winces. “Am I gonna get fired?”

“Of course not.” Taehyung comes back over to pat his head again, and Jungkook wiggles happily in his blanket burrito. “Your boss is really nice, said you could take all the time off that you need. They’re all worried about you so maybe you can chat with them another time.”

“Okay.”

“Well, goodnight. Sleep tight.” Taehyung switches off the light, closing the door quietly behind him.

Before Jungkook knows it, he’s drifting off. Only when he’s already half-immersed in his dreams does he realize Taehyung took two weeks off just to be with him, even though there’s physically nothing wrong with Jungkook at all.

He falls asleep grinning.

---

In the morning after having woken up all by his lonesome, Jungkook finds Taehyung already up and lounging on the couch. He would have whined about it if he wasn’t distracted by the sight of Taehyung in glasses.

Goddamn, how can one person be so freaking hot and cute at the same time? He must not be mortal, that’s the only plausible explanation.

“Morning, Kook,” Taehyung smiles, looking up from his phone. “I left some scrambled eggs for you. There’s toast and stuff too.”

Jungkook croaks out his thanks, shuffling into the kitchen as he scratches at his stomach. There’s freshly made coffee waiting for him in the pot too, and a few sips imbues enough life back in him that he realizes he totally acted like a slob in front of Taehyung just now.

But then he remembers they’ve been married forever, so Taehyung’s probably seen every gross side of him and decided to stick around anyway. Scooore.

“So,” he says, wandering back into the living room and throwing himself on the opposite end of the couch. “We’ve discussed pet names for you, but what do you usually call me?”

He loves how Taehyung puts down his phone, like even Jungkook’s most ridiculous questions deserve his full attention. He tilts his head in thought. “Kook, mostly. Um.” He clears his throat. “Babe. Baby. You know, the normal ones.”

Jungkook practically melts. “You should keep calling me that, I like it.”

“Oh. Right, sure.”

“Do it now, do it now.”

Taehyung looks at him, bemused but indulgent and also sort of—dare Jungkook think it—a teensy bit endeared (!!). His hand drops down to Jungkook’s leg, thumb circling over the ball of his ankle. “Baby, how’s your head feeling?” he asks.

Jungkook sighs in pure bliss. Butterflies swarm in his stomach as he goes boneless against the plush sofa cushion, and he makes his best subtle attempt to nudge his foot into Taehyung’s gentle hand. “Good. Thanks for asking, Ass Destroyer 9000.”

Taehyung bursts out laughing and shoves his foot off his lap.

---

Days go by uneventfully with the two of them mostly staying at home, though they do visit the hyungs once at Namjoon and Seokjin’s apartment to assure everyone that Jungkook’s alive and kickin’ (and annoying as ever, as per Jimin).

Jungkook can’t say his memories are returning, but he gets flashes of them sometimes like they’re yanked out of his subconscious, summoned by certain smells or familiar words or strong emotions.

Mostly, they’re of Taehyung. Smiling at him, backlit by the sunset as he returns from work, or of his puffy morning face and pouty lips smothered into a pillow, or smirking at Jungkook as his fingers tease at the hem of Jungkook’s shirt, thumbs tracing over his skin.

Jungkook lives for it. He can’t imagine a better way to exist than getting to hang out with his dreamboat hubby every day and not have to worry about anything except, well, slowly familiarizing himself with his old life.

There’s no pressure for him to remember, not from his coworkers or his friends, and especially not from Taehyung. Jungkook feels lucky to be surrounded by such awesome people.

Yes, so very lucky, because Taehyung is wise and wonderful and takes all of his unhingedness in stride and definitely won’t dump his ass when he comes back to this chaos. Probably. Hopefully.

Oh god, he’d better not or Jungkook will run into traffic. What should he do? He did not think this through, why does he have to be like this.

The sound of keys jingling outside has Jungkook flailing in panic, and before he can decide on an escape plan, the front door is opening.

“Kook, I’m home,” Taehyung calls. “The line at the bank was soo long—”

He freezes. Jungkook stares up at him from the floor like a deer in headlights.

“Uh, early morning Amazon delivery, haha,” he stammers dumbly.

Taehyung puts one foot ahead of the other, then again, cautiously navigating through the living room.

“What...what on earth did you order?” he asks,

and Jungkook can understand the incredulity since he only got his card back yesterday and as an amnesiac should not have even known what he wanted to buy, not enough to warrant all these boxes, but he swears he didn’t mean for this to happen. It was a moment of weakness.

“W-we don’t have to keep them all, haha, I, um...”

“What are they?”

Jungkook looks down at the floor, pursing his lips. “Diffusers.”

“Wh-what do you need fifty diffusers for—”

“It’s twenty!” Jungkook says defensively. He fiddles with his sweatpants. “They were all pretty, and, um. Yeah.”

Thankfully, Taehyung doesn’t whip out the divorce papers immediately. Rather than demand Jungkook return at least nineteen of them like a normal person,

he helps Jungkook unpack all twenty diffusers, and by the time they’ve tried out the oils and light effects of each, he doesn’t even seem opposed to the idea anymore.

“Well, it’s your apartment too,” he says with a shrug, like none of this is a big deal, and Jungkook wonders what feats he performed in a previous life to deserve a man like this for his husband. “They smell nice and they /are/ pretty.”

“Right!” he exclaims. “I knew you’d get me, hyung.”

“Uh huh.”

To show his immense love and gratitude, Jungkook decides to make lunch for them. Taehyung hovers around awkwardly like he wants to help but doesn’t quite know how, and Jungkook seizes his opportunity.

“I’m fine on my own, hyung,” he says. “I’ve watched some YouTube vids and I think I know what I’m doing. Or my hands do, anyway.”

“Are you sure? I can—”

“In exchange,” Jungkook interrupts, clearing his throat. “I work better with positive reinforcement. So, perhaps...a kiss...would be a nice reward.”

The ringing silence makes chills run up Jungkook’s spine, so he’s quick to add, “Just on the cheek!”

He’s too nervous to look away from the sink where he’s started peeling onions, which, hey, good excuse in case Taehyung rejects him! Haha! Oh, but Jungkook’s totally fine, he wouldn’t /actually/ cry if Taehyung didn’t want to kiss him,

it just means he has to try harder in his wooing attempts and he is a-okay with tha—

“Sure.”

Jungkook’s head snaps up. Taehyung has come closer and Jungkook has about one millisecond to compose himself before warm, dry lips are pressing to his cheek, and his vision goes white, his mind explodes, the world bursts into a bajillion particles around him.

Dramatic but understandable, considering his partner, he thinks.

When Taehyung moves away and he can think again, Jungkook blurts out, “If you were a booger, I’d pick you first. Just—just FYI.”

Taehyung is laughing as he walks away, but Jungkook knows he’s wearing that cute blush again, he /knows/.

---

If there’s one thing that’s bothering Jungkook, just a tiny bit, it’s that he feels like something is missing. Other than the obvious.

For the most part, he’s grateful Taehyung never pressures him about anything, but he also never—touches Jungkook outside of the occasional quick head pat or that one cheek kiss Jungkook practically wrangled out of him.

There are times where Taehyung looks at him like he’s Taehyung’s whole entire world, but he never tries to hug Jungkook or kiss him or do other couply things,

and Jungkook understands he’s probably just trying to respect boundaries, but isn’t it a little extreme to not even hold his friggin’ hand?

He’s tried everything, he’s sure. He’s bought flowers, asked Taehyung to the movies, strutted around the apartment wearing tank tops with arm holes that go down to his hips. And Taehyung /has/ reacted, he isn’t a robot or anything;

he glowed at the flowers, laughed his ass off on their movie date, his eyes followed Jungkook’s Chadly-clad body around when he thought he wasn’t looking.

Yet, he never initiates any kind of physical affection between them, and Jungkook is not just fed up anymore. He’s confused. His thoughts are starting to spiral. Is he really so different from the older him?

Does Taehyung not like him the way he is now?

He finds himself studying Taehyung more and it’s mostly still out of innocent curiosity, but now there’s also that slightest twinge of something along the lines of desperation or anxiety.

A couple more times hanging out with the hyungs reveals how touchy Taehyung is, always sprawling out to take up as much space as physically possible and hanging all over the others.

So why is it that he always seems to have his guard up around Jungkook?

“Hyung,” Jungkook says one day, when he’s had enough. He’s never claimed to be a patient person. He’s gonna get to the bottom of this no matter what, goddammit,

because what kind of a crime is it to dangle a Class A Man in front of him and not allow him to hold his hand. He’s pretty sure this is a sin.

“Am I really different now?” he asks, standing to the side of the couch with his arms crossed over his chest.

Taehyung’s attention slides away from the variety show playing on the TV and up to him, and it takes a second before he seems to understand what Jungkook’s asking.

“I guess...a bit?”

“What’s different?”

Taehyung cocks his head, his eyes searching carefully over Jungkook. “You’re flirtier, but less clingy,” he says slowly, and Jungkook is so distracted by the way he’s biting his bottom lip thoughtfully that he almost misses it.

Wait, what.

“What,” says Jungkook, aloud. “Is that it?” He thought Taehyung would say “less mature” or “not as sexy” or something devastating like that that would explain this unforgivable distance between them.

“I—can’t really think of anything else,” Taehyung nods. “You’ve always been smart for your age, even if you act like a brat most of the time—”

“Awwww, hyung!”

“You’re bright, and, you know. Your sense of humour’s the same. You’re cute.” He shrugs. “What, did you expect any big changes?”

Jungkook shuffles over to him, wanting to be close but unsure how close would be too close for Taehyung.

“I dunno, I thought maybe you aren’t acting like a lovey-dovey hubby because I’m a stranger to you without my memori—” He stops, his train of thought lost as something else clicks for him.

Taehyung said he was less clingy now. Which means...the older Jungkook was super clingy, is that it?

See, here’s the thing: Jungkook can be a shameless flirt and throw out the most outlandish of pick-up lines without blinking an eye, and he can monologue about Taehyung’s objectively perfect face and body and voice and personality all he wants, if given the opportunity.

But there’s just something about touch.

Jungkook’s not very good at touching other people, unless it’s to smack them like he does with Seokjin, or annoy them like with Jimin. He thinks of himself as much more of an affection-accepter than a giver, for no reason other than that he’s /shy/.

HE’S SHY, OKAY, IS IT HIS FAULT HE’S BEEN TOO NERVOUS THIS WHOLE TIME TO OUTRIGHT TOUCH HIS INTIMIDATINGLY GORGEOUS HUSBAND? He’s a /conservative/ horny romantic.

As of now, however, at this very moment, Jungkook makes the executive decision to throw the shyness away. He’s thirty-one now, y’all. Taehyung’s apparently used to him being a clingy shit. He can totally do whatever he wants.

Without further ado, he throws himself into Taehyung’s lap and presses his face into the soft, worn, sleep shirt, nuzzling into the older man’s collarbone.

He both feels and hears the sharp breath Taehyung sucks in, and then warm hands are settling over his waist, protective, almost possessive, stroking him like a cat. Jungkook has to bite back the embarrassing noise crawling up his throat as he shivers so hard his toes curl.

“There’s my Kook,” Taehyung coos, before pressing a kiss to his temple. Oh god, Jungkook’s gonna die, he’s gonna fracture like glass under a bullet right this second. “I’m sorry, baby, I guess I should’ve known you wanted this. I just didn’t want to overwhelm you.”

“What the hell, who’d be overwhelmed getting cuddled by a guy like you,” Jungkook mutters. He spreads his palms wide over Taehyung’s chest and touches him the way he’s wanted to literally ever since he opened his eyes, running his palms over every swell and dip,

then down to his tummy. The shirt feels like it’s in the way because Jungkook knows, can almost remember exactly how Taehyung’s bare skin feels against his, but for now, he satisfies himself with this, pushing his face into the hollow of Taehyung’s neck and breathing him in.

Taehyung’s sigh sounds relieved, like he too was holding himself back the whole week and is only now truly relaxing.

“You okay?” he asks, as if Jungkook isn’t two seconds away from ascending to the heavens.

“/So/ okay.”

“It doesn’t...feel weird?”

“Huh?”

“I mean, you don’t remember me.”

“Not technically,” Jungkook nods. “But I feel like I know you. I really like the Taehyung-hyung that I’ve gotten to know these past few days, anyway.”

“Oh,” Taehyung says, and Jungkook wraps his arms around his chest, squeezing him tight. A hand slides up to the nape of his neck and massages there, thumb and fingers kneading with just the right amount of pressure.

Jungkook’s mouth drops open, his teeth scraping gently along Taehyung’s collarbone in a valiant attempt not to gnaw on him like the tasty treat he is.

It feels like bubbles of tension are popping in his head and his body grows more and more lax until he’s boneless in Taehyung’s lap. Another hand is rubbing circles over his back, drifting up and down, then squeezing over his hip and bringing him as close as physically possible.

Jungkook’s in heaven. He could die happy right now. He’s a floppy octopus. Or a cloud. He is bliss itself.

Maybe it’s a good thing his whole body feels so weak because he thinks he might be crushing Taehyung’s ribcage in his arms if he wasn’t.

“I’m gonna be sooo clingy from now on,” he mumbles, lips smooshed against Taehyung’s skin. “If I get annoying, you have to tell me, yeah?”

Taehyung’s laugh vibrates through the very core of his chest, making him smile dopily. “You won’t, but okay, baby.”

---

As despicably cliché as this may sound, there is no real way for Jungkook to describe what it feels like to bundle himself up in Taehyung’s arms other than ‘coming home.’

Every day, he follows Taehyung around the apartment, hugging him like a koala while he cooks, stretching out over his thighs as they watch TV, tip-toeing after him to the bathroom until Taehyung notices and nudges him away with a laugh.

At first, it’s just to fill himself up after going through severe withdrawal, but then Jungkook starts putting an active effort into clinging to test what it will take for Taehyung to get annoyed at him.

Jungkook’s a masochist, what can he say?

Incredibly enough, Taehyung never gets annoyed, only occasionally sending him dry-yet-fond looks or sighing dramatically, and that’s when he isn’t (pretty much always) welcoming Jungkook with open arms

to hug him tight and run his fingers through his hair or cup a hand over his neck or rub his shoulders.

It feels like they’re taking a running leap towards the right direction, in a way that has Jungkook squirming in giddy delight anytime he’s left to his own thoughts.

Taehyung hums in an almost bored way when Jungkook is curled up on his lap rambling on about the dumb characters in a show, but Jungkook knows he’s listening to every word because he’ll ask little follow-up questions another day. He orders the most delicious take-out food ever,

since he remembers Jungkook’s favourites by heart. He’ll kiss Jungkook on the cheek absentmindedly, as natural as breathing, forgetting until he feels Jungkook freeze up. “Shoot, sorry,” Taehyung tries to backtrack, but Jungkook’s slamming a reciprocal kiss to his cheek,

and then they’re both grinning like morons, and yeah.

Jungkook’s never felt more loved. He’s sure being married, to Taehyung in particular, is the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

“Stop doing that,” Jungkook sighs dreamily, curled into a ball on the bed with his cheek squished into the pillow.

Taehyung stops in the middle of his teeth-brushing, looking up from the pile of dirty laundry he was sifting through.

There’s foam all around his mouth and his hair’s a wavy mess, glasses lopsided on his face. Wet spots from when he leaned against the sink earlier decorate the plain white undershirt he wears to bed, and an unraveled string from his boxers hangs starkly over his pale thigh.

“Mmrgh?” Taehyung asks, raising an eyebrow.

Jungkook sighs once more in dizzy rapture, sinking deeper into the soft mattress. “Stop being so perfect.”

Taehyung chokes a couple times before he visibly makes the decision to ignore Jungkook’s bout of (what he probably considers incomprehensible) sappiness

(Jungkook thinks his own besottedness entirely justifiable, as he’s sure anyone would agree). He goes back to his brushing and rifling through the clothes.

“Whatcha looking for?”

“Mr pleghh bakshrs,” Taehyung warbles through the foam. Jungkook has no idea how he isn’t drooling all over the place with how long he’s been brushing already, distracted by his search, but somehow he’s contained every bubble to the vicinity of his mouth.

That’s what Jungkook calls talent. Not everyone can be flawless.

“Plaid boxers?” Jungkook checks. “Your favourite ones?”

“Mm.”

“You’re wearing them.”

Taehyung pauses. He looks down at himself.

“M’oh,” he says, embarrassed.

See? What did Jungkook say. Perfection.

He giggles and calls after Taehyung’s retreating back, “I washed them for you yesterday. Aren’t I the best male wife ever?”

He listens to Taehyung gargle and spit, watching in anticipation as the light in the bathroom turns off and Taehyung lumbers back into the room, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

“You are, honey,” he says, all smooth-operator and shit. Jungkook hates him. “Best male wife. Ten outta ten would recommend.”

Jungkook whines even as he immediately shimmies into Taehyung’s space as soon as the elder gets in the bed. “Hey, who are you recommending me to, huh? You want me to go be someone else’s male wife or what?”

“How dare you suggest such a thing.” Taehyung grabs him in a hug with all of his limbs, constricting around him like a boa. Jungkook gleefully succumbs to his confinement, mels into Taehyung’s chest and shoves his nose into his neck. “You’re mine, Kookie.”

Everything in Jungkook’s body sings in delight. It’s like something clicking into place, settling warmly in his chest.

“That’s right,” he leers, “you’re /my/ Ass Destroyer 9000—”

“Oh my god, stop with that already, you heathen.”

---

Taehyung going back to work feels like the literal end of the world. What the hell is Jungkook supposed to do without his best friend and confidant and eye candy and partner of chaos, huh? Live his own life like a normal independent person? Screw that.

He very seriously considers spam-texting Taehyung when he’s gone, but decides that’s overboard even for him, so he ends up doing the laundry and cleaning the apartment from top to bottom just for something to do (also to coerce Taehyung into giving him thank-you kisses later).

When he gets bored of that, Jungkook sits in on a couple of his work’s Zoom meetings, though mostly that just consists of him zoning out and letting the vague familiarity wash over him.

Sometime in between the cleaning and kind-of-working, during Taehyung’s lunch break, he gives Jungkook a call. They eat together, cackling about Taehyung’s latest plans to prank Jimin (replacing all the jumbo white candles in his apartment with glasses of milk).

“So I’ve been thinking about re-decorating for us, too,” Jungkook says as he munches on his sandwich.

“Oh, yeah? How?”

“What if—listen. What if.”

“’m listening.”

“What if...we changed all our floors to /mattresses/.”

There’s silence on the other end of the line, a pause in chewing.

“I don’t get it,” Taehyung admits.

“We don’t need floors, hyung!” Jungkook bounces in excitement. “Who needs floors when we could be walking on mattresses! We could just lie down anywhere and be super comfortable!”

Because he is a gift from god, Taehyung doesn’t sound entirely opposed to the idea. “Right, but how are we supposed to, you know, shape the mattresses around the furniture and stuff?”

Jungkook scoffs, shaking his head in disappointment even if Taehyung can’t see. “Have you never heard of scissors, Taehyungie-hyung?”

“...I see where this is going and I’m not sure how to feel.”

“Hey, scissors are great, they’re very all-purpose.” Jungkook falls back on the floor with a happy sigh. “Mmm, remember that time I got you a wig for Halloween and you accidentally chopped off your bangs trying to trim it? That was hilarious.”

He snickers to himself, waiting for Taehyung to laugh with him, then bring up that other time Jungkook accidentally shaved his own eyebrow off when Taehyung came into the bathroom too loudly, since that’s how this conversation always goes,

the two of them using their sordid past to tease each other.

But Taehyung doesn’t laugh.

“You remember,” he says softly.

Jungkook blinks up at the ceiling. Oh shiiiittt. He does, indeed. “I think it’s coming back in bits and pieces.”

“Hm, that’s good.”

“Yeah.”

Jungkook sits up now, fidgeting with his sleeves. All of a sudden, he really wants to see Taehyung. Wants to hug him and pull him into Jungkook’s chest and reassure him that memory-less or not,

he could never not love Taehyung and that they’ll totally get their happily ever after either way. But he has a feeling Taehyung already knows. Subtlety is not Jungkook’s strong suit.

“I want to see you,” Taehyung mumbles. Jungkook’s heart dances, not like a cute little jig or an elegant ballet number, more so the type of freestyle hiphop that could take out an eye with a stray elbow.

For the rest of the afternoon, he’s vibrating in his skin, and the second the clock strikes six-thirty-four—somehow, he knows exactly what time Taehyung will get home—Jungkook is waiting by the door.

When he hears footsteps, he flings the door open and props himself up against the wall, hip cocked.

“Hello, handsome,” he purrs, pointedly raking his eyes up Taehyung’s wide-collared t-shirt and down his shorts. “Come here often?”

Taehyung doesn’t even bother with a reply, diving at him and hustling them both into the apartment before he kicks the door shut and grabs Jungkook’s face in his hands.

Heat erupts in Jungkook’s chest as their mouths meet for the first time. It’s not the first time, though. He knows how Taehyung kisses, like their lips were molded to fit together,

not quite rough but not quite soft, yet achingly tender as though he’s conveying from the movements of his mouth alone how much he adores Jungkook, kissing the literal breath out of him.

Jungkook feels like his brain is melting out of his ears as their bodies come together like they haven’t seen each other in years, mouths hot, breaths ragged, hands on his neck and chest and dragging down his back.

“Holy shit,” Jungkook gasps when Taehyung pulls back by just an inch, just to breathe. “What—what was that?”

Taehyung sounds like he’s run a marathon and it’d be funny if Jungkook wasn’t the same. “I don’t know,” he wheezes. “I—you sent me that photo of you showing off the folded laundry and I—lost it, for some reason—”

Jungkook goes silent with laughter, falling back against the wall, and Taehyung follows him, chest to chest with tangled legs.

He doesn’t let Jungkook laugh for long, interrupting him with more heart-stopping kisses that Jungkook feels all the way down to his toes. Then lips are trailing over his jaw and Jungkook throws his head back, welcoming the touch with every inch of his body.

“Smells nice in here,” Taehyung murmurs, mouthing at him gently.

“T-that’d be our twenty diffusers.”

“Dork.”

“They smell like you, I got the aroma oil from the company that makes your shampoo...”

At that, Taehyung breaks away from his neck, eyes wide. He sniffs a couple more times and his eyebrows climb higher. “I didn’t notice. You and your dog nose.”

Jungkook nuzzles against his cheek, nosing along the stubble. “’Cause I missed you today, you hunk, I had no other choice but to sniff your scent like crack.”

“Wow, stalker creep alert, help?”

“Wha—” Jungkook splutters. “I’m your /husband/, excuse me.”

Taehyung’s smile is so endearingly big that his eyes disappear into little crescents, and Jungkook is momentarily blinded by the brightness of his beautiful, shiny teeth. “Kidding, I just wanted to hear you say it.”

Jungkook accidentally makes a sound like when he’s at the dentist and they put that sucky tube thing too close to his throat. “Stop it! You’re so bad for my heart!”

“I thought you liked to flirt.” Taehyung’s smirking now, the bastard, thumbing at his bottom lip, and Jungkook’s entire body bursts into either embarrassed or horny flames, he can’t tell.

Either way, with the images playing through his mind, he’s totally a sinner. That’s all he can say.

“Yeah,” he scoffs, clinging on to his last bits of sanity, curse Taehyung’s hotness, “flirting’s fun when I’m the one with the upper hand and you’re blushing at my suaveness!”

“Sure, baby.”

“You can’t call me baby now, that’s cheating.”

In response, Taehyung drags him into another kiss that has Jungkook’s knees going weak. Seriously, what a dirty cheater.

Jungkook loves him.

---

One morning, Jungkook wakes with tears in his eyes.

It was a dream—no, a memory, of one of the biggest fights he’s had with Taehyung. Jungkook said terrible things to him, wanting to hurt because he didn’t know how to deal with his own hurt,

and obviously everything turned out okay in the end; in the long run, it was a pivotal point of their relationship that improved their communication by miles.

Still, Jungkook finds himself moping around for a while, eager for Taehyung to get home. Their silly text messages and the kissy-face selfie Taehyung sends him significantly boost his mood, but they have the double-edged effect of making him want to see Taehyung more. Sad.

He doesn’t realize he’s fallen asleep until he feels a hand carding through his hair and something soft being pressed to his forehead. His eyes flutter open halfway, and he smiles dopily. “You’re home, hyung?”

“Yeah, baby.” Taehyung is crouched next to him, tracing careful fingers over his face. “Why’d you sleep out in the living room, hmm? You’ll catch a cold.”

“Mm. Nah, I’m strong.” He points at the coffee table. “Wrote you a love letter today.”

Taehyung follows the flop of Jungkook’s arm to where a folded piece of notepad paper lies waiting for him, and he picks it up, smoothing a reverent hand over the letter. “Can I read it now?” he asks, eyes darting from the paper to Jungkook, then back.

“Yeh.”

Jungkook watches on sleepily, lips tucked between his teeth. Taehyung’s curious gaze scans over the paper a solid three times before he face-palms, sinking on to the sofa.

He smacks the note down next to Jungkook. On it is a crude drawing with the caption, “u so thiccccc, boi <3”

“You are such a brat,” Taehyung moans, shaking with laughter, and Jungkook cackles evilly, pushing him upright so he has space to crawl into his lap.

When his hands meet smooth, expensive fabric, Jungkook’s eyes pop wide open and for the first time since the older man got home, he takes a good look at what Taehyung’s wearing.

It’s a suit. One that hugs his body like a glove, clinging to him the way Jungkook strives to do each day. As a programmer, Taehyung has always worn casual clothes to work, and although those are sexy as fuck too,

this is hot on the whole other side of the spectrum and he’s absolutely killing it. Jungkook’s eyes snap back up to Taehyung’s face. No wonder his hair’s so perfect today, he looks like a whole-ass prince and Jungkook wants to commit every nasty, unholy act possible with him.

“Shit,” he breathes, pressing his palms to Taehyung’s chest and running them down his front, savouring the feeling of his hubby’s bod underneath his hands. “Let’s go rob a bank.”

“What,” Taehyung chuckles.

“They’ll just let you go if you look like this. Like, oh, it’s Kim DILF Taehyung the national treasure, he can take all our money if he wants.”

Taehyung squishes Jungkook’s cheeks so his lips pucker out, grinning at him. “You’re ridiculous.”

“/You’re/ ridiculous. How?” Jungkook can’t stop staring at him. He could literally sit here all day. “How can a human being look like this?”

“Stooop,” Taehyung whines, “we had a big meeting so I had to dress up today.”

“I just—please put me in a headlock.”

“Huh??”

“Like, strangle me, just—” Jungkook tries to get his arm around his neck, “—choke the fuck outta me.”

“...We need to get you some Hobi water.”

Jungkook doesn’t let Taehyung take off the suit and Taehyung doesn’t want to get food smells on it, so they just end up microwaving some instant rice and side dishes for dinner. Jungkook clings to him the whole time they wait for the food to heat up,

raining tiny kisses over his sharp jaw, and Taehyung just grins like the Cheshire cat, not making a single move to stop him even when Jungkook gets in the way.

Neither of them is paying much attention to the TV now as they eat, legs twisted together on the sofa with Jungkook trying to coax Taehyung into a game of footsie.

“Hey, hyung,” he gets the sudden inspiration to ask. “What do you like about me?”

Taehyung’s reply is immediate. “Everything,” he says, but Jungkook wrinkles his nose at him.

“Isn’t that a cop-out answer?”

Taehyung frowns. He chews for a bit before conceding with a nod. “Maybe? But it’s the first thing that came to mind.”

Jungkook stuffs the rest of his food into his mouth before slapping his bowl down on the table and scooting over to Taehyung. This is an important conversation. He needs to know why Taehyung likes him so he can keep doing it, ya know?

“You look like a chipmunk,” Taehyung laughs, brushing his thumb over a corner of Jungkook’s mouth before sticking into his own. “You’re so messy.”

“I’m /your/ mess,” Jungkook says without missing a beat. “Now tell me already, I can’t take this suspense.”

“It’s hard to put into words,” Taehyung mumbles, but he mirrors Jungkook, setting his food down and adopting a contemplative expression. “I guess I love how considerate you are of other people. You’re high-maintenance, but only ‘cause you know I like it.

And you’re hilarious. I have so much fun with you.” When he holds his arms open, Jungkook wastes no time burrowing into him. “As a plus, you’re adorable as hell,” and Taehyung punctuates this with a kiss on the crown of his head.

Jungkook shoves at him half-heartedly, but Taehyung continues on unfazed, “You make me happy, Kook. I love you.”

It’s the first time he’s said that since Jungkook has lost his memories, but as soon as this thought crosses Jungkook’s mind, he’s remembering a dozen other times Taehyung has confessed to him those same words, always accompanied by that soft, vulnerable look in his eyes.

“Actually, I. Did a lot of research on retrograde amnesia,” Taehyung mumbles into Jungkook’s hair. “After we found out you had it.”

“Really?”

“Mm-hm. Some people get all their memories back and some never do. Which is fine, honestly, if you consider what the way scarier alternative is—the people who don’t remember anything about themselves.

So it’s like, because they don’t have the memories that shaped them as a person, they become someone completely different.”

The notion of that is terrifying. Jungkook didn’t think about any of the logistics since he was so distracted this whole time by Taehyung, but he supposes he got lucky.

“Good thing I’m still me, huh,” he says cheekily.

“Yeah,” Taehyung laughs, patting his head. “I’d miss you if you weren’t you anymore. But at the same time, I thought...maybe I’m being idealistic, but I think I would have fallen in love with any version of you, anyway.”

Jungkook can only stare at him as a weight he didn’t know he was carrying dissolves from his shoulders, the insecurity carried away by nothing but Taehyung being Taehyung.

“I—” he chokes, desperately swallowing down that lump in his throat. “Love you, hyung.”

Taehyung beams at him. “I know, babe.”

Jungkook throws his arms around Taehyung’s shoulders, and Taehyung holds him tighter because he probably thinks Jungkook’s going for a hug, until Jungkook starts groping all over his back.

“Uh, what are you—”

“Where are the wings!” Jungkook cries. “Show yourselves! I know you’re really an angel in disguise!”

“Why are you like this,” Taehyung pretends to complain like always, but then he contradicts himself by going along with it and allowing Jungkook to pull his shirt off, also like always. “If I’m an angel, what are you?”

“Obviously, I’m your angel mate who chased you all the way down here after you did something noble that offended the corrupt angel government and got banned to Earth, ‘cause like hell I’m letting some grubby human put their hands on you.”

“...Why does that sound plausible.”

Jungkook grabs Taehyung’s face in his hands and stares into his eyes, admiring the pretty shape of them, the fondness in his smile. He feels that same fondness pounding through his own veins, but approximately a hundred times stronger because Jungkook’s a drama queen like that.

Legit though, Jungkook would cold-bloodedly sabotage anyone who tried to go after his Taehyung. As soon as he opened his eyes, even in his no-thoughts, head-empty state,

he made a vow to climb this great, big, deliciously thick tree, and he’ll be damned before he lets anyone try to have their shot.

Taehyung is /his/ tree.

And nothing’s ever gonna change that, not even getting his brain smacked around by some loser car.

“You so get me,” he coos, stroking Taehyung’s cheeks. “We belong together, hyung.”

Taehyung’s face splits in a blinding grin as he leans in to nudge his nose against Jungkook’s, making Jungkook squirm. “That, I can agree with. And...just so you know.” He pecks Jungkook on the mole under his lip. “If you were the angel who got banished,

I’d come racing down here for you too. You’re mine.”

Jungkook laughs in delight, closing the inch of space between them to press the curve of his smile against Taehyung’s.

---

— end

thank u so much for reading!!! i desperately needed to write a stress relief au so this happened LOL

if u enjoyed, i would so very much appreciate a ko-fi! every little bit helps, genuinely. but if not, thank u regardless for sticking around!! 💜ko-fi.com/afuzzyowl

spoiler: ill be working on a dystopian taekook au commission next that i have put off for way too long before restarting on pompoms. thanks for the patience hehe
curiouscat.live/afuzzyowl