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lolabangtan · 1 year

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STAY | 16

It’s time you step up and talk things out with Jungkook.

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Word count: 12k

Warnings: smut.

# hurt/comfort, themed grad party where things happen 👀, not as dramatic as you’d think, Ari Besto Friendo, lovemaking *ugly sobs*, ‘spanking’, ‘rough’ handjob, mommy kink, spitting, squirting, overstimulation, “choking”, orgasm denial, unprotected vaginal sex, soft degrading kink.

A/N: this is the end. See you in therapy. Also, I recommend you to listen to the playlist while reading, it gets you.

“What happened with Ms Min?”

Seokjin looks to the side and says, “She got caught up with work and asked me to step in for her.”

“Oh, I see…” Professor Choi murmurs. Then he nods, beckoning him to take a seat. “We were just starting with the meeting. Thank you for joining us, Mr Kim. So, as I was saying, the most voted theme for the graduation party…”

The looks of curiosity are heavy on his nape as Seokjin walks across the class. There’s only one seat left and, unfortunately, it’s right next to Jeon Jungkook.

“Hey,” he whispers.

The boy, of course, doesn’t answer.

Seokjin takes a seat anyways and waits for the professor to pick up the meeting where it left off before the interruption. As Mr Choi informs them, the graduation theme is, by almost unanimous choice, a prom with nostalgic airs. There is nothing better than reliving one’s youth, as long as it was pleasant, and since the sufferers did not dare to say that it was hell for them, that is how the vote stood.

The committee gets down to work once everything is discussed; from where the party will be held to what drinks will be served, everyone works as a team.

Jungkook, however, feels pressure in his chest.

He won’t be coming, he’s sure of that. Can’t even imagine the idea of getting drunk in public again. And he doesn’t know what’s worse, the fact that he almost slept with someone or the fact that there was no reason he shouldn’t have. If you had truly not broken up, wouldn’t you have come to him already, screaming blue murder?

As he makes a quick doodle of the table layout under a senior’s supervision, Seokjin leans into him from his side; he’s been annoyingly trying to get closer to him ever since the meeting started. Jungkook moves his arm and covers the paper.

“Oh, oppa, can you take care of him?” the girl asks. “You remember best how’s the pavilion, and I have no idea how many tables we can fit in there!”

“Sure.”

They wait until their classmate is gone. “I don’t need your stupid help.”

“Ugh, God—” The eldest crosses his arms. “How much longer are you gonna act up like this? You’re just making people uncomfortable, and you’re self-sabotaging. I’m sure you’re smarter than that.”

“Are you calling me dumb?” Jungkook blurts out.

“Is that what you think I’m trying to say?”

But Jungkook makes no answer – instead, he takes his drawing and brings it to another of the seniors who is more familiar with the layout of the pavilion. He no longer needs Kim Seokjin and his stupid help, and he’s not the only one who knows the place better than a sophomore who’s never stepped in there.

The meeting ends half an hour later. Everyone is released to go to their classes, and Jungkook hurries off to lock himself in his room and not return. He just hopes that his nemesis has unfinished business to do on the other side of campus, or even better, the other side of town.

Today, however, is not his lucky day.

“Hey, Jungkook-ssi.” Seokjin comes in seconds after and closes the door with care. “Can we talk?”

The youngest is lying face down on the bed. If he doesn’t move, it would look like he’s asleep, and his senior would leave him alone; Jungkook doesn’t want to listen to any of the silly excuses he has to make.

“I know you’re awake, you’re still wearing your outdoor clothes. Can’t even imagine all that dirt impregnating your clean sheets right now…”

Don’t fall for it.

“Oh, and it’s the first time I see your shoes on the bed too!”

Okay, that’s the last straw.

Jungkook jumps off the bed and kicks his shoes off, overwhelmed by the ick. Then he slumps into it again, and Seokjin manages to sit by him like a mother ready to try and make her teenage son come to his senses, making sure to take his shoes off first.

“What’s your fucking problem!” he finally cries out. “What? Are you— are you obsessed with making me miserable or something?”

At his outburst, Seokjin stares at him in silence, totally shocked; it wasn’t his intention to push him to his limits like that, but maybe that’s the only way there is to get him to sit down and talk things out. And it’s a very needed thing, to discuss what the hell is going on – there have been too many victims already, and Jin would like to freeze the number of casualties.

“Now I’m the one who’s got a problem?” Seokjin barks back.

Jungkook grimaces. “Yeah! You—!”

“I what?”

With his breath hitching in his throat and his face colouring in frustration, the youngest goes silent. He’s looking for the words, all those things he’s been wanting to yell at this guy for weeks, and now that he has the chance, Jungkook is beginning to realise he doesn’t even know what to say – and he probably won’t until he figures out what he feels. Right now, his mouth is babbling, and his heart is just as confused.

“You…! Y/N-noona…!” And then he bursts into tears, and Seokjin grimaces in utter pity, suddenly forgetting all the pain this boy has caused you. “She dumped me for you! It’s all your fault! I’m sorry I’m—!”

“What—?”

But Jungkook rambles on, “And now she hates me, and I just can’t forget about her! I love her and she hates me!”

“Okay, o— listen! Man, you got it all wrong!” Seokjin suddenly exclaims, and he stops. “I’m not with Y/N, okay? We’re friends, that’s it! God, isn’t she dating you? How could she be with me?”

All the heat that came to his cheeks disappears in an instant. His brain hasn’t fully processed Seokjin’s words, but there’s a pinch of hope at what they could mean.

“But— but I heard you,” he babbles.

“Heard us?”

“Yeah! You… you told her you love her and that you wanted to be with her!”

Jin frowns – he’s totally lost. “And when was this?”

“It was… the day you came to practice,” Jungkook replies, his voice weaker than ever. “We, uh, had a little quarrel with our friends—”

“The bet, I know all about it. You found out about the bet,” Jin sums up.

“Yeah, and noona said she ‘needed time’, so she left. She also wouldn’t answer my calls, and she texted me that she’d call me back, but she never did. Then I came back home because it was late, and I heard you talking in our room— and you asked her to get back together!”

“Oh, Jesus Christ…”

Rubbing his face with a tired groan, Seokjin sits back down on the bed. His body is suddenly ten years older, and his heart is ten kilos heavier. This is a much bigger deal than he thought it would be.

“Dude, you got it all wrong,” he finally says.

“You said you love her—!”

“Listen, Jungkook-ssi,” Seokjin cuts him off, “I didn’t mean it… romantically! We used to be friends, you know, but Y/N really resented me after we broke up,” he explains then. “I messed up and hurt her. So, I was, uh, apologising? I love her, that’s true. She’s a very important person to me; important enough for me to want her forgiveness and to want to be friends again.”

“No…”

Suddenly cold, Jungkook has to sit on the bed in front of him; his hands are cold, his chest is pumping and beating like crazy, and his mind is working at such a speed that he can’t even recognise the thoughts passing by anymore. The only thing in his mind is the biggest relief at the discovery that you did not, in fact, dump him, and the gruesome realisation that this is probably the time he has fucked up the most.

“B-but you’re with her all the time!” he cries out in a poor attempt at defending himself. “And she— and she wouldn’t talk to me!”

“Well, yeah? You were the one to ignore her first!”

“Fuck!”

Jungkook buries his face in his hands and lets out a mournful groan. Now that he’s letting all go, now that he’s finally allowing himself to feel betrayed and hurt and confused, it’s when he finally realises that he was wrong all along.

“Shit…” His whimpers make Seokjin cringe with pity. “I fucked up, I really fucked up— she’s never gonna forgive me.”

The eldest sighs. “I think you’re still in time.”

“Huh?”

“You still have time now that she hasn’t stopped trying to find an explanation for your shitty behaviour. Y/N is the first one who wants to work things out, I’m sure,” Jin continues.

“She said that?”

“Uh, not exactly, but I know her, and I am sure that she wants you back.”

The consequences of his own actions are beginning to weigh on his shoulders. There had always been a fear, disguised as hope, that it had all been a mistake, a misunderstanding of some kind. Of course, Jungkook had decided to keep it inside in case he had to unlearn his grudge, but it never crossed his mind that, in the process, he was hurting you back, and that you could obviously resent him for it too.

In his mind, you had been this giant fortress all these days; an ice-cold barrier without feelings or even the ability to love or be merciful. In Jungkook’s mind, of course, everything you had done had been to hurt him and to let him know that his actual place in your life wasn’t inside your heart but dragged on the floor.

And even then, he couldn’t stop loving you.

He wants to cry, kiss you all over your face, kneel before you, kiss your hands, hug your lap, beg you to take him.

“Hey, don’t look so defeated,” Seokjin says, snapping him out of his depressing self-absorption. “I’m gonna help you, okay? I’ll help you make it up to her.”

“Why?”

But the eldest only shrugs. “She’s hurting too,” he murmurs then, “and I was your age once.”

It’s not like he’s much older than him, but this is the first time in a while someone tries to make him feel better without taking the guilt off him – he’s going to learn from this, but he won’t beat himself up over it. You wouldn’t want that anyway.

“You don’t need to do this.”

“I know,” he says, “but I want to. Besides, it’s not like you’ve killed someone, you know— and Y/N knows you didn’t sleep with that girl.”

“What?” Jungkook lets out, half-relieved.

“Yeah, she heard the rumours, but she didn’t believe them since, well, in her head you were still dating, so she asked Jimin, and he told her.” Well, it’s good to know he still has good friends out there, but he’s weirdly glad. “Try to process it: she didn’t believe them to the point that she called Jimin to confirm them. Man, she’s desperately fishing for a chance to forgive you.”

Full of renewed strength and hope, Jungkook gets up and grabs his backpack, turning to the other guy with an awkward stance.

“Thank you, uh…”

“You can call me Jin-hyung,” he jokes.

But Jungkook smiles. “Thank you, hyung! See ya!”

And then he storms off, leaving his hyung half-confused, half-amused, and a bit hopeful on the bed. Then he remembers he’s got a class to attend too, and he grabs his stuff to leave.

“Who is it?”

You got up as soon as the intercom rang all across the flat; you were wearing your ugliest yet most comfortable clothes, devouring a jar of Greek yoghurt, and naturally, not expecting any visitors. So, leaving the jar on the kitchen counter, you walk up to the entrance door and push the button.

“It’s me.” Ari is standing on the other side, as you can see through the peephole “Can you open up?”

Your heart doesn’t really have the energy to talk to her, but your brain doesn’t have the energy to even make up an excuse.

You push the entrance button. ��Yeah, come in.”

The minutes it takes to enter the doorway and walk up to your landing take forever. Pressing, your heart has begun to beat, heavy, in your chest, and after a while, you regret not having hung up instantly.

“Hey, nice to see you,” Ari says when she shows up at the door.

“What do you want?” You don’t want to be rude, not on purpose, but you really want to know that. “Sorry, uh… How can I, hm, help you?”

Suddenly, Ari stifles a chuckle, and although against your will – you want to be composed and cold – you follow her, feeling incredibly awkward; a friendship like yours wasn’t made to be solemn. You’ve never been silent with each other. Angry, perhaps, or upset – but never silent.

“Sit anywhere you like,” you tell her then, stepping back to let her in.

“Thanks.”

“Do you want a drink?” you ask on your way to the kitchen.

“No, thanks!” Ari exclaims from the living room, and you peek over the counter; she’s holding up two Frappuccinos. “I brought you something, though.”

You shake your head and come back. “You didn’t have to— okay, thanks. It’s my favourite, how did you know?” you joke, and surprisingly, Ari laughs. Maybe this won’t be as awkward, and maybe it’s time to cut straight to the point. “Thanks. So… I guess you came to talk, right? What do you want to talk about?”

Ari takes a deep breath.

“I know you and Jimin talked the other day,” she says, “he told me. He also told me what actually happened…” You stare at her, expectantly. “I came to apologise. What we did was awful, even if we didn’t do it with bad intentions. The… fact that the possibility didn’t even cross my mind was very uncaring, and I think it’s a reflection of how little I’ve tried to understand your feelings,” she continues, and you stay quiet, feeling heavier and heavier. “But it terrified me, to think that you would be unhappy forever.” It’s only when her voice cracks that you let out a heavy puff of breath. “I thought that I wasn’t doing enough. Like I wasn’t caring about it enough.”

You take a few seconds to think about what to say, about what you want to say; the fact that she has finally acknowledged your feelings immediately takes a heavy weight off your chest.

But you also feel so frustrated that it took so long. You’re so frustrated that you had to literally shut down for someone to even suspect that there was something wrong with you. And you’re frustrated that you really didn’t have much idea that you felt like this until now. How hurt you are, how sad, how you long for closeness and intimacy. How you miss being vulnerable, and how much it terrifies you at the same time.

“There was never anything wrong with you,” you say. “You… were there, believe it or not. I always felt you with me, I was the one pushing you all away.” With a soft smile, she makes an attempt to stroke your cheek, and you tilt down your head. “I just… hate being so weak and having no control over it,” you continue.

“What are you even talking about?” Ari asks with a frown, still stroking your cheek. “You’re the strongest person I know.”

You roll your eyes. “Stop joking—”

“It’s true. I admire you, Y/N.”

Your heart aches and cries and sobs and shrinks in your chest out of pure excitement. You feel loved, she makes you feel loved.

“I…” And then your voice cracks, and you start crying. “I just…! Fuck, I wish I could’ve been able to handle it all. All the pain, and the heartbreak, and— I wish nothing of this had affected me this much! I’m tired, I’m literally so tired!”

“Why should you have been able to? What gave you that experience – age, hard work, life, your youth?”

“I don’t know.”

Ari scoots closer to you and hugs you, resting her cheek on your shoulder. She’s looking away, her eyes fixed on some spot in the living room; her face is blank, but you feel she’s serious.

“I’m sorry about the bet. I didn’t know any better,” she murmurs. “I’ve learned from it, though, and I’ve also learned that I have to give you space. Be there for you, if you want me back. Give away my shoulder to your tears even if it falls off. I don’t know more about life than you do— but I want to learn with you.”

You find comfort in her arms, it’s a kind of closeness you have missed madly. It’s been a long time since you last felt loved by her; seen, known, acknowledged. While she walked away after half-finding out about the bet, you pushed her even further too.

“What are you going to do about Jungkook?” she asks again.

“He still doesn’t know it was all in his head,” you say, “if Jimin hasn’t told him, that is.” Ari shakes her head. “So… I guess I’ll wait to see if he comes back asking for my forgiveness.”

“What he did was unfair, but don’t you think he deserves some sympathy too?”

You shake your head as well. “Why should I be the bigger person? Am I not allowed to be hurt? When I was a cheating bitch, oh, then everyone would judge me— but know he deserves my sympathy?”

Ari shrugs. “Not forcing you, it’s up to you whether you do it or not.”

“Even giving me the choice feels unfair.”

Then she looks up at you; her eyes watch you carefully at first, as if she was eyeing an animal, but then they soften, and a smile creeps to her lips.

“Treat him as kindly as you wanted to be treated yourself. That is your only free choice in this world.”

But your pride won’t let you. You’ve been hurt and beaten and humiliated so many times, and you were so little used to it, that your pride is swollen and wounded. It hurts just to think about giving it up and forgiving him; the mourning part of you wants him to suffer as much as he made you suffer. But then— then you think of the way he cried when he thought you had left him, and you remember that he only acts like a jerk when he feels the threat of heartbreak, and you think about how scared he must have been back then.

Then you think of all the times you have cried yourself, wondering why everyone is so cold and unfeeling with each other. Trying to mimic them. All those times you hated yourself for not being strong, that relentless you who never did anything stupid, who never hurt anyone out of fear. You were never that person.

Neither is Jungkook.

Some part of you wants him to suffer, yes. It’s the same voice that whispers that you deserve it too; all the pain and despair and loneliness in the world for not knowing any better. You’re just like him, you realise.

Does he technically deserve it? Well, no. But again, it’s true that kindness is not something to be deserving of, to earn; it’s blind. Love, too, is blind. You can’t see shit right now.

“I just need some time,” you murmur.

“Well, if it helps, I think everyone is doomed to make mistakes,” Ari says again as she gets up. “It’s hard to be perfect when you’ve got feelings.”

“Where are you going?”

“Uh, I’d better go home and get ready for the party,” she says with a grimace.

You frown. “What party—? Oh, the graduation party?”

“Yeah… It starts in an hour, and I promised Jimin I would be on time to help him choose the tie.”

“I totally forgot,” you murmur, looking away. “It’s prom-themed, isn’t it? I think Seokjin told me… Do you think Professor Choi will mind if I don’t come? I’m not feeling like going to any parties right now.”

“He won’t,” Ari replies.

You nod, and she gets her purse.

“I’ll be on my way now.” She kisses your forehead and runs back to the door. “Hit me up if you end up coming!”

“Sure.”

And now, with the door slamming shut behind her, Ari’s gone. Suddenly you’re back to being alone in your empty flat, sulking and pondering. You’re such a mess, you have no idea what to think or feel – or rather, you can’t make up your mind between being mad and relieved that it was all a misunderstanding.

What are you supposed to do with the pain, then? Gulp it down and swallow it? Pretend that it never happened, that you never suffered? But, you know, pretending has become too hard lately.

Somehow, you wander around the house and end up in your bedroom.

Jungkook must have come to take the rest of his stuff since most of his things are missing; even his platform boots, which he’d keep under your bed due to their side – and because you’d trip over them all the time – are not there anymore. His skin care products have disappeared from the bathroom, and the flat no longer smells of his body lotion. It’s as if his presence had said goodbye and closed the door behind it.

There are not too many options here, though: you can either forgive him or not. You can either take him back and punish him for it or not.

Jungkook hurt you, that is true. You were in pain because of his actions. But something inside you can’t help connecting with his pain, too; you know that feeling far too well – of not being enough, of thinking yourself to be deserving of being treated badly, of having earned the pain.

So, even now, when you’re trying to picture all the reasons why you’re angry at him, you can’t help but fish for excuses. You feel stupid, and you know yourself to be in love. Not the first fool on this planet to be either.

But, at this point, perhaps you’ve become too familiar with the pain, and especially, with the possibility of it. You’re no longer afraid of being hurt. It could be because you’re numb, but also because Ari is right: you’re stronger than what you give yourself credit for. Maybe this is the worst decision of your life, or maybe not. You’ll see— for now, you want to see Jungkook.

You get up from your bed, where you had been sitting during your reflection. Your wardrobe is right in front of you. You open it and browse through what you might wear to the party you’ve supposedly helped plan.

Actually, there isn’t anything you could possibly wear to a ‘prom’ except for a minidress and a pair of heels, and that isn’t exactly prom-like.

Then you remember when you and Jungkook looked at your high school pictures, back when you were crowned prom queen. You were wearing a long pearl-white satin dress that is probably rotting in a thrift shop box somewhere, and you had borrowed a pair of heeled sandals from your mother which you ended up breaking. She was furious.

You might not have that dress with you anymore, but it’s not like you’d ever wear that again.

God, it was ugly.

So, you grab whatever feels comfortable. You’re gonna be looking hot anyways, and it’s supposed to be for the seniors. Then you text Ari asking her to pick you up, and by the time she gets here, you’re ready.

“I was honestly so sure you wouldn’t come,” she says, getting back into the car as you take a seat next to her. “What changed your mind?”

You keep your eyes straight forward. “I don’t know… I guess this whole thing started to feel a bit silly.”

“You better vote Namjoon for prom king.”

“I didn’t know we were doing that,” you reply with a chuckle, and Ari rolls her eyes. “The greatest party planner in the world, that’s what I am. Just so you know, Seokjin was supposed to keep me posted, and he didn’t.”

“Poor you.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, Y/N, you look nice—”

You let out the most screeching, freaked-out, and high-pitched scream when Jimin, dressed in a burgundy suit, sits up in the back seat and suddenly enters your field of vision as the coat covering him slides down his body. Truly, it leaves you on the verge of a heart attack, and you turn towards him intending to glare at him to death.

“Jesus Christ,” you cry out. “Were you there all along?”

“Yeah… I didn’t sleep very well yesterday, so I was taking a nap in the car to get me through the evening.”

You roll your eyes. “Cool.”

Jimin scoots closer to the back of your seat and hugs it. He’s wearing an aquamarine blue tie and looks as handsome as ever. He must be up to something.

“So,” he begins, and you stifle a sigh, “can we talk about Jungkook already? Or is he still taboo?”

“Yes, we can and must talk about Jungkook,” Ari says.

“Is he coming?” She nods. “Good—”

“Yes! That’s my girl!” she shouts out then, raising her free arm in celebration. “Ugh, I can’t believe this is all coming to an end! Finally—!” You stare at her, and it makes her quiet down her enthusiasm. “Finally, the consequences of our own actions…”

Jimin snickers and shrugs. “But you have to thank us; technically, you wouldn’t have found the love of your life if we hadn’t forced him into your flat.” He’s so shameless that you can only laugh at his words, though. “What? Don’t laugh! It’s true! Our brilliant plan worked! You can’t deny it!”

“Yeah, it did, it did…”

“And Tae’s idea to pretend you overheard us? Chef’s kiss,” he says then, and you glance at him.

“Don’t brag now that she has forgiven us, idiot,” Ari groans.

“Yeah, idiot.”

It doesn’t take the three of you long to reach the sports hall, where the graduation party is being held. You see a couple of students handing out ballots to everyone who enters the building, and a handful of professors, decked out to the gills, are keeping a wary eye on the area. Ari is lucky to spot an empty parking space, so she pulls in and parks the car there.

“Okay, are you ready?” Jimin helps her step out of the car, and then he rushes to help you too. “Really, you two look really pretty.”

You look down at your outfit.

“Thanks, I wasn’t sure I’d be decent looking for tonight…”

“Nonsense, you look great,” Ari says, taking your arm and walking you to the entrance. “Stunning, beautiful, breathtaking, lovely. Drop-dead gorgeous.”

You let out a chuckle. “Jeez, a ‘you look fine’ would’ve been enough, but thank you.”

“Fine? That wouldn’t have done you justice.”

You're fidgety as you walk into the pavilion; the halls and rooms are considerably darker now, colourful lamps lighted up and hanging from the ceiling. Some glitter balls blind everyone they catch with their glare, shoving their rainbow beams in their faces.

Your body gets used to the music quickly, and suddenly you find yourself doing a little dance as you survey the spacious room.

“Do you want us to leave?”

“Yeah, you can go dancing, don’t worry about me,” you reply with a smile over the music.

Ari smiles and nods, and a second later she’s dragging a happy Jimin across the dancefloor. You, for your part, continue to weave through the tide of people bordering around the floor. Your eyes search and search, hoping to find your target, but apart from a few familiar faces from class and people you remember passing in the corridors, there is no sign of Jeon Jungkook.

Maybe he’s left already. After all, the party has been going on for a while now since your friends like to be ‘fashionably late’. So, he could be back in his room right now, or even out of town for an early weekend.

Now that you think about it, this is the last place where you’d think you’d find him.

All these bodies crammed together, this music so loud you can barely make it out from their voices, all these sweaty, half-drunk people who keep waving at you and offering you a drink. This is really the last place in the world that heartbroken Jungkook would want to be.

But he came, that much you know. Jungkook was here at some point.

And you can imagine where he is now.

You rush to put your ballot with Namjoon’s name on it into the box and look for a way out. You have to squeeze yourself past some people, but you manage to get out – and get some fresh air.

“No way I would’ve survived in there for four hours.”

In less than a couple of minutes, you cross the lawn and enter the other building. You walk past the outdoor swimming pool, which is covered by a blue tarpaulin so that no idiots can jump in. Although, of course, there will be.

The lights at the entrance of the natatorium are all off. You can barely make out the lockers or the floor thanks to the little sunlight that filters through the small windows at the top. And there’s an acrid, harsh smell that kind of throws you off. But whatever, you know the place like the back of your hand, and by straining your eyes, you make your way through the corridors to the stairs.

The natatorium is completely silent by the time you arrive. The water ripples calmly, and the amber evening light floods the four walls from the huge glass panels both above and to the sides.

You make your way to the bleachers and go down the steps.

At first, you see only a tangle of metal poles, an endless vision of silver lines crisscrossing each other. For a second, it crosses your mind that perhaps you don’t know him as well as you thought you did. But then you notice a black figure in the background, hidden and crouched, and you walk up to it out of instinct.

“Jungkook?”

The boy stands up out of surprise, hitting himself on the head with one of the bars above him. Before he can even say hi, Jungkook crouches down, whining in pain.

“Oh, dear!” You rush to his side, worried, although smiling. “Are you okay? Does it hurt?”

He nods slowly. “Huh, it doesn’t hurt much… How did you know I’d be here?” he asks, finally looking up at you.

You shrug.

“Call it a hunch. It really doesn’t hurt?”

“Yeah, I’m good, really,” Jungkook murmurs then, and a soft blush appears on his cheeks. He can’t help smiling at your worried tone. He was deprived of it for too long.

You sit next to him on the floor instead. Jungkook seems to shrink at your closeness and expand towards you at the same time. Like a reactive mass, unable to ignore you – both terrified of your presence and doomed to crave it like an idiot. So, you sit down with him, and he stays still.

There are so many things crossing his mind right now; why are you here, why did you come? To tell him that he’s an asshole and an idiot and you don’t want to be with him anymore? This silence is wiping his last bits of hope out, it’s annihilating his patience and his mental stability. Can you please say something already? Jesus! Did you come here only to torture him with your silence—?

“I know all about it,” you whisper. “Baby, I know. Don’t worry.”

He feels cold all over out of a sudden.

“What?”

“How could you think I’d ever do such a thing?” you ask then, taking his face in your hands so that he’ll look at you.

Your stomach twists with anticipation, and you are short of breath. There are too many emotions mixed up inside you, and you don’t know exactly how to manage them, but right now, your top priority is Jungkook.

That’s the one thing you’re sure of; to show him that you’re still here and that it’s not the end of the world.

Jungkook’s breath hatches. “You were so upset after what happened… And because— it made sense. It made sense that you’d dump me.”

“No, it did not.”

You pull him into a hug, the tightest hug you think you remember ever giving. You hunger for his warmth, which seeps through the fabric of your clothes and into your body. He still smells soft and mellow. You tighten your arms around him, and he does the same, and suddenly you’re out of breath but so, so happy that you feel you’re about to cry.

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” you hear him murmur against your cheek.

Jungkook’s voice is low with shame. You only chuckle, pressing harder against him as your hands dance up and down his back at a soothing pace.

“It’s okay,” you reply, “I forgive you.”

Maybe you could’ve just shrugged it off, maybe that would have made him feel better. Maybe you could have responded with a sorry of your own, an apology for not coming up to him earlier, but you don’t think that’s what he needs to hear. It certainly is not what you want to say.

Jungkook lets out a soft sob and whimpers, “I was such a jerk, I— I even tried to—” Tears follow a second later, cutting him off. “Shit, I’m so sorry…”

“I know.”

“It was so childish of me—! I should’ve talked to you first, I’m so sorry I was such a jerk,” he insists.

“Yes, you should have.”

Suddenly Jungkook goes silent, his doe eyes fixed on yours in an attempt to look through you; won’t you tell him off? Won’t you scream at him, tell him to fuck off? He fucked up badly this time; he has totally ruined any kind of trust you had in him before.

“Why—? Please,” he pleads out of the blue, tears running down his cheeks, “hate me, yell at me, do something!” His heart is aching at the mere possibility of you breaking up with him. What else could your tender, understanding words mean? Only that you will spare him without much cruelty. “D-don’t just— don’t just keep talking nonsense! I was an asshole! Just t-tell me if you want me back!”

You smile softly and cup his cheeks. “Never said I didn’t.”

“Fuck—”

So, he almost had sex with another girl, and this is your reaction? Gentle smiles and tender caresses and loving looks? Do you really care so little about him?

“Yes, you made a mistake, one that hurt me,” you whisper then, “but that doesn’t mean you deserve to be hated or yelled at. And I never stopped wanting you.” It hurts to say those words, but you know it’s for the best – you know it’s your brain screaming in fear. “I love you, Jungkook. None of your mistakes will change the way I feel about you.”

You’ve never seen such a shocked, tender, endearing look before; the way his eyes widen in surprise as your words sink in, the way his bottom lips tremble, or how his body instinctively budges forward chasing yours.

“But I hurt you—”

“Yes” – your hands find his wet cheeks again – “and I forgive you.”

Your heart still aches, waiting to hear him say those words back, but it doesn’t look like that’s going to happen. So, you accept the situation and pull your hand away, but Jungkook takes it between his fingers just to stare at you. There’s this look of tenacity in them—

“Are you done, noona?”

It’s started to rain. The gentle drops falling on you become stronger and stronger, seeping through your clothes. You haven’t brought a jacket, and the dress you’re wearing doesn’t exactly do a very good job of keeping you warm. A shiver runs down your spine. It’s a pity that summer is coming to an end.

“What—?”

“Are you done with all this bullshit?” he cuts you off.

The harshness makes you halt. Any intention of being sweet and understanding vanishes, and you’re left frozen in his arms. You frown, but that’s about it; Jungkook remains silent with a stern look, one of steady passion, at your quietness. He’s adamant about tearing the pain off you.

Maybe it’s the silence, you think again. Maybe that’s why your mind keeps processing thoughts, overwhelmed by the nothingness, unrelentingly trying to find some meaning to his words – since he won’t explain himself.

A puff of air comes out through your lips, followed by a whimper, and you burst out in tears.

“Don’t—” Your breath hitches amidst sobs, and you hit his chest with clenched fists but no strength at all. “Don’t ever do this to me again, okay?” Jungkook smiles as he holds you, ignoring how your tears smear down his wet cheeks. “You were so fucking unfair! It hurt so fucking much—!”

He waits until you calm down to stroke your face with a soft gaze. “Y/N?” You look at him. “I love you too.”

Your heart aches with emotion.

“You better do.”

“I love you,” Jungkook repeats, raising his voice as it echoes through the rooftop, and kisses you on the lips, holding you tight and close, “I love you! I love you, noona! And I want everyone to know!”

“You’re such an idiot,” you let out with a soft laugh.

“Oh my god—!” His sudden exclamation makes you jump, and he sits up as he takes off his suit jacket. “Put this on, noona, or you’ll get sick. I can’t believe I didn’t notice! You must be freezing.”

You shrug. “We’re both drenched, Jungkook. I think we should get going.”

“Yeah, let’s go to my room.” Jungkook gets up first and holds out his hand to help you up. “I can lend you some dry clothes there so, you’ll be comfier.”

“Thanks— wait,” you let out and grab his hand, making Jungkook stop in his tracks. “Aren’t we, uh, indoors? How come it’s raining—? Oh, it’s the fire alarm, it’s gone off,” you realise, looking at him with an amused smile. “I swear, for a moment I thought it was raining. It suited the moment so well that I didn’t even stop to think about it.”

“Yeah, you’re so silly, noona,” he giggles.

You hug his waist and let him walk you up the steps. “Don’t lie, you didn’t notice either.”

“But it makes for a pretty picture,” Jungkook jokes. “A love confession in the rain. Wherever the rain comes from, well, let’s just take it as it is.”

An angry exclamation echoes from the other side of the natatorium; the janitor is dragging some students out of the changing rooms, and one of them throws a cigarette on the floor. That must have been what you smelled on the way up. With his third ninja eye, the old man suddenly turns to where you’re hiding, but Jungkook is quick and ducks.

“Anyone still there?” he yells. “C’mon, everyone back to the party! I don’t wanna see anybody here!”

You wait until the old man is done sending off the kids to come out of your hideout.

There is no one left in the pavilion by the time you leave; the janitor has gone to his sentry box and the students, probably scared off by him, must have returned to the main building to re-join the party.

Jungkook’s hand is tightly wrapped around yours as you walk out. Unseen by either your friends or other students, you head to the dorms in comfortable silence, cringing at the feeling of damp fabric sticking to your skin. You want to tear it off immediately, but you have to wait until you get to his room.

Once you arrive, he opens the door and steps back to let you in first.

“Make yourself at home.”

With growing curiosity, you enter his room and take a look around; you can recognise most of his figurines and posters, and his swimming cap hanging from the wardrobe door.

“I didn’t know you had a roommate,” you say, turning back to him. “Is he a freshman too?”

Jungkook looks away. “Not exactly…” At his vague response, you frown, increasingly confused. “Let’s not worry about it now, noona— you’ll see him at some point. Want a drink or something? I have juice and milkshakes—”

“I’ll settle for some dry clothes for now.”

Jungkook sticks his head out of the mini fridge. “Oh—! Shit, I forgot, yeah…”

You chuckle softly as he stands up and rushes to his drawers, looking perhaps for a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie to lend you. When he finally finds something that fits you, he gives it to you and takes out something to change into. Jungkook is still squatting on the floor, so he looks up at you when you take off your top.

You didn’t put on a bra, and your clothes were cold on your skin, so he gets greeted by the view of your hardened nipples instead.

He must have been staring since he hears you chuckle.

“You make all this fuss and still think you’re gonna hit it tonight?” you joke, tragically getting turned on.

But his face turns an adorable shade of deep red, and Jungkook looks away, either embarrassed or ashamed of his own intentions. His eyes are now fixed on the basic tee in his hands, and he puts it aside to unbutton the dress shirt he was wearing and practically peel it off his skin.

His back muscles bulge and flex under the skin-tight fabric as it struggles to slide down his back. Some of his tattoos peak from under the shirt, and Jungkook uncovers them when he takes it off, neatly folding it before realising that it’s actually going directly into the laundry basket along with your clothes. As for you, your eyes are still glued to him.

Seems like you’re no better than a man.

Jungkook is about to take off his pants when you approach him. Surprised, his body instinctively turns in your direction, hungry for your closeness.

“Let me help you with that,” you practically purr.

Although still shy, he smiles and looks at you. “Don’t you think that’s mean? There’s no need to tease me either.”

Jungkook lets you get your way despite his words; the belt buckle expertly undoes itself in your hands, and you slide the leather through the loops until it’s completely tangled in your hands. A couple of ideas visibly flash through Jungkook’s eyes, but for the time being, he is silent as his bare chest rises and falls. His breath feels hot against your face, he feels hot against your body.

You knew you had missed him like crazy all these weeks, but now you realise that you were sick with want. How you’ve longed to just have him with you again. It hurt so much to be apart.

And, surprisingly, you don’t resent him.

You thought you would, honestly; you thought you’d struggle to forgive him for making his troubles and fears yours. For dragging you down his path of self-inflicted pain. Just like it took you years to forgive Seokjin or your friends.

But, instead, you’re faced with a warm feeling of sympathy – of love. Jungkook whipped himself way more than he should have, imagined you would never take him back after fucking it up so much. You don’t want him to do that, you want him to learn and be nice to himself. For the first time in, perhaps, forever, the thought of loving someone doesn’t feel like a one-way ticket to getting hurt and betrayed but rather like a chance of being loved back.

Jungkook grows fidgety under your silent gaze, melting into a heart-shaped puddle at how lovingly you’re eyeing him. He’s restless with how much he wants to show you how much he actually loves you, and he knows you well enough to know that you’ve got something in mind regarding that.

And your instinct is to kiss each other.

Sliding your hand under his head to grab his nape and push him against your lips, you run your tongue against the corner of his mouth first. A heavy puff of air leaves him, and you take the chance to move away just a little.

His chocolate eyes lock with yours as you try to calm down. Your lips are barely touching each other, and his bated breaths fan against you.

“I adore you,” you whisper.

He feels dizzy. Jungkook shivers in your arms. “Noona—”

“Jungkook, I need you.”

“F-fuck—”

With his entire body trembling with anticipation, he sits you on the bed and hovers over you, his eyes heart-shaped as he melts into you. Those words have a grip on him, the mere sound of your voice saying them was so sweet that his heart is beating like crazy now and his brain is scrambled with affection and longing.

“Oh, bunny,” you coo, and Jungkook keeps leaving a trail of kisses down your neck, “did that get you excited?”

As an answer, he just shoves his hips against yours. His half-hard cock is clearly noticeable under his pants as he humps your clothed thigh, whimpers spilling from his mouth.

You roll your tongue over his with your hands splaying across his back in an attempt to pull him closer. Like a beast being fed, your body is relentlessly oozing hormones, drawing you to each other, quenching your need for each other’s warmth, and soothing an ache after being apart.

Jungkook lets out a puff of air against your neck. “S-shit, I’m so hard—”

“Don’t worry, baby,” you whisper as you kiss from his lips down to his chest. “Let mommy take care of you, okay?”

You notice him going tense on top of you, even if his head remains hidden in the crook of your neck. His cock twitches, too, under the fabric of his pants. The way his hands move quickly to the zip to lower it is a sign that he is not displeased; on the contrary, when Jungkook takes off his pants, shimmying between your legs, his cock is pretty red and wet with precum.

“Missed this too,” you groan between kisses as your hand wraps around his length. It’s hot, and Jungkook whimpers, sinking onto you. “Huh? Hard and ready for mommy.”

He looks up at you with his lips pressed to your neck. “F-fuck, mommy—”

You take off your skirt while he finishes pulling down his trousers, and you both get rid of what’s left of your clothes.

Your hand returns to his cock, and you start pumping him, smearing the precum with your thumb. Jungkook’s hitched breath fans against your chest, leaving a trail of kisses on the valley of your breasts – his cheeks are stained with the red shape of your lips.

“Shit, so good—” he moans. His hips stutter and buck into your hand; there’s a constant wave of pleasure going down his spine. It expands from his toes up to his fingertips, and the more you touch him, the wetter his cock gets. “Oh, God, yes! Fuck, mommy, I— I missed you too, missed you so much—!”

A moan of pure want escapes your lips. “Yeah?”

“Yes, yes—”

You cut him off with another kiss, rolling your tongues over each other and hooking your legs around his waist. With another groan, you suck his bottom lip into your mouth, and Jungkook moans.

“Bunny, I’m so wet,” you whisper to his ear as your hand picks up a faster pace.

Probably, Jungkook can even hear your heart beating loudly in your chest. The ache between your thighs only grows tighter, making your cunt drip and smear your arousal against his balls as he bucks his hips onto his stomach.

He suddenly whimpers. “I’m c-close.”

It’s easy to tell, judging by the sweat covering his skin and his dilated pupils. You love the way the engorged tip of his cock peeks from between your fingers.

“Mommy, m-mommy—” Jungkook chants then, fucking your hand. When he reaches the tipping point, you let out a wicked giggle and move away your hand, ruining his climax. “No! Please, please, p-please! Please, b-bunny cum, bunny— p-please!” he cries out as his body writhes on top of you in pure frustration.

You peck him on the lips. “You had this one coming, babe.”

Jungkook tries to calm down as he writhes over you, so you start running your hands up and down his back, stroking him with a gentle smile. His face is alight with a lovely blush, eyes glassy and locked with yours.

Hot and heavy against your palm, his cock gets even harder, desperate for the friction of your ministrations to return.

You let out a soft chuckle. “What are you doing—?”

He has begun to leave a trail of kisses down to your chest, where he finally rests his head. As his lips reach one of your nipples, Jungkook shuts his eyes and holds your breast, his breath fanning harshly through his nose. It’s physically impossible, but you shift on the mattress to fix your posture until your core is right beneath his cock.

That’s all the encouragement he needs before sucking one of your nipples into his mouth. The contact sends shivers down your spine, you’re getting impatient.

Greedily, Jungkook moves to your other tit without daring to neglect the other and flicks your sensitive nub between his fingers, kneading the tender flesh. You let out a low groan, and your hand slaps his butt out of instinct.

“God,” he gasps, completely out of breath, “I fucking love your tits.”

“Baby likes mommy’s tits, understandably.”

“Shit,” Jungkook moans again as his hips start rutting against your dripping folds, “y-yeah, baby likes mommy’s tits, mommy’s— mommy’s cunt, mommy’s e-everything.”

You look down at him and spank him again. “Getting worked up, aren’t we?”

He then sucks on your nipple.

“Been worked up since you took your top off.”

For some reason, you’re really liking this sudden outburst of confidence in him. It’s like you’re no longer ashamed of doing things to him, of wanting to do things to him; that shameless sparkle in his eyes, one of total, blatant desperation, as if he’d let you do anything as long as you let him touch and enjoy you. Like he’s truly enjoying himself this time without getting anxious about his performance.

“Thought so,” you groan. You can feel his teeth sinking into the side of your boob. “I’m worked up too, bunny, eat me out—”

“Fuck yes.”

In a second, he’s kneeling on the mattress between your spread legs, staring at your folds as if he’s never seen one before. His pupils are dilated, a certain sense of desperation taking over him; he needs to have your cunt against his tongue right now.

Peppering featherlight kisses along your inner thighs, Jungkook makes eye contact with you just to see how you begin to lose composure, pushing his head. He lets out an amused ‘sorry’ and sticks out his tongue, parting your folds and delving his tongue into your entrance. Your taste is as good as he remembers, your arousal taking over his poor scrambled brain. Your skin is so warm, too, thighs tightening around his head when he starts flicking his tongue on your clit.

“Fuck, bunny—” you groan and throw your head back on the pillow.

With your juices smeared all over his face and saliva running down his chin, Jungkook is desperate about making you come – there’s nothing else on his mind right now.

He grips your ass to shove his face on your cunt and starts fucking you with his tongue. His nose rubs against your sensitive nub, and you can’t help but grab his hair and pull with a loud moan escaping your lips.

“Shit, shit— baby, don’t stop, d-don’t,” you manage to tell him, “Mommy’s gonna cum—”

Tongue lapping your pussy like crazy, Jungkook does as told and doesn’t stop sucking on your clit. His eyes have lost focus.

“F-fuck, good boy—”

“Good boy,” he repeats without thinking.

You spread your legs even more and push your knees against your chest, hoping to reduce any distance between your body and his to zero. Jungkook gets it immediately and grabs your hips. Now he’s lifting you and drawing his lips down to your entrance more easily just to give your pussy broad strokes with his tongue flat.

“Mommy,” he suddenly whines, “I— you’re s-so wet, shit, so, so—”

“So what, bunny?” you manage to ask.

“Fuck, I could slide right in,” Jungkook says as he kisses your clit, “so wet and hot, could slide my cock right in—”

You resist the urge to moan. “Y-yeah? Think you could fuck me with your dumb cock?”

“Fuck, yes—”

“You’d spill your pretty cum all over me in a second, bunny,” you say with feigned pity, feeling breathless and euphoric as your climax starts to build in the pit of your stomach. “Your dumb bunny cock couldn’t hold it— y-you’d fill me up in no time!”

Your back arches when the ache between your legs becomes unbearable. Jungkook isn’t even bothering to wipe your juices off his eyelashes; rather go blind than miss a second of devouring your pussy. He lets you rest a bit when he goes back to fucking you with his tongue, but as soon as you’re not oversensitive, he returns to your clit with puckered lips.

“You’re going to make me cum, Jungkook—”

He just moans at your words. “Please, please, wanna have mommy coming all— all over my face!”

“So greedy,” you mock him.

That’s when you stop talking and melt into the coiling tension in the pit of your stomach; with a moan, you feel it engorge, expand across your body, and grip your very core as you come. He goes on a frenzy, slurping your arousal to help you ride out your climax.

“Fuck, baby,” you let out, “you’re— you’re such a good boy.”

Jungkook climbs up to you and smashes his lips against yours, moving away barely a few inches before he says, “Your good boy, a-always.”

With a soft, tired smile, you rake your nails through his hair.

“Mine...”

The both of you use the next second to catch your breath. It’s crazy how much you’ve missed feeling his body and his warmth, having him lie down next to you, just the chance to spoil him rotten with kisses all over his cheeks and lips. After such an intense moment, it’s nice to allow yourself to take a break to pamper each other.

“How are you doing, bunny? Hm? All good?”

“Well...” Jungkook looks away from you, and you raise an eyebrow. “I really, really wanna come, mommy—”

“Sit up,” you say, doing the same.

He sits up on his knees and waits patiently, almost like an obedient puppy, for your next order. You can see the way his pierced cock springs up against his tummy, swollen, red, and dripping precum.

You grip his hips and beckon him to lie down on his back.

“You had your bit of fun, baby. Time for mommy to take charge. Arms up and stay still.”

Doing as told, Jungkook raises his arms with expectation. You leave kisses on his cheeks, neck, and chest, licking over his nipples and quivering under your touch. Feeling a little playful, you nibble on his ribcage and continue down his happy trail until you reach his crotch. He’s leaking already but, making eye contact, you let a trickle of saliva drip on his engorged tip. Not content, however, you get more comfortable over him and spit directly on his cock.

“That’s all you get, bunny,” you groan, voice low with arousal.

Jungkook’s pupils shiver, and his mouth is parted, unable to close it. The mere thought of you spitting anywhere on him is far more exciting than he first thought.

“Quiet now?” With your thumb pressing on the barbell, you let out a quiet chuckle. “Thought you’d be babbling and whining like a bitch.”

It finally snaps him out. “Please— please, I wanna come—”

“Shut up.”

And you finally swallow around his length. Your press your head down as you feel his cock slide into your parted lips, and Jungkook sobs, overwhelmed by the feeling of your wet heat around him. His hips jerk and buck into your mouth, but you’re quick to pin them down on the bed with a glare.

“S-sorry, mommy, ugh!” Jungkook grips the sheets around his head for balance. “Oh fuck, o-oh, shit!”

Heat pools in his lower back, too much tension pent up after suffering from your teasing and ministrations. Nobody touches him the way you do, nobody turns him on the way you do, nobody makes his heart flutter the way you do.

An entire iceberg could melt against his burning cheeks. Using hands and lips together, you play gently with his balls while dipping your tongue into his slit and flickering your tongue on the barbell.

With hollowed cheeks, you bob your head up and down Jungkook’s cock, never looking away. You couldn’t miss the tears flowing down his cheeks or the way his heart-shaped pupils stare at you with the utmost adoration. He’s trying to hold back his moans when you swirl your tongue and engulf him again, but it’s to no avail because his shaky breaths slip out anyway. He’s a trembling prey under your control, waiting to be devoured.

You slide his cock out of your mouth for a second. Your lips look red and swollen, and Jungkook pictures how you looked with his cum all over them.

When you notice he’s close to cumming again, you give his tip one last lick and a peck. He whines and begs you not to stop, but you sit on his lap without taking notice of any of his words.

“Tongue.”

It takes him a few seconds, but Jungkook obeys and sticks his tongue out, unsure but totally in.

Grabbing his chin, you smirk and force him to look up at you before you spit directly in his mouth. He doesn’t have much time to process it before you’re kissing him hard, hands tangling around his neck, but you can feel his cock twitching against your inner thigh.

As the kiss grows in passion, Jungkook melts into you, no longer aware of any part of the universe that is not you or him. You suck on his tongue while getting comfortable on his lap, and your hand wraps around his length again, resuming its movements as it pumps it up and down without mercy.

“Jungkook I wanna ride your cock,” you let out in a deep breath between kisses.

He fixes your seat on top of him when something pops up in his head:

“I-I don’t— I don’t have any condoms.”

You kiss him again with your hand on his nape. “Don’t care, I’m on the pill, and I’m clean. What do you think?”

“But mommy, I’m not gonna last then,” he cries out.

“I don’t fucking care.”

You place your hands on his chest and straddle his hips. This way, his hard cock aligns with your entrance, and all you have to do is sink down onto him.

“Oh, fuck, bunny—”

His cock stretches you out with only a slight hint of pain, the good kind, as it works you open as you adjust to his size. Jungkook squints his eyes when he sees his length disappear into your body, and the contact is so raw and wet and hot and fuck, you’re dripping, you’re actually leaking arousal down your thighs, and now he’s swallowed by your warmth. He’s never going to get over this, he thinks as you bend down to leave a trail of kisses down his neck.

“I’m— I’m going mad,” he whispers. “M-mommy’s cunt feels so fucking good, wanna fill you up— until you’re leaking— ugh!”

You’ve started rolling your hips, bouncing up and down his cock. His eyes are glued to your folds, it’s really incredible the way you’re taking him. His tip bumps into your sweet spot incessantly, sounds of smacking flesh flooding the otherwise quiet room.

Jungkook tries to pound back up into you, let his balls swing against your ass as he fucks you.

“Fuck, bunny, I love your cock, it was made for me,” you moan. The pace that your hips pick up becomes brutal almost. “My bunny, my baby— mine alone, no one else’s, r-right? Say it—”

“Yours,” he struggles to say.

You kiss him again, harshly this time. “Mine… Mine to touch, to kiss, to fuck—” you grunt; your skin heats up as your climax builds in, and Jungkook can only try to survive his approaching orgasm. “Mommy’s only, t-this cock is mommy’s only. Only— only you can fuck mommy.”

He throbs inside of you instantly, his face contorted in pure pleasure as you keep bouncing on his cock.

It slides into your dripping cunt so easily, of course, you waited a long time for this; your swollen clit rubs against his pubic bone, throwing you closer to the edge.

“Slow, please,” Jungkook cries out, “slow down. Fuck, mommy, I’m— coming, Y/N, shit, shit—!”

But his sudden panic is nothing but amusing to you, who takes this chance to start riding him faster and flick his nipples between your fingertips. Jungkook lets out a shaky breath and begs you to slow down even only a bit, begs you to let him last longer, but then his breath hitches and he is no longer able to plead for mercy.

His cock twitches again, and this time his hips can’t follow its rhythm, stuttering and bucking without any control. His breathy moans turn into whines, and with one last powerful thrust down onto his length, Jungkook’s eyes roll back, and he goes still.

Jungkook smacks his hands around your hips and fucks into you, bouncing you up and down his cock.

“F-fucking Christ! Mommy! Oh fuck!”

You feel him emptying himself inside of you, and shit, it’s way better than you imagined – his cum fills you up to the brim, warm and lovely, and leaks down your inner thighs as soon as he’s done spilling his load.

But your hips never stop rolling down onto him, clit rubbing against his pubic bone in search of friction. With his doe eyes, Jungkook looks up at you, confused and frowning at the overstimulation. You only chuckle in response and bend down to get momentum, wrapping your hand around his neck.

“Not gonna stop till you make me come, bunny.”

He blinks. “W-what?”

“I’ll keep fucking you and making you come until you use the words,” you grunt and bite his neck, making him yelp, “understood?”

“Fuck, f-fuck—”

His softened cock doesn’t take long before getting hard inside of you again, rubbing against your walls. It hurts like hell, makes him squirm and writhe on the bed under your cruel lovemaking, but Jungkook feels so utterly yours, and that alone is enough to get him hard.

You stroke his wet hair.

“Don’t worry, I’m close,” you groan then. “You’re such a good boy, baby, so good for mommy… Shit, fucking me open with your big dumb cock.” He thanks you for the praise with a thrust up into you. “I love you so much, Kookie, s-so much, let’s— let’s finish together, huh? Want you to fill me up until I’m dripping with your—”

“C-can’t!”

“Why not?”

“Because… it’s wrong!” he whimpers, already teetering on the edge again.

You kiss his lips and repeat, “Why?”

“Because if I come— come inside, we’ll m-make a baby!”

Even if Jungkook, with his high-pitched voice and his trembling body, tries to warn you about something that already happened a few minutes ago, you can’t help thinking that he’s a bit too much into the idea anyway, judging by the way that his cock twitches inside of you at the mere mention.

You can’t help chuckling.

“And we don’t want that, huh? We don’t want all your cum leaking out of my cunt because you came so hard,” you grunt to his ear. “That’d be a pity, such a waste…”

His cock throbs between your walls, and you can’t help clenching around him in excitement.

“M-mommy,” Jungkook cries again, nuzzling your neck.

The ache between your legs grows again, it builds so deep you think you might cum properly tonight. You keep letting out shaking breaths as you let him help you up and down his cock, your thighs too tired to keep doing all the work. He’s practically fucking himself into you, faster and faster as the both of you chase your and each other’s climax.

“S-such a pity you don’t wanna fill mommy up, bunny. I’d love to fuck you and make you cum inside again and again.” Your nails find his bronzed chest, nails sinking into the tight, sweaty flesh. He’s so handsome. “Until you’re a babbling mess that can’t even beg me to stop.”

“I love you too—”

“Yeah?”

Jungkook has to close his eyes this time. “S-so much, I love you, fuck!”

“That’s it, g-good boy,” you praise him in a moan and roll your hips once again. “Jungkook,” you suddenly warn him, looking down at him, “j-just so you know— I’m not pissing myself, okay?”

He looks up and you as he understands. “Y-you— for real?” You nod. “Shit, yes, please, please, mommy, spill it all over me—”

“So dirty.”

The pleasure in the pit of your stomach builds and grows. You ride him faster despite the burn in your thighs, and you cover your mouth to silence any loud sounds. His cock slides into you and bumps gently against your cervix, rubbing your sweet spot again and again.

Then, your muscles tighten.

“Fuck, I’m coming, bunny, wanna do it w-with me?”

Jungkook nods eagerly, probably already on the verge too, and grips your hand before placing it on his chest, never letting go of them. Finally, with the sparkle exploding inside the both of you and a loud moan, the shockwaves of your climax grip your body, and you let yourself go, stopping the pressure and spilling all over his pubis and cock. Jungkook comes barely a few seconds later with your walls clenching around him, emptying himself inside you with his eyes glued to the clear fluids spilled on him.

He lets out a whimper. “S-stop, please, stop, that’s—”

Once you’re done milking every last drop of his seed, you slide off his cock and collapse on top of him. You feel as if a truck had run you over.

“Didn’t know you could squirt,” Jungkook murmurs, wrapping himself around your body.

“Didn’t know you were into knocking me up.”

He turns an adorable shade of red and hides his face between your breasts. First, you coo at him, but then you feel his tongue poking out and licking one of your nipples, and you tap him on the head to get his attention.

“Can’t wait for a second round?” you say. “Either that or use your hand.”

“Getting old, huh?”

Silence settles between you; as you calmly catch your breath and let your fingernails scratch his head, Jungkook gets up to grab some towels and clean you up. When he returns to the bed, he lies back down with you.

“I know the bed is small, but don’t go, please,” Jungkook whispers, gently resting his forehead against yours. As he pulls you closer, his pupils tremble, always so strong-willed. “Stay…”

However, this time, you don’t have the energy to fight him. Nor the intention – his arms feel warm around you, and his skin is ever so soothing. You don’t want him to move either; want him curled against you, talking sweetly, peppering kisses across your shoulders. But you’re tired, you can’t keep your eyes open anymore, not after such long sleepless nights and anxious days. This time, you lose the battle, and you don’t care.

There’s someone in the room when you wake up. Slowly, you regain your ability to think and spot a figure tidying a backpack with his back turned to you. It takes you a few seconds to remember that you are lying naked on Jungkook’s bed, but once you catch on to the situation, you quickly snatch the sheets to cover yourself up to your nose.

“Oh, sorry, did I wake you up?” Seokjin doesn’t turn to look at you, still focused on his backpack’s contents. “It’s okay, I’ll leave in a second.”

“Don’t worry…”

Okay, so this is Jungkook’s mysterious new roommate... Now you get why he didn't want to talk about it last night. But if they’re okay with the situation, you won't say anything.

That’s when you notice Jungkook’s heavy, overly warm body stir behind you. He’s muttering something you don’t quite make out, and soon you feel his lips kissing your shoulders as his groggy arms wrap around you.

“Good morning, noona,” he says with a smile. “Did you sleep well? You know, my ass still hurts.”

As he chuckles at his own words, you can’t help sighing. Seokjin laughs too and, finally aware of his presence, Jungkook sits up. You glance sideways at him over your shoulder smiling, amused by his soft blush. Well, at least you’re not the only mortified loser here, are you? And he’s always so cute when he gets flustered.

“I-I completely forgot you’d be here, hyung,” he mutters.

‘Hyung’? You look at Seokjin, arching an eyebrow. Since when does Jungkook call him ‘hyung’? That’s suspicious.

But Seokjin simply lets out a natural laugh. “Where else should I be? It’s nine in the morning, and some of us have things to do, you know; people to see, places to go.”

“Well, I had things to go, too, places to see,” Jungkook says then, looking at you and kissing your jaw, “people to do.” But you nudge him, making him let out a groan of pain mixed with a breathless chuckle. “I was just joking, noona, don’t get mad—”

“How come you two are such good friends now?” you ask, squinting your eyes. “I thought you’d be at each other’s throats.”

“Seokjin-hyung told me what actually happened at the flat. Sorry I wouldn’t listen.”

“You better be,” you purr in his ear, a bit louder than you should if you in fact didn’t want Seokjin to hear; “I can’t believe you’d rather listen to the evil ex-boyfriend than your poor, innocent girlfriend.”

“I might have listened to her if I had a girlfriend like that,” he teases you instead.

“You must be a very faithful man, then— begging for mercy from someone you know has none at all.”

You lean in for a kiss, cupping his cheek as Jungkook reciprocates, his eyes fluttering closed. You brush your lips against his before biting down on them, drink up his little whimper, and take the chance to swirl your tongues together. Jungkook shifts on the mattress so that he can hug your waist, his chest warming up against your skin.

“I guess that’s my clue to get out.” Shit, you completely forgot about Seokjin. “Don’t be too loud and use protection. I’ll see you at practice!” he says to Jungkook. “And Y/N, I will see you around.”

Then the door closes behind him.

“That was weird.”

But the two of you seem to have very different conversation priorities in mind.

“You know, yesterday, um, we didn’t have time to fully talk things out,” he murmurs once Seokjin is gone, lowering his eyes.

You leave a playful peck on his jaw. “Guess our mouths were too busy—”

“N-no, I mean it.” Jungkook gently pushes you away to look into your eyes. “Are we— are we going out now? Like, going out together? As in… formally dating each other?” Your chuckle makes his pupils tremble. “I mean…! I guess it’s okay if you need some time to—”

But you kiss him again instead of saying anything; you cup his cheeks with both of your hands and deepen the contact, shutting him up. The smile doesn’t disappear from your face, though, so you’re looking down at him like a love-drunk idiot when you pull away. He’s just so adorable and precious and sexy and cute and literally your everything.

“Didn’t I just say I’m your girlfriend?” you say then, still grinning. “I was kind of hoping that’d make you my boyfriend in return.”

Jungkook lets out a relieved chuckle and takes your hand when it runs down onto his chest.

“So, do you wanna stay over? We could order some food, watch a movie,” he asks quietly, still emotionally squishy because of the confession, “take a nap, anything you want.”

You smile.

“Of course I’ll stay.”

Don’t hesitate to like, reblog, and leave some feedback if you liked it! It’s always good and encouraging to know what you think <3

#stay jjk #jungkook smut #sub!jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook college au #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook bts #sub!bts #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook enemies to lovers #jungkook x noona #bts enemies to lovers #bts college au #jungkook roommates au #bts roommates au

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clumsy-jiminie · 29 days

Text

ɪɴᴇᴠɪᴛᴀʙʟʏ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱ | ᴘᴊᴍ | ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜱᴇᴠᴇɴ

❝ ᴀ ᴅɪɴɴᴇʀ ❞

↣ summary :: Kiara Smith had dreamed of true love for as long as she could remember. from being obsessed with the Disney princesses who found affection in the strangest situations to dressing up as a bride from kindergarten to fourth grade. it was the only thing she ever truly desired, so much so that a pleasant smile and kind eyes could have her smitten in seconds. right when she thought she found the one, a chance encounter with Park Jimin—the city’s famously perfect fuck boy with a smile so warm and a heart of ice—has her feeling quite the opposite. he knocks her off her axis and derails her life as she knows it, yet the universe seems to have another plan for the two.

↣ rating :: 18+

↣ genre :: fluff, angst, smut, e2l, slow burn

↣ pairing :: business owner!jimin x fem!artist!oc ft. taehyung

↣ word count :: 6.9k

↣ chapter warnings :: mature language, smut - unprotected sex, creampie, on the phone while being intimate, ⚠️ verbal abuse, manipulating tactics ⚠️, angst without resolve, heavy alcohol consumption, public intoxication, BIKER!JK ( a warning in itself bc 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨 )

↣ notes :: she's a little late because I may have forgotten to schedule her 😅 but this chapter is a doozy and the seeds are GROWING

↣ next :: previous :: series m.list ↢

if you have any questions, comments, or concerns PLEASE don't hesitate to message me or send me an ask! my inbox is always open. 💖

"you're perfectly wrong for me, and that's why it's is so hard to leave."

- perfectly wrong, shawn mendez -

"Babe!?" Kiara called out as she put a sparkly earring through her lobe. She had heard the door open and shut, but there was no answer. The dark-haired woman stepped out of her bedroom and into the living room, seeing as Taehyung pulled off his coat with a heavy sigh. She pouted her burgundy-painted lips. "What's wrong?"

"Work was just more tiring than usual today," he quietly said as he removed his coat. He loosened the black tie around his neck, not even glancing at Kiara as he walked past her to the kitchen.

Kiara's shoulders dropped as she followed after him. A weird feeling overtook her as she watched him lazily push through the items in the fridge. "Too tired for date night?" She asked quietly, hiding some of her body behind the archway.

Taehyung's head perked up, shutting the fridge before turning to face the shy girl. He gestured for her to move from the shadows so he could see her fully. Kiara always had a pretty face and knew exactly how to do her makeup to accentuate her features without doing too much. But Taehyung's favorite part of her was her body. As she stepped into his view—adorned in a glittering baby pink dress that clung to her curves and silver accessories that popped against golden skin in the dim lighting—he could feel the blood rushing to her lower regions. She was thick in all the right areas—a busty top with wide hips and thighs that not even air could escape between to support her ass. He was in love. She looked like something out of a wet dream.

Taehyung curled his finger, beckoning her to come closer. She obeyed silently, suddenly feeling shy under his gaze. Once Kiara was close enough, he took her hand and spun her around to see the whole picture. Her straightened midnight locks flowed with her. He loved it when her hair was straight. "Fuck, darling," he smirked as he bit down on his lower lip. Her cheeks flushed with color as she playfully hit his chest with her free hand. He placed a hand on her waist, holding her close. "You look absolutely stunning."

The girl blushed as if Taehyung didn't compliment her all the time. She knew he would love this dress. He wasn't like most boyfriends who would tell their girlfriends to cover up if they wore something too tight or too short. It seemed as if Taehyung couldn't keep his hands off her whenever it was time to dress up. Kiara adored the attention, even if it consisted of inappropriately timed ass grabs.

"Thank you, babe," she smiled as her hands ran up his chest until they reached his shoulders, where they wrapped around his neck.

He leaned in, pressing his lips to hers and filling any gap that they had. Taehyung wasted no time exploring her body with his large hands. He squeezed her ass, using the grip to press Kiara further into him. She let out a soft moan, feeling his erection pressing into her stomach. The kiss grew deeper and needier as they continued. The warmth from between her legs began to spread throughout her body. Kiara was close to telling him to take her on one of the counters.

"Taehyung," she mumbled while trying to break the kiss, but he kept leaning in to reattach his lips to hers. She couldn't help but smile against his lips. The need for affection made her feel warm inside. She tried to pull away again, leaning further back before he could attack. "We're gonna be late for our reservation if we keep going," she giggled. Someone had to be the sensible one; more times than not, it was Kiara.

Taehyung groaned softly, leaning in to press kisses against her neck. She inhaled softly, gripping his shirt tightly enough that the fabric wrinkled between her fingers. "We can be a little late, can't we?"

Kiara bit down on her lower lip to hold back her moans while allowing her to focus on her thoughts. Her brain was growing hazy with arousal. Logic was on the brink of fleeting—too many feelings combined with too many thoughts all at once. "I mean," she drawled out. Before she could finish her sentence, Taehyung bent down a little to pick her up, wrapping her legs around his waist. She squealed softly from the sudden surprise. "Taehyung!"

A mischievous grin formed on his lips as he locked eyes with the girl. "What?" He asked innocently.

Kiara's eyes narrowed at him momentarily before a smile cracked on her lips. "What do you think you're doing?"

Taehyung began to walk, following the familiar path to their bedroom. "I don't know what you're talking about, darling."

"I think you're a liar."

Taehyung smirked, throwing Kiara onto the bed after they entered the room. She landed on the plush mattress with a giggle. Her short dress slid up her thick thighs, giving him the slightest peek of the lacy black panties she wore. She gazed at the man, watching him take off his belt and toss it. "Me? A liar?" He parted her thighs with his knee before fitting himself between her legs. Her hovered over her, eyes filled with desire. "Never," he said lowly before kissing her again.

Kiara hummed with delight, accepting defeat as her body overtook her mind. Damn, that man for knowing how to kiss so well, his lips convincing her with every movement to skip another date night and just stay in bed all day. He pulled away, leaving a trail of affection down to the sweetheart neckline of her dress, where her breast spilled out of the tight fabric. She arched into his mouth, physically begging for more as he reached down to inch her dress up more.

Her once-shut eyes shot open, "Wait!" His fingers froze at the sound of her voice as he peered up at her from the valley between her breasts. "I don't wanna mess up my hair," she said quietly with a slight pout.

"Then I guess you better get on top."

In one swift motion, Taehyung flipped their positions. Kiara landed on his abdomen briefly before sliding back. She undid his pants and pulled his clothing down enough for his cock to spring out. The girl inhaled deeply, never getting tired of looking at the sight. Though she was in a rush, she couldn't resist to slide her tongue against the underside of his length. He sucked in harshly through his teeth. Satisfied, she repositioned herself, hovering over the man's abdomen once again. She leaned back and wrapped her fingers around his erection, causing him to inhale sharply as she stroked him slowly.

He placed his hands on her thighs, letting out a low groan as he stared up at her. "Don't tease me."

She smirked as she released him. She pushed up the material of her dress to rest over her hips, exposing the lingerie that was supposed to be for tonight. Taehyung reached out and pulled the material to the side, exposing her heat to the air. She glided his tip against her wet slits before guiding the man into her, lowering herself down as they both let out a slow sigh.

Taehyung hissed with pleasure as he became encased in her walls. After he gave her a moment to adjust, he began to roll his hips back and forth. Kiara placed her hand on him, pushing his button-down shirt up just enough to rest her palm against his tanned abdomen. He penetrated every delicious inch of himself into her as she leaned forward, meeting his thrusts with a pleasant smacking sound.

Taehyung watched Kiara's face as she lost herself in the pleasure. His eyes quickly darted to her chest, watching as her breast bounced in the constricted material. It took everything in him not to lean forward and free them of their limitations, but he'll make a mental note for later. Instead, he reached around to her ass, gripping at the flesh as he guided her up and down his member. She loved how he felt inside of her, making her increase speed.

The brunette suddenly got an idea, reaching around for his phone.

"What's the name of that restaurant?" He groaned, his thrusts lessening in power as he tried to focus.

"W-What?" Kiara stammered. She opened her eyes as she looked down at the man below her. Her hips started to slow as she tried to de-fog the sex-crazed haze over her mind.

Taehyung suddenly raised his hand and promptly slapped the girl's ass, causing her to moan as she resumed some of the pace from before. He used one hand to guide her while the other tapped away on his screen. "Give me the name of the restaurant."

She bit down on her lower lip while her eyes shut again. Focusing was incredibly hard when someone was currently massaging your walls. "N-Nomiya."

He guided her down his length, taking him fully inside her velvety walls, causing his tip to press into her cervix. She let out a soft squeak while a shiver of delight splashed over her. She opened her eyes as his hips finally seized. Taehyung was such a sight to see. Sweat beaded along his forehead, causing his dark waves to stick to his skin. His once prim and proper button-down shirt somehow opened in the heat of the moment, exposing his tan skin flushed with red in the low light of their room. His lips were structured and plump with desire. He looked like a model while tapping against his phone screen several times. She bit down on her lower lip, swirling her hips in a circle and grinding against him absentmindedly.

Was it possible to come from only someone's face?

He suddenly handed the device, ripping her from her thoughts. "Push back the reservation."

"Right now?!"

"Right now. It's ringing."

Panic overtook her system for a second, causing her walls to tighten around him involuntarily. He moaned right before she heard a faint hello from the phone. She quickly grabbed the device from Taehyung and put it to her ear.

"Um, hi. My name is Kiara, and I have a reservation for—" A soft moan slipped past her lips as Taehyung decided to resume his thrusts. A mischievous smirk played on his lips, mouthing a petty 'sorry' as he grabbed her hips with both hands. Kiara narrowed her eyes at him, desperately trying to swallow her sounds of pleasure.

"Ma'am? Hello?"

She cleared her throat, acting as if nothing was happening. As if Taehyung wasn't ramming into her. "Yes, sorry about that. I have a reservation for 6, and I was wondering if I could push it back to—" Taehyung's large hand made contact with her ass again, causing the woman to inhale through her teeth. She used his abdomen as support, hanging her head a little as she tried to collect herself. "Push it back to 7," she breathed. She felt an incredible and familiar pressure growing between her legs.

Taehyung watched as the woman on top of him tried to keep it together, driving him wild from the sight alone. Her flushed face, her slipping dress, how her nails dug into his skin as some sort of anchor. He wondered if the person on the opposite end could listen to the sounds of their love. He wondered if they could hear the sticky, slapping sounds of their bodies hitting against each other. As he bit down on his lip, his hand trailed to the front of her abdomen.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, our next table won't be available until 8:30. Is that alright with you?"

"8:30? Yes, that perf—" A gasp stole the last syllable of her sentence as Taehyung's thumb circled her swollen clitoris. Her eyes rolled back as she tilted her head back. She covered her mouth with her free hand, trying to muffle the breathy moans that were escaping. He increased the pace of his digit, causing the pressure between her legs to grow as well. He briefly felt her walls constrict around him, knowing what would come soon.

"Alright, thank you!" Kiara quickly hung up the phone right as her body soared over the edge. She came hard, throbbing around Taehyung's member. His hips slowed for a moment, letting her ride out her orgasm. His hands slid up her body, stopping at her breast, where he squeezed them.

"Reservations for 8:30, right?" Taehyung asked, and she nodded in response. He rested his hands on Kiara's waist, pulling her down to lay on his chest. He flipped them over as she steadied her breathing so Kiara was lying underneath him. He pressed a quick kiss to her lips. "You'll have enough time to fix your hair then."

Her eyes grew wide as he started drilling into her again. Their lips met once again, sharing needy kisses and muffling moans as he pushed her thighs back towards the bed, giving himself maximum access to her heat. When he pulled away, he leaned back so he could watch as her body bounced.

Kiara shut her eyes as if to lessen the immense pleasure she was receiving. "T-Taehyung," she whimpered. The pleasure built up in her body again as shivers of delight danced against her skin. "Fuck!" His thrusts were hard and deep, hitting her spot repeatedly. Her face twisted with pleasure. Her amber eyes looking up at him helplessly filled her. Her legs began to tremble, causing him to raise an eyebrow while a smirk played on his lips.

"You gonna cum for me again?"

The woman couldn't even form words, only being able to nod her head quickly as another wave of pleasure crashed over her. Taehyung leaned over her once again as his hips remained in the same rhythm. His face hid in her neck as she wrapped her arms around him, fingers entangling in his damp hair. The pulsing of her walls around him neared him to his orgasm. His rhythm grew sloppy. He pushed his length fully into her one last time as he succumbed to his climax.

After a minute of heavy breathing between the two, Taehyung slowly pulled himself out of her. Kiara felt the mixture of their fluids leak out of her and onto their comforter. She tried to regulate her breathing, watching him stand up and walk towards the bathroom. The dopamine coursing through her veins left her glued to the covers. He returned from the bathroom with a towel, tossing it to the girl before lying beside her.

"You fucked up my hair," she murmured.

Taehyung looked at the girl, leaning in to kiss her cheek, "I think you look great."

Surprisingly, Taehyung and Kiara made it to the restaurant on time. After a few showers and touch-ups, they were walking hand in hand into the discreet entrance of Nomiya. The two were practically glowing, giggling, and holding each other tightly as the maitre'd led them to their table. Taehyung pulled out the chair for Kiara, and she slid into her seat gracefully. He sat across from her in a booth connected to the wall.

The restaurant was modern, with wooden accents sprinkled throughout. Large industrial half windows let light in while keeping the dining area private. They chose a dark color scheme with warm lighting to make the room feel spacious. It was pretty classy for an establishment attached to a shopping mall and, from the menu, right up the couple's alley.

The two engaged in conversation and flirty banter until Taehyung became engrossed in his phone. Kiara was used to it. Even though the man was a king at small talk, long-term and deep conversations drained him. And those types of conversations were Kiara's strong point. She didn't care much about the how are you or how's the weather; she wanted to know the nitty gritty about someone. The ins and outs, what made them tick, what made them smile. Things that were worthwhile.

Kiara glanced over the menu in the comfortable silence, wondering why the waiter hadn't yet swung around to take their order. The reviews she read online showed that the wait staff here was top-tier and super friendly. Taehyung didn't seem to care about the woman's growling stomach, happily tapping away and laughing at the lit screen in his hands. So, she took it upon herself to get the waitress' attention. She walked over with a tired smile on her face.

"Hi, how may I help you?" She asked.

Kiara offered the woman a smile. "Yes, I believe we're ready to order."

The waitress's eyes widen briefly. "Oh, um," she took a little tablet from her apron, "you didn't want to wait until the rest of your party was here?"

Kiara's brows squished together, glancing at Taehyung briefly as she let out an awkward chuckle. "Um, no? The whole party is already here?"

Maybe it's been a long night for her. After all, the restaurant had been decently packed, parties of two or more surrounding them with smiles and laughs. Maybe she confused their table with another's.

Taehyung suddenly lifted his head, standing to his feet. He began to wave his hand in the air with a broad, boxy grin on his face. Kiara watched the man, blinking rapidly before turning to see what excited him.

Her heart dropped.

Blonde hair styled to expose his forehead, dressed in an all-black outfit—from his blazer to the t-shirt underneath and his slacks to his shiny oxfords—and strutting over to their table like a model on a runway was none other than Park Jimin. The walking sin. He was smiling, beaming at the man she called boyfriend. Kiara quickly turned around and stared up at Taehyung. Once their eyes connected, his smile shrunk to a shy one.

Soon, Jimin was at their table, giving Taehyung a long hug before looking at Kiara. Their eyes met briefly, her jaw clenching when he very obviously gazed at her exposed cleavage.

"I'm so happy you made it!" Taehyung grinned as he sat down, finally rejoining Kiara at the table. "Did you bring someone?"

Jimin nodded, gesturing to the woman who suddenly appeared next to him. Kiara must not have noticed the person following behind him until now. "Everyone, this is Izzy. Izzy, this is my good friend Taehyung and his girlfriend Kiara."

Kiara awkwardly waved at the woman as she sat next to her. She was drop-dead gorgeous—slim, tall with legs that went on for days, a natural blonde. The woman looked like she just hopped off a Sports Illustrated magazine cover. She wore a simple, long-sleeved, black mini dress and heels, matching her date.

Cute, the dark-haired woman thought.

Kiara and Taehyung could never, no matter how much she yearned to.

"So what are we eating?" Jimin asked after sitting down. He picked up the menu and started to look over it.

"I'll give you a few minutes," the waitress said before leaving. Taehyung leaned towards Jimin, suggesting various options.

"Taehyung," Kiara said sharply despite the forced smile on her lips. Taehyung slowly peered at her through narrowed lids, like she was interrupting something important. "Can I talk to you outside for a second?" She stood up and walked towards the exit, not checking if the man was following her. She opened the sizeable black-tinted glass door and took a few steps from the entrance.

"What's up?" Taehyung asked once he joined her. He tried to ignore how the winter breeze nipped at his skin through his dress shirt.

"What's up?" Kiara repeated, brows drawn together as she looked up at the man. Her blood boiled, heat spreading outward to the very ends of her fingertips. Who needed a coat when you could run off the heat of pure anger? "Why the fuck is he here?" She paid close attention to her volume and tone. It was a Saturday night at peak time, and people surrounded them. The last thing she wanted was a scene.

Taehyung tilted his head slightly as his lips pulled down into a frown. "I invited him?"

"On date night?!"

The man shrugged his shoulders. "I don't see the problem with having a double date."

Kiara blinked at him, staring for a few seconds before letting out a scoff. She folded her arms over her chest as she glanced away from him. "You've got to be fucking kidding me, Taehyung. You know damn well this wasn't supposed to be a double date!"

Taehyung's jaw clenched as he looked down at the girl. "Watch your fucking tone." His voice had grown severe, chilling Kiara to her core. She hated it when he used her favorite thing as a weapon. "Jimin wanted to hang out tonight. I said I had plans, and he asked to come. It's as simple as that."

"But why would you agree?" Her voice had softened slowly, like a flame losing its source of oxygen. "Like, aren't we supposed to have one-on-one time?" She could feel herself shrinking like she always does. She looked up at him, amber eyes meeting dark, cold ones.

"Oh my god," he drawled out. He rolled his eyes, folding his arms over his chest. "We have one on one time all the fucking time, Kiara. We go grocery shopping. We watch movies. We even fucking read together. You're gonna tell me I'm a bad fucking person because I wanna hang out with my friend?" As he started getting louder, Kiara's arms lowered from her chest to wrap around her midsection. She couldn't look at him; she didn't want to see that face with pinched features or eyes that resembled the dead. She opted to stare down at the ground instead. It was always the safest option. She felt the sadness creep up her throat, silencing her because tears would flow like waterfalls if she even made a croak.

"Get over yourself, Kiara, honestly." Her heart dropped again, feeling like it should be a permanent residence there. Tears stung her eyes, threatening her with further embarrassment. She knew people were definitely staring now, looking at her like she was a zoo animal—locked in a cage with eyes full of pity tracking her every move. "The world doesn't revolve around you, and I sure as hell am not gonna act like it does."

He turned around swiftly, not caring for the reactions surrounding him. Once he reached the door, he paused for a second. "Maybe Jimin was right." She looked at him out of curiosity, almost instantly regretting it once she met his eyes. She had hoped, for once, he looked remorseful, like he pitied her. But instead, he looked over his shoulder with that look. The one that made her feel smaller than a field mouse. The one that made her question if his I love you's were genuine. The one that ripped every ounce of confidence she had from her soul.

"You are selfish."

She cracked and desperately tried to keep herself from spilling onto the pavement.

As he walked back inside, leaving her to battle the cold, she felt like someone had just stabbed the 24-year-old woman in the chest. She looked around, watching as people narrowly avoided her gaze. Her bottom lip quivered. Kiara inhaled deeply before exhaling shakily. She refused to cry in public, surrounded by sympathetic eyes but no brave souls to spring into action. That was typical for New York, though. Everyone had their own story with little time to read others.

Am I really just overreacting?

She wondered when and where she went wrong. Was it how she said it? Should she have waited until after dinner? She hoped the cold would give her some clarity, but all it left her with was red-stained skin and a runny nose.

All Kiara wanted was a sweet night with her boyfriend, and she did everything in her power to ensure so. From the makeup to the restaurant, everything that she had picked was to make sure he had a good night. They had a good night. They only went out to eat occasionally, and Kiara did all the planning every time they did. She was meticulous, and it always took a lot of energy. The woman just wanted him to see that, to appreciate it. Was she wrong?

She used her thumb knuckles to pat the area under her eye dry gently. Kiara sighed softly, picking up the pieces of her Taehyung left sprawled over the ground before walking back inside. She rejoined the table, not that anyone noticed.

For the rest of the night, she sat at the table, silent as the two men across from her caught up as if they hadn't seen each other in weeks. They laughed as if they'd been together for years. They even shared each other's entrees to see if the other would like it. She was surprised Taehyung didn't just feed the man with his own utensils. It felt like she was third-wheeling a double date and paired up with a friend she didn't get along with. This wasn't to say Izzy was bad; she was an sweetheart and embodied the word entirely. She politely offered small talk, even telling a boys will be boys joke when Taehyung and Jimin got too loud, hoping to lighten the sour expression on Kiara's face.

But boys will not be boys.

Boys don't act like Park Jimin and try to infiltrate every aspect of Kiara's life as she knew it.

None of these feelings would've happened if that blonde hadn't arrived. Taehyung and her would have their regular date if he had never approached her. Because Park Jimin wouldn't have existed to him. Just a thing of the past. A memory ever so slowly fading.

Kiara had to order a bottle of wine to keep herself from wanting to slam her head against the table repeatedly. Since no one else decided to have a glass, she managed to drink at least 3/4ths of the bottle herself. It wasn't her best choice of the night, but the 24-year-old needed alcohol if she was going to be around Jimin for prolonged periods. At this rate, she'll have an alcohol use disorder in no time.

The red wine made her numb and quiet like it usually did. The world around her dulled and melted together until there were just blobs of color floating around space. Nothing around her existed, and she liked it like that. She was in her own little bubble where people became brushstrokes, and noises became low hums. At some point, the tan splotch with a dark top emerged and walked away from the table. A pinkish line with pale yellow strokes around it also left. And then there were just two.

Kiara played around with the piece of paper that once covered a straw, folding it as many times as possible.

"This is a nice restaurant, don't you think?"

She hated how his voice could cut through her little world like a steak knife through softened butter—words wrapped within a smooth velvet, purposefully seductive and laced with poison.

"I know," she spat, harsh tones slitting through the fabric of his voice. "I was the one who picked it."

"Woah there," she didn't have to look at him to see the grin on his plump lips. She knew it was there. Why wouldn't it be? His smugness was becoming predictable. "Someone's being a little hostile, hm?"

She looked at him, amber eyes set ablaze through narrowed lids. "Shut the fuck up, Jimin. You shouldn't even fucking be here."

The grin on his face dropped as his eyes went wide. He placed a hand on his chest while he gasped. "For your information, I was invited."

"You intruded," she said slowly, ensuring he heard every syllable. "You knew he had plans, and you invited yourself like a fucking loser."

"He wanted me to come!" Jimin's brows pinched together.

"Yeah, aight," Kiara scoffed. Jimin would never tire of hearing that abrasive accent trapped in that honeyed tone. It was pleasant on the ears. "At least you're having a good time with your fucking date."

"Oh, Izzy is a doll. Love the girl to pieces."

Her gaze remained unchanged. "No, dipshit, I fucking meant Taehyung."

He tilted his head to the side to match his playful smile. "Do you know any word besides fucking?"

"Do you know how to mind your fucking business?" She quipped, mirroring his actions.

"Guess that's a no," Jimin chuckled lightly. Kiara sighed deeply, chugging the rest of the crimson liquid in her glass. He raised an eyebrow slightly. "You're becoming a bit of an alcoholic, aren't you?"

Kiara almost slammed the glass on the table, hands like cinderblocks, as she forced herself to grab the bottle. "And you're to blame." She stared directly into Jimin's eyes, noticing the grey-colored contacts that hid his natural color. If eyes were the window to the soul, he had the curtains closed right now. Maybe she would've held back more if she saw the concern swirling in his dark irises. "Ever since you waltzed into my life, it seems like alcohol is the only thing that makes you tolerable." She poured the remainder of the bottle into her glass, sucking her teeth at the empty container. A full bottle of wine, and she still wasn't drunk enough to deal with Park Jimin.

Her words sunk deeply into Jimin, causing him to chew on his lower lip. This Kiara wasn't fun. When she drank herself into nothing but a shell, he couldn't help but feel bad. He never wanted to be the cause of someone's addiction. He leaned back, remaining quiet until Taehyung returned to the table. The man resumed conversation with Jimin as if he couldn't see how out of it Kiara was. It seemed to be all the blonde could notice. She finished the rest of her wine rather quickly, parting her lips enough for a sigh to pass through. Her eyes danced around the room, looking at anything and anyone that wasn't Taehyung. Water lined her golden irises, constantly threatening to spill but never doing so.

Guilt. Was that the feeling that was weighing down Jimin's chest? Did he take things too far? But she deserved it, right? She deserved the troubles and hardships for choosing the easy life. Right? Kiara sniffled as she reached for her eye, gently tugging at the sensitive skin and blinking her tears away.

Taehyung didn't notice.

Jimin did.

"Hey," Jimin interrupted whatever rant Taehyung was going on about, glancing at his dark-haired friend. He gave the man a small smile; that's all he could offer without seeming too fake. "This was fun, but Izzy is getting pretty tired. Right, Iz?"

The blonde woman stared at her phone, tapping away at the screen. "Yeah, I'm exhausted," she said without an ounce of sincerity.

Jimin had to stop himself from glaring at the woman. He loved the girl, but she was an ass at times. "We're gonna call it a night. Thank you again for inviting us."

Kiara let out a loud scoff, uncharacteristically unfazed by the glare she received from Taehyung. The wooden pattern on the table seemed more interesting than his anger.

"It was no problem, honestly." Taehyung grinned at Jimin as the blonde and his date stood up. "I'll see you around?"

Jimin nodded with a faint smile. "Yeah, definitely." He turned his gaze to Kiara, biting down on his lip briefly. "Bye, Kiara."

"Fuck off."

Izzy tried but failed horribly to hide her laughter. Jimin sighed, knowing she would say something sassy, but it was worth a shot anyway. Taehyung narrowed his eyes once again at the foul-mouthed girl. It was a dramatic flip from how he looked at her during game night. He looked like he couldn't stand the sight of her, and it was frightening. Deciding it was best not to stay any longer, the couple left. He'll send Taehyung some money later tonight to cover his half of the tab.

After the couple left, Taehyung didn't waste a second expressing his disdain towards the girl. "You're such a fucking embarrassment, you know that right?"

Kiara let out a deep sigh as she leaned back into her chair. She knew this was coming based on their fight from earlier. Taehyung had barely paid attention to her for a reason. She expected to get an earful on the way home or once they were in the comfort of their living room. Taehyung lashing out at the girl in public was a first for her, especially with people surrounding them.

"All fucking night, you've been acting like a spoiled brat who didn't get her way."

She looked away from him, catching the waitress' attention as she raised her hand. "Check, please!"

Kiara blowing him off with ease made Taehyung's blood boil further. He slammed his large hands down on the wooden surface, causing all the utensils and dishes to shake. As he intended, it caught her attention. Her eyes lazily looked up at him, still unbothered by the manchild's actions. But her eyes weren't the only ones peering at him. Neighboring couples and families glanced out of the corner of their eyes. They paused conversations to observe the drama that was unexpectedly unraveling quietly.

"You will not make a fool of me, Kiara Smith." His jaw clenched, and she could practically see the vein on his forehead throbbing. Tan skin turned to a deep red, and all she could do was raise a brow in challenge.

"Looks like you've already done so, Kim Taehyung."

Taehyung shot up from his seat, shifting the table as he did so. The last thing she saw were his eyes, filled with hatred she didn't know he could possess—not while looking at her. He left the restaurant, leaving a trail of silence behind him. Kiara sighed deeply, sitting up in her seat. She knew she should've stopped. The woman knew she shouldn't have poked the bear since he had attacked for less. But she couldn't find the energy to care. She couldn't find the energy to worry about the concerned eyes that stared at her as she gave the waitress her card. It was all for show anyway, knowing as soon as she left, they would go back to loving each other as if none of this had happened.

She left the waitress a hefty tip, around $150. The woman was technically dipping into her future home funds, but that was an argument for another day. Every damn thing was an argument.

She gathered her things and slowly stood up, trying to ensure she didn't stumble in her heels, but she did so anyway. Kiara used the table to balance herself before taking a deep breath. There was no need to embarrass herself further by falling in this establishment. She was sure people already saw her as a trainwreck. She and Taehyung fought as much as any average couple did, and in a few days, this would all be water under the bridge, and they would be back to their usual loving selves.

When she reached outside, the cold winter air did nothing to cool down her warm body as she wobbled around to her car. Or where her car should be. She stood in an empty parking spot, brows furrowed with her hands on her hips as she glanced around. Her vehicle was highly noticeable, so even if she was in the wrong spot, she should've been able to see it in the parking lot. She huffed quietly, pulling her phone out of her purse as she returned to the pavement. She called her significant other, and it went straight to voicemail, as usual. She sighed deeply, swaying her weight from one heel to the other as she placed her phone to her ear.

“Sup loser,” said Jeongguk. He answered after the first ring like he always did. He wasn't munching on food this time, but she could faintly hear the sounds of power-ups going off and catchphrases.

"Heeeeey," she drawled out, making Jeongguk chuckle.

"Someone's fucked up."

"Just a little," the girl grinned, her eyes catching a bench nearby. She wouldn't stand in five-inch heels if she didn't have to. "Do you happen to be anywhere on or near Long Island right now?" Her words slurred, causing Jeongguk to pause the game he was playing.

"Um, no, I'm not." He answered, concern slowing growing in his deep tone. "Why?"

"OK, so, hilarious story. Hear me out," Kiara plopped down on the cold metal bench. "Taehyung kinda sorta took my car and left me at the restaurant with no way home."

There was silence on the other end of her phone. Her face scrunched a little as she pulled the device away from her ear to make sure she didn't accidentally hang up. She returned the phone to her ear, hearing intense rustling and shuffling.

"Helloooooo?"

"Stay right fucking there, Ki." His deep voice managed to lower an octave, making her heart race. "Don't move a god-damned inch."

"OK!" She sounded awfully chipper, not realizing the weight of the situation as she swung her legs like a child.

"I swear to god, I don't understand how you're still with this dipshit."

Kiara pouted her lips as if the other could see. "Stoooop, we're gonna get married Kookie!"

Jeongguk released a deep sigh, hoping to calm himself down a little. "Stop saying that. No husband would leave their wife outside, with no way home," there was a short pause, "at fucking midnight!?" So much for calming himself down. "Ki, you better pray I don't catch this asshole on the street."

"Kookie," she whined, the pout still fully formed on her lips. "I love him. Please be nice. We're just fighting right now."

"No fucking excuse, drop your location right now."

Kiara huffed as she did what she was told. The GPS said the ETA was about 45 minutes, and Jeongguk made it there in half the time. The risk of getting tickets for speeding and lane splitting was all worth it when he arrived. He found Kiara sitting on a bench, shivering slightly but smiling widely at him as if she wasn't in the proper clothing to be outside.

They were in what New York would call the 'Third Winter', where the air is just as harsh as the middle of January, despite being the first week of April. He sighed deeply, pulling his leather coat off of her body. He walked over to her, "C'mere," he said as he helped her into the jacket. It wasn't much, but she wore a flimsy, practically see-through cardigan over her dress.

"Kookieeee!" She looked up at the man with a never-ending smile on her lips. "You came!"

"You called," he sighed, a small smile tugging at his lips afterward. Whether close or far, day or night, if Kiara called for him, he would be there for her in a heartbeat. "Now come on." He helped the grinning girl stand up, catching her when she stumbled into him. He should've brought a pair of pants as well. How could Taehyung let her walk out of the house in a dress this short, then leave her in the cold? "We're gonna stop by your house and pick up some clothes, OK?"

Kiara was the only other person he'd let ride on his bike, so he had gotten her a helmet, which she customized herself. He preferred to keep his minimal, allowing the shiny black paint to speak for itself. On the other hand, Kiara painted wavy lines of her favorite colors with cute stickers. It was her in a nutshell, and she could do whatever she wanted to it as long as it was going on her head. With that said, he put her helmet on while she giggled, glazed eyes meeting his sober ones. He was too annoyed to find this moment adorable. He helped onto the bike before getting on himself. She felt his arms lazily wrap around his waist as he started the vehicle.

"You're gonna stay at my place for a few."

"Yay! Sleepover!"

Jeongguk couldn't help but smile. Whenever she got drunk, she would always become the baby of the group—eyes big and filled with amazement at the world around her, wondering body, and absolute lack of coordination. She was the cutest, especially when she smiled. Taehyung was going to ruin her. He was going to destroy every ounce of life she had by the end of this relationship.

They stopped at her house, and luckily enough, Taehyung wasn't there. He must've been sucking the universe's dick because if Jeongguk had seen him, he would've made sure his face made contact with the pavement. After years of having to deal with this man and this shit excuse of a relationship, he would've beaten him to a pulp. He grabbed their hideaway key and went inside to pack her a quick bag and some clothing to throw on over her dress.

Afterward, Jeongguk drove them back to his apartment in the city. He made sure to drive extra carefully as he felt Kiara's grip loosened when they were about halfway there. He parked his bike on the side of the street before glancing back at the woman behind him, confirming his suspicions as Kiara barely had enough energy to open her eyes. She used most of her energy to stay up on the ride there.

He didn't even bother asking if she could walk. He crouched down to the ground, encouraging Kiara to hop on. She did so happily, allowing him to carry her upstairs to his apartment. He put her in his bed, tucking her in before taking the space on the couch.

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interesting-interludes · 10 months

Text

stranger than fiction (1)

→ 📖 pairing: assistant!jimin x novelist!reader

→ ☕ genre: enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, eventual smut

→ 🚬 word count: 3k

→ 🍝 summary: you are a reclusive author who wants nothing more than to be left alone so you can write at your own pace. jimin is the youngest executive assistant at Lucky Coin Publishers, and he’s never once been intimidated by a writer or their current project. that is, until he’s assigned to help you complete your latest novel. and you aren’t pleased about it.

→ 🍷 content warnings: profanity, smoking, jimin is very determined, reader is very grumpy, sexual tension.

→ 🖊 a/n: loosely based on a relationship from the movie stranger than fiction and also the tv show black books. thanks for reading :)

series masterlist → next chapter

chapter 1: satan smoking a cigarette

Jimin has worked with many, many authors, but none of them have ever been this elusive.

The publishing executives said you would be a difficult case, that you were a bit of an eccentric. In fact, when Jimin asked one of his supervisors about you and your...colorful reputation at the publishing house, all he had to say on the matter was “that woman is Satan smoking a cigarette.”

Jimin had been told that he was the sixth person to be assigned to you. No one knew why, but apparently you had a vendetta against anyone connected to Lucky Coin Publishers. A category which Jimin unfortunately fell under.

But, being the perfectionist that he was, and never one to back down from a challenge, Jimin accepted the seemingly impossible task. A task that no one else from the company has accomplished so far: getting you to finish your latest novel by the end of the year.

Jimin tried calling 42 times over the course of three days. You had no personal number, even though it was the year 2002 and most people with your level of notoriety and fame owned a cell phone by now, or at least a pager.

The publishers were beginning to get anxious, considering the fact that you hadn’t given them anything to work with in over three months. Not one draft, not one page, not even a clipping of meaningful prose. And, considering the book’s set release date, this was quite the problem.

So, here he was, asking around the quaint yet utterly reclusive community of Hidden Village. The name being as ironic as its residents. For it was a town of starving artists, retired creatives, and obscure literary celebrities who were fiercely protective of their anonymity. It was a place for strange, solitary people to live in peace and blissful privacy.

Something Jimin was about to disrupt.

He’d traced your location as far as your apartment number, given that the publishers were so antsy and had given him clearance to be a little invasive, but no one had answered the buzzer.

Now, if Jimin was any less determined, any less qualified given his history, he might’ve given up after the first few failed attempts. But, of course, he was Park Jimin, the youngest executive assistant in the company’s history. And he wasn’t about to let that title slip away.

So he walked the cobblestoned streets in the fading afternoon sun, searching the street signs for Red Herring Road.

When no one answered the buzzer, Jimin tried a few of the neighbors. One of them was a grumpy-sounding man who told him check the cafe a few blocks away, or the museum, or the bar, or the bookshop. But Jimin figured he’d try the cafe first.

He found it after just a few minutes of walking. An ivy-draped awning in the narrow street, shading a few little tables and chairs. A teapot-shaped sign over the door read:

Jam & Bread: coffee, sandwiches, pastries.

This must be the place, Jimin reassures himself, straightening his sleeves and perfecting the curve of his hair.

As he approaches, he sees that there’s only one person inhabiting the small cafe.

A woman, sitting outside, hunched over the crowded tabletop.

None of your books have an “About the Author” section, let alone a picture of your face on the back cover. But he recognizes you still, from that one interaction four years ago.

You’re dressed in heavily oversized, layered clothing. A sweater here, a scarf there, a wool coat hanging off the back of your chair.

It’s a bright yet chilly afternoon, so you’re dressed warmly with a pair of sunglasses on your nose.

A sea of papers is spread out in front of you. Open books, notepads, a few loose leafs, and sticky notes scattered all throughout. And to your right: a foamy latte in a large mug with a fluffy chocolate croissant.

Jimin prepares himself for the interaction to come. Because, from the looks of it, you clearly don’t want to be disturbed.

But Jimin knows that if he wanted to succeed, he’s going to have to do just that.

You’ve decided, over the course of several run-ins with your editor, that semicolons are bastards that have no place in any of your works. You make a note to exclude them from all future manuscripts.

This particular novel has proven to be more difficult to complete than all the others, you’ll admit that much. Maybe it’s because your most recently published book catapulted into unexpected (and probably undeserved) fame, meaning that the next thing you put out has to be even better or you’ll be a disappointment to everyone.

Now, you’ve never been one to easily cope with high expectations, or anyone expecting anything good out of you at all, so this newfound situation was especially overwhelming.

This book has loomed over your head like a storm cloud, like a deep depression, threatening to destroy your mental state at the drop of a hat.

Then, just as you’re getting into a groove, another damned interruption.

This time, it’s a young man in black dress shoes. The obnoxious squeak from the overly-polished leather is the first thing that grabs your attention.

You look up from the page you’re currently annotating, barely bothering to disguise your irritated expression.

He’s standing there in a tailored green coat that molds to his shoulders and thin waist. Then there’s the rings on his fingers and the ridiculous perfection of his hair: dyed blonde and styled up out of his face.

He’s beautiful, tantalizing. It's slightly infuriating.

“Excuse me,” he begins in a voice much lighter and silkier than you expected. “Are you Miss Nin?”

Nin, it was the pen name you’d chosen so many years ago. From Anaïs Nin, the author famous for her diaries and erotica. Even now, most people you know refer to you by that name. It makes life a little easier, living life through someone else’s name.

You survey the young man, trying to determine what exactly he wants. Nothing good, no doubt.

“No, she lives down the street,” you say, testing the waters. “Just around the corner, you can’t miss it.”

You say it with a pleasant smile, hoping he’ll take the bait. Because once he turns the street corner, you can escape through the alleyway and make it back to your apartment.

But the young man scans you up and down, calculating. After a few moments, he gives you a sly smile.

Authors are such bad liars, he thinks to himself. They spend so much time thinking up fiction in their works that there’s none left for their real lives.

And, of course, he already knows well who you are.

“No, I think you’re sitting right here, Miss Nin.”

Your genial expression drops in an instant. So that’s how it’s going to be.

You look at him over the rim of your sunglasses.

“And you are?” you say, clearly not amused.

Something very small in Jimin’s mind deflates. You don’t remember him.

But he shakes it off in an instant, slipping back into his professional persona.

“Park Jimin, pleased to meet you,” he answers cheerfully, holding out his hand to shake.

You glance at it once.

“A horrible judge of character on your part,” you reply dryly.

“I’m the assistant your publishers hired,” Jimin says, still friendly as ever.

“Oh, the spy,” you spit, beginning to gather your things.

“The assistant,” he corrects gently.

“I don’t need an assistant.”

You snatch all the stray papers and shove them in your tote bag, along with the three books, two journals, three notepads, and the six loose pens that were strewn about.

“I provide a number of services, whatever you need to—”

“Oh, such as watching me like a vulture and nagging me every time I get distracted, those kinds of services?”

By now, you’ve gathered all your belongings and have moved on to donning your scarf and coat.

Jimin watches you curiously. There’s a strange quality about you, the same one he saw when the two of you met the first time.

Maybe it’s the way you look at him with such quiet intrigue, or the way you rush to gather the immense amount of books and papers that you apparently carry in your bag. Whatever it is, it seems that he can’t take his eyes away from you.

“Miss Nin, I’m sure we can find a way that I’d be of use to you,” Jimin says as you shrug your bag onto your shoulder.

“I can help you with any organizational needs you might have, any—” the rest of his sentence trails off.

Jimin watches in fascination as you grab the full mug of coffee, tilt your head back, and down the entire thing in a matter of moments.

Then, you wrap the croissant in a napkin, dig in your wallet for an extremely generous tip (which you tuck under the vase of flowers on the table), give whoever is inside the cafe a friendly wave, and set off marching down the street.

He scrambles after you.

“Listen,” you begin impatiently. “I don’t need the publishers breathing down my neck and I certainly don’t need an “assistant” lurking around my workspace. So, if you would be so kind, please vacate the premises before I commit the stereotypical and turn you into an unlikable character that gets killed off in my next work.”

You pick up the pace as you stalk down the street, bristling at the fact that the publishers felt the need to send yet another spy after you expressed your intense dislike for them.

“Miss Nin, if you would just listen for a moment—” Jimin tries, but you’re quick to interrupt him again.

“Look, I’m sure you’re good at your job and all, but I simply have no need for any kind of assistant. I work best alone, even though the publishers refuse to acknowledge that. I’ve told them time and time again that outside involvement just slows me down. So, thank you for coming all the way out here, but you can tell the publishers that I dismissed you and I’ll take the heat from there.”

You say it all without looking at him, staring straight ahead like you’re hoping it will make him magically disappear.

By now the two of you have reached the mass of apartments, all in shades of old brown and faded cream. A criss-crossing system of fire escapes crawls up the sides of the building. The whole structure looks ancient, with peeling paint and chipped stone.

You approach an ivy-covered wall and stop at the door where Jimin started his search not too long ago. With the hand still holding the napkin-wrapped croissant, you punch a very long sequence of numbers into the keypad next to the buzzer.

A beep. You yank the door open and try to slither inside without him following you. But Jimin jams his foot through the gap before you can slam it shut.

“Miss Nin, please,” he pleads. “I really think I could be of help to you if you would just let me.”

There’s a moment where you stop to look at him, and something in your expression suggests that he might’ve gotten through to you.

Jimin’s breath catches in his throat when he sees how your lips part slightly, how your eyes flick over his with that same silent, enigmatic question.

He has to admit, something in his internal rhythm skips in that moment. Maybe this is the start of something—

“Nah, I’m good,” you say, whipping around and leaving Jimin hurrying after you after a pause of shock.

The room you’ve both entered is not what Jimin thinks of when he imagines the lobby of an apartment building.

There are checkered marble floors, shiny and polished despite the outward state of the building, and a number of large, stylishly modern leather couches scattered all throughout the large room.

But there’s also stacks of boxes lining the walls, countless empty picture frames propped up against each other, and cobwebs hanging like drapes from the ceiling.

You’re rushing up the stairs now, which stretches and spirals far above.

Jimin uses the curling iron railing to help him catch up to you. His professional shoes click against the marble, and the sound only adds to your annoyance.

He’s a persistent one, you’ll give him that.

“Trust me, Mr. Whoever You Are,” you say, somehow walking even faster. “You wouldn’t enjoy working with me. I’d make sure of it.”

Jimin is a little distracted. Not only by the incredible speed that you’re maintaining, but also the interior of your apparent “apartment building.”

Paintings crowd the walls, all in old intricate frames, a thick layer of dust over the landscapes, portraits, and impressions. It looks more like a museum than a place to live.

As Jimin follows you up the great, winding staircase, he can’t help but wonder why you’re so resistant to the idea of an assistant. It instills a small flame of curious determination in him.

He matches your pace, just a few steps behind you, as the two of you pass a massive cracked mirror leaning against the railing.

“Maybe I could come to that conclusion myself?” Jimin says, hopping up a step so he can stand next to you, trying to catch your eye.

But you keep on pretending he’s not there, staring straight ahead with the rigid focus only a writer possesses.

Higher and higher you climb, passing more curious things, like a broken chandelier surrounded by crystal shards, then a pile of rotting wood planks.

The sound of your footsteps remains steady while Jimin’s start to slow from exhaustion.

Either you’re completely unfazed by the incredible number of steps, or you’re very good at hiding it.

Jimin pauses, chest heaving, one hand on the railing as he leans over to catch his breath. He hears your steady footsteps carry on.

He looks up to see you reaching towards a rusty door at the end of a long hallway. Digging around in your bag, you pull out a bundle of jingling keys, almost immediately finding the right one and slipping it inside the lock.

Swinging the door open, you disappear behind it as Jimin springs into action again.

His hand slips between the gap just before the door closes and automatically locks.

What he hopes to see is the inside of your apartment, a refuge from the long stretch of exertion that lays behind him. But what he finds is more stairs.

This stairway is less grand. No marble floors or fancy railing, just a narrow tower of concrete steps and unpainted walls.

He follows you up the stairwell that twists this way and that, until the two of you reach yet another door.

“Go home, kid. I have no use for you,” you say dismissively, sifting through your key ring to unlock the door.

That does it. The last of Jimin’s patience flickers out like a candle flame.

The lock clicks open, and you try to slam the door in his face, but he extends his arm and plants his hand firmly on the wood.

The sound and force of it makes you jump, whipping around to face him.

His face has changed. A moment ago, it was soft and pleasant. Now it’s hardened and dark, his eyes piercing into yours like icicles.

“Miss Nin,” Jimin begins, voice sharp enough to cut. “I’ve been an author’s assistant for three years. I’ve helped eight authors complete more than eleven books, and I’ve never gone back to the publisher to ask for more time.”

He straightens, adjusting his coat while maintaining that same icy eye contact.

“Now, I will available to you whenever you may need me. And you will find that I can be very....persistent.”

You narrow your eyes at him.

“Here’s my home number, my mobile number, and my pager number. I don’t take calls past eight p.m. and I don’t tolerate the use of narcotics.”

You raise an eyebrow at that, begrudgingly taking the business card he hands you with all his information.

“I believe the novel is set to release early next year,” Jimin says in a fake nonchalant tone. “Which means you have until the end of December to come up with a final draft.”

The mention of a deadline makes you bristle, setting him with a glare.

“So, until you put the last punctuation mark on the very last page, I will be here. Ready to assist you.”

A moment of tense silence. You glaring at him, him staring right back with a slight, smug smile.

You move to retreat into the doorway.

“Oh, and Miss Nin?” Jimin interrupts, sounding pleased with himself. “I get paid whether you like me or not.”

You slam the door.

#jimin x reader #jimin fanfic #enemies to lovers #park jimin #jimin angst #bts enemies to lovers #BTS jimin #bts fanfic #bts fanfction

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azucarmorena97 · 5 months

Text

Money Ties (Jungkook Love Story || Pt.3)

Pt.2 || Pt.4

Your parents have worked hard to get to the top and have made sure to teach you everything you need to know to be successful in this business: from tough but lucrative financial decisions, down to the right ball gown for any given banquet. A promising and extravagant future awaits you- that is, if you agree to one teensy detail...

Son of Mr.Jeon Sr. and heir to June Company, Jeon Jungkook is an immature playboy with nothing to offer a woman but good looks and a crap ton of money, and he stands to inherit much MUCH more, so long as you both enter into the arranged marriage contract that was drawn up before the pair of you were even born.

You're more than willing to try, but you're not sure you'll be able to stand each other long enough to inherit a single penny...

Series Warnings: There will be smut in the near future and I will label those chapters as such. As I say before most of my pieces- I do not endorse any themes, ideas, or behaviors in this series. This is all purely fiction/fantasy! Feel free to inbox me suggestions/ideas/what you'd like to see in this series and I'll see what I can do! Enjoy <3

Recap: "I hope you know you didn't ruin anything. My husband and I feel very strongly, even more so now, that you're the perfect fit fr our family." Your heartbeat picks up in your chest; you were sure you blew your chance to bits, but here she is, offering it all on a silver platter for you.

On your way back to your suite, you try calling your dad three different times, and each time the calls go straight to voicemail. For the most part, you've gotten used to getting his voicemail and can even recite it word for word- but right now, him being here for you is crucial. Even though your mom couldn't make the time to actually be here, at least she shows she cares, even if it is through blowing up your phone every hour; at least it's something. She even helped pick out the gifts for the Jeons: gold cuff links for Mr.Jeon, a lovely pair of jade earrings for Mrs.Jeon, and a silver chain with a medallion fo Jungkook. All your life, your dad said he couldn't wait to be there for when you would finally sign the agreement that they'd spent years tailoring and planning, only to cancel last minute because of work. Well, if he wants to leave you out in the cold to figure this out by yourself, then you're gonna do it your way.

Once inside the suite, you peel off the pretty little outfit you'd carefully put together for tea and toss it onto the bed, switching into a pair of baggy sweats and an oversized sweater, and the warmest socks you packed. You're finally going to dive into the manila envelope. You plop yourself into bed and take out everything, ignoring the initial feeling of being overwhelmed at the sight of the busy papers, looking past the legal jargon to find the bare bones of it all. In a matter of twenty minutes, you're completely locked in; you highlight, circle, annotate, even cross out some parts. You slowly realize how little your parents are settling for in this "partnership", as your dad likes to call it. According to this contract, their precious daughter is only worth 15% of the 'Jeon Empire', while Jeon Jungkook will be the majority owner of June Company, including hotels, restaurants, as well as owning shares in your parents' company and other smaller endeavors. Well, that just won't do. If you're going to be committing yourself to a marriage, it's for the long haul. All of your adolescent and teenage years were spent avoiding boys like the plague for fear of getting too attached and ruining your parents' dream for your life. Even your college years have been all about work and climbing up the ladder to get to this point- 15% is horse shit.

After three agonizingly long hours, the contract looks like a Frankensteined version of itself; torn apart and put back together. You hold it up in triumph- you almost want to take a picture just for the memories. "Proud of you," B/f/n says through a loud yawn. You had to call her about an hour in for moral support. "No, don't be tired. You can't be tired. It's still early!" "Hun, it's 3AM here." "Oh right..." You sigh, stuffing the contract back in the envelope, "I forgot about the time difference... ugh, I'm just so bored here. I have nothing to do." "Girl, you're at a whole luxurious hotel, all expenses paid- if I were you, I'd be doing a spa day, visiting the restaurants, drinking up all their liquor- you just don't like being alone." You roll your eyes. She's right, of course, but you're not gonna give her any validation. "I guess I'll just try to get some sleep...I have a big day tomorrow." "What time are you meeting them?" "We're meeting for brunch at 11." "First it was 'high tea' and now Brunch," She echoes with a sleepy smile, "How classy." You roll your eyes, "Good night, B/f/n," You laugh. She waves lazily and then you hang up the phone. "Well, since this is an all expenses paid hotel..." You bite your lip and look over at the door, "...I'm gonna go use their copier."

AT 6AM, your alarm goes off scaring you violently awake. It had taken you hours to finally fall asleep in the first place. You'd tried to close your eyes after your face time, but ended up tossing and turning until 2AM. This jet lag is something else. Or maybe it was stress for today; I mean, you are preparing to sign a contract to marry a man you hardly know (and also kinda hate), which was essentially created when you weren't even a thought in your parents' mind yet, which will, in turn, lead to lifelong stability for you and your family as well as further growth for your family's businesses so everything is kind of on your shoulders and will all fall apart if you don't do your respective part- oh God, you might have a panic attack and you haven't even gotten out of bed yet.

You speed through your morning routine so that you can look over your edits again, though as soon as you sit down, your phone begins to buzz with all your incoming notifications. You scroll through, ignoring some texts, answering a few emails- and then you come across one from your dad from an hour ago. You take a sip of your coffee as you open up the message and, when you do, you almost spit the coffee out against the pretty clean white hotel wall. Staring at you is the "finalized contract" (or so it's entitled) that your dad made 'edits' on for you to print out and sign. You look over the entire thing and with every sentence you read, you feel the anger rising in you. The "edits" he made didn't even make the deal that much better for you, not to mention, how can your dad flake on you in regards to coming on this trip, ignore your calls and texts, but still have the nerve to send me this shitty contract at the asscrack of dawn on the DAY OF the supposed signing? Fuck that. You're gonna send them your draft and your parents can cry about it. You're done doing things their way. You open up your laptop and quickly go to your saved files, opening up YOUR finalized version that you'd scanned and re-typed. You cue it up in a message and type in Mr. and Mrs.Jeon's email addresses, along with their lawyer's email. For a moment, you hesitate, letting the mouse hover over the 'send' button, but then you count how many times your parents have made you feel completely alone in just the duration of this trip, plus every time you've had to make yourself small for others to be big- "Fuck it." You hit send and then close your laptop to put your outfit together for brunch.

Brunch is held on the balcony at their hotel restaurant, Juniper. The vibe is definitely upper class, and you see it's bustling with guests. "Hello, Miss; will you be dining alone?" The hostess asks. You shake your head, "No, actually- I'm with the Jeon party." Her eyes widen for a second before she bows, "Oh yes, Ms.L/n, allow me to show you to your table. You smile and bow in return, feeling slightly embarrassed that she clearly felt the urge to kiss your ass a little extra just for being associated with the Jeons. She leads you around the corner to a wall of windows, much like the ones on the roof top when you'd gone for tea. As she opens the double doors, you see Mr. and Mrs.Jeon sat at a table straight ahead, Jungkook's back facing you. Your heart starts beating rapidly in your chest; it's happening. This is it. The entire ride here, you were psyching yourself up saying you'd be confident and strong and that if they didn't like the changes you'd made to the contract, they could kiss your ass- but right now, you feel your legs might turn to Jello. "Y/n!" Mrs.Jeon calls out excitedly, getting out of her seat and running over to you. Mr.Jeon and Jungkook look over in your direction; one giving you a big smile and the other...with a rather unreadable expression on his face. You smile and bow, "Good morning everyone." She politely dismisses the hostess and guides you to the table, where Mr.Jeon and Jungkook are standing to greet you. "Annyeonghasimnikka," You bow again. "So polite, isn't she Jungkook?" Mr.Jeon says, lightly hitting Jungkook's shoulder. You bow slightly, "Hello, Jungkook." He nods, "Hey." "Please, sit," Mrs.Jeon says. You immediately notice that Mr.Jeon is wearing the cuff links you'd gotten him, and Mrs.Jeon is wearing the earrings; Jungkook seemed to be the only one not wearing his gift. Figures. "We haven't ordered just yet so you have some time to think about what you want." "Oh that's okay, I'll take whatever you recommend." "Oh, I love that. I'm getting you my favorite- the praline french toast is so good paired with the fritata and...the eggs benedict with salmong." "Sounds good," You laugh, finding it endearing how excited she is. You wonder if she ever chews Jungkook out like your mom does to you You spend most of the time talking to Mr. and Mrs.Jeon; basic chit chat about life, how the food was, and other pleasantries- until Mr.Jeon receives a call and excuses himself from the table for a moment. Then, Mrs.Jeon says she wants to check in with the chef about something really quickly, leaving you and Jungkook at the table alone. You take a sip on your mimosa and then turn to him, "How are you, Jungkook?" He straightens up a bit and clears his throat, "I'm fine. How about yourself?" "I'm good...I- I'm hopeful that today's meeting goes well." He nods slowly, seeming deeply pensive about what you've said, "Well, it should be quite lucrative for you if it does." His tone is almost bitter-sounding. You furrow your brows, not liking how he's making it seem that you'd be the only one benefiting. "Well, according to the contract, it should be quite beneficial for the both of us, wouldn't you say?" "Oh, please. What are pennies to bills," He scoffs. "I mean, considering you can't even get a penny of mommy and daddy's money unless you get married, I'd say we're in the same boat," You lean back, deciding you're done with the niceties. He wants to be a jerk? Two can play. He glares at you, knowing you're right but, of course, refusing to admit it. "Don't you ever get tired?" "Of what?" He asks, face scrunching in annoyance. "Of the stick up your ass?" You smirk, crossing one leg over the other as your swirl your glass from the stem. "This whole thing is fucked and you know it," He says, throwing himself against the backrest of the chair in defeat. You nod slowly and thoughtfully, "Maybe, but as I always says, 'Anything worth having is worth fighting for.'" He rolls his eyes, "Whatever."

"Sorry, Kids. I just had to get that done before I forgot. Is your father still not back yet?" Mrs.Jeon asks, sitting back down at the table and looking around. "No, I guess he's still on the call," You say, "He sounds like my dad." Mrs.Jeon laughs, "Well, birds of a feather flock together." "I'm sorry everyone- Y/n, I just got off the phone with your father. Goodness, it's such a shame he couldn't come," Mr.Jeon says, a big smile on his face as he sits down. "You- you spoke to my dad?" "I sure did. I'd called him this morning about the finalized contract he'd sent me last night but he didn't get back to me until now since he was on the golf course." It takes everything in you to keep your eye from twitching. The golf course. Priorities. You plaster a fake smile on your face and clear your throat, "Actually, Mr.Jeon, the one he sent you is not the finalized version." He looks up confused, "No?" You shake your head and reach into your purse for the crisp new manila envelope, "I had to make some edits of my own." They all look at each other and then back at you, "Oh- alright," Mr.Jeon takes the envelope and he and Mrs.Jeon look over it together. You can practically see the gears in their heads turning, meanwhile, Jungkook is looking at you with his eyes narrowed wondering what it is you're up to. "Y/n," Mr.Jeon laughs nervously, "This is...substantially more than what your father and I had previously discussed." You nod, "Oh yes. 40% more, to be exact." "Mhm..." Mr.Jeon hands the paper to Mrs.Jeon who continues reading. "I believe the 15% we'd originally agreed upon was quite generous as even a fraction of the money we receive from the various businesses would be quite a profit for you." You purse your lips as you listen, trying your best to be as respectful as possible, "Yes, that's true. It would be quite a lot, however, I think it's reasonable to divide assets 50/50 between spouses, seeing as how I'll not only be a part of June Company itself but also be behind the scenes as a wife. Not to mention, when I have kids, there is no longer incentive for Jungkook to stay married to me, is there?" Mr.Jeon looks at his wife, who is looking back at him with the same concerned expression. "Y/n, our motivation for having you marry our son isn't to...produce an heir," Mr.Jeon says, "It's to help him mature and give him something to work for." "Dad, I don't need to get married to mature. I'm capable and I'm ready to run the company. Please, just let me show-" "You shut your mouth. With all the debt you've gotten me in with your incessant partying, the charges in property damage-" Mr.Jeon's face is turning more and more red, while Jungkook just looks away. He's completely quiet as he his father continues hurling criticisms and but Mrs.Jeon puts her hand on his chest to keep him from saying any more. "Mr.Jeon, I want to be able to help all of you- but I think both I and Jungkook are sacrificing a lot, and a large portion of that sacrifice is on yours and my parents' behalf. He and I will both be turning our lives around for the sake of our families. I just want to make sure we're both getting what we need from this." Jungkook turns slowly to look at you, his expression softening, along with his father's. Mr.Jeon is silent for a little while. "I understand if this is something you and your family cannot get behind and if that's the case, we can rip up this contract and put it all behind us, no harm done- but if you all want this as much as we do, these are my conditions," You say as gently as possible. You glance at Jungkook, whose eyes are fixed on you- causing for you to quickly look back at Mr. and Mrs.Jeon. "Well...I think we'll need some time to think this over. I'll have my lawyer look this over and we'll let you know what we've decided by tonight. How's that sound?" Mr.Jeon asks, giving you a tired smile. You nod, "That sounds just fine, Mr.Jeon. Take all the time you need."

You grab your bag and stand up and everyone else follows suit, "I had a lovely brunch. Thank you so much for putting it together for us to have this meeting." You turn to Jungkook, "I hope we're able to move forward together," You say with a bow and, for the first time, he bows in return. "Please have a good rest of your day," Mrs.Jeon says, stepping forward and hugging you goodbye. "And as always, please let us know if you need anything," Mr.Jeon says with a genuine expression. You nod, "I will."

Of course, not two hours since your brunch with the Jeons, and your dad was already blowing up your phone. How interesting the way that works, isn't it? Your dad only calls when you don't do things exactly as he asks. You sent every single call to voicemail until they stopped coming in altogether- though he'll most likely call right before bed. You'd spent the rest of the day out and about near the hotel; something you thought you wouldn't get a chance to do this time around. It helped to get your mind off things for a minute. You'd even gone to a cute little cafe and answered some of your work emails (you can't ever completely disconnect, though it doesn't hurt to at least have a change of scenery).

By the time you come back to your suite, it's already 8PM, though of course you're not even a bit tired, so you decide to bother B/f/n for a bit. "Mm...hello?" "Hello," You practically sing into the phone, "did I wake you?" "Mhm..." "Well, wake up- I gotta tell you what happened today." "Y/n, look, I promise I'm interested but I do not have the mental capacity to receive any new information right now..." "You're no fun." "Hey, I already told you, you have other options for entertainment." "The spa's closed right now, I've already gone to the eateries inside this hotel, I've used the free wifi and even the copier. I've done everything, there's nothing left, B/f/n," You whine. "Not everything..." She says, sleepily eyeing you. You instantly know whatb she means and you violently shake your head. "Nope. Uh-uh. I am NOT getting a drink by myself." "Oh come on, if you wear one of those skimpy little dresses you packed, I promise you won't be alone for long." You narrow your eyes at her, "How do you know I packed skimpy dresses?" "You just told me," She smirks. How does she do that? "And what am I supposed to do if a man walks up to me and offers me a drink thinking he's gonna get some?" "Oh come on, you're not even engaged yet. Live a little." You roll your eyes, "Clearly, you're very sleep deprived and that's why you're talking crazy. Call me when you're rested." "Sounds like a plan," She says before abruptly hanging up the call.

You sit and look over at your suitcase, contemplating your next move... "I guess a drink won't hurt."

The hotel bar is nicely tucked away on the first floor, a small ways away from the lobby. It's decorated with gold trim and pretty golden flowers along the cherry-wood walls. The vibe is definitely dark and sultry- you suppose you dressed appropriately: off the shoulder a-line mini dress and some simple strappy heels. You put a lot of effort into looking effortless tonight. It's not as packed as you expected, though it's definitely not empty; people are sat at various tables, holding conversations, the occasional stray laugh reaching your ears over the soft music. You'd hyped yourself up before coming down, saying you weren't gonna worry about who was or wasn't looking at you; you were just going down to have a drink and then go right back up- but when you realize the room is full of mostly men, you hesitate to take a seat. "Welcome in- can I get you anything, Miss?" The bartender, a kind-looking older gentleman, asks when he sees the lost puppy look on your face. "I-uhm, yes. I'll take an espresso martini, please?" "Of course." You set your clutch down on the bar and then take a seat. "Meeting anyone?" The bartender asks. You laugh sheepishly, "No, just...wanted to get out of my room." "I suppose that's a good thing," He says. You furrow your brows, wondering if he's gonna take the opportunity to be creepy, "And why is that?" "Because that young man over there has been watching you since you walked in," He says, nodding behind you. Your heart flutters a bit, and you feel flattered by the possibility of someone actually checking you out.

You turn slowly to where he'd nodded and scan for a moment before finally seeing him. How did I not notice him before? "That's the hotel owner's son, you know," The bartender adds. Jungkook's expression is a bit unreadable, but he's definitely looking at you. His eyes are completely fixed. You turn around quickly and bite your lip. You can't leave now, he'll know it was because of him and you can't stand the idea of him feeling like he drove you out of that bar. No way. You straighten out your back, forcing your body to relax as much as possible- or at least have the appearance of relaxation. The man puts your drink in front of you, and you gingerly take your first sip. "How can you drink those things?" Jungkook's unmistakeable voice says from right behind you, causing you to choke and spit some of your drink back into the glass. Your eyes widen in horror. "Bless you," He smirks. He looks over at the bar tender and signals holding up two fingers, to which the man nods. "Jungkook," His name feels so strange on your tongue; up until this trip, you've just refered to him as 'the Jeon's son', and using his name still feels so...intimate, somehow. He leans back in his seat, looking at you as though he's sizing you up, "And who, might I ask, did you dress up for tonight?" "Myself." You say, side-eyeing him. He's very brazen for someone you've only just met again after so many years. "Hm." "Hm, what?"

"Oh nothing...it's just, well, humans are performative beings, you know? Everything we do, whether consciously or not, is to attract." "Oh? And you're saying this to imply that I'm trying to attract someone?" You take another sip of your drink, trying to hide your unexpected nervousness. He shrugs, a cocky smile spreading across his face. "And who do you think I'm trying to attract, Jungkook? You?" You scoff. "Hey, you said it." You blush slightly and look down at your drink, your fingertip running up and down the stem of the glass. He definitely smells like he's been drinking- a lot- but you also catch hints of musk and wood- even burnt cinnamon. Shitty men shouldn't smell this damn good. You glance down at his neck and squint your eyes; is that-? "You're wearing the necklace?" He furrows his brows for a second in confusion before the realization sets in, "Oh- yeah. I look good, don't I?" His lips turn up into a coy smile. You clear your throat and shrug, "I think I'm just good at picking out jewelry." He chuckles and shakes his head, "Your disdain for me is quite amusing." "Almost as amusing as your insistence on flirting with me." "Well, don't get too flattered, you might fall in love." "Ha," You scoff. The bartender sets two shots down in front of Jungkook, who then slides one over to you. "What's this for?" You ask, immediately suspicious. "To celebrate." "Celebrate what?" "Us, of course." "Oh please," You roll your eyes, "Just the other day you were yelling at me and accusing me of attacking you, then you implied that I was some sort of gold digger and was just trying to mooch off of you." He nods thoughtfully, "Yes, that's true, I said some pretty...crass things. I suppose I should apologize for that. As far as the shot, well- I've decided to accept it." "Accept...what?" "The fact that this train is leaving with or without our 'yes', so we may as well enjoy the ride along the way, right?" As he says this, his eyes fall slightly, and only for a moment. You almost wonder if you'd seen it at all. "And what's caused this change of heart?" "Truthfully...this entire arrangement has been hanging over my head all my life. It felt like a noose slowly getting tighter and tighter. But seeing my father so stunned by your demands...it felt like my first deep breath in a while." You're surprised at how genuine Jungkook is being right now, though before you're able to respond to what he's just said, your phone buzzes in your clutch. "Excuse me," You say. It's a text message from Mr.Jeon. You quickly swipe it open and your mouth drops in shock. 𝙼𝚛.𝙹𝚎𝚘𝚗: 𝙷𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚘, 𝚈/𝚗- 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞. 𝚆𝚎'𝚟𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝. 𝚆𝚎'𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚘𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚠 𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚝 𝟷𝟸𝙿𝙼 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚒𝚐𝚗 𝚝𝚘𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚕𝚊𝚠𝚢𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚝.

You look up back up at Jungkook, who simply picks up the shot and holds it up in the air, "To the ride." Your shocked expression turns into a smile, and all you can think to do is pick your shot up as well. "To the ride."

#bts #jungkook #suga #jin #namjoon #jhope #jimin #bts imagine #bangtan sonyeondan #angst #jungkook x reader #bts slow burn #bts enemies to lovers #bts arranged marriage #jungkook arranged marriage

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hongcherry · 1 year

Note

Hi! I'm doing good, thank you for asking and for answering my question :D. I REALLY love your writing and I want to request a roommate!JungKook x roommate!reader enemies to lovers fic, when it's raining a lot, so the power goes out and the reader is scared of the dark, please. I hope you're having a good day/night, don't forget to take care of yourself ♡

Your Light || jjk

"Being stuck in the dark with your annoying roommate was not ideal, however, maybe it wasn't so bad in the end."

💡 Pairing: Jungkook x Reader (f)

💡 Rating/Genres: NC-17; Fluff, roommate au, enemies to lovers

💡 Warnings: Cursing, mc hates children (joking...), bantering, mentions of stereotypes of older people/grandmas, that's it?

💡 Word Count: 2.3k

💡 Author’s Note: Anon, I'm so touched that you like my writing so much! That's such a big and sweet compliment. I'll cherish it forever! Tbh, I've been feeling a lil insecure about it, so this really made me feel better. This prompt was also really adorable! I hope you enjoy it. I'm glad you're doing good 💖

part two

bts masterlist | main masterlist

What’s more annoying than telling your roommate to stop yelling at his screen at three in the morning?

Having to tell him for the fourth time.

If you knew Jungkook was an avid video gamer, you would never have agreed to room with him. But alas, his profile was too perfect to be true. A quiet guy who stayed holed up in his room? One that knew how to cook? Someone that could lift your heavy move-in boxes? Truly a winner.

If only that was the whole case.

Jungkook indeed stayed in his room, could cook, and could lift heavy items.

But he also made loud noises in the middle of the night, cooked at the weirdest times so you couldn’t leech off his food, and made you pay him anytime he helped you move items.

What a menace.

“If you don’t turn off that stupid screen at ten, I’m going to cut up all your cords,” you threatened, towel and spare clothes in your arms as you peeped your head in Jungkook’s room.

You were preparing to go to sleep early due to having stayed up late last night because of his stupid shooting game. It was also raining outside, which would aid in you falling asleep faster since you found the rain peaceful.

Jungkook didn’t reply and simply kept his focus on his screen. He wore a headset, fingers flying across the keyboard. Irritated at his lack of response, you stomped over to him and yanked off his headset.

To your utter annoyance, that didn’t even phase him.

“Jeon Jungkook, are you even listening?” you hissed.

Laughter came from somewhere in the room, but you two were the only one's home. It was not until you heard another voice that you knew where the sound was coming from.

“Is that your mom?” the voice laughed. “Tell her to go back to knitting a sweater for her cat.”

A gasp left your lips at the implication you were some old, wrinkly lady. You raised the headset to your face. You didn’t put it on, but you put your mouth near the microphone, so his “friends” could hear.

“How about you go eat your supper and go to bed, little vermin,” you angrily replied. “And I’ll have you know cats dressed in sweaters are cute!”

More laughter emitted from the headset.

“Supper?” another voice echoed. “I don’t think that’s his mom—more like his grandma.”

“Why you tiny piece of-”

“Give me the headset,” Jungkook finally acknowledged you. Not wanting to hear any more of the pests known as kids, you thrust the equipment in his open hand. You noticed his character had died and was waiting to respawn.

Jungkook slipped the headset back on and continued his game. “Relax guys. She’s just my roommate.”

Even though the device wasn’t near your ears, you could still hear their replies.

“Your grandma is your roommate?”

“She’s so uptight!”

“Seriously, tell her to calm down.”

Your hands clutched your belongings tighter. You told yourself to walk away—fighting with them was no use; however, you couldn’t stop yourself when you leaned down near Jungkook’s face to get near the mic once more.

“I hope your parents make you eat a pound of vegetables.”

“Go away,” Jungkook huffed and gave you a gentle shove.

“Tell me you’ll turn that off at ten.”

“Eleven,” he bargained, eyes glancing at you when his character died again. You must really be distracting him for him to have died twice within five minutes. Good. You hoped his ranking plummeted.

“Ten-thirty,” you said. “That or I grab my scissors.”

“Fine. Ten-thirty. Now leave before I get my own scissors.”

You scoffed, hand on your hip. “And do what with them? Make paper snowflakes?”

Jungkook smirked at you before turning back to his game. “Don’t think I don’t know where you hide that stupid stuffed chipmunk of yours.”

Your jaw dropped slightly as you stared at him incredulously.

“Ten-thirty,” you repeated firmly before walking out of his room and shutting the door. The walls weren’t thick, but at least it kept some noise out.

You started making your way to your bathroom; however, you couldn’t get rid of the paranoia that Jungkook really knew where Mr. BonBon was. You made a quick detour to relocate your favorite plushie. You had won it at an arcade on your thirtieth try. It held sentimental (monetary) value.

Once you were done, you trekked to your bathroom. Finally, you could end your day with a relaxing steamy shower. No doubt your shoulders were sore from all the stress you’ve endured lately. From tests to 3 a.m. hollering, you couldn’t wait to have some time to decompress.

The feel of the hot water pouring down on your body had your eyes closed momentarily. You could probably stay there for half an hour, but your goal tonight was to go to sleep early. You kept that in mind as you went through your shower routine. You were just rinsing the soap from your body when the lights suddenly went out.

Startled by the unexpected darkness, you fumbled to turn off the water. It must be Jungkook pranking you.

You hastily grabbed your towel and wrapped it around your body, so he couldn’t get a free show.

“Turn the lights back on, Jungkook!” you exclaimed.

When you didn’t get an answer, your brain started conjuring up fantasies. And not the ones where you find a charming partner and run off into the sunset. No, these thoughts consisted of a three-headed beast clawing its way from your drain, or a long-haired lady crawling from your mirror. While living with Jungkook was a pain in your rear, you much rather live with him for eternity than be captured by one of your “mind monsters.”

The haunting thoughts had you hastily scurrying from the shower, hair still dripping water and making a mess of your tiles. That was the least of your worries as an imaginary hand was reaching from the mirror that you passed on your way out of the bathroom.

You took two steps into your bedroom only to scream when you saw a dark figure standing a few feet from you. Your hand reached to your side to grab whatever was closest while the other clutched the towel around you. When you finally grabbed onto something, you flung it as hard as you could at the mysterious person.

They grunted, stumbling back a little and cursing under their breath.

“Calm down, it’s just me,” Jungkook grunted.

Your heart was still racing, but at least your shoulders eased.

“I could’ve killed you!” you screeched.

“I’d like to see you try,” he huffed. Even though you couldn’t see his face, you just knew that little shit was rolling his eyes.

As you were calming down, a loud thunder cracked outside. It had you jumping and shuffling closer to Jungkook unknowingly. That must be the reason for the power outage.

“I’m going to try to find a flashlight,” Jungkook spoke.

“What about your phone?” you wondered.

“Misplaced it, but I rather not use it right now anyway if I can’t charge it,” he said. He started to move, but you quickly stumbled closer so you could grab his wrist.

“Wait!” you exclaimed.

Jungkook paused in his steps to look at you. “What?”

“I- I can help you find it.”

The quiver in your voice grabbed Jungkook’s attention and he finally put some effort into reading your body language.

You were tensed, hand still holding onto him and your towel tightly. You were also strangely too close.

“You’re scared of the dark,” he stated, a small chuckle sounding at this realization.

“No! I’m j-just trying to help.”

Maybe you were scared. You hated the way your paranoia skyrocketed when you couldn’t see. There was something too eerie about having one of your five senses taken away from you.

“Are you crying?” he questioned, and you felt his hand brush against yours that held him.

“What? No. Why would you-”

“Something wet landed on me. Please don’t tell me that was your snot or something,” he replied, voice full of dread.

Your hair was still wet and probably leaving your floor slippery.

“I just came from the shower! It’s just water,” you groaned and slowly let go of his arm.

“O-oh.” He sounded startled.

Your eyes slowly began to adjust to the darkness as some of the moonlight crept in from the window through your curtain.

“Let me change, but don’t-” you sighed at how much you needed him. “-don’t leave me.”

You expected Jungkook to make a witty reply, but he simply nodded, an action you could faintly see.

“Only if you let me sit on your bed,” he bargained. Each time he would climb on your bed, you would always shoo him away—claiming he was spreading his germs all over your clean sheets.

“Fine,” you said. You stuck out your arms as you felt your way to your closet. You could see the outline of some closer objects, but you still felt uncomfortable not seeing far away.

“Ah, fuck,” Jungkook cursed before you heard thudding.

“What happened?” you asked quickly, heart beginning to race as your mind pictured Jungkook getting snatched by the monster under your bed.

“Nothing,” he groaned. “When did you put a bench by your bed?”

Your body relaxed again. He must have tripped over it and fallen. “A day ago.”

Once you found your closest, you quickly changed to whatever your hands touched. You had clothes in the bathroom, but there was no way you were risking getting grabbed by another monster in there.

“Done,” you announced and reached out again. Jungkook met you halfway, taking your hand in his. It was your first time holding his hand, and you didn’t like the way your body warmed at his touch.

“Just going to go to my room; I have a flashlight there,” he instructed. His voice didn’t hold the playfulness or irritation it usually did. It was softer. It was odd to hear, but not unpleasant.

You followed him slowly down the hall to his room, the path familiar to you but still making you anxious.

“Wait here and I’ll get it,” he instructed and started to pull away. However, the moment he took a step forward, you clutched him again.

“S-sorry,” you said quickly when he was tugged back. Jungkook paused, staring down at you with eyes you couldn’t read.

Taking in a steady breath, he repositioned your hands onto his hoodie.

“It’s okay. Hold on,” he said and moved. You continued to hold onto his clothes while he shuffled around in his closet.

“Aha!”

Suddenly light flooded the room. Jungkook’s gaze drifted from the flashlight to you. With the light, your worrisome expression could be seen clearly. Not to mention, just how close you were to Jungkook.

“You okay?” he asked.

His voice had you moving away quickly, your body heating from embarrassment.

“Just fine,” you answered. “How long do you think the electricity will be out?”

Jungkook shrugged. “It depends I guess. For now, we can use this so our phones can save power.”

“Okay,” you sighed.

“Nice outfit,” Jungkook mumbled, voice teasing like you were used to. It somehow made you feel better.

You glanced down, only now taking in your mismatched attire.

“You try getting dressed in the dark,” you grumbled. He smiled and glanced around.

“You can take the bed. I’ll sleep on the floor,” he said, gesturing.

You wanted to reject his invitation—make some sort of excuse to sleep in your own room; however, you knew you wouldn’t be okay sleeping alone. Before you could make your decision, Jungkook started to pull out an extra pillow and blanket from his closet. He tossed them onto the floor and then set the flashlight on the nightstand, light shining up at the ceiling. It had cast enough light to make you feel safer.

“If you don’t get in that bed, I’m going to keep playing until four,” he threatened light heartily when he saw you standing still.

“You already do that,” you argued but relented to his request.

“And I’ll continue doing that if you don’t-”

“Yeah, yeah,” you dismissed as you climbed into his bed. “I’m in.”

Jungkook’s lips twitched as he tried to suppress a smile. “Good.”

A part of you wanted to offer to share his bed, however, you decided against it since you two weren’t that close. One night on the floor won’t hurt him anyway.

“Goodnight, Yn,” he mumbled from below.

You nestled in his covers, taking in the calming scent of them and letting your eyes close. “Goodnight, Jungkook.”

Luckily, the electricity was only out for a few hours. It came back on in the middle of the night. You had started to leave Jungkook’s room, but he insisted you stay in case the power went out again. Not liking that possibility, you agreed. It wasn’t that bad being with Jungkook anyway.

Later that week, you came home to a box on your bed. You didn’t order anything lately, so you weren’t sure what it was. However, upon closer inspection, you saw your name on it. Inside was a chipmunk-shaped night light. You’ve seen these in stores and online, usually advertised to children, but that didn’t matter. It was battery-operated, which meant even if the power went out, you could still use the device.

Your lips lifted in a smile while you inspected the cute light. You set it on your nightstand and then returned your attention to the box. You still weren’t sure who had gifted you this. Though, sure enough, you found a card laying at the bottom of the box, face down. Turning it over, it read:

In case I’m not here next time. JK

Your eyes lingered on the hand-written note. Partly in denial that Jungkook, your annoying, disobeying roommate, had gotten you something so considerate. Nevertheless, your view of him was slowly changing—for the better.

You checked your clock and realized Jungkook would be home from his class soon. As a thank you, you started to cook dinner. It wasn’t going to be the most elaborate meal he's had since he was the better chief, but you hoped it would convey the gratitude you had for his thoughtful present.

Maybe living with Jungkook wasn’t that bad after all.

A/N: Thank you again, anon! 🥰

Also if any of you knit sweaters for cats, you're a rockstar. Don't let anyone tell you differently 👿

For my "shy/silent" readers, I've created a feedback form where you can share your thoughts on my fics in a more anonymous and private way. ^-^

©️mimikookie // DO NOT REPOST OR MODIFY Please consider reblogging if you liked this work to show your support. Feedback/commentary is always welcomed.

#requests #jungkook fanfic #thebtswritersclub #kdiarynet #btshoneyhive #jungkook x reader #bts fanfic #bts fluff #jungkook fluff #anon ask #bts drabble #jungkook drabble #bts roommate au #jungkook roommate au #bts enemies to lovers #jungkook enemies to lovers #jungkook x you #bts x you #flowers for bambi 💐

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leewriting · 2 years

Text

Carpool

You didn’t want to hate him , you didn’t want to have a weekly fight either. But when you’re in university and there is only one parking spot at your apartment building, it’s each person for themselves. Unfortunately this can’t last forever and every feud has an expiry, yours might just come from forced ride sharing.

A twist on there’s only one bed.

Yoongi x reader college au, enemies to lovers.

Buckle up.

Warnings: Injuries, mentions of non-consensual elements, language

A/N: My birthday gift to all of you on my birthday, ironic I know. I hope you’ll enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Word count: 17k

You’re going to kill him. Jail will be worth it, you know it will. You bang on the door again. Your fist leaving a wet mark behind on the cheap wood. You’re freezing and dripping a puddle in the hallway. It’s pouring rain outside and after a very long day of disappointment all you want to do is curl up into a ball on the couch and watch Legally blonde. At least she has her life together unlike you, who nearly failed a test you studied so hard for. Not to mention that you almost missed a stupid assignment deadline. Ending up with you in the library for hours scrambling to finish and submit it on time. Thus, you can’t just curl up on your couch for two very distinct reasons. One being that it is much later than you wanted to come home, so you have to do responsible things like clean up the mess that is your apartment. And two is the reason why you’re soaking wet and banging on an apartment door that is not yours. You had to park two blocks away and walk all the way in the pouring rain. Your parking spot was once again taken by the stupid, bone headed, selfish, man currently sitting on his couch, waiting for just the right amount of time to pass to really piss you off. “Yoongi I swear to god if you do not open this door I will break it down.” You stomp your foot. You sound hysterical even to your own ears but right now you couldn’t care less. The neighbours don’t even bother to look out into the hallway anymore, too used to the fighting between you two. Finally, the door swings open to reveal the bane of your existence standing cockily in the doorway. His black fringe is hanging into his eyes, and he smugly push it away as he takes in your drenched form. “Princess, I see you’re quiet wet.” He smirks at you, folding his arms across his chest and leaning on the doorway. He’s dressed in all black sweats and honestly he looks very comfortable, in direct contrast to you, and as if on cue a freezing cold droplet runs down your back. You ignore the stupid innuendo and wipe the smug look off his face, not how you would like to by punching it off, but by pushing past him into his apartment. You refuse to have this fight in the hallway, again.

“O, please do come in.” He sarcastically replies. Your blood is boiling, and you barely hear the door close before you’re spinning around to face him.

His apartment looks the same as always, perfectly decorated, and clean. It makes you hate him even more.

You’ve known him for a while, and you wish you could say it’s been a pleasant experience but instead the way you became acquainted with the music major was anything but ideal.

Your stupid university decided that your apartment block’s parking was so conveniently close to the sport fields that the first team football players might as well just park there, while they build new parking for them. So subsequently a shortage of parking for the people actually living in the building arose.

You and Yoongi both moved in this year so unfortunately neither of you really knows who the one remaining parking spot belongs to. You like to believe that it has to be your apartment’s seeing as it is right outside your window. Yoongi however does not share the sentiment.

“So, what will it be this time? A cappuccino or a Latte?” Yoongi asks, his voice coming from the kitchen space, where he is currently standing with two cups in hand, eyebrow lifted.

“Hot chocolate please.” You snap back, as you cross your arms and impatiently tap your foot.

The drinks thing is a tradition that formed a while ago, after you both realised that the parking spot argument happened at least twice a week. You’ve tried going to the university board but unfortunately they didn’t really seem to care all that much as neither of you are part of any winning sports team.

In the beginning you tried to be civil and set up a roster, but you quickly realised that neither of your schedules were very compatible with that. Both of you being night owls didn’t help the situation, so you started going for alternative tactics or as your friends call it, sabotage.

It evolved from relatively harmless pranks like shaving cream on his windshield, and him throwing glitter in your exhaust pipe to more extreme things.

He parked you in right before a test and you out of spite didn’t move your car from the spot for weeks. It wasn’t until he had your car towed that you called a truce on the pranks and just decided that the weekly fights will have to be endured. Him being an absolute caffeine addict, and to your great displeasure being able to make great coffee, decided that if you are going to fight all the time he at least needs a drink to stay sane.

“I’m sorry I took the parking spot, I thought you had already left.” Yoongi sighs out, his hand holding an amazing cup of hot chocolate out to you, which you take with a roll of your eyes.

“Left to where? It’s pouring!” You state, irritation seeping into your bones along with the warmth of the drink. Now it’s his turn to roll his eyes.

“I don’t know maybe to one of the hundred parties you’re always going to, and then I park all the way at the other space, only for you to come Ubering in at three in the morning.” His voice isn’t raised with the accusation, he never raises his voice which only irks you more.

“O I’m sorry and all the times I’ve had to park two blocks away because you’ll be coming home late from the studio. Only to find out the next fucking morning you never did come home?” You throw back at him, trying to keep your voice as calm as his but not succeeding at all. You are so irritated, and your wet clothes and hair is starting to give you a headache.

Yoongi is ready to retort with probably another snappy comment when a ghostly groan cuts in, making you start and spill hot chocolate all over your hand. Great as if you need another bad thing today.

“Are you guys fighting again?” Namjoon asks, his head peaking over the back of the couch where he was probably taking a nap judging by his ruffled hair and red eyes. You in your rage completely overlooked the fact that Yoongi’s roommate might be here.

Namjoon is a year above Yoongi, and instead of music, his major is more botanically inclined. He spends most of his time in his greenhouse, doing god knows what. There are rumours however that he cooks up more than just petunias in there, and his calm and relaxed demeanour makes it all more believable. Nevertheless, whatever he is doing is working because he is one of the top students. Mix that with extra modules like math and physics he’s just very strange all around, except for his face, which is not strange but rather knee shakingly beautiful.

Namjoon surveys you and Yoongi. “Have you guys finally started dating?” He lifts his eyebrow at you both, who with the possibility of a groaning ghost, had jumped into each other’s arms, and in shock are still standing in the same position. He looks between you two and you follow Namjoon’s eyes from your face to Yoongi’s.

Upon realising how close you’re standing you push him away, with a little cough. His coffee comes sloshing out of his cup with the backwards movement. You have no idea how he managed to not spill it when he had jumped into the air.

“No, Joon we definitely did not start dating.” Yoongi groans, wiping the coffee from his shirt. “Like I would ever date her.” You roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Yeah, believe me, that will never happen.” You can’t believe people keep suggesting that you and Yoongi should be together. His friends keep teasing him about it every time you come up in conversation, and yours are not much better on the subject either.

Unfortunately, the nature of your fights does nothing to deter them, as calling each other in rage and storming into each other’s apartment, is apparently the new way to hit on someone. To you, their conviction that Yoongi and you are secretly in love with each other seems more like a mom telling her preschool daughter that the boy who threw her with a rock likes her.

“O, well in that case Jungkook owes me money” Namjoon states casually not even trying to explain. You roll your eyes at him as he walks past you to the kitchen, but he doesn’t seem to see your face.

“Sorry for waking you Joon, you know how she is.” Yoongi says, quirking his head to you, looking at Namjoon who is now pouring cereal into a bowl. It takes a moment for your brain to register what the asshole next to you just said.

“How I am? Excuse me, as if you haven’t been fighting with me at all.” You huff, glaring daggers at the cocky bastard, “No? I guess you calling me in the middle of class just to shout at me is fine, is it?” It would be so easy to just slap him, you can’t help but feel an itch to do so.

“Please it wasn’t that bad.” He scoffs blowing the hair of his fringe from his face.

“Wasn’t that bad…” you stammer in disbelief. “You idiot I got kicked out, while we were doing test prep, I nearly failed.” You glare at him you don’t think you’ve ever really shown him any other facial expression.

“I called you to ask you why you weren’t fucking home when your car was in the spot.” He defends himself while throwing his hands up in the air.

He stares at you waiting for an answer. You reel to find a good one, so you don’t have to tell him you went straight to class from some guy’s house. So instead, you do the sensible thing, you lie.

“Well maybe if you had told me you were going to need it I wouldn’t have accepted the ride from my friend.” You retort, trying not to waver from his eye contact, knowing it will be suspicious, but clearly, it doesn’t work.

He scoffs “Your friend right, maybe you should carpool all the time with whoever you’re sleeping with and give me the parking spot.” He says, his eyes are narrowed at you, clearly irritated. You already have the reply on your tongue, the blush on your face rising with your anger.

“Wait.” Namjoon jumps in. He has been quietly watching you guys from behind the counter. Eating his cereal and following your argument with his eyes the way one would follow a tennis match.

“I have the best idea.” He states with a grin on his face. Both of your heads turn to Namjoon to hear this magical idea.

“Yoongi you’re completely correct,” he says as if you know what he’s talking about.

“I usually am, but about what this time?” Yoongi asks cockily and you have to resist the urge to gag. Namjoon just rolls his eyes, as if Yoongi is being incredibly stupid.

“You just said it.” You and Yoongi share a confused glance. Namjoon finally realising that you’re clearly idiots, explain his idea the way you would to a two-year-old, word for word and slowly.

“You two should carpool together.”

“Joon what the fuck are you talking about.” Yoongi exclaims and for once you actually agree with him.

“How can we carpool when our schedules don’t overlap at all?’ You ask irritated. You’re getting pretty tired of being in wet clothes, the urge to fight is gone and no matter how much you like Namjoon you honestly do not want to listen to stupid ideas right now.

“Listen I know it sounds weird but just hear me out okay?” He asks walking to stand in front of the couch and motioning impatiently for you both to sit down. After exchanging a look with Yoongi, you both follow his instructions.

Already expecting a fit from Yoongi for sitting on his too perfect couch with your wet clothes, you opt to sit on the armrest. You not so patiently wait for Namjoon, who is looking more and more like an evil genius ready to monologue his plan.

“Okay, so I know the roster didn’t work out, but what if you guys each get a week to park in the spot downstairs and then you switch.” His hands are flying around as he explains, gesturing with them, but you already see a flaw.

“Okay, but what if I need to go somewhere? Walking all the way to my car at night isn’t exactly safe.” You comment, but at your question, Namjoon’s smile only grows, he has to be crazy to think this stupid plan would actually work.

“Then the person whose car is in the parking spot has to drive you.” He states casually as if it is the most obvious thing in the world.

“Wait what!” You and Yoongi both exclaim at the same time. You have to drive each other around now? No way that’s happening. You look to Yoongi to see him in thought, he glances out of the corner of his eye at you and after a moment he nods. “Okay.” He states calmly, way too calmly for your liking.

“I’m sorry what? You can’t be serious.” You can’t believe he is agreeing, “We couldn’t even keep to a stupid roster, if you really think this will work then clearly you’ve been spending time in Namjoon’s greenhouse.” You look to the subject of your accusation who is only calmly watching you two from a chair he fell into, “No offence” you say to him, but he merely shrugs, a smile on his face, denying nothing.

Yoongi sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, clearly just as tired of you, as you are of him. “Look the year is almost over and next year the parking at the sports field will be done being built.”

He has a point but driving each other around still feels like a bad idea, but maybe, just maybe it can work out.

You internally laugh at yourself. “Okay fine,” You give in to Namjoon’s delight, “but under two conditions.” You smile evilly at Yoongi holding up two fingers. You’ll make sure, that if this is going to happen, it will work out in your favour.

“The person to call it off has to park in the far-away parking spot for the rest of the year and,” You pause putting one finger down and wait for him to cautiously nod, “You have to start.” You smile, and after a moment he smirks at you. That stupid smirk that you want to wipe off his face.

“Fine princess, you’re on.” He holds out his hand to you, to shake and make it official but you ignore it, jumping off of the couch and flipping your wet hair, splashing him with cold water droplets instead.

“Okay, then I’ll see you tomorrow morning at seven for my first class.” You give Namjoon a wave who returns it and quickly make your way out of the apartment not listening to Yoongi shouting after you as you close his front door in his face.

You suddenly feel much better. Your plan forms in your mind as you evil laugh once safe in your own apartment, the warm water of the shower washing away the cold. That parking spot will be yours. .

. “Morning sunshine” you sing-song, trying to pull the covers off of the grumpy man in the bed. “What the fuck are you doing in my room?” His morning voice is raspy, and he groans as he desperately holds onto the covers. “Namjoon let me in.” You state simply, shrugging and letting go of the covers, You instead move to the window, blackout curtains hanging in front of it. “I didn’t ask how you got into my room,” he spits out trying to untangle himself from the covers that sprang back over him. “I asked what you are doing here”. He demands finally sitting up, looking at you as if you just insulted his whole family. His hair is messy and face is a bit swollen from sleep. Overall, he looks entirely too much like a cat that was waken up from a nap.

You shake your head and instead of giving him an answer you pull open the curtains, letting the early morning light stream into the room.

Yoongi screeches shoving his face into the pillow to protect his eyes from the sun. You roll yours at his dramatics, you’d think he was about to die from the way he was moaning.

“Come on you have to take me to class,” you pull the covers off him, this time he doesn’t fight it. Groaning he peeks at you from where he is still face-planted into a pillow.

“You can miss one class.” He states turning his head away from you and the window.

“I cannot miss this class dipshit,” you cross your arms and tap your foot getting impatient. “Unlike you, I have grades to keep up.” You smirk at him, “unless you want to call the deal off?”

Yoongi groans again and finally sits up. “I hate you, you know that right?” He glares at you, before blinking in the bright sunlight staring at the window personally offended by its existence and yours.

Now that he’s sitting up and rubbing his hand over his face and through his hair you’re quite sure he won’t go back to sleep. So, turning on your heels you walk out the door, throwing a sentence over your shoulder at him.

“Get dressed or I’m going to be late.”

He throws quite a few curses after you, and you’re sure a few hand gestures to your back. You however just close the door, not giving in to your instinct to argue with him. You’re leaning on the door and looking at Namjoon who is laying on the couch, eating what looks like a brownie, and smirking at you.

“What Namjoon?”

“Nothing.” He keeps smiling though. Stuffing the rest of the brownie in his mouth, he stands up from the couch. Your eyes follow him as he walks to the kitchen counter, where three potted plants are standing. They seem to be some kinds of flowers, you’re not completely sure what they’re called though.

You’re just thinking to ask Namjoon when the door behind you swings open. You’re support gone you fall backwards. You’re about to fall into Yoongi’s chest where he is standing in the doorway.

You look at him in betrayal as he turns his body out of your way and a moment later you feel the hard unwelcoming wooden floor underneath you.

“Ouch.” You groan out, curling onto your side to get the pressure off the sore part of your back.

“Wow, princess you’re really falling for me hey?” he laughs as he merely steps over your body. You grumble after him. How dare he step out of the way? It would have been so easy just to catch you or even to just help you up off his bedroom floor.

“I hate you.” You grumble at him, as you try to stand up. “And stop calling me that!” You shout at him, clutching onto your head, you hit it harder than you thought. There is definitely a whole day headache waiting on you.

“I know” he smirks at you answering your first question, “and come on princess you’re going to be late, remember?” He opens the front door, giving you one last look before strolling out, his car keys spinning on his finger.

You huff again but walk to the door anyway, because he is right, you are going to be late, and you’re not going to back out of this class now.

Namjoon gives you a worried look as he gives you the bag you had thrown down when you came in.

“You okay?” his voice is genuinely concerned, and you give him a smile.

“I’m fine Joon, thank you.” He gives you one last smile before closing the door behind you.

Yoongi is already sitting in his car, waiting for you.

The rain from last night has left the ground filled with puddles and the air is chilly from the still looming heavy clouds hanging from the sky. You’re glad you decided to opt for comfort over cute today because the outfit you had planned would have left you with even more bruises than you already have.

You dodge the puddles, hoping over the last one almost falling on his stupid car, before finally yanking the door open and getting into the already heated up car. You’ve barely closed the door before he drives off.

“Where is your class?” he asks stopping at a red light. He hasn’t looked at you and this is the first time he’s spoken since you got in the car. You appreciate that, him not talking is about a thousand times better than when he speaks.

You sigh. “Just drop me off at the main gate.”

He scoffs. “Are you sure you don’t want a personal escort to your class, princess?” You roll your eyes at the way he sneers the last word. He’s being more grumpy than usual and you’re getting tired of it.

“Do you always attend your morning classes?” His voice is irritated. You look at him, glaring.

“Yes” Lies, you almost never attend them, but to get that parking spot you knew you had to hit Yoongi where it hurts, interrupting his sleep. So, to deter him from asking you any more questions, you turn your attention away from him, opting to look around.

You’ve never actually been in his car before, and you’re sorry to see it is just like his apartment, clean, perfectly organised, and even smells nice.

You look out of the window, before you get irritated again, sitting with your legs turned as far away from him as possible. The rain has started up again, a soft mist falling onto the university town.

You’ve been looking forward to university since high school, getting away from your stupid town and being able to start over has been an amazing experience and mostly you get along with everyone. Everyone but the man driving a bit too fast on the wet road for your liking.

You and Yoongi met at the beginning of the academic year. It was moving-in day and being able to move out of the university provided dorms and into the apartment building was an exciting and much-anticipated event. The building was still technically university-owned but now you could live alone and get away from the stupid rules of the dorms.

The way you had met Yoongi was straight out of a rom-com as your friends like to describe it. Maybe if a romcom ended with them hating each other. You also know now that everything that happened was probably just a way to get into your pants. Because, unlike you trying to keep your escapades discrete, the string of people always leaving his apartment at ungodly hours confirm the many rumours of his playboy habits.

You had been carrying boxes up to your room when the carpet tripped you, causing you to tumble down. You were caught however by an, what you then thought, unbelievably handsome man. His eyes had been kind as he righted you again, bending down to pick up the boxes that had flown from your hands.

You remember how you had squealed and giggled with your friends about how sweet he was to carry the boxes for you all the way to your apartment. About how he had introduced himself and put his number in your phone just in case you ever needed anything. It was about a week after that, that you had your first fight in the hallway.

The car comes to a halt outside the main gate, and you open the door to get out immediately. You want to thank him but when the car door swings closed he drives off. You glare at his car for a good few seconds before remembering how far the class actually is, and how little time you have to get there. Pulling the hood of your hoody up to defend yourself from the misty droplets, you quickly walk to the class.

Your phone is ringing, cutting through the quiet bedroom, and waking you with a groan. You roll over, your hair all over your face, and you try to push it away to be able to see the name that is flashing on the screen. Once your tired eyes finally make out the letters on the screen you groan again. You debate just letting it ring, but you’re pretty sure he would hold it against you, so you slide the green circle to the side and press the phone to your ear.

“Yes, what is it Yoongi?” Your voice is raspy as you whisper and it’s quite clear that you were sleeping. You push the hair out of your face fully now as if it will help you be more awake.

“I want you to come and get me.” He just states it, no asking or anything and it irks you.

“Yoongi I dropped you off and you said you’re going to be there the whole night.” You raise your voice just a bit not wanting to wake up the guy sleeping next to you. He throws his arm over you and sleeps on, oblivious to the conversation taking place.

��I know I said that but I want coffee, and the place I go to doesn’t deliver.” You roll your eyes and sigh, removing the guy’s arm from your waist you silently get up out of bed, the phone pressed between your shoulder and your chin.

“Yoongi I was kind of in the middle of something.” You cast a glance at the shirtless man while you try to find your clothes.

“I don’t care, come and get me unless you want to back out?” He clearly knows what he’s doing, and you are not going to give in that easily.

“Fine, I’m coming.” You whisper yell and hang up, pressing the red button with unnecessary force.

You clench your jaw and run your hand through your hair in frustration. You breathe in and out, suppressing all the murderous thoughts in your brain, and instead focus on finding your pants. You jiggle into them and with shoes in hand you walk to the front door.

It’s unlocked, you always tell them to keep the front door unlocked. You claim it’s because of claustrophobia but really you just want a way out if anything goes wrong. He didn’t wake up at all with your walking around, so you decide you’ll text him in the morning, or well later today seeing as it’s 2 am.

You reach your car in record time and you’re pulling away before you can second guess if the parking spot is really worth all this.

It became your week yesterday, and he has been on your case ever since. You thought you were bad, but he’s already driving you out of bed on the first day.

To be fair you were trying to be bad. You had him drop you off and pick you up for classes, you’ve never attended all your morning classes before, parties and even a chocolate run at midnight. He complained and glared, but he still bore it which you now see was probably because he was planning how he will torture you this week.

You bite your cuticle as you drive, your headlights illuminating the road and falling onto the reason for you being here, and missing morning after pancakes.

Yoongi pulls open the door and gets in before you’ve barely even stopped.

“The café is called Spring day.” No greeting, no nothing, just simply ordering you around. As if to make it any worse, the café he just ordered you to, is right down the block.

“You could have walked.” You are irritated and you know he is delighted to see you getting worked up.

“I wasn’t in the mood for walking.” He is looking at you out of the corner of his eye. “Sorry to drag you away from your plans.” He might be apologising but there is not an ounce of sincerity in his voice. In fact, he is being sarcastic, and it makes your jaw tick in frustration.

“You sound very sorry.” You snap at him, turning to him, ready to literally kick him out of your car. He however is smirking.

“Your shirt is on backwards.” Your eyes go wide, and you can’t help but blush as he raises an eyebrow at you. You hold his eye contact refusing to look away, he breaks it first, looking to the road in front and then back at you.

“Are you going to drive?” You sigh and turn, putting your hands on the steering wheel.

Like you said it’s only about a minute’s drive to Spring day café, so neither of you really has a chance to say anything more before the car is parked in front of the lit shop’s window. You didn’t even know it was open this late.

The sign on the door says otherwise, but Yoongi just waltzes in. You follow him cautiously, only to liven up when you see the familiar faces turn to you.

“Y/n what are you doing here?” Jimin is sitting on the coffee bar drinking something that doesn’t really look like coffee. He bounces off to come greet you, throwing an arm over your shoulder. You just smile at him.

“Yoongi wanted midnight coffee apparently.” You glare at the pale man now helping himself to the coffee makers, not caring about Jin, the owner, sitting at the counter.

Taehyung is sitting at a table with his feet on top of it, his chair rocking back in froth as he balances on it.

“Yoongi give the poor girl a break, clearly she was busy.” His eyes run over your shirt and you groan.

You forgot about that. You pout at Taehyung, sticking your arms back in the sleeves and turning the stupid shirt around.

“There, happy?” You cross your arms and Jimin laughs at you throwing his arm around your shoulder again. Taehyung gets up and joins him on your other side.

“Don’t pout, we’re on your side remember?” He smiles at Yoongi who is glaring at you three over his cup of coffee.

You met most of Yoongi’s friends through the occasions of storming into his apartment for fights. The first time they had stared at you open-mouthed, noodles halfway to their mouths. It took them about three seconds before they were introducing themselves, apparently already knowing who you were.

The only three you met by yourself are the two men who are now leading you to a barstool next to Jin and the youngest who isn’t here.

Jimin and Taehyung are in your English class. On the first day of class, they took it upon themselves to squish in next to you and talk the entire class. After that, they insisted on sitting next to you in every class. You couldn’t help but become friends with them. Their whispered comments turned from irritating to honestly very entertaining and funny.

The first time you saw them in Yoongi’s apartment you made a big dramatic deal about them betraying you by being on Yoongi’s side of the parking spot war. They in turn made a big dramatic deal to show you they were on your side. They even helped you throw a bag of glitter on Yoongi’s car, but of course, he doesn’t know that.

The youngest, Jungkook, you met one day when he was floating around campus completely confused and lost. You watched him walk around in circles for about ten minutes before you decided to take pity on him.

Turns out he was looking for a class on the other side of campus, so you walked with him to make sure he doesn’t get lost again. On the way, you came across Namjoon who apparently knew Jungkook from when he tutored him.

You left him in Namjoon’s care but afterwards when he was staring from the couch while you and Yoongi fought, and Namjoon ignoring it completely, he made a point to find you on campus, especially after he became friends with Jimin and Tae.

Jungkook never took a side though and instead follows Namjoon’s lead in teasing you. He also happens to be one of the biggest supporters of the whole, “Yoongi and y/n are actually madly in love with each other,” thing.

“Where is Namjoon and Jungkook?” You ask, opting for sitting on the counter rather than the stool.

“Namjoon is helping Jungkook study or something.” Hoseok is swirling around on his chair in circles, going faster and faster. Yoongi is next to him, watching him and finally reaching out a hand to stop his best friend from falling off of the spinning chair.

“More like Namjoon is dragging Jungkook along in the library, poor kid.” Jin comments. He looks tired and you feel a bit guilty for keeping him here so late, but then you realise you aren’t doing anything. Technically it’s the other guys' fault. You all do laugh at him, knowing that he is most likely telling the truth.

Jimin and Tae keep bothering you, telling you all about their week and everything they’ve been up to. Even some of the others join in however they all seem content to just listen to the two boys babble on. You are clutching your stomach sitting in Tae’s lap, where you fell into a few minutes ago, due to the aforementioned laughing when Yoongi, eyes narrowed gets up from his chair.

“Come on, I need to get back.” He looks at you. Waiting for you to spring into action but you just blink and stare at him.

“No, you can walk.” You turn your head away.

Everyone in the room is holding their breath already anticipating what is coming. Jungkook once told you that there is tension before you and Yoongi start fighting, almost like the air before a thunderstorm.

“O, I can walk?” Yoongi’s voice is cocky, and you hate it. “Where was that attitude when I had to drive you one block to the store at one in the morning to get you chocolate?”

You roll your eyes, getting up from Tae’s lap. He doesn’t even try to hold you back. “O because asking you to drive from the same fucking place is as inconvenient as calling me when you specifically said you’ll be here the entire night?”

Yoongi scoffs. Walking closer to you until it would only take one step before you’re toe to toe. “The deal was that we drive each other around whenever the other needs to remember princess?” His voice is so condescending you can almost feel hatred radiating off from him.

You won’t back down, not in front of everyone, and not to the bane of your existence. So, you take the step closer, you and Yoongi are chest to chest.

“You agreed to this deal first, you being an asshole isn’t making anyone’s life easier.” You poke him in the chest, getting your point across.

Yoongi looks at you, his eyebrow raised. “Let’s get one thing straight right now I’m not trying to make your life easier, I am trying to make my life easier, because I know you’ll give up, and then I won’t have to ever deal with you again.”

You’re eyes go wide for a moment, but his words don’t hurt, you don’t care. You’re trying to do the same thing. “Good, at least I know we feel the same. I won’t give up, but I will make your life a living hell, and when you give up, the real reward will be that I never have to see you again.”

You both stand there for another second, chest to chest, glaring at each other.

“Drive me back.” Yoongi says it word for word, empathising each one, not breaking eye contact.

“Get in the car.” You say in the same way, glaring at him, your faces are inches apart, and your eyes don’t move from each other, challenging one another. Hatred and dislike reflecting in each of them, the tension in the air that Jungkook talked about is growing, stifling you both until Jin finally clears his throat, and it disappears.

You blink and finally look away, turning to Taehyung and Jimin both staring at you, a smirkish look on both their faces.

“I’ll see you guys later,” you turn to the other two men, “Thank you Jin, see you Hobi.” You catch your car keys that Jimin threw, and storm to the door, yanking open your car door and already starting your car as soon as you close the door behind you.

Yoongi gets in a few minutes later, and you drive off, faster than you usually would to get the cocky ass out of your sight as soon as possible.

“Get out.” You sneer at him as soon as your car stops. He doesn’t protest, getting out and slamming your car door very hard. You flinch at the loud sound, rolling down your window, to yell at the retreating man’s back.

“Don’t slam my doors asshole.” He doesn’t answer just throws his middle finger back at you. You roll your eyes, deciding it's not worth it, and you drive back home.

The convenience of parking right in front of the door is enough to lighten your mood tremendously, and once in your apartment you realise how icky you feel, so before falling into your bed, you take an extremely very hot shower.

The shower doesn’t clear your head as much as it usually does. All you can keep thinking about is the idiotic man that you have to go pick up in a few hours. You used to think that maybe you could get along one day, maybe when you both have parking spots, but after what he said tonight clearly that won’t happen.

The fights and arguments since the carpool deal started have been becoming more intense. It hasn’t been this bad since when the arguing started. You feel that you and Yoongi have fallen into a routine of fighting and now that you’re forced into close proximity it is intensifying the irritation and hatred that have evolved between you two.

Your skin is still red when you get out of the shower. The cold air meets your body, cooling it down too fast for your liking. It is starting to get very cold and you’re sure the rain will turn into snow soon.

You originally wanted to spend your day catching up on some work, maybe cleaning your apartment, but now you know you’re just going to spend the day catching up on sleep, before once again facing the most infuriating man you think ever existed.

The pounding on your door is synchronising nicely with the throbbing in your head.

“Y/n, open up.” The pounding continues on the door and in your head. “You were supposed to come fetch me hours ago.” Yoongi’s voice carries through the apartment, and you flinch at his words.

He’s right, you were supposed to go fetch him. Today is your last day as driver and you couldn’t be more than glad to have a break from Yoongi’s never-ending calls. When he said he’s going to make you give up he wasn’t joking, and you’ve been struggling to not do so.

He has been calling you at all hours to drive him somewhere, and more than once he’s called you to go pick him up at someone else’s apartment. He comes strolling out, with lipstick marks all over his face and you have to try very hard to not gag at the sweet sickly stench of perfume that hangs around him.

The driving him around part you can manage, him calling you nonstop you can manage, you just scheme how you’ll retaliate next week. What you can’t manage however is the fact that he barely says a word other than giving you directions or orders. You would think you’d be happy with the silence and only talking when absolutely necessary, but it bothers you. Even when fighting with him he at least acknowledged your existence, now it just feels like you’re truly an Uber driver. The silence feels eerie, and you don’t like being seen only as a tool for him to get somewhere. You’re still a human being.

Speaking of you being a human being, all the driving around at all hours, and trying to study and get all your assignments done have been leaving one thing severely neglected. Yourself.

You haven’t slept more than two hours at a time the whole week, and today it finally caught up to you. You’ve been feeling a bit sick since yesterday, but you didn’t want to give Yoongi an excuse to twist it around, that your asking for a day off is you giving up. So, you didn’t say anything but when you finally got home after another one of Yoongi’s midnight coffee runs, Jin and Hobi knows your coffee order off by heart now, you literally collapsed onto the couch where you are still laying right now.

Yoongi keeps knocking on the door and it takes a good minute for you to drag your very sore and weak body up to open it. When you do, you see a very smug Yoongi, clearly ready to tell you that he wins.

“Princess, you do know that you not picking me up means that I… hey are you okay?” He trails off from his original speech, his smug look fading as his eyes roam over your very pale face and notice how you’re leaning on the doorway for support.

“Y/n are you sick?” He frowns. He sounds concerned and you really don’t feel up to pretending you’re not sick when you feel like you’ll fall over from a light breeze.

“Yeah.” Your voice is hoarse, and it hurts to talk, you can see his frown deepening.

“Sorry for not picking you up Yoongi.” You push yourself off of the doorframe, getting ready to just face defeat and retreat to your comfy bed, or couch rather, you don’t think you can make it to your bed.

As soon as you’re erect however your eyes go black for a moment, stars dance in the air and you feel yourself stumble. You’re righted by a hand on your shoulder. Your fuzzy eyes take a moment to return to normal and the head rush passes. You blink a few times before you’re able to focus again and when you do the sight that greets you is a strange one.

Yoongi is standing closer than before, his hands are on your shoulders, but the strangest thing is his face. You and Yoongi rarely see each other with any facial expression other than glaring, so to see Yoongi’s brows furrowed and his eyes wide moving all over your face in concern is not something you’ve ever seen before.

“Y/n, come on let’s get you inside.” His voice is softer than usual, not very different, you doubt a lot of people would be able to really tell you the difference, but you hear it, the softness, and you’re startled by it. So much so that you don’t resist when he drags you to the couch. You sit down on instinct, and he throws one of the blankets surrounding you over your shoulders.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?” His voice is stern, and you glance up at him. It sounds like he wants to fight, and you cringe at the thought of having to spend so much energy on arguing right now, but he’s waiting for an answer, so you give it.

“I didn’t think you would really care about that.” You look at his face cautiously expecting to see the usual anger bubble up, and you can see it starting but he presses it down. Apparently, this morning is full of surprises. He bends down sitting on the coffee table in front of you.

“Y/n I know you see me as an asshole, but you should know, I’m not a monster.”

“Well, you certainly had me fooled this week, you barely talked.” You shoot back at him struggling to hide the pout, but you’re sick not dying so you succeed and this time you see he rises to the poking.

“Maybe I just wasn’t in the mood to fight, seeing as we clearly can’t even speak without fighting.” He stands up again, folding his arms.

“Well maybe if you acted less like a jerk then we wouldn’t have to fight all the time.” You counter. The pounding in your head is killing you and speaking is making your throat burn, him being here is only making it worse.

“Maybe I only act like a jerk because your personality brings out the worst in me.” He snaps, not raising his voice but sneering at you all the same. His words finally push you overboard.

“Listen here you asshole, you are the one that made me drive you around all night, so don’t blame your jerkiness on me you stupid ...” You push yourself up to be closer to his eye level before finishing the insulting names you plan to call him but immediately you feel the head rush again.

“Will you please for the love of all that is holy sit down.” He growls out and you frown at him, but once again you can’t argue, you really need to sit down, your head is spinning. “Now I am going to make you some tea, you’re going to drink it and sleep.”

“No,” you say glaring at him. He stares and sighs, pinching his nose bridge.

“Fine, be like that I’m only…”

“I want hot chocolate.”

Yoongi looks at you in surprise. “What did you say?”

You cross your arms and look him right in the eye. “I don’t want stupid tea. I want hot chocolate.”

Yoongi keeps staring at you for another moment, and you swear you can see a quirk of his mouth corner. He wants to laugh. But instead, he clears his throat and walks out of your front door. You stare in disbelief. He really just left.

You curse him out in your head. You were joking, kind of, mostly you were arguing just for arguing’s sake. You shake your head at the audacity and pull the blanket tightly around yourself. After a few minutes, you place your feet on the ground and prepare yourself to stand up when the door swings open, revealing Yoongi with a mug in each hand.

“I thought I told you to sit down?” He raises an eyebrow at you closing the door behind him as you sit back, secretly glad you didn’t have to stand up now.

Yoongi hands you one of the mugs, which you take to survey its content. You’re expecting the clear greenish liquid of tea, but you’re met with warm chocolatey goodness, two and a half marshmallows melting slowly on top. You look to where he is sitting in your one armchair.

“Hot chocolate.” You state.

“Hot chocolate.” He nods and you can’t help but give him a smile, probably one of the firsts ever.

He merely surveys you over the rim of his cup as he drinks. His hot chocolate is really the best you’ve ever tasted and combining that with the absolute exhaustion you’ve barely finished the cup before you’re sleeping soundly.

After that, things seem to shift a bit, not a lot, most people don’t even notice it except maybe Namjoon who according to Jimin upped his bet against Jungkook. You and Yoongi still argue but compared to the previous weeks it’s not nearly as heated and more importantly, after the chilly silence that shrouded you the arguing is a bit welcomed.

What does change however is the fact that you two actually talk, it’s not much but it feels completely different, even if most of the conversations still end up in an argument.

The arguments become less personal, of course, you still hate each other but after the olive branch that was the hot chocolate when you were sick, his company has become almost bearable to you, almost.

“Yoongi I want to go home.” You’re whining you know but you’re tipsy and tired. Your feet hurt from all the dancing and you’re glaring at the softly blurring form of the black-haired man who is driving.

“It’ll be quick” he retorts, he’s irritated, you can tell by the set of his jaw.

“Stopping at your studio is not quick it’s out of the way.” Your voice is drawling a bit and you roll down the window. The cold air helps the fogginess disappear and you focus on it so much that you barely realise you’ve stopped in front of the music department building. So much for winning the argument.

Yoongi turns to you while he rolls up the window. You turn around, your cheeks and nose red from the cold air and your eyes more alert than it’s been the whole drive here. He clears his throat to get your attention and your head snaps to him.

“Do you maybe want to…” he hesitates and looks away pulling out the keys from the ignition. You stare at him not sure what he is going to say but you are definitely not expecting him to say, “Do you want to come up with me?”

You think for a second before nodding. “Well, I don’t want to sit in the car.” He rolls his eyes and gets out of the car. You follow, a bit wonky on your sore feet still stuffed into the stupid high heels. You walk a bit behind him, letting him lead the way.

He invited you to his studio, he’s never done this before and when you step through the door you feel like you’re almost intruding. You’ve been in each other’s homes more times than you can count but his studio feels more personal, more intimate and you’re unsure what to make of it.

“You can sit down, I just need to transfer this file.” He states as he moves over to the computer, pushing his office chair to you. You sit down as he requested and take the opportunity to look around the room. The music majors can hire out a studio room for the year. Most people don’t go to the trouble, but Yoongi has fully made the space his own. The furniture is dark and the soundproof black sponge lining the walls darkens the space even more. The only light breaking the darkness is the blue LED strips running around his desk.

“Why did you put so much effort into your studio?” You wonder out loud. He looks at you over his shoulder, his profile illuminated by the computer screen and for a second you remember why you thought of him to be so handsome when you met him.

“What do you mean?” He asks, looking back at the screen and continuing what he was doing.

“I just mean, most people don’t put so much effort into a room you won’t be using for that long,” You spin around on the chair as you speak. “Most people just put effort into their apartments.”

“Well, I don’t like working at home.”

“Why not?” You ask without giving it much thought, you’re stopped from spinning more by a foot appearing on the seat. “Maybe because I am constantly disturbed at home by a certain someone.”

You glare ready to fight and defend yourself when you see his face. It’s not his usual arguing face, his one eyebrow is raised and there is a slight quirk to his mouth. You haven’t seen him looking like this, he looks playful.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” The reply slips out and you blame the past week of having conversations with him that had minimal arguing in them. You stare at him though, challenging him to say something snarky, but he merely laughs. You don’t know if it’s by accident but his foot on the seat next to you pulls the chair closer to him. You stare up at him, now almost against his body. He stares at you too, his eyes surveying your face.

“Of course, you don’t know.” He says it with a smirk, the joke continuing but you feel like the mood’s changed, like that static before your arguments. His eyes are stuck on your face, and he is leaning in slightly. You don’t know if you’re imagining it or if he’s also aware of it. You’re about to reply when a ding from the computer pulls his eyes away from your face and you feel able to breathe again.

He pulls the USB from the slot and walk past you after switching the computer off. “Come on princess or do you expect me to carry you down.” The snap is back in his voice, and you roll your eyes standing up and walking past him down the hall, not waiting for him.

He catches up quickly though, you’re still not able to walk properly because of your shoes.

“Why are you walking so god damn slow?” He snaps at you, falling into step beside you. You glare at him.

“My shoes are killing me, you might feel sorry for me if you had an ounce of sympathy for anyone.” You snap back, irritated at his change of behaviour, but comforted by the fact that whatever happened back there was just a moment of something stupid, nothing to think or wonder about.

“Right, I am so sorry princess that your poor feet are hurting,” His voice is high pitched, sarcasm dripping in it. You glare at him out the corner of your eye as he continues. “because of the stupid shoes you chose to wear.” His voice returns to normal, but the insane amount of sarcasm remains, and you scoff finally having had enough. You stop and rip the shoes from your feet, stomping out of the building all the way to the car.

You wait outside of the passenger’s side door for him to unlock the car. Your feet and body are freezing as you stand on the cold concrete. Yoongi comes waltzing out of the building a few seconds later, twirling the keys around his finger as he slowly descends the stairs. He could unlock the car from where he is but because he is an asshole he only unlocks it when he is at the driver’s door.

“Climb in princess.” Is the only thing he says as he gets in the car and if it was a warmer night you would have refused to do anything this infuriating man said to you. Unfortunately, it is not a warmer night, and your feet are turning red with cold. So reluctantly you get into the car just before he speeds off.

You ignore him the rest of the drive home, irritated and angry. The feeling is so easy to sink into, you almost feel bad, but then you look at his face, and the infuriating feeling takes over completely. He is just so frustrating, and it makes you want to scream sometimes.

The car stops in the parking spot, and you jump out as fast as you can. Walking into the building with your shoes in hand you completely ignore the man walking just behind you.

He stops at his door but doesn’t go in until he calls out with a giggling voice. “See you tomorrow for your class.” People are staring at you, you understand why, you’re walking shoes in hand in a party dress with your mortal enemy screaming about seeing you the next day.

You zap him without turning around and burst into your apartment, rage bubbling up. You fall onto the couch, pushing your face into a pillow and you let out a scream of frustration. The sound is muffled by the material, but you feel better after letting it all out.

Tonight has been a rollercoaster and for once it only applies to things happening after the party. The way he invited you into his studio, you’re sure that isn’t something that happens often. You play with the frills on the edges of the cushion. Maybe he was trying to be nice, maybe you should try to do the same. You roll onto your stomach and press your face into the cushion again at the thought. He was nice and polite and suddenly something happened that you will not think about. No, you will only think of how irritating he is with his stupid face and stupid smile. You scream again.

“Maybe we should pull over Yoongi.”

The rain is flooding the street and the wind is blowing so hard you’re scared the whole car will be blown away at any moment.

“It’s fine,” Yoongi scoffs rolling his eyes at you. You’re about to retort when the hail begins. With a glance at you, Yoongi sighs.

“Okay maybe just for a moment.” He pulls the car over under a tree. “I’m sure the storm will blow over soon.” He says wistfully, turning the ignition off.

“Yeah let’s hope so,” you stare out the window at the sheets of rain that keep assaulting the car.

It’s quiet, you two being quiet is nothing new, but usually, during the short drives you talk, but now, stuck with each other for who knows how long you’re not sure what to say. You don’t want to start a fight accidentaly by saying the wrong thing, because that will just make the situation worse seeing as neither of you have a place to storm away to. So instead of speaking, you look around the car searching for something polite to talk about.

“What is your favourite colour.” The question bursts from your mouth, and you bite your lip, cautiously looking at him to see his reaction. He stares at you in surprise before smiling and then he starts to laugh.

You stare at him now, your head tilted and your eyebrow raised at his weird reaction. His laughter bubbles down to a chuckle and he clears his throat when he realise how you’re looking at him.

“Sorry, it’s just you trying to make small talk is funny.” He tries to explain.

“Well, I’m sorry.” You scoff. You can’t believe him, you’re just trying to be polite at least.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” You give him a distrusting glare, but he continues. “I promise.” He turns to you, unbuckling his seatbelt to turn fully in his seat.

When he sees you’re not going to say anything further he tilts his head until he is in your sight.

“To answer your question.” he smiles lightly, “ My favourite colour is purple.”

You glance at him. “Mine too.”

“Really?” He pulls away a bit and he laughs, “ I didn’t know that.”

You glance at him again, before relaxing your posture. You turn a bit more towards him.

“We don’t really know a lot about each other.” You state. Thinking about it, it is strange, you spend so much time together, you technically share friends, and you are in each other’s homes often, and yet you know almost nothing about him.

“You’re right,” he sounds a bit surprised, “ well we have time, why don’t you tell me about yourself?”

You look at him fully now. He seems to be in a good mood, and you don’t think you’ll be able to handle the awkward silence the entire time. So why not get to know your nemesis just a bit.

“What do you want to know?” You ask cautiously, still not completely trusting that this isn't some prank.

“O uhm,” he thinks for a second. “ What are you studying?”

“Really?” You chuckle a bit, you have no idea why this is so funny, maybe because it is so foreign behaviour for you two.

“Yeah, you know what I study, but I have no idea what studying I’m always dragging you away from.” He smiles brightly at you, encouragingly. “Also I don’t think I’ve ever come across a major that has so many early morning classes.”

You chuckle. “English,” he tilts his head slightly, “I want to become a writer.” you explain as if to justify it. “I know it’s a stupid dream to have, but it’s been mine since childhood.”

“So no wanting to be a princess or actress?” he asks, his head still tilted.

You shake your head. “Nope, I’ve always wanted to write poetry.”

“Poetry,” he sounds surprised, leaning back a bit, and you just nod. He stares straight ahead of him, and you take that as the cue that the conversation is over so you turn back to the window, to look at the rain.

“I don’t think that is a stupid dream.” He says suddenly and you turn back to him.

“You don’t?” You don’t really believe him.

“Yeah, I mean, I’ve wanted to be a music producer since I was a child. How is that so much different than wanting to write poetry,” He turns his head to you while speaking. he smiles softly at you in reassurance. “If anything I think it’s amazing.”

You stare at him. No one has actually ever said that to you. Most people just act surprised and brush it off, not wanting to be the one to tell you how unrealistic it is. He looks sincere and it makes your heart clench a bit, you can feel a burning in your sinuses, but you swallow the tears away.

“ Thank you,” you whisper, afraid to speak too loudly and have your voice crack. He stares at you, not in surprise but with a soft stare, his eyes warm and you can’t believe he is directing that look at you.

You clear your throat, unbuckling your seat belt you turn your body fully, putting your feet on the seat and hug your knees to your chest leaning on the closed door.

“ How about your parents?” He frowns in confusion at your question.

“What about them?”

“Are they supportive of your dream?” You clarify.

“O,” his face turns into a gummy smile and you can’t help but stare at how pretty it makes him look. “Yeah, they are very supportive. My mom took me to music classes every week, and my dad helped me soundproof the guest bedroom to work in.” He smiles larger while he talks about his parents and all their help. “How about your parents?” he asks he looks genuinely curious.

“Uhm,” You try to figure out how to exactly say it. “They don’t really care for it.” You don’t look him in the eye. “They wanted me to be a lawyer. I applied here because of the amazing English program, and I got in on a tennis scholarship, so my parents didn’t have to pay.”

“Wait tennis?” He is shocked you can tell without even looking at him.

“Yeah I’m actually really good, but god Yoongi,” You turn back to him, “ I fucking hate tennis.” You chuckle out the words so glad to finally be able to say it to someone. He stares before he starts laughing, causing you to laugh harder.

You both just sit there laughing in the car, with the rain pouring down around you, and the wind blowing through the big old tree you’re parked under. You laugh until your stomach hurts.

“So I dropped it, with the excuse that my studies are too much.” you continue after you calmed down a bit. “But that means my parents have to pay my tuition now, so the deal is they keep paying if I keep getting good grades.” You finish kind of sadly, they really don’t support your choice of major and it has always hurt you.

“That’s why you are so anal about tyour grades?” Yoongi guesses, and he is right, so you just nod. He bites his lip in thought a moment.

“Well,” Yoongi takes your hand sensing how sad you really are about the subject, “You’re here now, and you’re doing what you love, and you seem to be balancing your studies with partying,” You roll your eyes at the teasing bit, “no but really you’re following your dreams, that’s a big win, and it makes you very brave for doing it.” he smiles reassuringly at you and you return it after a moment. His words actually do make you feel better and the weight of his hand around yours reassures you even more. He is right of course, you are studying what you want, and you are following your dreams, it is something to be happy about.

“Thank you Yoongi.” You squeeze his hand lightly in thanks.

“Don’t even mention it.” He squeezes back. “I’d like to read some of your poetry sometime, maybe they make good song lyrics too.”

“Really?” He nods at your question. You have thought about it in the past but overall you never actually tried writing songs, maybe you should try.

“Okay, maybe that’s where my true talent lies.” You chuckle.

“Hmmm,” Yoongi hums out, leaning back in his seat, looking at the rain that is a lot calmer now, the hail has also cleared up.

“ I guess we should get home?” He words it as a question, and you kind of want to say no, you realise with a shock you want to keep it like this. No arguing or snappy comments, just talking. But you doubt it could ever truly be like that, Yoongi has made it clear he can’t stand you and wants this deal to be over so that he can be rid of you. So instead you pull your hand away and nod.

He merely nods as well, the silence returns and he drives out from underneath the tree.

You stare at your hand. You already miss the warmth of his. You shake your head, you can’t feel that way, you’ll only get hurt.

You get out of the car as soon as it stops in the parking space. You don’t look back at the man following you to your floor, you don’t want to know how his face looks. Is he sad that you pulled away? Or is he relieved to be away from you?

You rush through your door, closing it tightly behind you. Resisting the urge to look at Yoongi. You sigh as you sit on the floor. What on earth just happened?

The music is loud and the cup in your hand is already empty again. You’re dancing chest to chest with one of your friends, you’re both screaming the words to the song playing. You came out with them tonight, Yoongi is going to some club with his friends leaving you to drive with yours.

Your brain is right on that edge of being tipsy and drunk and you revel in the feeling, all your responsibilities and worries melted away by the alcohol.

The next song comes on and taking that as your cue you scream to your friend that you’re going to the bathroom. She merely nods, drunker than you are and you leave the dancefloor heading up the stairs wonkily.

Your legs are struggling to move but somehow with a lot of concentration you make it all the way up.

You know the house well, having been to multiple parties here in the past. You walk to the bathroom. The door is open and the light illuminates the otherwise dark landing.

You’re halfway there when a voice calls your name, making you turn around, the action causing you to lose your balance but you’re righted by the arms gripping you tightly. You look up, the face that greets you is not the one you want to see. His face isn’t as pretty, his eyes not as perfect and there is no gummy smile adorning his mouth. Instead, the face belongs to the football captain. You had once found his face the epitome of attractiveness and due to that, you have hooked up a few times.

He helps you stand on your feet again, but his hands don’t release your waist and after a minute you push away from him.

“Hey, what are you doing?” He asks with a teasing edge to his voice, he’s always teasing, you used to like that as well.

You shake your head at him. “I’m a bit too drunk for this.”

You know what he wants, what he always wants but you do not feel sober enough to consent and honestly seeing him again now you’re having trouble pinpointing why you liked him so much.

“Ag no come on.” He pulls you against him again, this time with a bit more force, and you stumble, off-balance.

You shake your head, uncomfortable in his arms. “Why don’t we go somewhere a bit more private?” He whispers in your ear, and you can smell the alcohol on his breath.

You shake your head again, more sober than you were a moment ago, all your instincts flaring up.

“No, I really don’t want to.” You push him away again, this time walking past him as you do so. He however grabs your arm, your wrist being crushed as he drags you back.

“Come on, don’t be like that, I promise you’ll like it.” He is smiling at you, but it makes the hairs on your neck stand up.

“Let go, you’re hurting me.” You try to pull away, but he only holds on tighter, causing tears to spring to your eyes.

“Don’t be difficult Y/n.” He is tugging you further down the hall, his voice is impatient.

“Let go of me.” You try to release his grip on your arm by clawing at his hand, but it doesn’t budge.

Instead, he pushes you to the wall, groping your ass, and slamming your head against the wall painfully. Your arm is pressed above your head, as he leans in, smiling at you, surveying the way you’re struggling to getaway.

Your head is shaking from side to side as you kick and try to make him back off, but he is so much stronger than you, and when he grabs your face you can’t do anything at all.

“Just relax it’ll feel good if you do.” He whispers before pressing his lips onto yours and sticking his tongue down your throat.

His hand travels up your skirt and you try to push him away again, biting hard into his lip. The shock makes him release you and you run down the hall on wonky legs, but he grabs you again. He is outraged now and you’re shaking in his hold, tears streaming down your face.

You’re about to be dragged back again when a voice has both your heads swinging to the stairs.

“What’s going on here?” Your friend is looking from your teary face to his hand clenching your wrist.

“Nothing, just mind your own business.” Comes his authoritative voice, but you’re staring at your friend willing her to please help. She gets your signal because she steps closer.

“Y/n why don’t you come down with me, everyone is waiting.” She looks at him when saying those last words, and you almost cry from relief when he lets you go.

You don’t waste any time quickly walking down the stairs, your friend's arm around you guiding you down the steps.

As soon as you’re in the crowded room she turns to you, inspecting your face, frowning. “Are you okay?” she looks at your arm, but you pull it away, “Did he hurt you?” You merely shake your head, too stunned to speak, still in shock.

“Fucking bastard.” She says with a sneer, turning her head up to the landing, before turning back to your shaking form. “Do you want me to take you home?” Her face is soft and worried, and behind her you see her boyfriend waiting. You shake your head not wanting to inconvenience her.

“It’s okay, I have someone I can call for a lift.” Your voice is shaky, and she frowns.

“Are you sure? I can take you.” She insists but you shake your head again.

“I’ll be okay, I just want to go outside to call him.” She follows you out and stands a bit away keeping you in her eyesight but giving you your privacy.

Your fingers are shaky as you press the call button, Yoongi’s number being at the top of your recent calls. Voicemail greets you again and again as you keep trying. You stare at your phone for a moment before pushing the call button again.

“Hi, Y/n” his voice greets you, and you let out a small sob in relief, “y/n is everything alright?” he asks clearly concerned and you shake your head, taking a shaky breath in.

“Can you come pick me up please?”

Your friend waits with you until the car pulls up next to the curb. The driver gets out and walks over to you, his brow furrowing at your tear-stained face, mascara running down your cheeks. He gives you a hug when he’s close enough, and you let out little snivels into his chest.

“Thank you Jungkook.” You whisper but he clearly hears you because he pulls away, his hair in a bun and big eyes assessing you, but he doesn’t ask the questions burning on his tongue. You appreciate that, not sure you can talk about it now.

“Come on let me get you home okay?” You nod and he leads you to his car, opening the passenger door for you.

The drive back to your apartment is mostly quiet just filled with your snivelling once in a while and Jungkook’s worried stares. He turns to you fully when you’re stopped at a red light. The light is shining onto you both, giving the car a strange hellish look.Strangely appropriate.

“Y/n, are you okay?” You feel your bottom lip quivering again so you bite it. You can’t speak so you just nod your head.

“I don’t believe you. You’re stubborn but you never try to hide your emotions like this.” The red turns to green and he turns back to the road, the car moving again. He is much more serious than he usually is.

“I understand if you don’t want to tell me, and I’m glad you called me, I am, but I just want to know.” He looks at you before looking back to the road. “Why didn’t you call Yoongi?” He looks at you again, waiting for an answer, but you look out the window.

You wipe away a tear and take a breath in. For the first time since you called Jungkook, you say something.

“I tried.” You look down at your phone the time reading just past eleven. “He… he didn’t pick up.” Your voice cracks, but you swallow the tears down. You have to get a grip on yourself.

Jungkook sighs, “I’m sorry Y/n, he probably turned his phone off after they went to his apartment.”

He sounds very apologetic, but you can feel the numbness setting in now. Everything is drowned out but your brain catches onto something.

“They?” You look at Jungkook who is pulling up in front of your building. He starts and realises what he said, he gulps and avoids looking at you.

“Yoongi and a girl.” Jungkook cautiously looks at your expression, expecting to find rage there, that like always you’re going to storm in on Yoongi and fight with him and then you’ll calm down and probably have coffee.

He doesn’t find that, instead, your expression holds something far worse. Nothing. You don’t frown or cry or look mad at all, that scares him.

You feel the hurt mix into you along with the disgust and fear but it doesn’t rise at all. It doesn’t reach your eyes in the form of tears or your head in the form of rage. It just lies there, like everything dead and cold.

You thank Jungkook, an empty thank you, you want to hug him and tell him that you appreciate him so much, but instead, you can’t even muster a real smile for him.

The walk to your apartment is blurry and you don’t really register anything until Jungkook sets a cup of hot chocolate in front of you. He must have walked you up. He leaves after helping you put on a cardigan and saying that you can call him whenever you need something, anything.

You just stare at the black tv.

You’re fighting, trying to keep the emotions away. Jungkook was right, you never hideaway your emotions. You cry when you’re sad and express your anger and irritation. You don’t pretend nothing is wrong when something is. So now when your body is trying to protect you, it feels strange and some part of you is seeking the emotions. Trying to wake them up, digging through the darkness they borrowed into. Another part is fighting against it, hiding it deeper away, knowing that if you find them it might be too much. You are aware however that there are three distinct emotions hidden.

The first is fear, the fear of what could have happened if your friend didn’t find you in time. The fear that suffocated you when that creep had pinned you to the wall, how helpless you felt.

The second is guilt. You feel guilty that you ever put yourself in that situation. Guilty that you drank so much and maybe you shouldn’t have worn such a short dress.

The third is hurt. Hurt that the person you had spent the past few weeks with trying to drive each other crazy had actually left you. Hurt that clearly you haven’t been getting as close as you thought. Hurt that the few weeks making the fighting and hate of the past year melt away was only clear to you. Hurt that he didn’t care and hurt that you’re realising that you care too much.

You’re struggling to keep it all away, sitting on the couch not moving. Not touching the hot chocolate because you know it won’t taste as good as his.

There is a knock at your door and for the first time since you moved in you use the peephole, just to make sure who is on the other side. As if you summoned him by thinking of his hot chocolate, Yoongi is standing outside your door. By instinct when you see him you open it.

He looks out of breath. His eyes are worried but the rest of his appearance makes the hurt bubble a bit.

His hair looks ruffled as if someone had been tugging at it. His silk shirt was clearly thrown on in a haste, the buttons not lined up with the right holes.

You look at his face. His cheeks are a bit too pink, and his lips are swollen, and red. You’ve seen this look on too many men to know what it means and if you were able to feel right now you would be angry and sad.

“Y/n are you alright?” He is surveying your face, his eyes darting across it. “Jungkook called me, he said you asked him to take you home. That he…he was worried about you.” You just nod.

“I’m fine.” You get the sentence out without letting the emotions you’re starting to lose a grip on follow it.

“Are you sure? You don’t look fine.” He is standing closer, and you wish he wouldn’t, his presence is making it harder not to cry.

“I’m sure I’m fine Yoongi, just go.” Your hand is searching for the doorknob to close it. Yoongi follows your arm movement confused when suddenly he gasps.

“Y/n” he grabs your arm. At first, you think he is trying to stop you but you see he is looking at the purple bruised skin. Finger shapes clearly visible in the tender flesh.

You stare at it. Suddenly the hallway is dark and you’re being pulled away, your arm is pressed above your head, and you’re completely helpless.

“Let go.” You scream, and as soon as the words leave your mouth you’re back in the doorway of your apartment, Yoongi staring at you in shock, his hand dropping from your arm immediately.

“Y/n, who did this.” His words are laced with rage. “Y/n,” He takes a breath in trying to calm down, trying to not scare you, “please tell me who hurt you.” You shake your head, cradling your arm to your chest.

“It doesn’t matter alright, just leave me alone.” You can feel the tears coming, your lip trembling and your nose burning. Yoongi however doesn’t turn and leave, instead, he takes a small step forward.

“Y/n I don’t know what happened, but why don’t we go inside hmmm?” His brow is furrowed in worry. “Why don’t you let me take care of you?”

You stare at him. You really want to give in. You can see yourself fall into his arms, see him carry you to the couch and hold you as you cry, telling you it’s going to be okay as you tell him what happened. You so badly want to tell him what happened and have him chase away the badness. You want him to make you hot chocolate, his hot chocolate that always makes you feel alright. You want to give in.

You’re close to doing so when your eyes catch on his shirt again, the bruise on his neck and you swallow. He isn’t yours to be comforted by. So, you take a step back, back into your apartment, your hand on the door. He watches you, waiting for you to let him in. Instead, you shake your head.

“Leave me alone Yoongi.” He stares at you.

“Y/n please…”

“Leave me alone!” The tears are finally breaking from their bonds and you’re screaming again, your emotions found.

“I’m calling it off okay, this stupid deal, you can have the parking space, now just leave me alone and go back to whoever you were going to fuck tonight.” You swing the door closed.

The hurt that was written on his face now courses through you as everything breaks. Everything that happened, that could have happened and what didn’t happen.

You slide to the floor sobbing. The knocks at the door and your name being called, end only after a neighbour comes out to complain. When it does you return to the couch, picking up the cup of hot chocolate.

You sob again because you were right, it doesn’t taste anything like his.

Your boots crunch through the snow. The sidewalk is slippery and you walk carefully, trying not to fall. You’re almost at your apartment building. As you pass the empty parking spot you look away.

You haven’t spoken to Yoongi since that last fight when you called the deal off. You haven’t told anyone what happened that night, however, your friend with your permission did send in an anonymous complaint to the school board that is apparently being investigated. Your friend has also been very supportive and you have been working through everything over the past few weeks. However, you still feel guilty about how you screamed at Yoongi and in the same breath you also still feel hurt.

You know you have no reason to feel hurt, it’s not like you were in a relationship with him. He is free to do as he pleases, and yet you can’t shake the betrayed feeling, no matter how hard you try.

The parking spot was occupied by his car for a while but for the past few days, it has been completely empty. Your phone has also been ringing non-stop again.

The boys keep messaging and calling you, more intensely than before, but you have been ignoring them. You feel stupid for how you reacted but you’ve been feeling so numb you haven’t had the energy to deal with any of them. You have even been skipping classes you share with Jimin and Taehyung.

Eventually, they stopped but a few days ago they started up again. You almost want to answer and ask them why, but you don’t, you’re way too stubborn for that.

Yoongi however hasn’t called or messaged you once since that night and you understand why, but once again it hurts. You know you’re being just as stubborn as he is, and yet you feel like he messed up just as much as you have, he can at least try.

Your freezing hands struggle with the keys to your apartment. You hear a door open somewhere down the hall and instinctively you start moving faster, just in case it is Yoongi. You do not want to face him, you refuse to.

“Y/n?” You hear your name being called and you freeze, you hear hurried footsteps approach and you try harder to unlock your door. It swings open and you rush inside closing it.

A hand catch it just before it closes. You stare as it opens to reveal a frowning Namjoon.

“Why are you ignoring us?” He cuts straight to the point and you swallow guiltily. He steps into your apartment closing the door behind him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You go on the defence, feigning ignorance.

Namjoon scoffs crossing his arms. “Please Y/n don’t try and play dumb we have been trying to call you.”

“I must have missed your calls.” You remove your jacket and boots, trying to ignore his presence.

Namjoon grabs your phone from your jacket pocket. You forgot to remove it before taking the jacket off.

“Clearly.” He turns the phone to show the 40 missed calls from them, except Yoongi of course.

“Listen Namjoon I thought you got the message when I didn’t answer,” You cross your arms staring at him now. You’re getting irritated. “I don’t know why you have started up again so drastically.”

“Because…” He starts but you cut him off.

“Besides I don’t understand why you are trying to call me, Yoongi can do it himself.” You glare at Namjoon. You’re not used to glaring at him, it feels strange.

“We told him not to, to give you space,” Namjoon explains, and you frown for a second. If that’s true it makes sense why he didn’t call you beforehand, or why he hasn’t tried to visit. He takes what they say very seriously, you know that.

“Well, I still don’t understand why he can’t call now.” You argue, going back to glaring. If they all are so insistent to reach you now, why isn’t he part of them?

“Because..” Namjoon starts to answer but you interrupt him again.

“And for that matter, he lives five doors down, if you can come to visit me why can’t he?” You are angry now, not at Namjoon but at the stupid man who is probably at someone else’s house, doing god knows what. “And…”

“Y/n!” Namjoon interrupts you. You stare at him in shock. You’ve never heard Namjoon raise his voice, never mind at you.

“Just listen please,” He says in his normal calm tone. “There is a good explanation for all of this.”

You nod for him to continue, still a bit in shock at hearing Namjoon scream.

“The reason why we’ve been calling all the time, and he hasn’t is because, well,” Namjoon pauses as if to brace himself before continuing, “ Y/n Yoongi was in a car accident a few days ago. He hit the ice wrong and crashed into a tree.”

You gasp, eyes huge in shock. “What!” All anger at Yoongi flies out of your body and intense worry and guilt take over.

“Is he okay?”

“When did it happen?”

You assault Namjoon with questions. Your breathing is coming too quickly, and you can feel tears running down your face as all the possibilities of what could have happened run through you.

“Wow Y/n, breathe” Namjoon holds you by the shoulders leading you to the couch where you sit down, still hyperventilating. You feel a panic attack coming on and Namjoon senses it too.

“Hey, breathe with me okay.” You nod looking at him, “Deep breath in, and out.” You follow his breathing and soon you’re calming down, the tears lessen and your breaths come slower.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to react that way.” You sniff. Namjoon hands you a tissue, and you blow your nose.

“It’s okay,” He soothes you.

You look up at him, your eyes still shimmering with tears.

“Is he okay Joon?” You are scared to hear the answer.

“Yeah, he’s okay,” Namjoon nods.

“O thank god.” You let out a relieved and shaky breath.

“He is in the hospital though, he broke his arm, and bruised a couple of ribs,” Namjoon informs you.

You nod at the new information, glad that he isn’t hurt too badly.

“He’s been asking for you,” Your head shoots up, “ that’s why we have been trying to reach you.”

You stare at him for a second, your mind reeling. You try to sift through the mess that is your thoughts but as a collective, they all say the same thing before becoming a mess again. You should go see him.

“Can I go see him?” You ask timidly and Namjoon smiles, his eyes scrunching up.

“I’ll drive.”

The hospital room is full of whispers as you approach it. You’ve never been in this hospital before so Namjoon had to lead the way. You follow him cautiously into the room stopping in the doorway. Yoongi is asleep on the bed, the rest is sitting around the him, only Jin and Hobi is missing but you guess they’re at the cafe.

“Maybe I should try to call her again.” Jimin whispers.

“Jimin, maybe she just needs more time, you didn’t see her that night, she was so scared” Jungkook tries to deter him.

“Yeah but Yoongi hyung isn’t going to stop asking for her, so we should just keep trying,” Jimin replies.

“I don’t know if she’ll come Jimin, she’s even been avoiding us,” Taehyung interjects. “Jin and Hobi hyung says they haven’t seen her in the cafe for weeks.”

At this point, you feel it’s a good time to make your presence known so you clear your throat.

Everyone’s attention swivels to you, except Namjoon who is just gathering his jacket.

“Y/n you came?” Jimin sounds like he is unsure about it.

“Yeah, Namjoon found me and told me what happened.” You explain sheepishly, you shrink a bit under their stares. You’ve been ignoring them and they know that, they must think you’re an awful bitch.

“ I’m sorry,” you blurt it out, afraid that if you delay it you’ll chicken out. “I shouldn’t have ignored you, I was just going through a lot.” You move further into the room, before continuing, “I know it’s not an excuse, but…”

“Y/n, it's okay,” Jimin interrupts your rambling. You shut your mouth frowning at him, why do they all look so forgiving.

“Jungkook told us what happened,” Taehyung explains, but your frown deepens.

“I didn’t tell him what happened,” You stare at the boy in question. “How did you know?”

He gulps under your stare. “Well, I didn’t exactly know but when the accusations against that guy came out, we put two and two together.” He shrugs, waiting for your response.

Your mind reels, you feel embarrassed that they know, but truthfully you’re glad you don’t have to tell them what happened. But them knowing also means that the sleeping man on the bed probably knows as well.

“We’re sorry you had to go through that Y/n,” Namjoon says, comforting you, clearly speaking for them all because everyone nods, looking at you with sad eyes.

“Thanks,” You nod in acknowledgement, “ I”m uhm…working through it.” You bite your lip not really looking at them.

“Does he know?” you gesture with your head towards Yoongi. You look at them one by one while they shift uncomfortably.

“Yeah, we told him,” Jungkook confirms and you merely nod. You should have known they would tell him.

“ Yeah he was angry,” Namjoon reminisces, you frown at him, “ We had to stop him from hunting the guy down.”

“Really?” You tilt your head a bit to the side in confusion.

“O yeah, we had to save Namjoon’s bonsais because he was screaming and throwing everything around,” Taehyung informs you and your eyes go wide.

He screamed and threw things. You can’t believe it, in all the time you’ve known Yoongi he has never raised his voice, even when you were screaming at him, he never screamed back. You can’t even imagine it. You bite your lip in thought, looking at the sleeping man.

“Come on guys let’s give her some space,” Namjoon says to the other three, shepherding them out of the room. You give him a grateful smile. He nods, giving you one in return.

Now alone you sit in the seat closest to Yoongi. You stare at his face for a while. He has a nasty cut on his lip and his cheekbone is blossoming with blue and purple hues. Yet he is still the most handsome man you have ever seen. His arm is in a cast and a sling, and the IV is pushing into his hand as he holds it at an awkward angle. You carefully take his hand, moving it so that it’s flat in yours.

“ I’m sorry” You know he can’t hear you but you still feel like he should know. “ I’m sorry I yelled at you.” You stroke some of his fringe out of his face. “ I’m really glad you’re okay, and when you wake up you’ll probably be mad at me and I get that. But I just wanted you to know just in case I don’t get the chance to say it while we’re fighting.”

“ You’re wrong,” Yoongi grumbles out. Ironic that those will be the first words he says to you in weeks. “ I’m not mad.”

“Yoongi,” You gasp, “you’re awake.” He slowly opens his eyes, turning his face to you.

“Last time I checked yeah.” He smiles and you roll your eyes, but you can’t keep the smile off of your face.

“It is so like you,” You huff out, “ Going to the extreme to win an argument.”

“ Believe me this wasn’t my choice,” he retorts, “Besides this is technically your fault.”

You gasp. “Excuse me how is this my fault.” You can’t believe he is blaming you.

“Because it was your week.” He smiles, squeezing your hand, and you immediately relax.

“You are such an idiot.” You chuckle. He really is but seeing him again is making you regret ignoring him.

He sits up, flinching but refusing your help.

“ Y/n,” He is sitting fully up right now and you look at him.

“Hmm?” You hum showing him you’re listening.

“I’m sorry,” he is holding onto your hand tighter.

“For what?” You’re not being mean you’re genuinely not sure what he is apologising for.

“About a lot of things really.” He looks down at your hands. “ But mostly I’m sorry for not being there when you needed me to be. I hate myself for not picking up your call that night. an above all else I’m sorry you had to go through that.”He looks at you, his eyes are soft and begging for your forgiveness.

You swallow around a lump in your throat at the mention of that night. You’ve been wanting to hear this since then but now that you have, you realise you don’t really care that much.

“It’s okay,” You look away from him. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“ No, I do.” He swings his legs off of the bed so that he is sitting in front of you. The position reminds you vaguely of the one you were in, in his studio.

“Yoongi maybe you should lie down.” You don’t think it is healthy for his injuries to sit like this. You reach behind him to find a pillow so he can lie down again. But he ignores you

“ You know I really hated you.” You stop and stare at him.

“What?” You are very confused, about where he is trying to take this conversation.

“ Yeah I did, you were a pain in my ass, always storming into my apartment and fighting with me,” He continues, it sounds like the words are bubbling forth like he can’t stop them.

“ And when Namjoon purposed this carpool thing I accepted because I was sure I could get you to give up, and never have to see you again. And you tried the same thing. I cursed you every time I had to go drop you off at your stupid classes or when you called me away from something important, I hated you even more.” You huff and cross your arms, is he really just going to remind you about how much he hates you.

“ But then,” He’s been staring off into the distance but now he meets your eyes. “Something changed. I don’t know how, I can’t pinpoint when it happened but suddenly calling you to come and get me wasn’t purely because I wanted to irritate you. Suddenly it was a way to see you. Of course, I didn’t admit this to myself at the time.” He shakes his head. You're frozen under his gaze waiting to hear where this is going. Your heart is beating faster.

“I was stupid, I tried even harder to ignore you, and to fight you, to hate you. But you made it so hard.” He takes your hand again, intertwining your fingers this time. “ I kept trying to find the things that I used to despise you for, but it got harder and harder to find them. I found myself being jealous of the rest of the boys.” You quirk your eyebrow up at this, not understanding. “I was jealous about how easily you talked to them, I wanted you to tell all your stories to me too, I wanted you to be as casually touchy with me too, fall into my lap when you laugh too hard.”

He takes a breath, but when you try to say something he holds up his finger for you to wait. It’s clear he has been holding this in, and you’re honestly so entranced by him you don’t want to interrupt the story.

“ I tried to drown those thoughts out of my brain, but the more I learned about you the harder it became.” He is leaning in closer to you. “ and I do know you, y/n. I know you hate your tennis talent because your parents made you play it. I know you prefer exactly two and a half marshmallows in your hot chocolate and that you write every poem by hand because it feels more authentic to you. I know that when you're sick you become a huge baby and that you like the colour purple because you couldn’t decide between blue and pink when you were younger.”

He is just a few centimeters away from you now, your noses almost touching. Your eyes flicker down to his mouth. You can’t believe he caught onto all these small things. The static in the air is back and you wait for his last words, waiting for what he is going to do.

“I have been a fool Y/n,” he whispers the words, he’s so close you can feel the air on your lips. “but god I can’t keep kissing other people pretending that it’s you.”

He smashes his lips onto yours. You’re startled for a moment but then you melt into the kiss. He wants to pull away but you tangle your hands into his hair, pulling him closer. You feel him smile at your movements and he pulls you onto his lap.

He pulls away, flinching from the pain in his ribs, and you stare at him in concern before he chuckles a bit, stroking your cheek. He doesn’t give you time to speak before he is pulling you down and kissing you again, a soft kiss. You reposition yourself, straddling him.

You keep kissing him until you’re both out of air and even then when you pull away it is only a few centimeter. You can’t stop smiling, and you imagine you look just like him, grinning like an idiot, eyes sparkling.

“ I’m sorry I shouldn’t have just…”

You cut him off by placing a soft, quick kiss on his mouth.

“ I think you’ve apologised enough for one day.” You smile and he kisses the tip of your nose.

“You know you stole my speech,” You say, and he frowns. “ I was going to say the same but you had to go first didn’t you?”

“Is not, you’re lying.” He scoffs.

“ I am not lying.” You gasp.

“ You are.” He smiles.

“Is not.”

“Is too.”

“You’re an idiot.” You declare, pushing him on his non-hurt shoulder.

“Yeah,” he nods in agreement. “But now I’m your idiot.” He grins, pulling you closer, wrapping his arm around your waist as he stares up at you.

“Unfortunately.” You smile, leaning down.

“Hey, that’s mean.” He pouts and you melt. That is definitely a weapon he is going to use way too often now.

“ O hush and kiss me.” You say leaning down closer.

“With pleasure.” He smiles again before pressing his lips against yours. Your stomach explodes into butterflies. The first time you were shocked but now you can relish in the feeling of his lips on yours. They’re softer than you could imagine, and they mould perfectly with yours. You run your fingers through his slightly tangled hair. You lightly pull and he moans, causing you to chuckle into his mouth.

He pulls away, your noses touching, smiling goofily. He looks perfect with his eyes staring into yours, his chest heaving against yours slightly out of air and his lips swollen. You’re just about to kiss him again when you hear a loud gasp behind you.

“O my god.” You both look to the door, where Jungkook is standing with his jaw hanging open, before he groans.

“Fuck, I owe Namjoon 40 bucks.”

You and Yoongi look at each other a moment before you both burst out laughing.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed, please let me know any feedback that you may have, this is my first one shot so I hope it was okay. Please consider liking and commenting.

Love you guys 💜

More Carpool:

Carpool-those unspoken weeks

744 notes · View notes

coupsie-daisies · 2 years

Text

Silver Screen Soulmates | Park Jimin

Pairing: Park Jimin x Fem!Reader

Genre: Angst, Enemies to Lovers (one sided), Actor AU, kinda hurt/comfort

Summary: Being Jimin’s leading lady is a big task, and being in Park Jimin’s shadow is absolutely insufferable. Jimin can’t understand how you’re in his shadow when you shine brighter than the sun itself.

Word Count: 11.8k (I’m so sorry)

Warnings: Lots of alcohol, Reader gets hate online, lots of cussing, Reader is messy

A/N: So it’s a tiny bit late because the header was giving me problems, but here’s my contribution to the clownracha monthly prompt for July; Lights, Camera, Action. Enjoy!

Tags: @dragonofthenorth0726 // @felixtok // @sunnytaes // @burningupp // @bunnypig18 // @chrswolfie // @ferrethyun

This fanfiction and the header attached are property of @/hobi-is-golden, reposting on any platform without explicit permission is prohibited

"Cut,” The director called, and you sighed. Whether it was a sound of relief or frustration was still up in the air. You loved acting, it had taken over the depths of you. It was your co-star who always seemed to give you problems.

Jimin was a good actor, a great actor even. Not that you’d be caught dead saying something like that near him. There were a lot of things you’d learned about Park Jimin since you’d first met him, and if you were to describe him, it would sound like praise.

He was hardworking, the most dedicated man you’d ever met. He was a perfectionist, and that might be one of the biggest understatements ever. Actually, he was sweet, sickeningly so. He never wanted to see anyone frown, and he would do damn near anything for damn near anyone.

Park Jimin was, at best, an angel. And at worst, he was your worst fucking nightmare.

“Can we do that one more time?” Jimin asked with a charming smile. It was the same one he always used with the press when he tried to get on their good side or make a perfect impression. You groaned, not even bothering to hide your exasperation as you shot the director a pleading look.

“Again? We’ve shot this scene like a hundred times.” You said, completely ready to stand your ground on this one. You completely understood only wanting to put your best on the big screen. But you were already behind schedule, and it was because of Jimin’s perfectionism. “Please, there’s got to be enough good takes already.”

You heard Jimin scoff beside you, his hands landing on his hips. You shot him a side-eyed glare.

“I know we’re nearing the end of the shoot schedule, but we should still be putting in one hundred percent effort.” He said. Your jaw dropped. Surely he wasn’t implying that you were slacking off on your work.

“I’m putting in just as much effort as you are, thank you very much.” You jabbed your finger towards him. “I just don’t think it’s necessary to keep rerunning the same scene over and over. It’s a waste of everyone’s time, energy, and money.”

“You’re saying it’s a waste of time to film a good movie? Isn’t that what we’re here to do?”

You rolled your eyes. Low fucking blow.

“You know that’s not what I’m fucking saying.”

“Well that’s what it sounds like. I know you’re not a quitter, and you do too, so why are you acting like one?”

“Don’t talk about things you don’t know.” You snapped, hands curling and uncurling at your sides. The tension sparking between you and your co-star was becoming stifling.

“Alright, let’s all take 15. We’ll pick up with the next scene then..” The director dismissed everyone, and you glared at Jimin again as you turned to leave.

You were dialing your best friend’s phone number before you were even to your trailer. It rang a few times, and you dug in the back of your brain for what his schedule should be looking like. He was a model, so he tended to be busy, much like yourself. When he finally answered, you sighed in relief.

“You’re a go for Hoseok,” He said. On any normal day, you’d be teasing him for his dorky answer. Instead, you jumped straight into your rant.

“I hate him so much,” You announced. “Are you free for food tonight?”

You heard him laugh on the other end of the phone, completely used to your tense relationship with Jimin. It was hard not to be since the two of you had become a matching set when you were only kids. Ever since then, the universe had been dead set on making you deal with him.

“Uh, my night should be clear after my next fitting. That should be over and done with in a couple of hours. So yeah.” He told you. “Not having fun playing house with Jimin today?”

The teasing lilt of his voice only irritated you further. You probably would have said something about it had it been anyone but him. However, you were used to the fact that tormenting you was one of Hoseok’s favorite pastimes anyway, his way of showing his affection. Convoluted motherfucker.

“Understatement of the year, actually.” You said, letting yourself into your trailer and collapsing onto the sofa inside. “I know he’s the media’s golden boy, that’s all great and whatever, but I swear he’s out to get me. I’ve never even done anything to him, I’m just never good enough.”

You could hear voices in the background of the call, and you knew you were being childish, calling and disrupting Hoseok’s already busy workday over something as stupid as a little tiff with Jimin.

As previously mentioned, Jimin was the golden boy of the acting world. He’d made his debut when he was only nine, and he was a quadruple threat; He could act, he could sing, he could dance, and he was downright beautiful to boot. Saying something to the wrong person could cause an uproar and sink your hard earned career without so much as a second to rebut.

And that was yet another thing that had always bothered you. You were used to it, sure, but it was sickening and absolutely terrifying knowing that your entire career was riding on the way the media swooned over you and Jimin as a pair. At first, when you were much younger, it was flattering to be deemed Jimin’s silver screen soulmate. After all, he was perfect and had been acting for several years longer than you had. So it must have meant something that you’d managed to get tied to him so tightly. But the older you got, and the more you tried to branch out, the more frustrating it became to be pigeonholed like that. You were never praised on your own merits, only on your association with Jimin. The first time you acted on your own, in a movie with which he wasn’t even connected, all of the headlines only referred to you as ‘Park Jimin’s leading lady’, and maybe that left you more bitter than you’d expected.

“I know you’re busy, and I have to be back soon. I’ll text you when we wrap up for the night, okay?” You said. Hoseok made a small noise of surprise, clearly expecting for you to have carried on with your story about your ruined day.

“Oh yeah, sure. I’ll talk to you later then.”

“Yeah. Bye, oppa.” You hung up, closing your eyes and heaving a heavy sigh. You were ready to be finished with this movie. Maybe you’d talk to your manager about taking a bit of a break.

Once your day was wrapped up, you’d made your way to Hoseok’s place. He’d gotten your favorites, a scattering of takeout boxes in front of you. You were both kicked back on his plush couch, a movie playing on the television that you’d both seen a hundred times before. It was what you’d both always put on after a hard day.

“So he made you shoot it again?” He asked, bringing his noodles to his lips to blow on them. You nodded, chewing your own mouthful of food.

“Yeah. And I know he’s talented, and he’s more experienced than me, but the absolute disrespect to accuse me of half-assing my job?” You said, motioning with your chopsticks and stabbing them back into your rice. “I don’t know why he’s such a little brat! I have never slacked off on set. And I actually worked hard to get where I am, unlike him.”

You knew you weren’t exactly being fair, you knew that Jimin worked harder than most, and he made sure to work extra hard to make up for the fact that he’d had it fairly easy in his career. His mother was a well known screenwriter, his father the head of a production company. It only made sense for him to end up in the industry as well. But you? Your parents had always worked overtime at mediocre, mid-paying jobs just to make ends meet and allow you to study and chase your dreams. You sighed.

“I’m not overreacting, am I? I mean to say something like that in front of so many people is just…it’s humiliating.”

Hoseok reached out, rubbing your leg and giving it a small squeeze of reassurance.

“It’s reasonable to be mad that he’d say something like that. I mean, I’ve never known you to half-ass anything, much less on camera.”

You raised your eyebrows, pausing halfway through bringing more food to your lips. Oh, you most certainly sensed a ‘but’ coming.

“But?”

“But…maybe he really is just trying to shoot a good movie. I mean, we both know that he’s never satisfied with his work, so maybe it’s not just about you. Maybe he’s, I don’t know, maybe he’s projecting or something.” Hoseok shrugged, stealing a piece of your steamed broccoli. You didn’t swat at him like usual, trying to take in what he’d said.

Projecting? You’d never considered that the words Jimin threw at you weren’t actually about you. And even if they were, there was something in you that refused to let that be a good enough reason to talk down to you. You were just as good as him, he’d told you once that you were the best actor he’d ever worked with in your age group. And as an amateur no less. So how could he look you in the eye now and say that you weren’t trying?

You huffed, setting your food aside. You really didn’t feel like eating anymore.

“I just can’t wait to take a break. Maybe I’m just getting burnt out.” You picked up your phone, deciding to shoot your manager, Seokjin, a text asking if he could work out a little time to yourself. At least a week before you accepted another role.

“You deserve a break. I’m pretty sure you work harder than anyone I know.” Hoseok agreed.

You relaxed, turning your attention to the movie and grabbing one of the pillows you two had moved aside to cling to. You were grateful for this sort of normalcy that you really only found with your parents or with Hoseok. He’d clawed and climbed his way into the top modeling agency from nothing, so he understood your struggles and your insecurities better than anyone else you’d met.

He didn’t judge you when you broke down after a hard day, or when you wondered if you even deserved to be as well known as you were. And in moments like this, when everything was upsetting you and there really was no answer, he was good at sitting with you and not trying to rationalize.

“Hey, you know that you’re a really good actor, right?” He said. You smiled.

“Thanks, oppa. I know,”

And you laid back against his couch, eyes turned to the ceiling. You didn’t know why you cared so much about what Jimin had to say when it came to you, or why you were so dead set on being good enough for his unreasonable standards, but your naturally competitive nature. and the way that he never failed to get on your nerves meant you had to do better. And you knew you could if you worked at it. You sighed, hugging the cushion tighter. Just a couple more weeks, and filming would be over. Then it was on to promotions, and eventually the premiere. Hopefully you’d have a breather between projects, a little vacation sounded nice.

A few more hours passed you by, and movies were swapped out. The lights had been turned off, leaving just the flickering light of the television screen and the glow of your phone since Hoseok had long since dozed off, sprawled across his side of the couch. You scrolled your social media, flicking between your personal accounts and your professional ones, keeping an eye on the tags for the movie you were working on.

Most of the time you enjoyed reading the newest tweets. It was nice seeing so many people from different backgrounds rallying around something you were pouring your heart and soul into. Seeing their excitement brought energy back to your weary mind. And even the hate comments usually made you giggle or spurred you on to prove them wrong. Especially since the support well outweighed the hate.

But maybe, and you really should have known this, reading hate tweets when you were already hating yourself wasn’t your best idea, especially in the middle of the night when you were tipsy and couldn’t sleep.

‘Y/N isn’t even talented, Jimin probably just felt bad and now he’s stuck carrying her dead weight’

‘It’s pathetic that Y/N Y/L/N has to be in movies with Park Jimin just to get publicity’

‘Jimin could do so much better, I don’t know why anyone thinks they’re together. She’s not even half as hot as he is’

You locked your phone and tipped your head back against the pillow you’d propped under you. Even with your social media put away for the night, the words spun in your head. Tryhard, social climber, talentless, mediocre. You choked on your own insecurity, your stomach turning sour. Maybe late night margaritas were a bad idea. You put your phone aside.

You knew better, or at least you told yourself otherwise. You weren’t worthless, you were a good actor, a good person, a hard worker. Everything you had you’d worked for. Your words didn’t seem to do you any good as you tossed and turned and tried to fall asleep. You wondered, though rather bitterly, if Jimin thought those things about you too? Had his words of praise throughout the years just been a smokescreen? A means of kindness regardless of honesty?

You threw your arms over your eyes, blocking out the light and forcefully counting your breaths in your head, determined to fall asleep, even if only to stop thinking about what everyone else may say behind your back.

The anxiety was easier to stomach in the morning than it had been the night before. You took advantage of Hoseok’s kindness and his couch, spending most of your day off lounging on the plush cushions and keeping up with your social media. Reading your socials was easier this time than it had been before when your emotions were running rampant. Still, Jimin was in the back of your mind. He usually was actually, so much so that Hoseok was half convinced that the media relationship the two of you had was infiltrating your actual emotions. But there was a vast difference, you’d always remind him, between admiring someone and seeing why the world puts them on a pedestal, and having feelings for them. He liked to argue that the line wasn’t nearly as wide as you were making it out to be. You wondered if his sweet nature extended to people he didn’t like, if he was pretending with you all this time. You sincerely hoped he wasn’t pretending.

The next week of filming had you wondering. Which was infuriating, quite frankly, because you really had been prepared to focus on yourself and muddle through. Over-analyzing your feelings wasn’t on the schedule, especially since you thought you’d left your stupid little schoolgirl crush in your teenage years. But the more you paid attention, the more you noticed the way Jimin hovered around you. The way your heart would skip a beat when he waved at you from across the set, or the way you’d find yourself smiling when he’d bring you coffee in the mornings, just the way you liked it. When he’d memorized your order for all your favorite places you weren’t sure. And when exactly you’d begun feeling like you were in the presence of the sun itself around him was another big question mark in your mind. But it all pointed towards one earth-shattering realization.

You were in love with your worst nightmare.

“Hey, are you with us?” Jimin asked you, and you shook yourself out of your daze. The director had been talking to the both of you, and you’d at least caught most of it. Confession, yada yada, something, something, chemistry. Yeah, you got it.

“Yeah, I’m here, sorry. I just need another coffee or something. But I’m here.” You told him, giving him a pressed smile when he locked eyes with you. You almost felt a bit uneasy being under his gaze, it was as if he were trying to see right through you down to your soul. You cleared your throat and looked away, passing your script to one of the assistants and asking if she could please have a coffee ordered for you.

A few adjustments were made, the director walking through where the scene was going to start, how he wanted you two to run it. You nodded, letting yourself fall into your comfort zone. This was natural, you were good at this. You were good, you realized, at pretending to be in love with Jimin.

You took your places, allowing yourself to reconnect with your character. She was different from you, less fiery and less unforgiving. She wanted to trust people and it got her hurt often. You tried hard to remember that as the cameras began rolling.

You walked to the table that was set up, sitting down and looking at your hands in your lap, feigned indifference. The scene pictured a quaint garden patio with only the two of you. Jimin was pacing, looking up when you sat down.

“You came.” He said in disbelief. You nodded slowly.

“Did you think I wouldn’t?” You ask in response, letting out a soft laugh. “You said you wanted to talk, so I’m here to talk.”

He nodded, stopping in front of you. He took a deep breath, and you watched his chest rise, then fall.

“Why did you tell me to marry someone else?” He asked after a second. You paused, making sure to look taken aback by the question.

“I think that should be obvious. Your sister hates me, your parents tried to sabotage every opportunity we had.” You shook your head. “There are dozens of other women you could be with. People who could make your family shine much more than I can.”

He shook his head as you stood up.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come. But I know you can do better than me, and I know you’ll find someone better suited to….all of this.” You looked around at the garden, a show of wealth from Jimin’s character.

“Wait, please don’t leave me like this.” You felt a tug in your chest as he caught your hand in his, you both lingered there a moment before you turned to face him.

“Don’t make this harder. You’ll be fine, I’ve seen the women waiting for a chance with you. Your mother has a list as long as you are.”

Jimin reached up, cupping your cheek. The way his thumb brushed along your cheekbone made something unpleasant tug in your chest again, and you fought a wave of nausea.

“Don’t say things like that. It’s always been you, you have to know that. No matter who comes or goes, my heart is yours.” His whispered voice was sharp along the edges with desperation as he delivered his line.

A line, part of a script. Someone else’s words, not his own. On cue your eyes began to sting with tears, and you blinked.

“But if it was always me,” You began as a few droplets slipped down your cheeks. “If it was always me, then why did it feel like I always came in last? Like you expected me to be someone else?”

He hesitated, always the perfect actor, and you swallowed around the lump in your throat as you looked up at him. You desperately wanted to know if he could see through your tears, through your character. Could he see the way your chest was ripping open with every line he recited?

“I never meant to make you feel like that. I thought I was doing what was best for you, for both of us.” He said, shaking his head. You could feel your control slipping, tears coming faster and breath growing increasingly hiccuped.

“Don’t. Don’t act like you know what I want or- Or how I feel. It hurts,” You snapped.

There it was, a silent shift in the atmosphere on set. You went off script. That wasn’t unusual for an actor, but everyone knew how Jimin felt about improv, and you knew as Jimin’s usual scene partner that it was the fastest way to bring out his attitude. And you were a professional, you could practically hear your manager’s voice in your mind, gently scolding you for letting yourself crack.

Jimin stared at you, his hand falling away from your face and leaving your cheek feeling uncomfortably cold. You lowered your gaze, blinking a few more times to unblur your vision which was being obscured by your tears. Your stomach was churning anxiously, waiting for someone to call cut. But apparently the director liked what he was seeing. Probably the authenticity he’d been saying was lacking since day one of shooting.

“I don’t know what you want, you’re right. I just wanted to help and make this easier.” He attempted, clearly trying to get the situation back under control, but you were too far gone. The tone of his voice wavered, and you didn’t know if it was hurt, or irritation, or if it was all put on just like every other thing he’d ever said to you. A show for the cameras. You weren’t a huge fan of any of those options.

“Everything is always about you, isn’t it? It’s all about how you feel, what you think, what you want and I can’t–”

“Cut!”

You took a couple of steps back from him, your chest heaving as you fought to calm yourself down. It was hot, and your head was spinning.

“I’m sorry, can I…I need a break. Can I just, um…” You stumbled around the sentence, shooting Seokjin and the director a desperate look. They shared a silent glance of their own before waving you off.

You turned fast, booking it out of the building. You needed air, you had to pull yourself together. Never in all your years of acting had you ever done something so monumentally stupid. You sniffled, patting away your tears with a special care not to completely fuck up your makeup since your team had worked so hard on it.

“Stupid fucking feelings. What the hell, Y/N?” You hissed to yourself. You were so wrapped up in your own head that you didn’t hear the door open behind you.

“Hey, what the hell was that?” His voice caught you off guard, and you groaned, curling in even further on yourself.

“I really don’t need to hear it, Jimin. I know I’m wasting everyone’s time, I know I’m being unprofessional, okay? I know.” You snapped breathlessly, trying to ease the way your chest was aching.

“When the hell have I ever disregarded what you want?” He asked, continuing to press closer. You glared at him through teary eyes.

“When haven’t you? You never consider how I want a scene to go, how I want to deal with the media. I’ve never even had a chance to escape you because everything I do is all about how good I look with you. Dammit, Jimin, I’m just as important as you are. I’m just as talented, and I’m just as passionate. And maybe if you could see that, everyone else would too.”

It wasn’t the first time you’d ever snapped at Jimin, but it was the first time he’d seen you so worked up. He furrowed his brow. Did you think he didn’t know all of that? Did you think he didn’t respect you? Sure, you never saw eye to eye, not since you were both children, but if there was one person who was unwaveringly on Jimin’s level, it was you. It had never occurred to him that you didn’t know how far out of his way he went to work with you.

“You’ve never told me what you wanted. You can’t blame me for taking the lead when you don’t.” He said coldly. And then he was beating himself up because that really wasn’t what he was trying to say, but he wasn’t very good at letting it slide when his pride was hurt. He clenched his fists at his sides. “You shouldn’t come back until you’re ready and able to have an efficient shoot.”

He turned away, and your stomach churned. How was it that you could bare your soul to him, tell him how he’s been hurting you, and all he can give you in return is a scolding for being unprofessional and not stepping on his toes? You covered your face, blinking back tears that left a burning sensation behind your eyes. The sooner you could stop crying, the sooner you could move on with the shoot and leave all of this shit behind you.

You stayed outside for a while, allowing your tears to dry and your mind to calm down. You must have been gone too long, because they sent Jin out to come get you. He tried to calm you down and brush it off as if nothing had even happened, Jin was kind that way. And he was also good at pep talks, something that you found very helpful. So with one more coffee downed in a minute and a half, and a serious pep talk from Seokjin under your belt, you were shuffled off to get your hair and makeup touched up and then it was back on. The scene didn’t hurt as much the next time around, you had gotten your frustration out already. And the whispers on set about your outburst stayed behind closed doors. You wondered why, but you weren’t ungrateful for the calm.

The next week went by in a blur, and before you knew it filming was over. No matter how many complaints you had about the entire process, you knew you were going to miss it. Even the frustrating parts, or the exhaustion that kept you in bed on your free days. This was what you did, you weren’t even sure what it was like any other way.

As requested, Seokjin had managed to book you a couple of weeks of down time before your next project, and the spare time flew by. And your next project was a much smaller role, which was of course fine by you. Then you were accompanying Hoseok for a few events. The chaos of your schedule resumed, and for a long while you’d completely forgotten about the whole fiasco with Jimin.

Eventually your luck ran out and you were thrust into interview after interview. They were always your least favorite part of the process, dealing with probing questions, some horribly shallow and others diving way too deep into your personal life. And you were expected to always smile and laugh, flirt for the sake of looking sweet and charming. You were a good actor, but sometimes interviews just had you feeling fake.

You had a couple with Jimin, but not once did your slip up on set come into the conversation, during your interviews or behind the scenes. Actually, you were pretty sure Jimin was avoiding you. There were no snack or drink deliveries like there had been in the past, or check-ins after particularly uncomfortable interviews. As grateful as you were that he didn’t decide to bring up your emotional outburst, you found your heart sinking in your chest every time he walked past with nothing more than a smile or a nod of acknowledgment.

It was after yet another interview that you were sitting with Hoseok again, curled up on his sofa in the comfort of your pajamas and fuzzy socks. You and Jimin had both recorded interviews, separate but to be aired together, and you were reluctantly watching them now, sharing a snack bowl with your friend. So far the interviews were pretty average, if a bit boring, but your ears perked up at the mention of your name.

“How do you feel working so closely with Y/N given all the rumors that surround the two of you?” The interviewer shifted in her seat, leaning towards Jimin across the table they were sitting at as if they were sharing the juiciest gossip of all time.

Jimin laughed, that sweet sound that always charmed women and men alike.

“Y/N is great to work with, and we’ve known each other for so long. She really is such a wonderful person, easily the most caring and supporting actor on every set she steps foot on.” He said with a bright smile.

Your heart nearly skipped a beat at his kind words. You knew that he was lying, especially after the way you’d acted before. But it still made you happy to hear.

The interviewer smiled knowingly, tapping her pristinely manicured nails against her arm before continuing.

“So you don’t agree with the opinions flying on social media about Y/N’s skill on the big screen? Or lack thereof?” She asked. Jimin tensed, a surprised chuckle passing his lips, but it was humorless.

“Any implication that she is untalented, or that I’ve had any hand in her success is ridiculous. She’s one of the most talented actors I’ve met, and she’s worked hard to be. If anything, I’m honored that she chooses to work with me on so many projects.”

You were admittedly surprised to hear him so quickly shoot down his own fans, or to raise you above him. You huffed out a shocked laugh. What was he thinking?

You grabbed for your phone as the interview continued on. He’d continued defending you, talking about your skill and the light you brought onto set. You couldn’t believe the confidence he had telling his own fans, telling anyone that they shouldn’t talk about you in a negative light. Didn’t he know that telling people what to think could damage his reputation? Didn’t he know that he was speaking too highly of you?

“What are you doing?” Hoseok asked as you scrolled through your contacts.

“I’m calling him.” You answered as if it were obvious. You pressed your phone to your ear, letting it ring.

“What? Why?”

“Because he’s being an idiot, that’s why. I can’t fucking believe-”

“Hello?”

“Park Jimin, what the fuck were you thinking saying those things about me?” You snapped. You heard him sigh on the other end, and you wondered if he’d expected you to call. Your twitter must be exploding with people speculating about his affections for you. If the dating rumors weren’t flying before, they’d certainly be ramping up now.

“I was just telling the truth.”

“I don’t need you to defend me! I can defend myself.”

“I know you can. You weren’t. There’s no point in yelling at me over it, it’s done now.”

“Fuck you, Jimin. Fuck all of this. I don’t need you to defend me, you didn’t have to do that.” You weren’t entirely sure why it was bothering you, maybe it was the way you hated being pitied, or maybe the fact that you couldn’t stand hearing him say things that you didn’t believe.

“I’m not defending you because I have to. I’m defending you because I want to. And you can say whatever you want to me, but I don’t intend to stop. Goodnight, Y/N.”

The silence after he hung up was deafening, and your stomach felt like a restless sea. You lowered your phone, staring at his contact photo. When did things change between you two? When had they gotten better? Or had they gotten worse? You ran your hand over your face, pushing your hair back and sinking lower on Hoseok’s couch.

“Good chat?” He asked. You shot him the sharpest glare you could muster, but he just laughed.

“Shut up. I hate him.”

You were grateful for the lack of interaction over the next several months. You did have a few interviews or promotional appearances with Jimin, but for the most part you barely had to talk to him. And you knew, if you pushed aside your pride and your own stubbornness that you were being childish again. You had overreacted, and he’d stayed ever calm and patient with you.

Now though it was premiere day, and avoiding Jimin for the entire evening (plus the after party that one of the other cast members had roped you into) was going to be damn near impossible. Especially with the way you were all but expected to play up your chemistry for the cameras. Luckily for you, you’d at least have Hoseok to drag along with you.

“How do I look?” You asked him, stepping out of your room where Hoseok was not so patiently waiting for you. Mostly because your driver would be waiting on the both of you if you took much longer. Of course you’d have stylists touching you up before you even faced the public.

“Like a goddess, can we go now?” Hoseok said, not even looking up from his phone. You huffed.

“Oppa,” You whined. “I need your opinion, you’re the one working in the fashion industry, not me.”

He sighed, looking up finally and smiling.

“You look amazing, you always do. You don’t really think I’d let you leave this house looking bad do you?” He asked, standing up to adjust the laces on your brand name heels – damned things were nearly impossible to tie on your own.

“Thanks. Come on, I know you’re itching to go.” You nudged at him once he’d finished fixing your shoes, grabbing your clutch and following him out the door and to the sleek black car awaiting you both.

Once inside, you sighed, wishing you could fiddle with your hair to relieve the nerves. You settled instead for toying with one of the rings that adorned your fingers.

“Why are you so nervous? You’ve gone to, like, a million of these things.” Your friend questioned, helping himself to a tiny bottle of champagne from the mini fridge. You shrugged.

“I guess that shit with Jimin is getting to me, and everything with people attacking me on the internet. I think I’m just ready to be done with this movie.” You tried to explain. And you wanted to go on to explain that you really were grateful to have been given the opportunity you were, but you knew that Hoseok understood without you tripping over your words to explain it.

“Well, you’re almost done. Let’s get this premiere over with.” He offered you a drink, and you greedily took it, thankful for something to smooth the nerves even a little bit.

The ride to the premiere was surprisingly long, plus you had to have your hair and makeup touched up before being delivered at the end of the media walk. Hoseok got out first, meeting you with an arm extended which you took with a smile. It wasn’t your usual smile, this was a smile just for the press.

The two of you walked the length of the carpet arm in arm, stopping to say hi to friends or coworkers and answer a couple questions for interviewers. This was always the most chaotic bit, everyone scrambling for everyone’s attention, camera flashes going off left and right.

When Jimin arrived, everyone knew it, even just from the screams of fans beyond the barriers trying to catch a glimpse of everyone. You tensed, your head instantly turning to see him coming. You knew the cameras were focused on the two of you now, even more so when he rushed through the carpet to catch up with you.

And dammit if he didn’t look stunning in an all black ensemble, his makeup lightly done, and his hair styled perfectly away from his forehead. You swallowed, smiling as he wrapped an arm around you in greeting.

“I got caught up with some other co-stars, I thought I was gonna miss her.” He said, not to you but to the cameras that were trained on you. “Can’t walk the red carpet without my leading lady.”

The simmering irritation at his charm was still there, and the taste of playing up a flirtation for the cameras was sickening. He greeted Hoseok too, and when his arm slipped away from around your shoulders you nearly sighed in relief.

Getting through the rest of the media went quickly, you and Jimin bantering and answering questions as vaguely as you could about the movie. Yes, you were super excited to see everyone’s hard work pay off. No, you couldn’t imagine things going any better. Yes, you were very grateful to work with your crew. Obviously you were nervous. No, you wouldn’t say your parts were any better than anyone else’s.

Finally you were ushered inside by staff. You hadn’t seen Seokjin since you’d gotten in, and you desperately wished you would. Just one more person to play buffer between you and Jimin. But even inside, Jimin’s kind nature didn’t falter. He smiled, telling you both again how wonderful you looked.

“I’m gonna say hi to a few people, but I imagine we’re seated near each other. I’ll see you both in a while.” He flashed a smile, and then he was sweeping off towards where a few of your fellow actors were chatting over complimentary drinks.

“I think that’s the most he’s said to me in months.” You admitted, grabbing a drink from a waiter’s tray and flashing them a grateful smile. You took a sip, and it took a great deal of your self control not to down it all at once. You weren’t normally a heavy drinker, but you were entirely prepared to drink your night away. After all, what is a movie premiere if not a pre-after party?

Once you were surrounded by friends and peers, your anxiety lessened. So much so that you temporarily forgot that you were stressed about the shambles of your relationship with Jimin at all. You chatted and talked with so many people that it half became a blur, catching up with friends from projects you’d worked on years ago. But finally, the movie was set to start, and you had a chance to relax even for a moment.

The movie came out better than even you had expected, though you were hardly surprised by that. The applause and cheers as the movie came to an end and the credits rolled brought on a sense of joy that you couldn’t find anywhere else. Pride, and excitement, and relief all rolling into one big starburst that exploded in your chest.

Hoseok hugged you tight, and you hugged him back, and were given congratulations from many of the guests. One step after the next until, finally, you were all dispersing for the after party.

The after party was held at someone or other’s hotel, with lights dimmed low and music pounding through the speakers. It reminded you of the sorts of things your friends had thrown in college but on a much bigger scale and with much more expensive booze. Which you were admittedly grateful for as you were given a mixed drink by one of the bartenders serving everyone.

You’d lost Hoseok somewhere with some guy who you were sure you’d met before but couldn’t quite recall. So you were happy to be settled by the bar, your phone in hand and eyes scanning the crowd. Every once in a while you’d find yourself chit chatting with other cast members, like Sammi who was getting a refill and decided to chat with you about her on again off again relationship with a dancer from Europe who you’d met maybe once or twice, or Max who was desperately trying to get you on their team for a drinking game they were playing on the other side of the room.

Now, however, you were chatting it up with Namjoon, one of the assistant directors on the project and a film prodigy really. He was sipping a cola, you’d heard that he hardly drank. And it was a nice conversation, discussing your relief at how well the film had come out and how you hoped it would be received.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Namjoon asked you after a while. You were on your third drink just since getting to the hotel, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t walking the line of intoxication, nearly toppling headfirst into the deep end. You nodded, sipping from the margarita in your hand.

“Sure, I’m an open book.” You agreed. He nodded, still seeming to mull over the question in his mind.

“I don’t mean this to be taken the wrong way, but that day on set,” He began. You tensed on the barstool beside him, shifting and smoothing your hand over your thighs. “Where did that emotion come from when you went off script? It was so powerful to watch back, and I was curious if it was maybe something that could be harnessed and used in scenes.”

His question was innocent, a genuine question from someone wholly passionate about their work, and you could respect and appreciate that. It made you smile. You tapped your fingers against the stem of your glass.

“I guess…I’d had a realization recently about the way my relationship with Jimin works, and I sort of let the irritation I felt in that moment get the best of me. I’m not sure if that was because of stress or exhaustion, but I don’t usually let things bother me like that.” You took a drink, thinking over his thought process. “I guess it could be used in a scene, the intensity of it. But I think anyone who has ever been overcome with emotion can pull that out with practice.”

Namjoon made a sound of amazement beside you, and you laughed. You hadn’t meant to sound all wise or anything, so you waved it off.

“Okay, we need shots. Then you’re dancing with me. Yeah?” You pointed to him, already turning to get a bartender’s attention before he could answer. This night was supposed to be fun, and most of your friends – Hoseok included – were on the dance floor that took up a great deal of the room.

You would have known that three shots of tequila in a row was a bad idea had they not been chasing several other drinks. But the looseness in your body was nice, and so was the way that the drinks made your anxiety stop spinning in your head. The music was loud, and you’d probably have the worst hangover in the morning, but you didn’t care as you danced in the crowd, your back pressed to Namjoon’s front as you both moved to the steady beat of the song and giggled into each other’s ears.

Hoseok appeared in front of you after several songs spent in your own little world with Namjoon, and you beamed at him.

“Hoseok oppa!” You cheered, reaching to grab his arm. He smiled back, looking over your shoulder at the man who was still holding you tight by your waist.

“Hey, sunshine. Good to see you’re having fun.” He said, holding his drink out of your reach when you reached for it.

“Give.” You ordered sternly, and he laughed, this time in your face with all the scornful mirth of an older brother.

“You look like you’ve had enough. It’s getting late, maybe I should get you home.” He said. You shook your head.

“No, we’re dancing! Right, Joonie? I can’t go home now.” You said, dragging the older man into your conversation. He opened his mouth to speak, but Hoseok held up a finger to stop him.

“Can I borrow her for a bit, Joonie?” He asked with a charming smile. Namjoon looked at you for a second before nodding and taking a step back. Well, as much of a step as he could with the crowd of people you were in the middle of.

Hoseok grabbed you by your arm with the firm but gentle grip that you’d learned meant he meant business. You followed his lead, weaving out of the crowd into the open space along the wall. It wasn’t as stuffy in the open air of the room, and the music didn’t seem to pound as hard, but it sucked the adrenaline you were riding on with it, bringing instead a sleepiness that you weren’t fond of. Maybe it really was later than you realized.

“I was having fun. Party pooper.” You pouted. He pouted back.

“You wouldn’t be having a whole lot of fun if your arch nemesis decided to cause a scene. He’s been glaring at Namjoon like he wants to kill him for the past half hour.” He pointed out. You didn’t even process how quickly your eyes flickered around the room for Jimin, and you deflated when you didn’t find him.

“Seriously, Hobi, I’m fine, I just want–” You paused, swallowing and then turning to look at him. “Actually I’m gonna throw up. But then I’m gonna go have fun.”

He didn’t get a chance to speak before you were bolting through the crowd, and he was following after you as best he could. However he could only go as far as the restroom door.

Alcohol, you decided, was much nicer going down than it was coming up. And even then, it wasn’t great. You heard Hobi’s voice from the door, calling in to check up on you. And eventually you managed to haul yourself off the floor and rinse your mouth before going back out to meet him. Your stomach was churning uneasily, and your skin was a little sticky with sweat, but you were determined that this was not going to ruin your night.

“I’m fine, oppa, I just wanna go dance.” You begged as he wrapped his arms around your waist. You would have fought harder if you’d had it in you. But fighting was just wasting your energy, and the tiredness was getting harder to ignore.

“There’ll be other parties. You’re going home. And you’re gonna call me to thank me in the morning.” He said. You were still arguing as he herded you towards a wall you could lean on while he grabbed both of your jackets.

“Hey, is she okay?” A voice asked, and you looked up so fast that it made you dizzy. Jimin. He was standing beside you, looking more concerned than you’d ever seen, and it made you giggle.

“Yeah, she’s just really drunk. And we both know she doesn’t hold her liquor well.” Hoseok explained, moving to wrap your jacket around you. As you stood up away from the wall, your body began to topple forward a bit, and Jimin grabbed at your waist to steady you. You looked at him, eyes wide as you realized the proximity between the two of you.

“Right. I can take her home. If you want. She’s closer to mine than yours. And there were some people who wanted to talk to you inside.” Jimin told Hoseok, still holding you up. His grip wasn’t particularly tight, but it nearly felt possessive. And there was something in the shared gaze of the two men that you missed, a desperation on both ends. Jimin clearly wanted to help, and Hoseok knew that even if you hated him for it, you needed the opportunity to talk.

“You have my number. Text me when you get her in, call if you need anything.” Hoseok told him, slowly letting go of you just to lean down to your level. “Behave yourself, don’t give the kid too much trouble.”

You nodded. You could smell Jimin’s cologne, it was the one you’d gotten him for his birthday during filming. Did he wear it with the intention of you noticing? Did he even remember that you’d gotten it for him? You leaned into his chest, your eyes closing for a minute. You exhaled slowly.

“Come on, let’s get you into a car and back to your house.” He said. His voice was soft, and it made you smile dreamily. He cared. Somebody properly cared.

“Okay.”

Getting you out of his car and into your house was one of the most difficult tasks that Jimin had ever been faced with, but he was patient with you as you giggled and hung on him, settling you down on the edge of your bed and leaving you alone to get you a glass of water.

He’d only been in your home a couple of times before, but despite its size and the overabundance of name brand furnishings, it was pretty easy to find his way around. He returned to your room to find you clumsily climbing back into bed, having managed to wiggle out of your dress and into a t-shirt. He sat the glass down on your bedside stand.

“Hey, before you sleep, let me help you take your makeup off.” He said, pointing at you and waiting for you to nod so he’d at least know you’d heard him. He nodded back, heading for the bathroom attached to your room and trying not to find anything he shouldn’t as he dug through your drawers. Finally though he came out with a package of makeup remover wipes, sitting at the edge of your bed. By the time he came back, you’d already gulped down most of the water.

You blinked up at him as he leaned forward, his finger tucking under your chin to guide your face. You closed your eyes as the proximity began making you feel a bit sick to your stomach. You really didn’t feel like throwing up again.

Jimin was careful as he diligently wiped off every trace of makeup you had on your face. He’d seen you bare faced before, but this was different. Seeing you without makeup, in your pajamas, and curled up in the safety of your own bed was too intimate. Especially when you were drunk and probably would have told him to get out had you not been.

He watched as you grabbed the stuffed dinosaur that sat on your pillow, huddling it to your chest and curling up beneath your blanket. He reached out, smoothing the fabric up around you nicely. You smiled at him, and he had to swallow around the lump in his throat.

“Are you comfortable?” He asked you, carefully removing the hair pins that he could see with you laid down, setting them in a pile on your stand. You nodded.

“Mhm, ‘m so comfy.” Your voice was slurring, but you sounded happy at least, and he liked that.

“Alright. I’m gonna catch the light. You can call my phone if you need me.” He smiled affectionately as he flicked the light off. You made a soft noise at the change, rolling over to look at him.

“Jimin,” You called. He stopped in the doorway to look at you. “Will you stay with me?”

His lips parted like he was about to speak, but your desperate look was enough to shut him up. He nodded, padding his way over to your bed and sitting at the edge. You reached out, whining until he scooched close enough for you to touch him.

It was quiet for a while as he sat leaned against the headboard, your hand holding one of his arms in the dark. What was there to say anyway? He was just happy that you were making an attempt at resting, and you were happy that you were finally getting the opportunity to be close to him. A dream come true.

After a few minutes, Jimin was convinced you were asleep, your eyes had closed and your grip on his arm had loosened, but when he tried to move, you grasped at his shirt again, eyes opening to look at him like a kicked puppy.

“It’s really late, I should be going home.” He said softly. You looked away, slowly letting go of his shirt.

“You said you’d stay.”

“You’re drunk, you don’t know what you’re doing right now. It wouldn’t be right of me to take advantage of that. I’ve been selfish enough with you.”

“I’m drunk, not stupid.” You huffed, curling up tighter on yourself. “You make me so angry, do you know that?”

Jimin chuckled.

“Everyone knows that, sweetheart. You don’t exactly try to hide it.” He said. You smiled. Yeah, you didn’t try to hide it, but he wasn’t understanding what you were trying to say.

“You don’t get it. You are so kind, and so talented, but you’re so insecure about it and it makes me angry. Then you take it out on me. Do you know that? You always have to criticize me.” You huffed as Jimin moved to stretch out on your bed, folding his hands behind his back. “You always criticize me and nobody else, and it makes me feel like maybe I’m the problem. Am I the problem?”

He closed his eyes.

“No, you’re not the problem. I’m the problem.”

“You’re too good to be a problem. You’re my problem. You make my head all stupid and I can’t focus when you’re around.”

“I’m sorry.”

You couldn’t tell if he was being serious. You didn’t really care at the moment.

“I like you so much and I shouldn’t. That’s not fair to me. I can’t like you when that’s exactly what everyone expects of me. I’m only popular because of you, did you know that too?”

He had heard, though it was impossible for him to actually believe. Not when you were talented and stunning and so ambitious it physically hurt. No, you paved your own way, he was grateful to even be associated with you at all. But you didn’t see it that way, he knew that. But other people didn’t know you, and you were never very good at giving yourself proper credit.

“That’s not true.” He told you.

“But everyone else thinks it’s true. So isn’t it true? That’s how that works, Jimin. If enough people believe it, then it doesn’t matter what is actually true. And everyone believes that I’m only where I am because of you. So I am. I don’t even know what it means to not be in your shadow. For as long as I can remember it’s been Jimin and his leading lady. It’s never been just me. I don’t know what it means to just be me.”

You squeezed your eyes shut. You didn’t mean to think about that, it made your chest feel hollow.

“I hate all of it. I hate that I can’t stop thinking about you, and that I want to impress you so badly, and I hate that I know I’m in love with you.”

Jimin stopped, his breath catching in his throat. Love. You love him, and you were hurting, and he was helpless in fixing it. You didn’t want him to fix it, and somehow that was the part that made him smile. He knew you’d rather fight your own battles, he’d always admired you for that.

“I think you should sleep now, it’s late.” He said. You nodded, stifling a yawn and scooting closer until you were pressing against his arm.

“You’ll stay?” You asked.

“You’ll be angry with me in the morning.” He said. That was just a fact, he knew that whether you remembered tonight or not, you’d be feeling a lot of things all at once in the morning. You didn’t answer, already sound asleep. He sighed, closing his own eyes. The morning’s arguments were best left for the morning. You clearly needed rest more than anything, and he wasn’t going to leave your side if you wanted him there.

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” He whispered, not wanting to disturb your sleep. “I’ll try to make it up to you.”

The morning came with a terrible hangover, which was to be expected. It was early afternoon before you woke up, burying yourself in your blankets to hide from the midday sunshine filtering through your window. You didn’t really remember a whole lot of the night before, let alone how you’d gotten home. Hopefully you’d managed to not make a complete fool of yourself, but there weren’t many things you’d put past your drunk self.

You stayed hidden away under your blankets for some time before finally poking your head out and finding your phone. Your head was throbbing, but hiding wasn’t going to make that go away. There was a glass of water and a couple painkillers on the bedside stand, and you smiled a bit. Hoseok, you figured. He was usually the one to take care of you when you were intoxicated – not that this happened all the time. You took the pills, downing the whole glass of water in one go.

There were about a hundred notifications on your phone, most of them from your various social media, pictures and videos from the after party and the premiere. And a voicemail from Seokjin that you had every intention of ignoring for the day. There were also a few from Hoseok checking in on you and scolding you for drinking so much when you knew you couldn’t hold your liquor. But the one that caught your eye was a single one from Jimin.

I let myself out this morning, you seemed pretty well out. Sorry for intruding last night, let me know you’re okay when you wake up.

You stared at the words on the screen, trying to make sense of them. There was a brief memory from the night before, dancing with Namjoon while Jimin watched, preening at the fact that you’d managed to make him jealous. Then another; waking in the middle of the night to Jimin’s arms wrapped around you, your head on his chest. You swallowed. Had you gone home with him? Had things taken a turn for the worse?

You did the obvious and called Hoseok before you even read all of his texts. He picked up, sounding much more chipper than you were at the time.

“Did I go home with Park Jimin?” You asked quickly before he was finished with his hello.

“You know, you sure interrupt a lot for someone who is calling me on my only day off this week.” He scolded, and you could hear his smile. You rolled your eyes even though he couldn’t see you.

“Hoseok, please.” You said. You couldn’t hear him, but you imagined he was frozen in place given the long silence that followed your begging. He wasn’t accustomed to hearing you say please, not to him anyways. You’d both dropped that pretty soon into your friendship.

“He drove you home, you were really drunk.” He told you after a minute. You nodded. You weren’t wearing the same clothes as the night before, those had been discarded on your floor. You didn’t remember changing, and your stomach dropped at the idea that you and Jimin may have��

“I gotta go. Thank you.” You said, barely catching him asking you to wait as you hung up. You felt sick, partly from the anxiety, and partly from the hangover you were suffering from. You stared down at your phone.

You didn’t talk to anyone else for a while, just trying to wrap your head around whatever had happened the night before. You knew drinking so much was going to be a terrible idea, but you weren’t always the best with self control when you were as stressed as you had been. You considered texting Jimin, but you never did, too afraid to interact with him now that you were sober.

Whatever you’d been feeling for him was pointless, and you didn’t see any reason to embarrass yourself more by pushing the point. And maybe he had just harmlessly brought you home, you wouldn’t put it past him because even when he was tearing you to shreds, Jimin was so entirely good. He wouldn’t do anything you hadn’t wanted him to. Which was the reason you were worried actually, there were so many things you wanted Jimin to do. And sometimes people regret their actions in the morning light.

Later in the evening when you had finished eating your dinner and were forcing yourself to think about anything other than the empty space in your memory where the previous night should be, you listened to Seokjin’s voicemail. He’d been contacted about getting you on a new movie. And so soon after your last premiere. You texted him back. No promises, but you’d hear it out.

You should have known. You stared at the paperwork that had been passed to you and Seokjin. Mostly so you wouldn’t have to look at Jimin who was sitting on the other side of the long table you were sitting at with his own agents.

The role was one you could easily pass on, but the pay would be nice, and it was different from what you were used to. You wouldn’t be playing directly opposite Jimin. All in all, from your own experiences, it was a good deal. But there were still reservations in your mind, a nervousness that you couldn’t shake.

“I don’t think I’m right for this role. I’m planning on taking some time off anyway after my last big project, but I think you can find someone better for this.” He said after a few moments of quiet. The entire table looked at him in disbelief then. It wasn’t the first time Jimin had ever turned down a role, but it was certainly a surprise for him to turn down one that could be big for him.

“Jimin,” You said. He looked over at you, and your heart leapt into your throat at the look in his eye. You’d never seen this side of him before, the vulnerable part that he tried so hard to hide. “You should think this through.”

“I have. I’m sorry, but I can’t accept this role.” He stood, bowing his head politely towards the table, then turned to leave with his manager and agents hot on his heels. You stood quickly, shooting Seokjin an apologetic look, but he waved you off. You followed Jimin’s lead, apologizing quickly to everyone and heading for the door.

“Jimin, wait. Can we talk?” You called. He was stopped at the elevator down the hall, turning to look up when you spoke. “Get coffee with me? There’s a cafeteria downstairs.”

He nodded, turning to speak to his team before letting them step into the waiting elevator, leaving just you and Jimin in the hall. You felt small in such an open space, about to be open with him about your emotions. Not your favorite thing to do anyway, actually.

The walk to the cafeteria was silent between the two of you, neither one of you ready to broach the subject until you were sitting down and had something to sip at. You were actually sort of grateful for the couple of minutes to gather your thoughts in a somewhat coherent manner.

“You can find a seat, I’ll get drinks.” Jimin said as you both entered the room. You smiled a little bit just at the sound of his voice. He sounded more relaxed now than he had been in the meeting room. That eased your nerves a little bit, or maybe it was just being close to him that made your mind quiet down.

“Right. Thank you.” You found a table in the corner with a decent view out one of the windows. It wasn’t important to have a nice view necessarily, but the flowers blooming in the small courtyard beneath a stunning blue sky would make a good distraction from the uncomfortable conversation you were going to be having soon.

You watched out the window at the birds swooping through the sky, tapping your fingertips against the table. You wondered what flying felt like; being able to go, and do, and be without worrying about anything tying you down. You hadn’t had a taste of actual freedom in so long, and you wondered if you’d give up your career for it.

You looked up as Jimin pulled out his own seat, placing your coffee in front of you. You thanked him, bringing it up to take a sip and humming. Just the way you liked it.

“You wanted to talk.” Jimin said, half questioning and half reminding you. You nodded a tiny bit, training your eyes on the outside. If there was a choice between opening up like this to Jimin and death by 1,000 cuts, you’d take the cuts. Unfortunately for you, there wasn’t such a choice.

“You should take the role if you want it.” You said. That wasn’t all you wanted to say, but it seemed the most important at present. Jimin shifted in his seat, mulling over his words.

“It’ll be better if you take yours. And I figure…I mean, you wanted space from me. You don’t want it to seem like you’re relying on me to get ahead. So I’ll stay out of your way.” He said. You scoffed.

“I don’t need you to forfeit your roles for me.” You told him.

“It’s not my role until I accept it. And I didn’t accept it.”

“Stop arguing over wording. You know exactly what I’m saying.” You shook your head. “No, I’m not accepting the role. I didn’t want to anyway. I’m taking a break.”

“A break?”

You nodded, tracing your fingertips along the side of your cup.

“Yeah. Maybe I’ll give something else a try.” You laughed a little. “I’m not even sure what I like outside of acting. Maybe I’ll become a photographer. I used to want to be one when I was little. Before we met.”

“If this is about the whole ‘I don’t know who I am in your shadow’ thing that you said after the party, I’ll stay out of your way. Don’t quit your dream because of me.” He said, leaning forward. There was still a table’s distance between you, but having him press that little bit closer had you swallowing hard. Had you said that? That you were in his shadow, that you didn’t know who you were? It wasn’t a lie.

“That’s not…I don’t want you out of the way, okay? I don’t know what I said that night, or what you think I want, but I don’t want you to leave.” You told him firmly, meeting his eye almost desperately. After all of this, the last thing you wanted was Jimin gone.

“I don’t want to discredit you just by existing with you. And I don’t want you to think that I do.” He said, pushing away his untouched coffee like the thought of drinking it was entirely disgusting.

“I don’t think that, Jimin. I don’t think I ever really did, but I didn’t know who else to blame. It’s easier acting like you were the bad guy. At least then I had someone to take everything out on, and I think I was jealous. I was sick of everyone putting you on a pedestal and treating me like I wasn’t even good enough to be seen in the same films as you.” You rambled before stopping in taking a deep breath. “It was immature, I’m sorry. But I know you don’t mean anything bad.”

Jimin took a moment, watching as you rambled on about your own insecurities. He’d never realized you’d hated him so much, maybe because he was blinded by his own admiration for you. And now you looked so broken as you sat across from him, brimming with nerves and frustration at your own thoughts. He laughed.

“You didn’t ever change, did you know that?” He asked. You paused where you were in the middle of bringing your drink to your mouth again. “You still ramble on when you get nervous, and you get angry when you’re insecure. Just like when we first met.”

You glared at him, biting your tongue to keep from snapping at his unnecessary observation. No need to prove his point by getting an attitude.

“I’ve been in love with you since we were kids. I had just given up on you seeing me as anything more than a rival.” He looked positively giddy, and you were struggling to wrap your mind around what he was hinting at.

“Jimin, I…I don’t know what to say to that.” You admitted.

“Say you’ll go on a date with me. I know you love me, you’ve told me so. And you clearly respect me. And you know I would do anything to help you chase your dreams. As an actor or as a photographer. You could clean animal stables if you wanted and I’d still do anything to support you.” His confession was catching you entirely off guard. You hadn’t come here to confess to him, not exactly, but your heart was beating out of your chest. “Tell me what you want from me and I’ll do it.”

“I want you to do what you want.” You said after another few beats of silence.

“I want to be with you. No matter what the media, or fans, or anyone else has to say about it. At least try it out.” He said, reaching out to touch your hand. He brushed his fingertips along the back of your hand before intertwining your fingers.

“Okay. If you’re sure.”

“I’ve never been this sure of anything in my life.”

You couldn’t stifle your smile anymore, a swarm of butterflies erupting in your stomach and tickling a giggle out of you.

“I’m still not taking that role. I don’t need people thinking I get all my roles because you’re in love with me.”

Jimin laughed, and you swore you’d never heard a sound so pretty in your entire life. You smiled.

“I don’t care what roles you take, I just care that you’re happy.” He promised. And for the first time since you’d met him years before, you actually believed every single word, no hesitations. He wanted you happy, and you wanted him even happier yet.

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colormepurplex2 · 2 months

Text

Now I'm Yours | Feel It In Your Soul

↳ Alpha!Jungkook x Omega!f.Reader ⤜ A/B/O, Established Relationship/Mates ⤜ Rating: MA 🔞 ⤜ WC: 6,697 ⚠️ Vulgar language, fingering, knotting, creampie, discussion of violent acts, fighting/physical altercation, alpha challenge, knife violence/attack, blood, injury, bond sex, dick licking/oral, slick eating, biting/marking, blood/wound licking, surprise pregnancy

A/N: Read Make You Mine, the first installment of this series, here!

⇽Previous Chapter ◅ Back to story masterlist

When you meet Jungkook’s family in the garage the next morning, the sun isn't even up yet. His parents are waiting next to the large SUV that’s idling by the open door when you enter through the side entrance from the laundry room.

After a hasty shower, you threw on jeans and a t-shirt and are now helping Junghyun load the back of the vehicle with a few boxes from the storage room. The tops of the boxes are labeled with various things, mostly boasting medical supplies or nonperishable foodstuffs.

“Did Jungkook say why he wanted us to bring all of this stuff?"

Junghyun looks up at you from under his brow as he bends over to retrieve the next box, his glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose. “Donations. We’re going to be close to The Sanctuary, and we try to donate once a quarter if we’re able.”

This is the first you’ve heard of the Jeons donating to The Sanctuary. You’re intimately familiar with the place. It’s exactly what it sounds like: a sanctuary for abused or neglected omegas and their children. Mari was one such omega, cast aside by her original pack when she didn’t match with any of the alphas within it. It wasn’t until Roland, having just taken over as pack Alpha of your old pack, started up his own annual donations to The Sanctuary that he met Mari. Your old pack made at least a donation every six months after that, helping as many omegas and children as possible.

It’s not that you wouldn’t think the Jeons are a pack that would help those less fortunate; you’d just not given it much thought, considering you grew up thinking they were run by power-hunger alphaholes. Not that Jungkook isn’t an alphahole, he’s just…maybe not as bad as you once thought—even without the rose-tinged view you have of him now from being your mate.

The duel is taking place on neutral territory, which happens to be an old warehouse that’s been converted into a performance theatre in the entertainment district of the central city. The warehouse was renovated a few decades ago by the council when enough of the surrounding packs hounded them for a space to meet en masse.

It’s about three hour's drive, the view filled with the sun peeking over the mountains and trees with their leaves changing in preparation for winter. You sit in the passenger seat, head resting against the window while you try not to stress too much over the events of the next twenty-four hours.

“Come on, dear,” the soft voice of Jungkook’s mother drags you from your rumination. She’s leaning through the gap between the front seats, her hand lightly squeezing your shoulder. “We’re here.”

You hadn’t even realized the vehicle had stopped and that Junghyun and Jungkook’s father had gotten out already.

“Sorry,” you mutter, popping open the door and sliding out.

She meets you along the side of the SUV, a concerned look pinching her brow. “Are you feeling okay?”

Now that she mentions it, you are feeling a bit off-kilter. Though, it’s probably just the nerves. “Just worried, that’s all,” you explain, pressing a hand against your stomach.

“Did you skip breakfast?” she asks, hooking her arm around your other one and slowly leading you to where Junghyun and his father stand near the elevator of the parking garage.

Breakfast was the last thing on your mind this morning. “Yeah. I’ll be okay, though.”

“Nonsense,” she tuts, producing a whole-grain protein bar from the bag slung over her other shoulder. “You’ll feel better with something in your stomach. Now, let’s go find my son. Being near your alpha will do you a dose of good, as well.”

You nibble on the protein bar, looking to simply placate her, but find yourself suddenly ravenous and consume the whole thing in three bites. It sits like lead in your belly, and you immediately regret wolfing it down so quickly.

“This foolish display will start at precisely noon, not long now,” Jungkook’s father states, the clip of his cane hitting the linoleum flooring of the elevator echoing the disapproval that’s evident in his voice.

Junghyun presses the button that’s labeled ‘theatre hall’ on the control panel and the cabled car begins a swift ascent up to the fifth floor. You caught sight of Jungkook's motorcycle in the parking garage, sitting next to Jimin’s red sports car. A few other familiar vehicles lined the rows, but there were dozens more you didn’t recognize.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you feel a familiar humming warmth bloom in the center of your chest. It’s the same feeling you’ve learned to associate with being nearer to Jungkook. Peeking at your phone, you see it’s a message from the alpha, letting you know he’s waiting for you just on the other side of the elevator doors.

“There you are,” Jungkook exhales, not even waiting for you to get off the elevator before he’s gathering you into his arms. His scent engulfs you, immediately putting you at ease. Jungkook is all alpha, and as much as you hate to admit it, he’s exactly what you need; your stomach and nerves are instantly soothed.

Jungkook’s father clears his throat, drawing Jungkook’s attention. “What news do you have?”

Jungkook sighs, releasing most of his hold on you, but keeps an arm over your shoulders and ushers you out of the elevator and into the hall. “Most all the other families have arrived. Jimin is with Daehyun now. I haven’t managed to lay my eyes on either Raiden or Demetrius. According to the council, they’re supposed to be in the eastern dressing rooms. I have seen Kiel skulking around the halls, though, creepy bastard.”

“Have you seen Hyunsoo?” Jungkook nods in answer to his father’s question. “I’d like to have a word with him.”

“Last I saw him, he was inside speaking with the council.”

“Perfect, I could do with a word for them, too,” Jungkook’s father grumbles before starting toward the entrance to the performance hall proper. Junghyun follows closely behind, after dipping his chin at Jungkook. You’ve never seen Jungkook get bent out of shape over designation deference, as some alphas do. He doesn’t force those below him to bow and scrape; he just asks for as much respect as he affords them in exchange. It’s just another tick you’ve had to add to your ‘Jungkook isn’t as bad as I once thought’ list.

“Are you feeling okay?” Jungkook asks softly, his eyes flicking between yours.

You do feel much better now that you’re with him, which would normally grate on you, but you can’t seem to muster up the typical ire for some reason. “I’ll be fine,” you assure him. “Just nerves.” That seems to satisfy him.

“Come on, let’s go before Dad causes too much of a scene.”

“Umm, I’ll be right there. I’m just going to go to the restroom real quick.”

He continues to stare at you for a moment longer before slowly nodding. “Okay. Mom, we’ll be right back—”

“No, no. It’s okay, you don’t have to come with—”

“Jungkook,” his mom interrupts you both, giving her son an amused smile. “She might be your omega, but I promise she doesn’t need you to hold her hand while she uses the restroom. I’ll wait here for her. You go on ahead with your father and Junghyun.”

Pink creeps up Jungkook’s neck and kisses his ears. “Right. Okay. I’ll see you inside,” he mumbles, pressing a quick kiss to your temple before reluctantly taking his arm from across your shoulders and heading toward the door his father and brother disappeared through.

“Thank you,” you say to his mom. “I’ll be right back.”

You’ve only been here a handful of times over the years for various events, but you’re able to follow the signs well enough to the restrooms located on this side of the venue. However, when you get there, the door is locked, and there is a janitorial wet-floor sign posted right outside.

It’s just your luck, right as you’re starting to feel a light wave of nausea wash over you. Taking a few deep breaths to try and calm your inner omega, who isn’t helping the situation at all, you turn to retreat back to where Jungkook’s mom is waiting for you a few halls over. Maybe she’ll have something that can calm your warring stomach and nerves.

“I can break the lock if you need to get in there,” a voice calls out from further down the hall just as you take a step to go back. “You look like you need it.”

You swivel toward the voice but can only make out the silhouette of someone standing in a darkened doorway a few doors down. They pull out a phone, and the blue light illuminates the ceiling for a moment before it’s plunged back into darkness. “I’m fine, thanks.”

“You don’t look fine to me.” The words come with a chuckle that slithers over your senses and sets you on high alert. You’ve heard that voice before. “If fact, you look like a helpless little omega that’s about to sick up all over the floor.”

That’s a thought. You might just do that, considering who steps out from that doorway, the face fitting with the name screaming inside your head. Kiel Barton. He’s every inch the viperous bastard he’s known to be. Despite being not much taller than you, he’s thicker through each arm and leg than both of yours combined. His bald head glints in the overhead light, and the jagged scar on his right cheek is bright white against his red-flushed face. He swaggers into the hallway, just a few feet away, twirling a switchblade through his thick fingers.

“I’m not helpless,” you seethe through your teeth. You don’t necessarily mean for the words to come out so aggressively, but they do. Years of not taking shit from anyone don’t seem to have worn off too much from your time of being mated with Jungkook. And if it’s one thing you’ve always hated, it’s how everyone thinks omegas are weak and soft—helpless without an alpha.

Kiel grins, and it reminds you of something you might see in a horror film right before the psycho killer attacks. “Oh, sweet, sweet omega,” he crows before sucking in a deep lungful of air, “I don’t think you realize just how helpless you are right now.”

You’re about to turn on your heel and run when he leaps. It’s like a strike of lightning; he moves so fast—faster than your reflexes can keep up with. Pain thunders through you as his burly form knocks into you and sends you hurtling a few feet down the hall to land in a heap on the floor.

He’s back on you in an instant, cold steel pressed against your neck. “Get off me!” you scream, trying your best to buck him off despite the disorienting feeling still reeling inside your head.

“I promised my brother as long as he did his part, I would do mine,” Kiel sing-songs in a demented tone, his words trailing off into another one of those spine-chilling chuckles.

“Fuck you!” You struggle under his weight, your knees and elbows trying to get any purchase along his thick-muscled body that they can. You manage to catch him along the neck with your hand, nails scoring bloody lines through the devil tattoo he has there.

An ear-splitting roar, the sound of loud banging, and running feet sound from somewhere down the hall, making Kiel’s laughter trail off. “Looks like my time to play is—” A small, sneakered foot meets the side of his ribs, turning his words into a grunt. The hit barely rocks him, but you can’t be sure of who it is, though, around his bulk.

“Get off of her, you snake!” snarls a familiar feminine voice, only it’s dripping with far more acid than you’ve ever heard before.

“FUCK! I don’t have time for this!” Kiel thunders, rearing back and bringing a fist around right into your temple, sending you careening into hazy darkness.

There is so much noise and movement that when you first come to, you think you’re dreaming. But then the very real pain lights up along your side, and you’re reminded that this is very much not a dream. You’re laying on the floor in the hallway outside the bathroom, side smarting hard from the impact of hitting the floor and the memory of a meaty fist stark in your mind.

You go to sit up, only to have your hand slip through a puddle of warm, sticky liquid. The scent hits you a second later, thick and metallic. “Oh gods,” you whimper softly. Your hand is bright red when you bring it up in front of your face.

“Please,” comes an even more pitiful whimper from beside you. Adrenaline kicks in, and you flip onto your hands and knees, letting your eyes swing over the scene around you.

A dozen bodies are packed in the hall, fists flying and mouths opened in concussive bellows. It’s pandemonium. Everyone is fighting, familiar faces and those of strangers alike. All the sounds combined make you want to crawl into a corner and cover your ears, but the form lying beside you keeps you right where you are.

Jungkook’s mom lies on the floor. Her body turned at an odd angle, with her hips going one way and her torso the other as if she was flung around like a ragdoll. You realize the whimpering is coming from her. She lifts a trembling hand toward you, and you grab onto it, crawling closer to kneel beside her.

The blood covering your hand, now seeping through the knees of your jeans, is coming from her. A familiar-looking switchblade is protruding from the upper right area of her chest, between her clavicle and shoulder, and there is a cut over her left eyebrow that blood is steadily oozing from.

“No, no, no!” You quickly rip off a strip from the bottom of your t-shirt and press it around the blade, trying to staunch the wound. The cut above her brow doesn’t look deep; all the blood is a bit alarming, but you know headwounds are the worst in being deceptive; they bleed so much. You’re also scared to take your hands away from her chest. “What did you do?”

Her eyes flicker open, rolling wide until they land on you. “Had to”—she pauses, whimpering in pain as someone stumbles backward and knocks into her splayed legs—”pr-protect the baby.”

“Protect the–protect the wh—”

“NO!” The alpha roar echoes through the hall, as loud as a thunderclap.

In the same instant that your hands are moved aside and replaced by the older, more gnarled ones of her mate, arms come around you from behind and you’re lifted up off the floor. Fear grips your throat, and you flail, aiming your elbow backward at whoever grabbed you.

“Stop, calm down!” Jungkook’s voice snaps you out of your fight instinct, and you sag in his arms. The fighting around you has turned into pockets of isolated struggle.

You blink a few times, clearing the panicked haze from your eyes, finally able to piece everything together. There are a few busted lips and some already swelling eyes, but there are at least a handful of familiar faces around you. Each one is executing some form of hold over individuals with less familiar faces; headlocks, arm bars, and others that look just as effective, if maybe more painful.

Then there is the scene at your feet, right out of a horror movie. Jungkook’s dad and brother are kneeling beside his mom, the knife still sticking out of her chest. It looks like the blood has stopped pooling around the blade, but you can’t seem to remember if that’s a good or a bad sign.

“Jungkook! Your mom, we need a medic!” you urge, struggling in his arms again.

A sinister, wet, cackling laugh cuts through the hushed din of the hallway before it turns into a hacking cough. You can hear the distinct sound of flesh hitting flesh and pained grunts.

”Shut up, you sick bastard!” The ragged cry comes from further down the hallway, where you see Seokjin with his arms wrapped around Kiel’s upper torso and Yoongi throwing fists into his stomach. “How dare you!?”

“Yoongi.” Jungkook doesn’t have to raise his voice at all. The other alpha stops, fist poised mid-punch, his shoulders heaving. “That’s enough.” The coldness in Jungkook’s tone has the hairs on the back of your neck prickling. You’ve never heard him sound so utterly emotionless. “For now.”

Pounding footsteps sound from the other end of the hall, and a few betas come skidding into view, medical bags in hand. “Out of the way!” one of the betas shouts, shouldering his way down the hall before dropping down beside Junghyun and beginning to work. “I need to get her stabilized before we can move her.”

Everything is still a bit cloudy for you; all you have are flits and flashes of memory, but it’s not hard to piece it together. Kiel came after you outside the bathroom, and then Jungkook’s mom tried to interfere. “Is she, is she going to be okay?” you ask, voice soft, your lips trembling around the question.

Jungkook hooks an arm under the backs of your legs and hoists you up against his chest, and you get your first good look at his face. There is a dribble of blood coming from the corner of his mouth and mild swelling coming up around his left eye.

He’s about to open his mouth to say something when a group of grey-haired alphas cut around the corner at the end of the hall, and the one in the front gasps dramatically, “Good gods! What has happened?” You groan at the loud sound, burying your face into Jungkook’s chest.

“This is what happens when you entertain absurd demands from a known trouble-making pack,” Jungkook’s father states with barely veiled malice.

“This is your mess,” Jungkook says, directing attention to the elders shuffling their feet at the end of the hall. His words are acerbic despite him speaking at a normal volume. It’s an alpha statement, carrying the cutting edge of an unspoken command. The entire hallway stills, the air thick with tension.

“Our mess?”

“If you had listened to me from the start about how utterly ridiculous this whole duel bullshit was, this”—he nods down at his mother, who is still being worked on by the betas—”wouldn’t have happened. I’ll have all of you off the council before the week is over, mark my words,” he seethes. “And, if she doesn’t recover fully, I’ll have more than just your titles. Yoongi, Seokjin, you know what to do.” With that, Jungkook turns and stalks down the hall, carrying you with him.

🌙🌙🌙

Jungkook

There is so much rage simmering beneath Jungkook’s skin that he thinks he might explode if he doesn’t let it out somehow. However, the only outlet he wants right now is you—to get lost in your body and your soul—but you’re in no state to take the brunt of his emotions.

“Jungkook.” Your soft voice draws his gaze down to your face. Seeing the swelling around your eye makes him want to turn around and finish what Yoongi was starting. Jungkook isn’t violent, but he could level the entire city right now if he weren’t so focused on getting you checked out. You bring a hand up and lightly trace the break in his lip. “What happened?”

“Raiden and Demetrius. I think this was their plan all along. One minute, Father and I were talking to the council while we waited, and the next, Raiden and Demetrius, along with a half dozen of their pack, came bursting into the theatre and attacked us.” Jungkook sighs, shaking his head. “I felt you, I felt the…” the trails off, not wanting to voice those feelings aloud. The pure terror he felt through his mate connection to you. The tie between the two of you has never really been an open street, he’s never been able to feel your emotions so viscerally before. It was almost enough to take him to his knees. If he didn’t need to fight off a pack of rabid alphas, it nearly might have. “I’m sorry,” Jungkook rasps.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for. We knew they were up to no good. I should have been more vigilant or, at least, taken you up on your offer to escort me to the restroom.” You try to laugh, but it turns into a groan as your head pounds.

“Let’s get you to the hospital so they can check you over.”

No amount of protests from you will deter Jungkook from getting you to a doctor. Junghyun texts him shortly after he places you in the backseat of the SUV, letting Jungkook know that everyone else is on their way to the hospital and an ambulance is en route to get their mother but that the betas are hopeful.

Several hours later, you’ve been released from the hospital with confirmation of no lasting damage, just a recommendation to get some rest. Jungkook’s lip is patched with a butterfly stitch, per your insistence, and it itches as he sits on the edge of the bed in the hotel room he booked before leaving the hospital. Even though you aren’t concussed or anything, Jungkook didn’t want to risk taking you all the way back to pack lands.

Besides, his mother was admitted and is still there for observation, and he doesn’t feel comfortable being too far away while she’s in recovery. She went in for surgery immediately upon arrival and woke up not too long ago. Junghyun and their father are staying at the hospital with her until she’s cleared to go home, which will hopefully not be more than a few days. Apparently, her wounds looked worse than they were, and she was fortunate Kiel didn’t get her an inch further to either side. Otherwise, it might be a very different outcome.

Jimin texted him a bit ago, letting him know the entire Barton pack is being detained at the local precinct, and the authorities are awaiting word from Jungkook about charges. The council sequestered themselves behind closed doors, but the duel was considered null due to the circumstances. Jimin feels bad about being part of the ruse, even if he was just being used as a means to get close to the Jeon pack.

It’s come to light that the Bartons decided to use their feud with the Parks because they knew the Jeons wouldn’t sit idly by. One big, elaborate plan, all to get close to Jungkook’s Luna and try to tear down the hierarchy. If Jungkook lost his Soulmate, he’d lose his foundation of power as well. Or so, that’s what the buzz was when some of the Barton betas were interrogated, according to Jimin.

Jungkook knows everything is going to be okay, that you’re going to be okay; the doctor told him as much. But, despite that assurance, he can’t seem to relax. You’re curled up in the bed, facing him, and you look so peaceful, even with the swelling on the side of your face, but all he can feel is rage when he sees that…rage and so much guilt.

He never should have let you go to the restroom on your own. If he has his way, he’s never going to let you out of his sight again. It’s such an alarming realization, going from one polar sensation to the next. The fact he could give two shits less about you just a few months ago, and now here he is wanting to murder someone for touching you, is hard to wrap his head around.

Yet, here he is, fisting the edge of one of the blankets as he battles this feeling inside himself. The fact his alpha has been mostly silent since Jungkook laid eyes on you in that hallway is just as alarming. It’s almost like his alpha is giving him space. For the first time since coming into his designation, he feels like a giant void separates him from his alpha; he doesn’t like it.

There’s also the pile of papers sitting on the desk, a few feet away, that hold another key bit of information that won’t let him relax. It was standard testing, just something to help rule other things out and see what kinds of tests they could and could not perform to assess your head.

You’re pregnant.

Now that he knows, Jungkook can tell. There is a distinct, underlying change to your scent. It’s sweeter somehow, more alluring in the sense that you now smell partly like him. He should have known before. He knows that if he hadn’t spent so much time away from you, he would have realized it sooner.

You were surprised, but your shock seemed more subdued. When questioned, you told Jungkook what his mother had said to you. Somehow, even his mother knew before he did. Jungkook feels like a failure, like he’s done nothing right by you. It had to have happened the night of your designation celebration. Neither of you had bothered with any preventative measures that night, too lost in the touch and feel of each other to care.

And now, here you are, pregnant without a bite on your neck and a knot on the side of your head. If anything were to have happened to the baby…Jungkook isn’t sure he can even think about that right now. Not without wanting to put his fist through the wall.

He’s spent weeks worried about staying away from you when all along, he was clearly concerned about all the wrong things. The doctor assured him that even the most attentive of alphas take several weeks before they can smell their own child in the womb. But that doesn’t make Jungkook feel any better.

He thinks back on all the curt and what he thought were nagging messages he had gotten from his mother the last few weeks and can see them in a different light now. She wasn’t just trying to chastise him about his duty; she was trying to coax him home so he could be there for his mate in a way he should have from the start.

Jungkook knows what he needs to do now. There is no question about it. Though, it’s not because he feels obligated…no, he truly wants to solidify that bond with you. As soon as you’re ready, he’s going to offer himself to you, finally and fully.

“Jungkook, are you okay?” your sweet voice breaks him out of his thoughts and makes him release his tight hold on the sheets.

Your eyes look so big and bright even in the dim light of the hotel room as you sleepily blink up at him. How he never wanted to give himself over to you so completely before now marks him as a sure fool.

He sighs, exhaling a slow breath. “Yeah. How are you feeling?”

You stretch, wincing only slightly as your arm brushes along the side of your face. “Better, I think.”

“Can we talk?” he asks after a pause of silence.

You give him a guarded look as you slowly sit up and gather some of the blankets in your lap. The doctor told him you might start feeling the need to nest and gather comfort items, so he had specifically requested the Omega suite, which comes with complimentary brand-new fuzzy blankets and extra pillows that guests are allowed to take home when checking out.

“Sure,” you finally say.

Jungkook watches as emotions cross your face, echoing the pulse he can feel emanating from his chest. His alpha perks up, rousing for the first time in hours it feels like.

“Okay.” Now that he’s been given the go-ahead to talk, he’s suddenly feeling very self-conscious and uncertain. “I know you told me I don’t need to apologize, but I’m going to anyway.” Your lips form a thin line when he says that, so he hurries to continue, “Not for”—he gestures vaguely in your direction—”but for everything else. I want to apologize for everything before this. The way I’ve treated you and how I’ve acted. You’ve deserved better than what I’ve offered you these last few weeks—for being an asshole and a fucking dick,” Jungkook uses your own choice of words for him, and that earns him a small smile from you.

“I want to apologize, too, then. And before you can protest”—Jungkook was 100% about to—”just let me finish. Sure, you’ve not been the greatest the last few weeks, but I know I haven’t either. I should have tried harder, fought you on you being gone all the time, stood up for what I wan–er, needed, and been honest with how it was making me feel.”

Jungkook shakes his head, unable to believe how you’ve yet again turned the tables on him. “I, uh, there’s something that…there’s something I want to do,” Jungkook barely manages to get the words out as anxiety spikes at the prospect of you refusing.

“What is it?”

The look of intrigue on your face turns into pure shock as Jungkook prostrates himself on the bed in front of you, deliberately turning his head to expose the side of his neck to you, an act of submission. “I’m giving myself to you, wholly and completely. All those weeks ago, I claimed you and made you mine, and…now I’m yours.”

🌙🌙🌙

You stare at Jungkook, not sure what to say. “I-I don’t need,” you begin, reaching for Jungkook and encouraging him to sit up, “you to do that. You don’t have to bend to me…as long as you promise never to make me bend to you either.”

Jungkook shakes his head. “I can’t promise I’ll be perfect, but I’ll never force you to be something that you’re not ever again. I’m sorry I didn’t realize this sooner, I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you when you asked to come with me to Jimin’s. From now on, I’ll listen to you, and I’ll not dismiss your concerns or voice. I don’t want you to feel like you’re beneath me simply because you’re my mate. I want you as my equal instead.”

The truth behind Jungkook’s words is evident in the fervent way he delivers them but also in the way your omega mews in satisfaction. A bite for a bite, an equal. Even though you wouldn’t be leaving a permanent mark on his neck like he will on yours, it’s still the intention, and it’s completely unheard of in your world. There are stories, myths, really…but nothing wholly substantial.

You shift on the bed, gathering your knees underneath you. Your jeans went into the trash, and all the hospital had was a thin pair of shorts and a t-shirt for you to wear. You fluff out the blankets absently as you mull over his words. “Your equal?”

“Yes,” Jungkook resolutely declares.

“I think I would like that,” you whisper, eyeing Jungkook’s mouth with a quickly burning hunger.

“Are you sure?” Jungkook asks, swallowing hard as you lean in closer to him. “If you need more time to think, that’s okay.”

“Are you sure?” you counter, raising a questioning eyebrow.

Jungkook responds by kissing you hard on the mouth, wrapping his arms around you, and dragging you against his chest. He tastes like home; his tongue is warm and wet against yours, and you’re certain you could drown in the sensation if he let you. But, he comes up for air, breaking the kiss for a moment before pressing open-mouthed kisses along your jaw.

Even with the aches in your face and body, you respond to him. With every teasing nip of his mouth, you feel yourself growing wet. The fragrant cream of your slick blooms in the air, melding with his masculine and spicy scent to create the perfect, heady bouquet.

“I’ve never been more sure about something,” Jungkook whispers the affirmation between kisses until his warm breath ghosts over the scent mark on your neck. “You smell so damn good,” he groans.

You can feel his lips part over the skin there; his tongue laves out and swipes up the side of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. With trembling hands, you help each other discard your clothing, finally coming back together skin to skin. Jungkook pulls you into his lap, his thick cock sitting snugly against your ass. You can feel the bulge of his knot already as if his body is automatically responding to just your closeness.

“You can say stop at any time,” you tell him, earning a surprised grunt when you shove him back against the pillows and deliberately slide your ass slowly over his cock as you move backward.

There is a challenge in his eyes as you meet them. You move until you’re kneeling between his knees, cock sitting prettily before you. “Where, ah,” Jungkook sucks in a stilted breath when you take the head of his cock into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it, “did you want to?” Pink tinges Jungkook’s ears as he looks down at you, mouth full of him. You tap the inside of his thigh and raise your brows in silent question. “O-okay, just…just be gentle.”

That makes you chuckle, the vibration coming up your throat, and you can tell it sends a shock through Jungkook; his head drops back, and his mouth opens with a loud moan. “Gentle says the man about to put a permanent bite on my neck. An act that is none too gentle, I might add,” you say, letting his cock slip out from between your lips.

“Okay, that’s fair,” he relents, his words breathy as you trace along the underside of his dick with your tongue. “Be as aggressive as you want, then.”

Feeling egged on just a little by that declaration, you plant your teeth firmly into the meat of his inner thigh and bite as hard as you dare. Your teeth pinprick his skin, and the metallic tang of blood leeches onto your tongue. Jungkook grunts; his whole body shivers against your mouth.

“Was that okay?” you ask tentatively once you’ve pulled back to admire the twin crescent impressions you left behind. There isn’t that much blood. The two small wounds from your teeth are already clotted.

Jungkook lets out a heavy exhale as his body finally relaxes back against the bed. His cock twitches beside your face, producing a thick string of pre-cum that has your mouth watering for a taste.

“That was,” he pants, “hot as fuck.”

Pride fills you, and your body kindly reminds you with an intense throb in your clit, how much it turns you on when Jungkook talks like that. “Your turn,” you urge, desperate to get his teeth on your skin and his cock in your pussy.

Jungkook growls his approval, letting his alpha strength take over, and maneuvers you easily into a kneeling position in front of him. Using a gentle hand in your hair, he pulls you up until your back is pressed against his chest, giving him unfettered access to the front of your body while being able to tease your clit with the tip of his length.

“Are you ready for me?” he asks, using the hand in your hair to angle your head sideways so he can lick along the side of your neck. “Let’s see.” His other hand slides down the front of your body, tweaking your nipples on the way, until his middle finger grazes over your swollen, aching clit.

“Don’t tease me,” you say between clenched teeth. Your omega adds her indignation to your own, making your words come out laced with additional grit.

“I just want a little taste,” Jungkook whispers as he hooks his finger lower and massages it along your slit, collecting a generous amount of slick as he does so. You watch as his finger comes up and disappears beside your face.

The wet laving sound of Jungkook sucking his finger sends a shudder through you. You reach down with your hands, cupping Jungkook’s cock in one and using the other to part the lips of your pussy so you can fit him against your entrance. “Fuuuck,” you drawl out as the broad head of his cock slides in.

“I love the way your pussy tastes,” Jungkook moans, dropping his hand to your hip and using it to guide your ass back against him, forcing him deeper. “It’s almost as good as how it feels.”

His fingers prod along your hip, sliding until his palm rests over your lower belly. You whimper, rocking your hips the best you can, and place your hand over his. “How do I look?” you ask. “You once told me I’d look so pretty once I was pregnant with your pup. Do you still think that?”

“You are,” he starts, “the single most”—he emphasizes the words with long, rolling strokes of his cock that have his knot kissing your lower lips with every forward motion—”beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on. Even before I fucked you raw and knocked you up.” The beautiful, endearing words contrast so wildly with the dirty confession he tacks on at the end. Proving once again that Jungkook knows exactly how to wind you up and have you begging for more.

“Prove it,” you goade, intentionally dipping your head to the side to expose your neck further to him.

The moment his teeth touch your skin, you both freeze. It lasts only a second, the time it takes for them to sink into the tender expanse of your scent gland. It’s like a double punch to the gut; you can feel it all the way in your soul. The bond snaps into place the same instant Jungkook fits his knot inside you, and you explode, disintegrating into a million tiny little points of pleasure.

Your body opens for him, both physically and mentally. What was once a small trickle of feeling now becomes a deluge of intensity. You’re vaguely aware of Jungkook groaning as he meets his own release, throbbing heavily within your walls. You can feel him beneath your skin, feel the way your own body is wrapped so tightly around his knot, and the infinite pleasure that’s flooding through both of your systems.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Jungkook mumbles against your neck, his teeth finally pulling free from your skin. “I can feel everything.”

It’s hard to tell where he begins, and you end. There is a sense of middling permanence, the perfect balance between alpha and omega. You once feared that submitting to him completely would change you in some cataclysmic way. And, it has…only, you don’t feel damned. In fact, it’s far more empowering than you ever thought possible.

Jungkook brushes his tongue along the fresh bite, tending to your wound in a tender way that has you slumping over. He follows you down, gently rutting his hips, which forces his knot to rub and grate inside of you, flooding you with another luscious rush of dopamine, like a second orgasm.

“Jungkook?” you ask, trying not to fall asleep as he continues to nuzzle your neck, and his knot keeps you secured so close to his warm body.

“Hmm?” he hums. Jungkook settles you both on your side, holding you against his chest with one hand and stroking and petting with soft, sensual strokes along every inch of your body that he can reach with the other.

“Thank you for taking care of me.”

“I promise never to make you doubt me ever again. You are my soulmate, my Luna…the mother of my child. You are my everything.”

And just as Jungkook said, he made you his, and now he’s yours. Forever.

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#bts #bts fanfic #bts jungkook #bts angst #bts smut #bts non idol au #bts abo #jungkook abo #alpha jungkook #omega reader #abo smut #bts knotting #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts enemies to lovers #alpha jungkook x omega reader #jungkook smut #bangtanwhq #btscreaturescoven

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btsmosphere · 1 year

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Trade my Life | KSJ

~summary: once, you were just two children giggling in the corner of the dojang, trading equally in punches and hugs, everything a game. but that was long ago, and now that man stands day after day outside the door which separates your two worlds. is the throne really worth leaving the barrier unbroken? ~pairing: bodyguard!seokjin x royalty!reader ~word count: 2.3k ~genre: angst, fluff, action, historical au, childhood friends to lovers, secret/forbidden love ~rating: nc17 ~warnings: non-sexual nudity, non-sexual intimacy, nothing explicit, jin calls the reader ‘princess’ but she literally is so note: the next part may well have other warnings relating to violence/fighting; this chapter only contains sparring in training

~a/n: welcome to my contribution for the catch of the century collab to celebrate our lovely Jin’s birthday!! how I miss himm already.. if you also do, you can check out the other amazing works in this collab, all featuring jin getting up to some sporty shenanigans! I’ve been sick lately and haven’t quite managed to write everything I had in mind. while this part of the story can be read as a standalone, it will also be part 1 of 2 for Trade my Life - there is more action planned on the way!! let me know if you want to see more/want to be tagged in the next part! lastly, if you know anything about taekwondo, you know more than me!! I consulted with some friends and our good buddy the internet to write this, and didn’t want to get too technical. but don’t judge me too much if it’s all wrong🤣 enjoy the story and shoot a comment my way if you do, it always means a lot💜

Sitting silently on your stool, your eyes followed the palace woman out of the door. She paused in the doorway, bowing to the guard on duty before turning to slide it closed, leaving you alone. Her eyes remained dipped, not meeting yours.

A moment passed, her footsteps retreating.

She had just helped remove your hair from its low knot, the pins now laid out below your mirror stand. Little did she know as she reverently brushed out your strands, you had no intention of keeping them so tidy.

With a sigh, you eyed the doorway, the silhouette of your guard still visible through the lattice.

Pressing your hands to your knees, you stood swiftly, without a noise. You had seen to it that you had been seen in your night clothes, and now you padded across to the bed, bent to extinguish the lights.

The room dimming, only a small candle at your bedside remained.

Instead of slipping under your covers, you simply bent to retrieve it, taking care not to jostle the small flame as you trod steadily back across the space.

Back at the dresser, you slid a drawer open, fishing out a simple leather tie. Pulling your hair back, you fastened it at the nape of your neck without needing to check in the small mirror.

Next, to the wardrobe. Quietly pulling it open, you ignored the rich colours and silk of your hanboks, pushing them aside while your fingers search with practised ease in the near darkness only stopping when they reach the slight bump in the wood.

Pressing down, you let the secret compartment unlock and open under your touch.

Set into the base, concealed well, was a small well. Of all the secret things you could have stashed there, the sole thing taking up the space is a neatly folded white garment. Hands falling on the cloth at last, you pull it out and shake it open.

Your dobok.

This may not be the kind of possession one would expect a princess to treasure so dearly as you did. But as you pulled it on, you feel yourself begin to relax, body filling with a confident anticipation.

All that was left was to wait. Hopefully it wouldn’t be long; Jin was never late.

Blowing out the candle, you crept back over to your bed and sat. You could hardly keep yourself from the edge, but forced yourself to sit straight and breathe, willing patience into your restless body.

Before too long, there was movement. It wasn’t loud, not in the least, but among the stuffy silence, unbudging as ever in the castle at night, you caught it clearly enough.

The guards were changing.

Your door muffled the mumbling of pleasantries and soft footfall, and the vague sounds soon ceased. In the room lit only by waning moonlight, you practically held your breath. Waiting the necessary time, though it was time you hated to waste simply sitting, you finally rose to your feet and moved back across the room.

As each night, you reminded yourself of the precautions. If it was someone else, you would simply ask for a drink and retire.

Luckily, tonight did not bring such disappointment. On easing the door open, you were greeted with the profile of the face you had longed to see since sunrise. His slender face, calm but eyes joyous as he turned towards you.

You smiled at last, breathing out deeply.

“Jin.”

He wore a small smile, but still bowed deeply to you.

You rolled your eyes.

“Just come inside.”

“How very forward of you, your grace.”

You fought off the urge to laugh, instead shutting the door a little too forcefully and giving him an unamused look. Of course, your hard stare did nothing to discourage him: in fact, he practically grinned as he turned away from you.

With a huff, you walked after him

“I have a name, you idiot,” you swatted at his head as he removed his gat, “when we’re in here you can use it, at least.”

“As you wish.”

You could hear the smirk in his voice before he turned around. He set his gat on the dresser and faced you as he unclasped the Sai knives where they where sheathed to his belt. At last his eyes were back on you, holding a strip of fabric taught between his hands and just under his eyeline.

“Are you ready, Y/N?”

Finally, you gave a warm smile.

Stepping to close the space, you held your hand palm-up for him to begin. The moment the cloth touched your skin, Jin’s practised fingers wrapping it securely, but not suffocating around your thumb and wrist, the tension from sneaking around began to bleed from you.

He gently turned your hand over with a brush of his own fingers, now passing the fabric over your knuckles. It was the best way to train without ever showing a sign of it.

Letting go, Jin moved to your next hand. With the wrappings, your focus zeroed, the sensation preparing you for the next. Your excitement at spending the next few hours with Jin, pushing yourself and no doubt falling into bed satisfied and spent, fizzled into a concentrated spark.

Jin clapped his palms around your wrapped hands, looking down at you with an indulgent smile of his own.

“Show me what you’ve got tonight, princess.”

You tried not to be disappointed when he stepped away, leaving the short distance your spar would start with. His distance at least aided your focus, and you drew yourself up taller, rolling out your shoulders.

As he implied, he waited for you to make the first move, a punch which he easily blocked, almost smiling.

That was okay, the two of you were just warming up. And you hadn’t come this far without a shred of friendship, you knew he respected you.

Hopping backwards, just out of his reach, you waited with your weight light on your feet, ready to react. You read his movements as he pounced with a side kick, and met him with one of your own, blocking him and bringing a hand up for good measure.

You had no need to shove him off; he darted backwards, slightly circling. You fell into the orbit as well. Already, the blood was rushing to his face, and you knew yours must be the same. It certainly felt like it was powering through your veins, loosening your muscles.

Continuing, you let the rush carry you with instincts, eyes well trained by now to analyse Seokjin’s movements, to spot openings and threats.

A kick for a kick, often retreating again, forever dancing on your toes. At his next however, you felt ready to launch another.

As he fell back, you followed, a turning kick to his stomach which of course he easily withstood and blocked. But your momentum was already shifting, and you span with another kick, foot coming level with his head-

He moved from its path, but you could go no further. His rough hand caught your waist, fisting in the fabric and trapping you against him. A punch completed your planned attack, and he caught it in his hand, stopping your fist at his heart.

Though you had not been aiming to throw any serious force and risk hurting each other, you still scuffled against him from the swift movements. You balanced yourself against his chest, then finally froze.

Grinning down at you, he lingered in the hold for a moment before dropping his arms.

“Very good,” he appraised.

You, too, darted back with a small smile, but soon schooled it from your face.

Falling into your familiar rhythm, you read Jin’s movements and responded in kind. You had built this up since you were half your height, back in the days when he was smaller than you.

This had become a ritual for you, one of the few things that stayed the same. While now, he was taller, and there were less feet in the wrong places, flooring or winding each other and leaving you giggling and red on the floor, it was yours.

He would step back, drawing his elbow back and you would strike his hand where it had placed the target on his hip. Forwards, and you hopped back, precisely kicking lower. Next was higher, and quicker, higher still. You hit his palm beside his neck, and he didn’t even flinch away, eyes steady as they analysed your performance.

Falling back, you stayed on your toes, arms loose and ready for the next.

And so it continued. The focus your mind settled into was more grounding than anything else in your day. Your reading never as calming, calligraphy never so precise.

It was deep into the night when you rested once more, your bodies buzzing with exertion but more content than ever. A sheen of sweat had coated you, and you rid yourself of the dobok.

Your chambers opened into an inner courtyard, where you kept a small bucket below your window. No other lights were lit when you pulled open the shutter, the warm night air still cool against your heated skin.

Bending to wring out your dobok in the water, you heard Jin quietly returning his knives to his belt, only a gentle clatter reaching your ears. Then, steps, and as you straightened up to drape the garments on the ledge, you felt fabric against the bare skin of your back.

Jin pressed closer, his breath warming your neck. His clothed chest brushed your shoulder again as he reached over your shoulder for something just beside the window.

Reverent hands lifted your tail of hair, a cloth meeting your skin a breath later.

Fighting, and in training, Jin was all sharp eyes and sharper fists, one of the swiftest guards. That was why he was allowed to guard the princess’ quarters, after all. But in between, he was always so slow, savouring the time you both knew would be taken away with the sun.

The soft cloth dragged across your neck, and you gasped as it was replaced by softer lips. One hand continued the cloth’s path down your arm, the other carelessly releasing your hair from its tie, where it fell comfortably against your now-clean skin.

But Jin was paying most attention to your neck, your throat, his tantalising kisses treading a blazing path to your jaw. Your head was thrown back, inviting him.

Finally, you turned your head to meet his mouth, a lazy smile shared between the two of you only by feel. You spun in his arms, and he welcomed you, circling your waist.

Somewhere the kisses lapsed, easy silence engulfing you as Jin finished wiping you down. You were cooling down by now, but felt all kinds of warm inside as you leaned against your ledge, watching him drop the cloth and plop one more kiss onto your thigh.

After a shared smile, he climbed to his feet, now standing over you. Fingertips trailed your waist, and he leaned down for one last kiss.

There was no urgency, no what next. Just the long, slow movement, of him against you.

He ran a hand down your tresses as he stepped away, letting you close the shutter. You threw your drying dobok on the headboard, where you could quickly remove it next morning before your lady opened the bedcurtains.

Once in your bedclothes again, you followed Jin to the door. You had no intention of going to sleep while he still had his shift.

But you had to accept that this was your life now. The door closed and you sat with your back against it, knowing Jin stood just the other side. You murmured the odd tease through the door, trying to ignore the wooden barrier that kept apart any playful touches or glimpse of a smile.

You fell asleep to thoughts of how it used to be. Dreams where the door fell away, dissolved, and you were two children again, and you were bunched in the middle of the class with the rest of them, only the hair curled tightly at the nape of your neck indicating your difference from the boys with close-cropped locks.

You had been humoured, then. Anything to get the princess to let off some energy, give the nannies a break and hopefully you might focus on the necessary studies for the rest of the day.

Back before the reigns had tightened until they were practically choking you, you felt almost free. Hounded back home the same as the other small children, only yours was to the palace quarters. Mother reading to you but someone else tugging your hair into order.

Even humoured you when you shrieked about Jin, tried to demonstrate what the kwanjang had taught you that day (while priceless ceramics were hastily removed from the path of your flailing feet).

And it had always been Jin. The boy that never laughed at you for being a girl. Of course, he laughed at you for falling over and for getting dirt on your face and never knowing how to tie your hair if it fell out.

And you laughed right back.

You couldn’t even remember how you became partners, and friends just as quickly. It was like it had always been. The two of you whispered when you should have been listening, you bickered and tried to show off, then apologised again and again when you knocked the other down wrong. All it took to soothe bruises was a secret trip to the kitchens.

It had changed. Gradually, but it had. You watched Seokjin grow, while your time was shut indoors more and more. You saw him don the red robes of guards, proud and capable.

And you decided you wanted the same.

Thank you for reading my lovelies! Please tell me what you thought, that makes it all worth it!!💜

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Taglist - send me a message or ask to be added: @aianloveseven @preciouschimine

#catch of the century collab #kim seokjin x reader #jin x reader #bts jin imagine #kim seokjin imagine #kim seokjin fluff #jin fluff #jin historical au #bts historical au #bts joseon era #bts royalty au #bts royalty #jin scenario #seokjin scenarios #bts forbidden love #bts enemies to lovers #bts fluff #bts angst #kim seokjin angst

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bangtanwritershq · 8 months

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BangtanWritersHQ Presents: "A Love Like War” Masterlist

Taehyung’s body slams into the dark alley’s brick wall, head snapping back and cracking hard enough that he can tell his scalp is bleeding. He blinks away the stars in his vision and shoves off the attacker. Muffled music leaks out from the jazz bar a wall away, barely disguising the sounds of their struggle. They exchange hits, but Taehyung can tell he is reacting slower now that the throbbing in his skull is drawing his attention. He catches the glint of a knife in his attacker’s hand. When did he pull that out? Their fighting is up close and personal now; there’s not enough distance between them for Taehyung’s liking. Taehyung lands a few more punches before he’s shoved up against the wall again, knife pressed harshly to his neck. He lets out a sound of frustration.

“Aww…is the little cub upset? Poor thing…”

“Fuck off, Park,” Taehyung grits out, feeling light-headed from the probable concussion. The knife pricks into his neck, and he can feel a drop of blood gathering there.

“Hmm…fuck off? Fuck off...I don’t think you want me to do that. Otherwise, the boss is going to know you haven’t paid up yet,” Jimin states matter-of-factly. The drop of blood has started slowly crawling down Taehyung’s throat, and he knows there’s blood on the brick behind him from his head. “Give me the money and this can be over in an instant.”

“I-I don’t have it right now…we’re barely getting by as it is.” Jimin giggles at Taehyung’s slurring words. “I can get some of it by Wednesday but if you give me a little more ti–”

“Ohhh, you sweet little thing...thinking you can broker a deal tonight, when that’s exactly what got you here in the first place. It’s fucking adorable.” Jimin shakes his head pitifully.

“All this violence doesn’t suit your pretty face, asshole.” Wait, what? Taehyung grimaces at the looseness of his own mouth. Jimin’s eyes widen a fraction, the pressure on Taehyung’s neck lessening slightly. They stare at each other for a few tense seconds, before a chilling smirk graces Jimin’s face.

“Oh, shit…you want to fuck me so bad, don’t you?”

“Absolutely the fuck not,” Taehyung hardens his gaze. Jimin snorts.

“Glare all you want, cub. Not going to change what I just learned.” Taehyung opens his mouth to give his retort, but Jimin continues. “Anyway, ta-ta for now. I’ll get what I need eventually. In the meantime, I think I’ll leave you alive for now so I can tease you more about your little crush. See you Wednesday.” Taehyung balks at him just as Jimin slams his head into the wall again. By the time Taehyung can clear his swimming vision, Jimin is already gone. Fuck.

This month, we wanted to see our talented members write about true enemies to lovers. Heavy angst was encouraged, and hatred was a must. Happily ever afters were not required.

KEY:

🔞 - nsfw (mature themes)

✅ - sfw (no warnings)

💖 - smut

⚠️ - other warnings

SET UP - emojis: Title (if link is to another platform) | Author [parts] pairings, genre/aus, rating, word count

🔞💖⚠️ Snowed In | @mrsparkjimin18 [1/1] Pairing: non-idol! neighbor Jungkook x OFC AU Type: Annoying Neighbor | angst, smut Rating: MA WC: 10,694

🔞💖⚠️ On Wings of Mist & Memories | @colormepurplex2 [3/3] Pairing: DragonRider!Jungkook x FieldScribe!Reader AU Type: Royalty, E2L, Forced Proximity | smut, angst, fluff Rating: MA WC: 39,753

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lolabangtan · 2 years

Text

STAY | 14

You haven’t talked to any of your friends or Jungkook when Seokjin shows up at your flat. He wants to ask you something important, and Jungkook gets it all wrong.

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Word count: 6k

Warnings: Jesus Christ...

# angst, misunderstandings, mentions of cheating, mental health discussion, OC finally heals an old wound 😭😭, closure.

A/N: I know y’all wanna hang those three (especially Ari for some reason)

There’s a thick silence reigning over the natatorium.

You left just a couple of seconds ago. Jungkook tried to follow you, talk to you, terrified by the idea that you would no longer want him— but you asked him for some time. And, well, he has to respect that, doesn’t he?

His friends are a completely different thing, though; staring at each other, they look guilty and desperate.

“Listen, Kookie, we can—”

“Shut up!” he blurts out, and Jimin goes quiet, totally taken aback by his junior’s rudeness but not at all surprised. “So, this was actually a sick joke of yours, wasn’t it? Since the beginning.”

Ari lets out a breathless laugh. “Well, that’s not exactly it—”

“Then, what was it! Tell me! A game to see who could make fun of us first? You know how much that would hurt her, noona! And you still went on with it!” Jungkook’s heart is racing painfully in his chest, he’s on the verge of tears too. His head is dizzy, and he needs to drink some water and get changed. “God, it all makes fucking sense now! Of course!”

Because suddenly it does.

The oddly inconvenient behaviour, the reckless conversation in the kitchen, the way he was kicked out of their flat to move into yours. How everything somehow happened to make the two of you spend time together.

Jungkook buries his face in his hands and lets out a broken sob, palms wet with tears.

“Fuck, Jungkook, we— it wasn’t our intention to make fun of you,” Ari groans and tries to approach him, but Jimin stops her. “We wanted to confess, but things got… complicated.”

You’re going to leave him. Right now, probably, you’re sitting somewhere, wondering how you’ll dump him. You don’t want him anymore, it’d hurt too much. The coldness in his limbs only grows, and Jungkook lets out a cry, slowly squatting down. His heart aches as nothing has ever ached before.

“You really… don’t understand how fucked up it was? Are you even her friends? What would you do something like that?” he blurts out.

Utter shame reflects in their grimaces; of course they know.

Ari lets out a heavy sigh. “We didn’t… It didn’t start like that,” she murmurs then. “After you got kicked out and Y/N’s car broke down, I thought it would be a good way for you two to learn to respect each other. But then, uh, Jimin… Then Jimin…”

“You can tell him.”

“Jimin mentioned that it’d probably backfire since you had a crush on her,” she goes on, and Jungkook’s cheeks turn a furious red. “It was all done and settled, though, so I couldn’t back out.”

Jungkook parts his lips to protest – to say that he did not have a crush on you back when you were mean and cold. However, as the seconds go by, he realises that it was probably true; that his tiny, small, minute infatuation didn’t die that night he caught you talking shit about him. It feels as humiliating as it looks, but he hasn’t had the guts to deny it since that time he dreamed about you.

At his silence, they stare at each other for a while. So, Taehyung gets up, ignoring the way his friend flinches.

“After living together for a week or so, we realised you were a good match. I mean, you could tell you were meant to get along. You two just got off on the wrong foot because you met at the wrong time.”

“So, that’s when the bet came up,” Jungkook blurts out with a hurt scoff.

“Uh, sort of… Someone mentioned betting on it, but it never really went far.” This time is Jimin the one to explain himself. “But we did joke that, if you found out, you’d get together to get the money. Honestly, I’d have done the same,” he says with a weak laugh which soon dies off awkwardly. “That’s when T— that’s when everything started. We just wanted to see if you’d do it, that’s it.”

“Still sounds like something only an asshole would try out.”

Just like Jungkook finds it totally unlikely to understand his friends, they can’t really get that it’s a pretty hard pill to swallow. So, they all stand up to leave after a few seconds of awkward silence, guilty, sad looks on their faces – but he’s stern and doesn’t look back at them.

“Hey, what’s going on?”

Namjoon’s voice startles all of them. He, Hoseok, and a bunch of freshmen just walked into the natatorium after watching you leave with a wretched face and your cheeks wet with tears. Maybe you and Jungkook bantered again? It could be anything. But walking in now and seeing the four of them defencesly facing each other gives Namjoon a heart feeling that it could be something completely worse.

“Nothing!” Jimin chirps, even though there’s a clear pinch of concern in his voice. “We were just—”

Hoseok nods and sits with them. “Oh, by the way, Ari, did you know Jin-hyung is in town? He dropped by earlier and wanted us to tell you he said hi. But I’m sure we’ll see more of him.”

“What?” Ari’s face goes pale. “Jin-oppa is here—? Why?”

“Uh” – everyone turns to Namjoon when he speaks up – “isn’t Y/N’s birthday next month? Maybe he’s coming here with Yoongi-hyung for that.”

Is it? Jungkook didn’t know it was your birthday until now. What an awful boyfriend.

Hoseok chuckles. “I really don’t think that’s the reason.”

“Whatever, we should get her something.”

The topic quickly switches to your upcoming birthday as the four of them sit awkwardly silent. Namjoon carries on the conversation without a clue, and even though Hobi does feel there’s something off, he’s decided not to say anything and stick to coming up with ideas.

“Noona wanted to see her brother this summer,” Jungkook murmurs, “maybe she could visit him for the weekend?”

Ari shakes her head. “She doesn’t have the money.”

“We could pay for it—”

“As if she’d ever let us do that,” she groans anyways. “Do you think I haven’t tried it before? And now she won’t even speak to me. But Y/N is so prideful when it comes to owing things, or money, for that matter.”

“Why won’t she talk—”

“Is Y/N-noona close to her brother?” Jungkook insists.

Namjoon looks up at his question and totally forgets about it. “Oh, true, Yoongi-hyung graduated before you started here! He’s barely a couple of years older than her, so they grew up like an antinatural mix of friends and siblings. Also, he is a very close friend of her ex-boyfriend; they were roommates for their first two years.”

“And he didn’t mind that his best friend was screwing his sister?”

“Well, I guess anyone would get a bit upset if you put it so crudely,” Namjoon says, rolling his eyes at the freshman eavesdropping, “but he trusts Y/N, and Seokjin is a good guy. They were, like, the most perfect couple you could ever imagine; so good-looking, so smart, so successful, parading around campus and turning heads their way. Pity it ended up like that… I do remember Yoongi got mad at him for that, but they made up.”

“Perhaps we shouldn’t be talking like that in front of her current boyfriend, should we?” Ari says nervously as she quickly glances at him.

“But that’s in the past!” Hobi meddles in. “I’m sure she likes you madly now, Kookie.”

But Jungkook just chuckles, lowly, like he doesn’t believe it. He really does not. “Yeah… I know she does.”

He doesn’t believe it because everyone here knows it’s not true; besides, perhaps, Namjoon or Hoseok, or his teammates, who don’t know anything about the bet, the four of them are perfectly aware that he’s not and has never truly been your boyfriend. Jungkook is nothing to you, really, for now – but he wants to find out if he could be.

One might think you did say the two of you were official, but if you really were, you wouldn’t have run off like that. instead, you’d have stayed and talked things out, if not with them, at least with him. That’s what an actual couple would’ve done.

But turns out you two are nothing, after all. You’ve made it clear.

“Uh, by the way,” Taehyung suddenly says, and they all turn their heads, “did any of you tell Y/N that Seokjin-hyung is in town?”

“Hm, not really.”

Jungkook’s heart shrinks painfully in his chest.

So, you weren’t ‘unimpressed’ by his return, you just didn’t know. He can’t think about what you’ll reaction will be like, maybe he doesn’t know you that much – maybe he doesn’t know you that well.

He doesn’t know you at all.

“I better go home now,” he mumbles as he gets up, dragging everyone’s eyes along. “I’ve got a class early tomorrow.”

“Yeah, we all should do the same.”

Namjoon shepherds everyone out of the natatorium after they collect their bags and clothes, and follows Jungkook down the stairs. He’s too fast, though, so the others can’t catch up, and he decides to leave him alone with whatever is bugging him at the moment. He knows he’ll come back when he’s ready to squeeze it out.

I need some time alone.

What does that even mean? He can’t stop thinking about those words, about how your voice trembled as you spoke, the way your glassy eyes shone with unborn tears.

What do you need, then? A few minutes, a day, just the evening off him? He misses you, he’s missing you from the future with the growing fear you’ll never come back to him. Maybe you’ll come back to him, maybe that’s why he’s here; he heard you were getting your life back and decided he wanted to ruin it again. Maybe he just disliked Jungkook from the very second he saw him and decided he would never let you go again.

Shit, he’s losing his mind, isn’t he? This kind of stuff is scary as hell, but Jungkook can’t really help it.

He spots a bench far into the quad; it’s dark already, well into nighttime, so he’s lucky he could find some eery place to sit down and think. He needs to do a lot of thinking right now, or else Jungkook’s about to have a breakdown.

Where did everything go wrong? Why couldn’t you stay and talk things out with your friends like he did? Do you really not care that much?

Jungkook can’t help but wonder where you are right now. After all, despite how closer you’ve got, you’re still a mystery to him. He can’t fathom what’s going on in your head, in your heart, in your brain. He can’t figure you out, and if you could do him, you would be here with him, not missing, or roaming somewhere. Maybe you two have been just too blinded by lust and infatuation to notice.

And despite knowing it should make him feel better, why does it hurt so much to think so?

He wishes he was more confident. Jungkook wishes he knew about everything and everyone, wishes he could know exactly how you feel, if you love him, or if you at least could, eventually, come to love him. If only there wasn’t a hint of doubt in his heart, he’d go and look for you, give you one of those movie-like kisses where you’d slowly kick your leg back as you snap out and kiss him back. And there’s you’d all be good, and you’d no longer be scared, and this frightening feeling would vanish from his chest.

But of course, Jungkook doesn’t know shit.

Mustering some courage, he resolves to take out his phone and look for your contact. It rings for a couple of seconds before it suddenly stops, showing on the screen that you hung up.

Soon, a message pops up:

Need some alone time, bunny, but I’ll call you back later <3

He nods slowly as if you can actually see him but doesn’t reply to your text. Instead, he turns off the screen, lips slowly beginning to tremble, and soon a sob escapes from his throat while the first tear rolls down his cheek.

Your message is clear, you just need to be by yourself, you’ll call him later. Yet, why does it feel so bad? Why does it make him feel so fucking alone?

The cold wind cuts through the rooftop, giving you shivers. But, in a way, it’s refreshing, and it clears your head as it cools the embarrassed flush on your cheeks. Your heart aches so painfully you can’t even keep crying, eyes too tired to keep weeping.

You can’t believe what you just heard.

See, you’re not even mad about the bet itself. You found out about it long ago. You don’t even mind that Jungkook and you got together because of it since you’ve been nothing but happy.

What it’s eating your insides is the fact that they fucking played you.

Like a fiddle, like you were a little idiot in the palm of their hands, a puppet following their breadcrumbs trail into his arms.

You let out a ragged sigh and bury your face in your hands.

What to do, what to think, what to feel – you’ve got absolutely no idea. There are so, so many different emotions and sensations mixed up inside of you, like a Molotov cocktail, ready to implode at any point. You hate them, hate them for hurting you, but at the same time, you can’t help feeling grateful because you’ve got Jungkook now.

Your eyes shift to your phone, clutched in your fingers; you know you told him you needed some moments by yourself, but do you, really? Because you can’t stop missing him. He’s so comforting, could soothe the pain of a bullet.

Oh, you suck. So selfish and cruel. What if he’s wandering miserably and waiting for your call?

The fact that Jungkook called you really made you feel immensely better. Even if you didn’t pick up, it let you know that he cared, that he was worried about you. His sweet, warm concern made you feel cared for without having to beg for it. So selfish and cruel, indeed.

You want to know what he’s thinking right now. Is he confused as well? With this news on the bet, you can’t tell whether Jungkook is indifferent or not towards it.

Your skin feels frozen by the time you realise that the night has cooled everything around you. With a slight shudder and a tremble in your knees, you stand up, shaking off the dirt on your skirt. You had put it on with several intentions today, and none of them was to sob like an idiot on the rooftop of your building.

“Jesus Christ…”

Knees cold and numb, you manage to take your tired body back to your flat.

The lights flicker before they illuminate the living room, giving the place a feeling of solitude. You just want to get changed and tuck yourself into bed, hoping Jungkook will be back soon. Should you call him? Why isn’t he home already, though? Maybe he’s busy.

You quietly open the door and walk into your shared bedroom. It’s not really tidy, you guys didn’t have the time to make the bed or clean up this morning, heh. Too busy doing stuff.

The room smells like him.

Yeah, you should definitely call him back.

Just as you’re taking out your phone and calling him, resolved to at least hear his voice, the door rings. You frown; Jungkook should have his keys with him, and your ‘friends’ wouldn’t have the audacity to show up at your door just yet. So, who the hell is violating your doorbell right now? Fucking shit, I heard you, I heard it already! STOP!

You hang up the call, rush to the door to open up without even stopping to check who’s behind it, and naturally, you freeze at the sight.

Seokjin stares back at you with a polite little smile.

What.

Slowly, and not even bothering to look away from his eyes, you close the door as his face mutates into awkward confusion and finally into shock when the door clicks back into the frame.

A few seconds later – in which you just stand there, equally shocked – the doorbell screeches throughout the flat. Your hand moves on its own to the knob, and you open up again with a hopeful frown, but Kim Seokjin is still standing there, waving his hand like the fucking idiot he is.

“Hey.”

You don’t really process his voice. “What— what are you doing here?”

“Uh, thought I’d pay you a surprise visit,” he murmurs, shifting his weight back and forth between both legs. “Can I come in? It’s kind of cold out here…”

“No!” you blurt out.

“Oh—”

“I mean, n-no, I mean— what are you doing here?” Seokjin seems to be having a hard time understanding you, so once the shock finally starts to shake its grip off your body, you continue, “Here as in… back in town.”

“Ah,” he lets out and sighs in relief. “There have been some changes in my life lately, so I’m moving back.”

You frown and take a peek above his shoulders. “Where’s your girlfriend?”

“Well, not here, obviously.” Seokjin sighs, knowing you’d eventually ask about that. “For your information, we broke up half a year ago. Not the reason why I’m back, but it did take some weight off my shoulders… Long distance relationships never work, you know— so, uh, can I come in?”

Finally realising you’ve been forcing him to stand in your doorframe like an idiot for a while now, you silently step aside and beckon him with your chin to walk into your flat.

Your mushy brain is still trying to process the fact that Kim Seokjin is here, in town, at your place, talking to you. It’s been so long since you last heard his voice or bothered to even think about him, you hate that your heart still aches at his sight.

“I thought you’d know already.”

You tilt up your head. “Uh, I should know what?”

“That I’m back. I went to watch the training this afternoon with Namjoon and the others.” You don’t quite understand why he’s grinning like that, so your frown deepens. “Well, the thing is, I’m back, and we have a lot to talk about.”

Stopping on your way to the empty bedroom, you turn around with an arched eyebrow.

“Uh?”

“I just feel like neither of us will be able to carry on for real unless we fix this—”

“There’s nothing to be fixed,” you groan. Is he for real? “What the fuck! I’ve been perfectly happy since you left, who do you even think you are?”

“So, you don’t think I fucked up?” Seokjin retorts quietly.

Your silence is all answer he needs, and you continue to walk into the room before you take a seat on the bed. There’s a puff seat in front of it, and you let him take it while you sit on the naked mattress; you haven’t really used this room since Jungkook moved into yours, and now there’s just some furniture, a carpet, and a few half-emptied boxes left inside.

“I mean, you did,” you mumble. “But that doesn’t mean I have to discuss anything with you.”

“Listen, I—” He goes quiet for a second, and you surprisingly respect the few seconds he needs to order his thoughts. “What I did was wrong, I know. I should’ve been straightforward with you as soon as I met Bora.”

You can’t talk about this, you can’t hear about this. Not right now.

“Then, why didn’t you?” you ask anyways.

“Uh… I guess I was confused. I never considered breaking up until much later, not after the hell I went through with Yoongi to date you. It made it all kinda, uh, pointless?” he murmurs. And it hurts, each of his words hurt so fucking much, especially because you know they’re true. “Just so you know – contrary to what some idiots said – I never slept with her while you and I were dating. We didn’t even make out until we,” Seokjin says then, pointing at you and him, “were over.”

You snort with a sneer. “Oh, thank you for being a fucking decent person, then, I guess!”

“Jesus Christ, that’s totally not what I’m trying to say,” Seokjin groans. “Just wanna establish some common ground here, okay? I want you to forgive me for hurting you, I did my best, even if my best sucked.”

“I can’t.”

“What—? why not? I’m truly sorry, I’m not lying!” he cries then.

“I know you’re not, but…” You hug your knees with a blank face as your eyes roam off his face, trying to focus on your own thoughts. “You see, if I forgive you now, I’d be giving up half of my current personality, and I can’t mentally afford that.”

After all, no matter how he hurt you in the past, you’ll never have trouble being honest with him. It’s like a mechanism, he gets you like no other— well, he gets you in a way only Jungkook does. Like an open book, as if they can pierce through feelings you haven’t even seen yourself yet. It’s embarrassing, in a way.

“I’m being serious, Y/N.”

“Me too!” you rush to defend yourself. “What I mean is, hating you has become kind of my comfort zone, you know?”

Seokjin rolls his eyes. “Jeez, you’re so fucking feisty, and for what?”

The two of you sink into a thick silence, staring at each other; you’re still musing over what he just said, and Seokjin is trying to come up with a way to make you come out of your self-defensive bubble.

“I… I don’t think you understand… what I went through after you left,” you whisper then. Your eyes can’t bear to look at him anymore, the sight overwhelming – so he only nods softly and waits for you to continue. “Suddenly I felt like I was everyone’s laughing stock. And our friends? How could I still hang with them when they had known all this time? You— you ruined everything! You ruined my happiness, my friendships, my fucking concept of life!”

Seokjin doesn’t flinch when you start crying, thick tears running down your cheeks. There’s a hand squeezing your heart with a painful burn, your throat constricted around nothing.

“And if you’d never left, I wouldn’t have realised my life sucked! So, why do I feel like I’ve got to be grateful for all that fucking pain?!”

His eyebrows furrow in pity and sorrow. In understanding. Because despite whatever you might think of him—

“Y/N, I loved you so much.”

But you shake your head. “Don’t go there, Jin—”

“I loved you dearly! And I still do! You know I do,” he insists, suddenly sitting up on his knees. The sudden movement makes you jump in surprise. “Please, I won’t leave until you say yes. Do all those years together not matter to you? Can’t you just try—?” A thud comes from the living room, and you hear the front door slam shut. “What was that?”

“Uh… Jungkook? It can only be him.”

“Oh, your boyfriend,” Seokjin chirps then. “You don’t think he’ll mind finding me here, do you?”

You stare at him in silence, but not in defiance: actually, you’re not sure how well he’d take finding Jin here. Especially after what happened earlier. You still have to talk to him and let him know how you’re feeling, and you want to know how he’s dealing with it too.

“Hm, but there’s something going on, right? I can tell—”

“No, you can’t—”

“Oh, but I do.” He relaxes his stance on the floor again and leans back. “You can tell me, I know a thing or two about men… How about we deal with this with a nice bottle of wine? I brought you one.”

You scoff. “You’re not gonna bribe me with some wine, but okay, I guess I could use a glass.”

Before you’ve even finished the sentence, Seokjin gets up and rushes to the living room, where he’s left the plastic bag. It takes him a while to come back, and when he does, he informs you that there’s no one else in the flat.

“He didn’t text me or anything,” you murmur, checking your phone.

“Maybe it wasn’t him after all? It could’ve been just the wind. Are you waiting for his call?”

“Actually,” you babble, grimacing, “he’s waiting for mine.”

Then Seokjin drops onto the floor, two glasses of wine in hand, the bottle in the other, and opens it with a delightful pop. You take the glass when he hands it to you, and wait until he’s served too to take a sip. Surprisingly, a groan of pleasure comes up your throat.

“So, this Jungkook… He’s cute, huh? I heard the public story, but I’m guessing there’s a lot way more behind it,” he says.

“Cheers,” you scoff.

You tell him a summed-up version of what happened; from your car breaking down to him moving into the flat, then finding out about the fake bet, and how you slowly went from wanting to kill each other to a disgustingly clingy couple of lovers. Then you take a deep breath and explain what just happened an hour ago at the natatorium – dodging obvious scenes that he has absolutely no need to know about.

“Shit, those three are always meddling, aren’t they?” Jin lets out a chuckle. “I can imagine how much that hurt. So, do you think they used you for their entertainment?”

“I feel like they did.”

“Or maybe they were trying to get you out a bit? Doesn’t mean you don’t have the right to be mad or upset, but it can make a difference.”

But you only let out a sardonic laugh and cross your arms, frowning. “Oh, now we’re all allowed to play with people’s feelings? Now there are no consequences for one’s actions? Okay, let’s go gaslight your depressed friend into dating a guy she hates!”

“Then don’t forgive them. You don’t have to,” he murmurs.

“But they’re my friends, and I love them!” you blurt out and let out a sob. “Why would they do this to me? Don’t they love me too?”

Seokjin scoots to the side and moves next to you, covering your shoulders with his arm in a warm embrace. “I’m sure they do. They made a mistake, you see? They thought you and Jungkook would work together, they came up with an honestly hurtful plan, and they made a mistake. Just like I did.”

“So,” you say then, burying your face in your hands, “everyone’s allowed to make mistakes except me, right? When I do, I’m a selfish, heartless bitch, but everyone else made a mistake.”

“You know that’s not true.”

You let out a weak chuckle. “Oh, but it is.”

“Jungkook knows too,” he says softly, “doesn’t he? He knows you’re human, that you make mistakes.”

“I… guess he does.”

“Talk to them first, let them explain why they did it. It won’t mean you’ll have any less right to be angry or hurt, but it will give you the chance to heal.” Slowly, you allow yourself to lean on his shoulder, and Seokjin smiles tenderly when you sniffle, like an older brother – like the older brother he had always been and should have remained. “Let them apologise and give it closure.”

“Even if there’s no friendship afterwards?” you murmur.

“Yeah.”

You purse your lips. “But… I don’t wanna lose them. I wanna— I wanna stay frozen like this until I make up my mind.”

“You know you can’t do that,” he chuckles.

“Yeah…”

Silence takes over you again as Seokjin rubs your back. You wish things had always been like this between the two of you, wish you had never gone out together. But people talked, and people swooned at the sight of you, and it got so embarrassing and draining that you knew you had to.

“So—!” His hand slaps your thigh, and you whine at the pain, quickly rubbing where he hit you and hitting him back. “Tell me about Jungkook. How did he react? What does he think of the bet? What did he say?”

Ashamed of the memories, you lower your head. “I… I don’t know. I stormed off before we could talk.”

And Seokjin just moos in contemplation – and disagreement.

“No need to chastise me, I know I messed up. I should’ve talked to him first, but… I was so shocked! And hurt! I— it got the worst of me, okay?”

“But were things all right between you two before you, uh, found out?” he asks.

“Things were going very well thanks to ignorance. Our relationship didn’t start off like that, with all that hating each other, and finding out about this... I don’t know, it made me realise we have a lot to talk about,” you murmur and finish the glass, but just a second later and Jin is refilling it with a peaceful smile.

“Like what?”

“Like, we’re not even properly dating,” you blurt out. “It was just a silly bet they made behind our backs at the beginning, and I was trying to make Taehyung win it so that we could split the money. I really needed my car back… Well, that’s what I thought it was— but it turned out to be a ploy of theirs to set us up… So, what are we, really? Are we just, uh, going with the flow until we get tired of each other? Because I don’t remember Jungkook ever asking me out.”

He wiggles his eyebrows. “And you don’t like him in the slightest?”

Your entire body gets a shiver, and you turn to him with such a grimace of disgust that even Jin grimaces back.

“Ah, no way, don’t start talking like Yoongi, not when you’ve had your dick inside of me. It’s incredibly unsettling,” you groan, cringing.

“I’m not talking like him!” Seokjin whines with a chuckle of disbelief. “I’m just trying to act like a friend, which is what we’re going to be since I’m moving back to town. I changed schools.”

“Oh, so that’s it. You just want to ‘be friends with me’ so that you don’t have to worry about your crazy ex-girlfriend annoying you and prying around as you frolic about town. I could’ve expected this from many people, Kim Seokjin, but not you—”

“Oh, stop making up stupid excuses, will you?” he blurts out with a whiny voice. You frown and cross your arms. “Can’t we just… close this chapter? Yes, we dated; we’re both hot, smart, and funny. It was the law of nature…” Your fingers twitch at his words even though you’re listening carefully. “But we also weren’t suited for each other at all; we’re too alike, and I know you know too that we should’ve broken up way before we did. So, tell me; this Jeon Jungkook, do you like him?”

A tender smile appears on your lips without resistance. “I… I do. I mean, we hated each other’s guts at the beginning, but he’s a sweet boy, and I have a lot in common with him. This thing we have, I’m just not sure where it’s headed… I really should talk to him first, shouldn’t I? But—”

“Then go for it.”

“— what?”

“You like him,” he continues, shrugging like it’s no big deal – and it probably isn’t, “and it pretty much looked like he likes you too when I met him today, so why not give it a try?”

You flash a pair of puppy eyes at him for a second before looking down. Your hands are playing with the edge of the mattress, pulling at the hanging, forgotten threads. It’s not like you’re afraid of opening up to him, but you’ve always been afraid of the truth; once something leaves your mouth, it will be forever true. You can’t pretend you never said something, can you? You can’t live in such a lie.

“The thing is…”

As you speak, Seokjin leans out to hear you better.

“When we were fake-dating, it felt like—” You let out a sigh, making him chuckle. “It felt like I was your girlfriend all over again; the pressure, the anxiety, the expectations. Even the uni staff was excited to see us together. It’s exactly what got me into this miserable situation in the past, how can I know it won’t happen again after this new love bliss washes away?”

“You can’t.” At his quick response, you frown. “Is that simple, you can’t know what will happen in the future; you can’t know whether it’ll go well or bad, or if it’ll make you go through a hard time again.”

“What a shitty piece of advice—”

“Do you really think I didn’t stop to think about that when I met Bora, whether it was reasonable to throw away a relationship of years for one that I didn’t know was going to work or not?”

“And it didn’t,” you resort with a knowing grimace.

“Yeah, in the end, it didn’t,” Seokjin murmurs in response. A sense of guilt grips your heart. “But she gave me two beautiful years together, and some big lessons.”

“Like what?”

He’s still not looking at you when he says, “The risk of loving is always worth taking.”

You will never know how much Seokjin loved that girl because he will never tell you, but you can imagine that it was enough to leave you. And the idea hurts and churns your stomach with envy – envy for him, for his bravery to love. You’re so, so scared of pain, of what pain can make of you, that it leaves you petrified every single time unless you numb your heart with an infatuation.

Because Jungkook is more than a crush, more than a passing fancy or a simple affection. It’s not the victory of the ego over a man who used to despise you.

You probably love him.

Out of a sudden, you get up from the mattress and renewed energy. Your throat hurts and your chest feels shrunk into your ribcage, tears threatening to spill down your cheeks. The smile on your lips wavers— but you’re confident.

“I’m going to call Jungkook to find out what’s up with him,” you tell him, immediately taking out your phone. “Do you want to stay for dinner?

“Are you sure? I don’t want to get in your way,” Seokjin lets out bashfully.

You only scoff. “Don’t be stupid; actually, I think he could use to meet you and talk to you.”

With that, you disappear into the kitchen to rummage through the cupboards. There isn’t much you can use to make dinner, so it’ll have to be something simple. So, you put water on to boil, and in the meantime, you look for Jungkook’s contact in your phone.

To no avail.

Of the three times you call him, he doesn't pick up any of them. You send him a couple of messages while you are preparing the noodles; they all arrive, by the fifth they stop going through, and by the sixth, they reach his phone again all at once, only for him to leave you on read.

Okay, this is weird. Why isn’t he answering?

[Monday, 7:16 PM] You: What’s wrong, bunny? You didn’t pick up. I told you I would call you back.

[Monday, 7:17 PM] You: Why are you leaving me on read?

[Monday, 7:17 PM] You: Well.

[Monday, 7:18 PM] You: I’ll be happy to talk whenever you feel like it.

With a deep sigh, you place your phone on the kitchen counter and stare at the black screen; maybe, if you pretend to ignore it, he will text you back. Seokjin approaches from behind and crosses his arms.

“What’s wrong?”

“Jungkook,” you reply with a tired voice. “He read my messages, but he won’t answer. I just don’t know why.”

Seokjin shrugs. “Maybe he’s busy right now?”

“Yeah, of course.” Smiling weakly, you nod. “It must be that.”

The two of you get on with dinner, immersed in silence. Only the noise of hot water burbling in the pot right before boiling cuts through the quiet kitchen, each engrossed in your own thoughts. You couldn’t stop thinking about Jungkook, whether something could have happened to him. What if he got hurt? What if he got lost and is alone and scared? What if he can read you but can’t type a reply?

“If you’re so worried about him, why don’t you call Ari?” Seokjin suddenly says, arms crossed as he glances at you.

“Huh?”

“You said they were all together when you left,” he continues. “If there’s anyone who knows what’s happened to him since then, it’s one of those three, don’t you think?”

You shake your head and keep slicing the onion. “I don’t want to talk to them right now.”

“Okay… Suit yourself then.”

His following silence only fuels your inner agitation, and his indifference only makes you fidget and roam around the kitchen with a decreasing grip on reality; you bump against every corner, trip over yourself, forget to turn on the heat, and almost throw the sliced vegetables in the rubbish instead of in the frying pan.

“Ugh! Okay!” you suddenly groan, dropping the spatula on the counter.

Seokjin snickers as you turn around to come back for your phone and keeps stirring the noodles. Your fumbling and rummaging are loud enough for him to know when you’re coming back to the kitchen.

“Keep an eye on the vegetables, I’m going to call Ari, all right?”

“At your service, madam!”

You roll your eyes. “Ugh, you’re insufferable…”

Once you dial the contact, the phone rings for a couple of seconds. Meanwhile, you wait and wait, but she doesn’t seem to pick up any time soon. And it’s a bit odd because it’s not very late in the evening, and Ari is literally glued to her phone. Sometimes you think that messages get through to her brain before they get to her phone.

After holding your breath for the added ten seconds it takes, she finally picks up.

“Hello…?”

A piercing pain grips your stomach, but you get over yourself.

“Ari? I was wondering— do you know where’s Jungkook?” you rushedly ask. “He’s been out all evening, and he won’t pick up the phone.”

“I was about to call you…” Why does she sound so weird, like she’s talking to a criminal? “Uh, Jungkook’s here, he’s sleeping over… Did you fight or something after…? He just showed up without a word, cried his lungs out, and kept sobbing your name until he cried himself to sleep. He’s up now, though… What the hell happened?”

“Well, that’s why I’m calling! I have absolutely no clue.”

Seokjin comes from behind you, wiping a glass dry with a cloth. “Y/N? Everything all right—? I can go and help.”

“Is that— is that Seokjin-oppa?” The sudden sound of Jungkook’s sobs only gets louder over the phone. “God, Y/N, you’re— you’re such a fucking idiot—! Ugh, I guess Jungkook is staying over for a few days…”

“What—?”

But she’s hung up already, the beeping sound piercing your brain.

What on earth does she mean? What have you done wrong now, for heaven’s sake? This riddle-talk is giving you a headache.

“Was that Ari-ssi?” he asks again.

“Yeah…” You slowly turn to him. “I don’t know what, but, uh, something happened. Looks like he won’t come home tonight— and I really don’t wanna think about it anymore,” you spit out, cutting him off before Seokjin even gets the chance to ask. “I’ll help you make the bed if you want to spend the night here.”

He nods slowly, and you walk away without a word to get a bunch of blankets.

Don’t hesitate to like, reblog, and leave some feedback if you liked it! It’s always good and encouraging to know what you think <3

#jungkook smut #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook x reader #jungkook enemies to lovers #jungkook college au #bts enemies to lovers #jungkook noona

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clumsy-jiminie · 14 days

Text

ɪɴᴇᴠɪᴛᴀʙʟʏ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱ | ᴘᴊᴍ | ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɴɪɴᴇ

❝ ʀᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇʟᴀxᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ❞

↣ rating :: 18+

↣ genre :: fluff, angst, smut, e2l, slow burn

↣ pairing :: business owner!jimin x fem!artist!oc ft. taehyung

↣ word count :: 5.5k

↣ chapter warnings :: mature language, implied sexual encounter

↣ notes :: a day in the life of our beloved jimin. I was really excited to write this chapter just bc I love how jimin is. there's so much I have planned for his character.

↣ next :: previous :: series m.list ↢

if you have any questions, comments, or concerns PLEASE don't hesitate to message me or send me an ask! my inbox is always open. 💖

"you know I'd be lying saying you're the one that could finally fix me, looking at my history, I'm bad at love."

- bad at love, halsey -

"You sure I can do this?" The dark-haired man asked, chewing on his plump lower lip as he stared at his white ceiling. The nervous habit often left his lips swollen and bruised, but he couldn't stop. It was better than chewing his nail beds raw.

The woman beside him scoffed obnoxiously, rustling the bed as she switched sides to face him. She looked at the man, worried etched into his beautiful features, stealing the place of his usual bubbly self.

"Are you kidding, Jimin?" She gazed at him, the same look of love swimming in her pools of chocolate as his. "Of course you can." She reached out to him, placing her delicate hand on his cheek. He turned to look at her. Her simple touch made his shoulders relax in an instant. "I have believed in you since the idea first fell from your lips."

He couldn't help but stare at her. Her words sunk into him, swelling his heart until there was no more room for worry. The gentle light of early dawn illuminated her pale pink skin, casting a soft halo around her. She was an angel—his angel—placed on earth to find him and bring warmth into his cold life. If every mistake he made led him to this point, he'd make them all over again.

He smiled, hoping to burn this moment into his memory of how she looked, how soft she felt, how sweet her voice was. He placed his hand on top of hers; feeling the stark difference between her soft hands and the diamond ring occupying her left finger. "I love you."

"I know," she leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips. It was quick and sweet but made his heart soar nonetheless.

"So what should I name it?"

She rolled onto her back as they both stared up at the ceiling. "Hm, well," she paused, pursing her lips in thought. "Whenever you dance, it's captivating. It's a topic, a discussion. Art, but moving."

Jimin's brows furrowed as he pondered on her words. "Like in motion?"

"Yes!" She squealed. "That's it!"

"So, Art in Motion…." The name sounded foreign on his tongue, scrunching his nose as he said the last vowel.

"Mhm, Art in Motion." She grinned.

But for some reason, it sounded exquisite when it left her lips. It sounded expensive, like a delicacy—like success. They glanced at each other, a giggle escaping her lips as Jimin reached over and pulled her into him, her small frame against his own. He covered her in kisses. Her laughs were the sweetest sound he's heard.

"What would I do without you?"

Jimin's eyes fluttered open, meeting with blonde hair covering the pillow beside him. It almost startled him; part of him expected to see those same chocolate waves from his dream. Dreaming was the only way he could remember the past, considering he would have willed those memories into a box during his waking hours. All they did was provide a source of pain, a fuel for depression, and he couldn't afford to waste time.

Like right now.

He wasn't a morning person and would strictly work at night if he had it his way. But nighttime was only for getting drunk and sleeping in terms of the business world, so he had to adjust. He pushed himself to sit up, running a hand through his messy bedhead to push the wild strands out of his eyes. His partner groaned softly from all the sudden movement, causing him to look at the girl through squinty eyes.

"Hey," he croaked with his brows furrowed. He glazed over the blonde's tousled waves that cascaded over her bare spine. He reached out and touched her, cold hands against warm skin, but to his surprise, there was no response. His brows squished together further; that trick usually caused them to spring to life.

The muscles in his jaw feathered with annoyance as he grabbed his phone off the nightstand, checking the time. He got out of bed and gathered his boxer briefs from the clothes that were scattered amongst the floor, haphazardly thrown about in last night's act of passion. This girl slept like a rock and would put a significant dent in his schedule if she didn't get up soon. And as stated earlier, he didn't have time to waste. He responded to a few text messages he deemed urgent before grabbing the comforter and tugging off of her body. She groaned in protest, reaching out to grasp at the sheets.

"Yo, get up." The blonde began to walk around his bedroom while picking up bits and pieces of her clothes. It may have been cold the past few nights, but dressing with this many layers was extreme. After confirming he grabbed everything, he tossed the bundle of fabrics at her. The sound of a text notification rang from his phone, prompting him to respond quickly. "You gotta go," he said over the clicks of his keyboard.

The woman finally sat herself up, furrowing her brows as she looked back at the man. He was barely paying any attention to her. She got up and started to get dressed again. "Good morning to you, too," she said, catching a glance from him for a second. She huffed quietly, sliding her shirt on. "You know, guys I normally hook up with, treat me to breakfast in the morning."

"That's nice for them," Jimin deadpanned.

The blonde gasped dramatically, her green eyes widening. "You know, I deserve better!"

He nodded his head, "Mhm definitely. You do deserve better." He walked over to his door and opened it, eyes still glued to his phone screen. "And you are welcome to go find it! Outside my apartment."

The woman pouted at the man now. She walked over, standing directly in front of him. She had hoped to get his attention one last time, but her efforts failed. "I didn't want to believe the rumors about you. I was hoping they weren't true, but I guess Park Jimin does have a heart of ice."

Jimin genuinely snickered, looking at the girl. "I guess you'll learn not to be so naive," he grinned at her, and her heart could've melted. Someone so cold shouldn't possess a smile so warm. Mixing fire with ice should've been physically impossible, but here he was, the walking enigma. "Izzy will let you out. Ensure you don't forget anything; I'm not fond of flings." The blonde girl left his bedroom as he looked down at the phone again. "Get home safe, Jamie!"

"It's Jessica!" He heard just as he shut the door.

It didn't matter what her name was since he would never see her again. Like she said, the rumors were true. Park Jimin will treat you as if you were the only girl in the world, to forget your existence when morning arises. Warm to the touch with words like icicles. He walked to his bathroom, losing the box briefs as he hooked up some music for his shower.

After completing his morning routine, he walked out of the bathroom with a towel barely hanging around his hips. He tossed his phone onto his bed as he walked over to the wall-length windows occupying one side of the room. As Jimin pulled back the curtains, allowing sunlight to finally crash through his windows, he sighed deeply. He looked up at the crisp blue sky with a slight frown pulling on his lips. He rubbed at his chest, hand over his heart as if to soothe a never-ending ache.

She liked days like this, days without a cloud in sight. It reminded her of perfect summer days, with ice cream dripping down her chin and children's laughter.

"Mr. Park," said a woman as she barged into Jimin's room. The woman was genuinely heaven-sent when he needed her to be. Her heels clicked against his polished, white birch flooring, the sound ripping him from intrusive memories that would’ve left him bedridden for a week. She stared down at the binder in one hand while the used pushed blonde hair out of her face. She adjusted her glasses as she waited for her response.

Jimin inhaled deeply, letting his eyes shut as his head tilted back. His hand rested over his heart. While being heaven-sent, he knew exactly what would come out of her mouth in the next 15 seconds just by how she entered his room. "Yes?" He sighed.

"Alright, you have a 9:30 with Mr. Salvatore; he said he wanted to double-check the lot for the next studio. The graphics team for AIMIt also would like to meet with you when you have the time. I said you were available at 11, hoping the studio check would be brief, so it'll be just before your lunch. And….” Izzy continued to ramble on about various meetings on the itinerary today, emails that needed to be sent, and checks that needed to be signed, causing Jimin's head to spin.

"Iz…." He called out as he shut his eyes tight, trying to separate his thoughts from her voice. She continued, prompting him to turn around and face the woman. "Izzy," he repeated a bit louder this time. She stared down at the binder in her hand, her free one waving about as she spoke and pushing back her black-rimmed glasses when needed. He walked towards her, and with her total lack of attention to her surroundings, Jimin could snatch the binder from her hand, her wide blue eyes finally meeting his brown ones. He looked down at his jam-packed schedule, seeing tiny color-coded notes that made him squint. Even with his contacts in, he still couldn't read any of it. "Did you manage to schedule in when I get to take a shit?" He smirked playfully at her.

Izzy rolled her eyes, reclaiming the binder from the man. "Oh ha ha, Mr. Park, you're so hilarious!" Sarcasm laced her words while Jimin sent her a wink. He walked towards his walk-in closet, and she intuitively followed while she flipped through the pages of the schedule she meticulously put together. "But these are the consequences of going to dinner the other night! You have a tightly packed schedule down to the second, thanks to yours truly. You're welcome." He dropped the towel, but this didn't phase Izzy at all. She was dedicated to her job, and dedication meant walking in on the blonde more often than not.

She was organized, precise, and reliable but needed to gain awareness of boundaries. You win some and lose some.

"You don't have time to waste!" She reiterated as if Jimin didn't already know. He continued to get dressed, sliding on a pair of boxer briefs before putting on a pair of black sweatpants. "Between being the owner AND an instructor, I'm surprised you have time to shit! By the way, I have you down for 2:30 PM and 6 PM for bathroom times, figuring things could digest after lunch and a snack."

"Well, it won't be needed," he said before asking Siri about the weather. "Cancel everything."

"W-What?!" She stammered, looking at the shirtless man as if he had four heads.

Jimin thumbed through his athletic shirts, flipping between a long-sleeved compression shirt and a long-sleeved cotton shirt. They were both black, and he ended up going with the former. "Cancel it all." He took the shirt off the hanger, slid the stretchy material over his torso, and turned to face the woman again. "I want a day to myself."

"Are you crazy?! Mr. Salvatore doesn't like it when people cancel at the last minute, which is fair! You need—"

"Isabelle," his stern tone cut her off and promptly shut her up. She knew which battles she could win, and this wasn't one of them. "Mr. Salvatore can wait. The graphics team can wait. However, I will drop by the office to get payroll done. Other than that, I know everything, and everyone else will wait. You know this business doesn't move without me."

He was right, and of course he was. Even though he constantly reminds Hoseok that the man is just as important as he is, the brand will crumble without Jimin. They needed his business expertise, as it was his major in college. He walked out of his closet after slipping on some sneakers, knowing Izzy would trail behind like his shadow. After grabbing his phone and keys from his room, he went downstairs.

"Do you think I should get breakfast at Little Latte or Starbucks?" He asked as he skimmed through the various food items in his fridge—nothing but odd ends and snacks. He was rarely home anymore, and when he was, it was after dinner or to commit someone to his sheets.

"Mr. Park…," she said softly, voice slightly quivering as she held the binder close to her chest.

"Izzy," he sighed again, closing his fridge and looking at the small girl before him. She was trembling despite her serious tone. He couldn't help but frown a little. He knew how much this job meant to her, primarily because he found her. He technically saved her, and she showed her gratitude by being so dedicated. Little did she know, she was the one who saved him, and Jimin would never be able to repay her. "After you reschedule everything, because I know you will, please take the day off as well."

He walked over to her, lifting her chin with his finger to look into her blue eyes. She glared at him, making him smile. Her brows furrowed, her body rejecting the idea of a day off.

"Come on, Iz," he pleaded once he realized she wouldn't budge. "It's beautiful outside! Take a walk, get some sun! We both deserve some rest and relaxation. If not, you leave me no choice but to fire you." The woman looked up at him with wide eyes as his brows raised. He cracked a smile, "Don't worry, you know I'd rehire you."

Izzy let out a heavy sigh. She couldn't help but roll her eyes, falling victim to Park Jimin's irresistible tactics. "Starbucks is overpriced, and you know Little Latte makes the best coffee on the Lower East Side," she offered the man a small smile.

"Thank you," he reached out to ruffle her hair, causing her to swat at his hand. "Now go on! And I expect to hear all about your magical day off tomorrow morning!" He urged her towards the door while she let out a loud scoff. They knew she would stay inside and rework Jimin's schedule, maybe curl up with a book afterward. She loathed the outdoors.

After Isabelle left, he scrambled around one of his spare closets where he threw random objects in. Like how every household had a junk drawer, he had a junk closet. There, Jimin found his old yoga mat, dusting off the plush rug. He didn't realize how long it's been since he used it. Either way, he had plans to change that today. He headed towards the door and left.

Jimin opted to walk to the quaint coffee shop, seeing as it was just a short distance from his penthouse. It indeed was a beautiful day outside—not a cloud in sight. The sun offered a comforting warmth instead of beating down on the man like he owed it rent money. There was a light breeze just for the people who got hot no matter what, keeping everyone comfortable. With over-ear headphones on, blasting Justin Bieber as he walked down the sidewalk like he owed it.

"When I'm in my thoughts sometimes, it's hard to believe I'm the person you think I am, the person you tell me you love…"

Skip.

So much for that. The blonde continued to hit the arrow button on his phone screen. He needed a little more upbeat and a little less let's-remind-you-of-your-past.

"Got a boy back home in Michigan, and it tastes like Jack when I'm kissing him…"

Settling for Halsey, he continued his trek until he reached his destination. He pushed the door open, and as expected, the quaint coffee shop was busy despite being a Wednesday at 11 AM. He quietly joined the queue, bopping his head to the music blasting in his ears. He noted which songs made his body subconsciously move, hoping to prepare something for a later class. As the line grew closer to the registers, he lowered his music just enough to hear the quiet hum of a busy establishment. Once at the counter, he pulled off his headphones and rested them around his neck.

"Hi, welcome in, what can I—Oh shit," Jimin heard as he reached for his wallet. He furrowed his brows while looking up at the person behind the counter. Eyes of flames met his own, making his go round. In front of him stood a tall man with dark hair pulled up into a bun resting on his head. A silver hoop glimmered against his lips while various black ink and color tattoos traveled down his arm and spilled onto his hand. He held a black Sharpie with a tight grip, frozen in place as it hovered over a plastic cup.

Jimin was slightly stunned and a bit confused. He didn't know this man for him to be on the opposing end of a glare. "Did I—"

"What do you want?" The other man growled, causing Jimin's eyes to narrow. Little Latte has been his favorite spot for years, and he's never once had such a rude interaction with any of the staff.

"A medium dalgona, please."

"Of course, you'd pick the most annoying drink to make."

"Couldn't possibly be as annoying as you right now."

The man scoffed. "Aren't you too old to be using comebacks from grade school?"

"Aren't you too poor to be talking to me like this?" Jimin snapped, earning a quiet gasp from the woman behind him. The man's patience was thin, and he only wanted a cup of coffee. The taller man's gaze hardened at Jimin, almost challenging him. Jimin was never one to back down, so he stared back as he placed a hand on his hip and looked the man up and down.

An older man walked out from a side door wearing a soft blue button-down and a black apron covered in flour and food stains around his hips. He stood with perfect posture and didn't look a day over 30. His midnight hair and beard had peppered strands of silver throughout. His skin was pale with rosy undertones, lips perfectly structured, and a jawline sharp enough to cut through granite. Jimin could only wish he'd look that good in his older age. He did a double take at Jimin as he stood by the barista's side. Any evidence of concern in the older man's face dissipated while Jimin's tense shoulders dropped a little from the familiar face.

"Ah! Jimin! It's so wonderful to see you." He nodded at the man briefly, pearly teeth peeking behind rose-shaded lips, before looking at the barista. "Why don't you take your break, Jeongguk? I got it from here." Jeongguk sighed softly, dropping the cup before entering the room where the older man once came.

"Sorry about that, Jimin; he must be a little tired. He normally doesn't work Wednesdays," the man said as he finished Jimin's order.

Jimin finally managed to relax, though his brows remained furrowed. "It's no problem, Mr. Choi. How much do I owe you?" He looked down at his wallet and began to sort through the bills.

"Nothing," Mr. Choi's brows furrowed as he flinched slightly.

Jimin's warm brown eyes met the others', hand frozen in place with a 20 dollar bill between his fingertips. "Mr. Choi," he deadpanned.

"Jimin," he said in the same tone, prompting a groan from the blonde as he rolled his eyes. Mr. Choi couldn't help but chuckle as he turned his back to the man to start preparing his beverage. He stepped to the side with a playful pout on his puffy pink lips.

He forgot when Mr. Choi started to refuse his payments, but he fought him every time the elder insisted it was on the house. Good coffee deserves compensation. Good food deserves payment, especially if everything is made in-house. Mr. Choi was an insane baker. While away in Spain, he missed Little Latte dearly. This was his safe space for years during college—from studying to heartbreak, Mr. Choi has seen him through it all.

After sneakily paying for the lady behind him, he waited for his coffee, glancing around the shop. The shop mainly had stayed the same since Jimin first started to come here until something caught his attention. Across the room, by the stage, placed against the wall, was a piece of artwork. A Luna piece, to be specific. He felt a chill spread from his face to his fingertips, suddenly feeling flushed with heat.

"You really did mean it when you said you were a big fan.”

Her voice rang through his ears as if she were right next to him. Jimin's cheeks burned as he swallowed hard, folding his arms over his chest. He tried to pull his eyes away from the seamlessly blended pale and mid-green tones that spread horizontally from one end of the canvas to the other. Flecks of emerald green and metallic silver danced freely amongst the ombré. The piece was a statement, the colors popping against the taupe wall. Knowing he could spot her work anywhere, he hated that Kiara was right.

"Is that new?" He asked as he glanced at the owner.

Mr. Choi looked at Jimin and then at the painting, "Oh yeah. A customer gifted it to me as a birthday present." The man smiled as he reminisced. There were very few people who held a space in his heart, but since moving here, it seemed as if he adopted a family. "Kiara," a fond smile spread on his lips while Jimin's heart started to race, "lovely girl."

The older man handed the blonde, who seemed entranced by the painting, his beverage. "You know, she reminds me a lot of you," he chuckled. Jimin's eyes widened, almost dropping the coffee he had just received. He stared at Mr. Choi, who had a slight smirk playing on his lips. "Both of you are very hard workers, lovers of the arts, and pains in my ass."

Jimin glared at the man while Mr. Choi threw his head back, cackling. There was no way in hell he and Kiara were alike. Grouping the man with a selfish liar was ridiculous, but the blonde forced a smile to humor him. He stuck his hand in his pocket again, hearing sounds of disapproval from behind the counter.

"I said it was on the house!" Mr. Choi argued.

Jimin ignored him, seeing a jar on the counter with a white label that 'read tips :)'. The container held various dollar bills and some spare change, but the shop deserved more. Despite the elder's protests, the man grabbed a 100-dollar bill and stuck it in the jar.

"Jimin!"

"If you keep complaining, I'm gonna put another hundred in there," the blonde threatened with a grin. Mr. Choi narrowed his eyes at him but didn't make another sound. Jimin winked at the older man, causing him to roll his eyes and shake his head before returning to work.

The man sipped his coffee and walked over to a seat by the window. A seat he had known since his college days. He enjoyed watching the people walk by; it kept his mind quiet as he made up stories for those who passed. It was easy to do in a place like this, where there were so many different people on so many different routes.

Sometimes, he wondered what it would've been like if he had gone down an alternative route. Would he be able to take days off whenever? Would he have been able to sit in a coffee shop? Or would his day have been plagued with never-ending emails from people demanding his attention?

Jimin didn't like to think about it often, feeling anger bubbling in his gut.

"Your dreams don't matter."

"You can dream once you take over this company."

The blonde shook his head, ridding the memories from his mind. Just as he took the last sip of his sweet coffee, his phone started to buzz in his pocket. Jimin quickly reached for it, glancing at the caller ID before answering.

His sweet coffee turned bitter on his tongue.

He swallowed hard, feeling his hands grow warm as he placed the empty cup on the table. He stared at the screen, breathing unsteadily as he racked his brain for reasons why she would be calling. A few seconds later, the contact named Mother disappeared from his screen, minimizing to a small missed call notification. His jaw clenched as his body tensed up.

She told him never to call her again.

He promised he wouldn't and kept it.

So why was she contacting him?

His phone buzzed again, seeing she had also left him a voicemail. He inhaled deeply, shutting his eyes briefly before unlocking his phone. He waited to check the voicemail. Just the thought of her managed to will the action of her reaching out into existence. Now, if only Jimin could use those powers in other aspects of life.

The man ran his fingers through his pale golden locks, gripping the strands briefly before releasing them. Jimin released another heavy sigh, shutting his eyes for a moment. Little Latte was a great place to sit and think until those thoughts became heavy. Next thing you know, you're bawling your eyes out while the owner consoles you with a cup of tea and a freshly baked sugar cookie.

As he debated on staying, fighting the demons and nightmares that were bound to rear their ugly heads and finally try to lay them to rest, he spotted a note stuck onto the table. It read:

“Have the courage to say no. Have the courage to face the truth. Do the right thing because it is right. These are the magic keys to living your life with integrity."

His lips pulled into a small smile as he read it, glancing around as if he were going to find the one who wrote it. How did this mystery person know that this was what he needed to hear right now?

And with that, the blonde got up, throwing away his trash before waving goodbye to Mr. Choi. The note was a good pick me up and gave Jimin the boost he needed. He wasn't going to go back to that place again. He wouldn't let his thoughts consume him past the point of no return again. He made a promise to a little girl, and he intended to keep it. Unlike some people, promises meant something to him. He placed his headphones over his eyes again as he looked up the nearest yoga studio on his phone. Living in New York was terrific on days like these; everything was within walking distance of each other, and you never needed to go far to find what you needed.

After following the directions from his phone, he stopped in front of a building with tinted glass windows. On one of the windows was cursive lettering that read State of Mind. The words circled a silhouette of a person sitting with their legs layered one over the other. Jimin pushed the door open and entered. The light, cream-colored walls and the golden oak-stained wood flooring gave the room a bright feel. There was a hint of lavender incense burning in the air, nothing too strong but enough to calm his nerves upon entering. Various plants were placed meticulously around the room while soothing music filled the otherwise quiet space.

He walked up to the desk, where a woman with long dark hair focused on a computer screen. The blonde waited patiently, not wanting to be rude by demanding her attention instantly. Soon enough, the girl glanced at him, doing a double take. Her brown eyes were wide with wonder, and her jaw slightly hung open with a smile tugging at her lips. She stared much longer than socially appropriate, making the blonde chuckle uncomfortably.

"I'm sorry," she sighed, placing a hand on her chest while a dusty pink spread across her tanned cheeks. "You're Jimin, right? On TikTok?"

Jimin offered the girl a slight smile as he chuckled sheepishly. "Yeah, I am."

"Oh my god, I'm such a huge fan! I've been dying to go to one of your classes, but," the girl suddenly looked down and away, the pink on her cheeks deepening to a rose. "I'm not that great of a dancer."

The blonde's smile widened. "That's OK! We offer beginner classes and ensure everyone is comfortable and confident in their skin. We're really laid back." He reassured as the brunette looked at him again. She was pretty, with a sweet face, innocent eyes, and a shy smile. He felt a pain in his chest, his smile wavering for a second, but not enough for her to notice. "Let me get your contact information, and I'll try to squeeze you into my next class if you're interested."

She perked up, the smile on her face reaching her eyes. "I'd like that!" She quickly wrote down her information and handed it to him. "Now, how may I help you today?"

Jimin chuckled, slightly amused by her quick personality switch. "I was wondering if there was a glass I could join in," he said as he pulled his wallet out of his pocket. "I know it's kinda last minute."

"That's fine!" She tapped on her keyboard a few times. "There's a class starting in a few minutes with an opening, so you can walk on in."

The smile on his lips grew. They finished out the transaction as Jimin lightly flirted with the girl. He couldn't help it. She looked so much like… her. The woman from his dreams. From his nightmares.

He walked down a nearby hallway until he reached a frosted glass door. Upon entering, he noticed the chatter amongst the fellow occupants stopped. Suddenly, all eyes were on him. If it were anyone else, they would've been startled by the point of uncomfortableness, walking in with shoulders that seemed to fold in on themselves while keeping their eyes glued to the floor.

Jimin was the exact opposite. He knew he commanded the attention of any room, so he was used to the peering eyes watching his every move. There was silence beside his footsteps that led him to an empty spot next to someone who got a head start on stretching—someone who seemed not to care about who had just walked into the room at all. After he rolled out his mat, the conversation between the other people resumed. As he took a moment to warm up, his eyes glanced around the room.

The area had the same walling and flooring as the reception area. Wall-length windows aligned against the right wall gave a full view of a garden they had outside. The foliage began getting its deep green leaves back, and colorful buds were sprouting. The place must've been beautiful in full bloom. He made a mental note to visit later in the Spring.

His eyes then went from looking past to the girl beside him. She wore a black zip-up hoodie that stopped short enough to expose some of the golden brown skin of her abdomen. She raised her arms, stretching out her body. Her silhouette was absolutely sinful. A perfect hourglass shape accentuated every more so by her fuller figure. She had on a pair of thin yoga pants, and Jimin could damn near lose his mind staring at her ass, so he looked elsewhere. Her dark hair was tied into a messy bun, loose spirals sticking out here and there, trying to break out of their restraints. All he could do was imagine himself with his fingers entangled in her hair while he pulled on them, burying himself deep inside of her while she screamed out for more.

Stop. You came here to relax, the blonde thought to himself.

Jimin pulled his arm over his chest and held it with his other arm, stretching his shoulders. So far, the body was nice; now, if she just turned around, he could decide if she was worth pursuing. The blonde didn't have a type—he liked anyone in any shape, size, or skin tone. With all the beautiful people in the world, why limit himself? Love is blind, and lust is fluid; there should be no reason to be picky when you're just looking for fun.

He turned his body to the wall-length mirror in front of them, hoping to get a glance at her face. At the same time, she turned to face the mirror as well. Their eyes instantly met as if they were looking for each other.

His heart dropped into his stomach while his face grew hot.

It couldn't be. There was no way.

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