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cinnaminsvga · 1 year ago

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Harana | Jungkook

harana (n.): the act of wooing someone by serenading them

→ summary:

Unwilling to settle down with you after five years of dating, Jeon Jungkook decides to break up to chase after his dreams. In the aftermath, you leave your hometown, desperate to forget your past and relearn what it means to be on your own. Two years later while on your way to work, you pass by a familiar voice singing songs about a girl he had left behind.

{or alternatively: Jungkook still sings the love songs that he wrote for you. He still means them, too.}

→ genre: busker!au, exes to lovers, angst, humor → warnings: jimin is insane and kinda crude (he has some issues going on), jungkook is a pathetic wet bunny but he's trying his best, oc has So Many Problems, so much arguing and yearning, ambiguous ending??? but my god there is hope!! the humanity of it all!! → words: 16.1K → a/n: HOLY SHIT IM BACK (kinda) and happy new year!! yeah ok its march but im relearning how to form coherent sentences so be patient ;w; this is the first installment of my hfoh series that i teased a LONG time ago... i made it a resolution to complete this series by the end of the year before i kms (Keep Myself Safe) so here's to a brand new year :D (oh god @ universe pls be kind)

part of the “heart full of hugot” series

Two days before the incident, your shower nozzle decides to explode.

Okay, you have to admit that statement is a little misleading. Shower nozzles, in all its nonsentience, do not randomly decide to explode no matter how much you try to defend yourself to your landlord. Maybe your grip had been a little too harsh that morning, or maybe hanging 5 pounds of hair products on the handle had been a bit too much for the old sport to handle. Or maybe, just maybe, the universe was warning you about the incident.

Whatever it was, it doesn’t erase the fact that your shower would be out of commission for the next week or so (though your landlord seems adamant about prolonging your suffering as long as possible). Until then, you’re going to have to find some other ways to keep the grease and grime from building on you. Heavens know that you already have a thriving ecosystem living in the back of your couch—you don’t need another one growing under your armpits.

Lucky for you, you have friends. More importantly, you have friends who have showers. There is one problem though—all your friends live on the other side of the country.

It’s been two years since you moved to the Big City™️, but you have done little to grow your social network. Call it introversion or depression, either way, you have no more contacts on your phone than you did when you left your hometown. Well, except for one person, if you could even consider him one. Frankly, you didn’t have a choice.

“Welcome to my humble abode, stinky,” Jimin greets you as you enter his house. Your nose is instantly assaulted by the smell of Bath & Body Works® Sweet Pea, reminding you once more why you didn’t consider him a friend.

“Hey,” you reply gruffly, shucking your ratty shoes near his entrance. Your shoes look incredibly out of place amidst the sea of designer Chelsea boots and a singular pair of thigh-high heels. You take a glance at his living room, already feeling worse about yourself tenfold.

You had met Park Jimin by complete accident, much like how his mother probably felt when she first saw him too. You had never known anyone quite as… interesting as him, to put it lightly.

When you got your job as a hostess for a luxury bar and restaurant, you figured you wouldn’t make many friends with your coworkers. Everyone was so… pretty, but in the shiny, untouchable sort of way. Almost all of the servers were as gorgeous as the models you’d see in magazines. You hadn’t known that the owners only hired a certain “demographic” of people for their restaurant, and you were equal parts flattered and disgusted that you’d somehow made it (though you suppose your bullshitting skills were all to thank).

Unsurprisingly, even the bartenders were gorgeous, including one Park Jimin. He did have an aura to him that screamed “I’m a cut above the rest and I know it,” but that could just be the gold chains dripping down his neck. You almost mistook him as one of the patrons who mistakenly made his way behind the bar, and knowing the sort of clientele you’ve had to deal with so far, you wouldn’t have been surprised. It took a couple of weeks before you finally found out who he was (and what his fucking problem was).

Jimin was a part-time bartender with a full-time job as a bitch a self-made entrepreneur. Which is to say, he sold… tasteful photos of himself on the internet. You had nothing against his line of work. In fact, you would go far as to say you didn’t give a shit what he did outside of your shared workspace. But if there’s one thing Jimin is, it’s that he hates being ignored.

So when you were adamant about not oohing and aahing at everything that makes Park Jimin perfect, he made it his self-appointed mission to befriend you. Or at least that’s what he claims, but given how he treats you lesser than the shit that cakes his cheeks, you have a lot of doubts. Perhaps he’s never made an effort to make a friend, hence his inexperience with being a decent human being. Or perhaps he’s just an asshole, but who is to say? The point is: he’s the only person you knew in this godforsaken city who would likely allow you to use his shower without being awkward about it and that’s that.

The worst part about being an acquaintance with Park Jimin was that he lived in the richest area of Downtown but he wasn’t old money, that’s for sure. His entire essence screamed overconsumption, and his myriad of little trinkets littered across his apartment confirmed your previous assessment. You wouldn’t be surprised if you opened his freezer and found ten types of ice sorted assorted by color and shape like the extra bitch that he was.

He made his money through sheer force, and it would have impressed you if he wasn’t, you know. Him.

“Bathroom is over there. I placed a towel and other shower amenities that you can borrow,” he says pointing to a door with a large “FART ZONE: ENTER WITH CAUTION” sign taped to it. You don’t ask.

“Thanks,” you say flatly. You wait patiently for his out-of-pocket comment.

Like clockwork, Jimin smirks. “Sure thing. I gave you the super heavy-duty stuff. Figured you’d burn a hole through my expensive towels with how stinky you are, with your yeasty cu—”

“Aaaand I’ll be done in a few minutes. Thanks again Jimin,” you interrupt, making your way to the bathroom and slamming the door with as much force as you can muster. You hear something fall as the door shuts, and you vaguely hear Jimin mutter something about his “fart zone” signage.

You begin to prepare your shower routine, humming lowly as you go about your business. You try to ignore the suffocating scent of ten million diffusers entering your nostrils, wondering for the umpteenth time if Jimin is suffering from long-term olfactory dysfunction.

“Focus, Y/N. The quicker you shower, the quicker you can get the fuck out of here,” you whisper to yourself. However, in your haste, you knock over Jimin’s towel by accident. When the towel falls, a sheet of sandpaper slips out from underneath it, and you stare bemusedly until it finally hits you.

“YOU ARE SUCH A LITTLE BITCH!”

From behind the door, you can hear Jimin’s infamous cackle. “Did you find the loofah? I got it just for you, darling!” he shouts back through his laughter, and you just grumble back in response. How on earth no one has strangled him to death, you have no idea.

“Whatever. I’m gonna shower now! Go beat off or whatever the fuck you do in your spare time,” you grouse, stripping as quickly as possible.

When the first droplets of water hit your body, you can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. You had both anticipated and dreaded going to Jimin’s house, but you desperately needed the shower. So you go through your routine, trying to find some semblance of relaxation throughout the process. However, it seems that Jimin was yearning for a little bit of attention as he chose to recline on the other side of the door and chat your ear off. Peace was never an option, it seems.

“Hey, Y/N! So why haven’t I seen you at work recently?” Jimin hollers from his living room. Despite the wall separating you, his voice manages to retain its volume.

You squirt a large glob of Jimin’s (expensive) conditioner onto your hands. “What do you mean? I go to work every day. You were the one who hasn’t been clocking in.”

You can hear Jimin scoff. “Um, correction! I went to work last Friday, which so happened to be your day off. If I didn’t know any better, I would have assumed you were avoiding me.”

And right you are, you think. But instead, you say, “Yeah, what a coincidence. I’ll be back to my regular schedule on Monday, though.”

“So that means you didn’t see the Justin Bieber wannabe stationed outside the restaurant then?” Jimin asks, voice miffed. “The guy suddenly sat down by the entrance window and a whole damn crowd started to appear! The absolute nerve of these people—don’t they know Park Jimin was just past the doors?”

This provokes Jimin to go on his long epic soliloquy, which you’ve learned to drown out over the past two years. He could go on hour-long tirades if he wanted, and any interruption from you would just bounce off his nonfunctioning ears. And so, you allow his voice to fall to the back of your mind, similar to white noise if it wasn’t so grating.

However, this was likely your greatest mistake. If you hadn’t been so exhausted, or if Park Jimin hadn’t been so damn annoying all the time, or if the stars had aligned just right… Maybe you would have been forewarned about the incident. It’s as if the universe was screaming at you to pay attention, but alas… You were standing on the proverbial highway, unbeknownst to the incoming traffic because you had your metaphorical AirPods on.

So there you are, completely showered but none the wiser to your impending doom, naively looking to the future with unsuspecting eyes. Even if you had known of what was to come, would avoiding it even be possible? In hindsight, you suppose not, but you still kick yourself for being so blind. If only you’d steeled your heart, then maybe you wouldn’t have felt like vomiting in front of a crowd of innocent bystanders the very next day.

xxx

Monday comes and your shower still isn’t fixed. Jimin makes the benevolent gesture of allowing you to use his shower in the meantime, though you’ll only partake in his offer as minimally as possible. He does mention that he’ll need at least an hour’s notice, warning you about “accidental voyeurism.” You shudder to think of what sort of horror you might find if you did visit him without warning, and you pray for the continued well-being of your retinas.

On your way to work, you’re too busy watching cute videos of animals to notice the unusual flock of people idling close to your workplace. When you get closer, however, the growing commotion is enough to rip your gaze away from your phone, and the sight of the large crowd makes you stop in your tracks.

It is 4 pm and the usual line of waiting patrons should not start piling up for another three hours, so this confuses you more than anything. You shuffle closer, squinting at the crowd until you notice that they aren’t lined up at all; instead, they have congregated into a large circle, but you are too far to see what they are surrounding.

An accident? You worry, wondering if something terrible happened. You tiptoe above the heads of people, subtly moving forward to take a better look. Curse you and your curiosity. You take a deep breath, bracing yourself to see something grotesque or astonishing, but instead…

It’s worse.

Inching closer, you can begin to hear a soft thrumming of a guitar and a gentle singing voice that causes alarm bells to ring in your ears. The warm melody digs up old memories of a time long past: of ballads sung outside your childhood bedroom window, of promises whispered under Spiderman sheets, of tender caresses tucking stray hairs behind your ears… They flood your senses, but all you can feel is dread.

It can’t be who you think it is. You accidentally elbow a guy on your way to get closer, unsteadying his grip on his phone.

“Hey, watch it! I’m filming a totally not-staged TikTok over here!” He yells, but you can hardly pay attention to him when you feel unnaturally drawn to come closer, still.

You’re nearly at the front, with just a couple of teenagers standing between you and the (not-so) mysterious street performer. But the distance is enough, and your breath catches. You can see him—

Black hair partially hidden under a bucket hat. Boots bigger than Pangaea and a pair of eyes equally as large. Dark ink snaking down his arms, peeking out from under oversized sleeves. Piercings that could rival Park Jimin on a good day. He isn’t facing you, but you can still see his big doe eyes, gentle sloping nose, and pretty lips stretched into a handsome smile.

Your heart is thundering in your chest. This can’t be happening, you panic. After two whole years of rebuilding and reshaping yourself, relearning how to be yourself and not… not just his girlfriend.

Jeon Jungkook stands before you, busking in front of your workplace of all locations. The universe could not have been any crueler to you.

You—you had been known as nothing more than Jeon Jungkook’s high school sweetheart. Buried memories of snide comments from jealous teen girls fill your mind, reminding you of the time when you were coined a simple side piece to the main attraction. Decor, as they would call you. Nothing more than a girl who happened to snag Jungkook before people realized he was going to turn… hot. A hot guy who could sing. An inevitable chic magnet, as they would call him.

And now, years later after much therapy and soul searching, your worst nightmare is standing in front of you in the flesh. This is what you will eventually dub the incident.

At that moment, however, there is little to no time to dwell on naming this ongoing core memory. All you can feel is the adrenaline pumping through your veins, as well as the nausea rising up your throat. You stumble backward, blatantly shoving onlookers away as you struggle to find some air to breathe. In hindsight, you probably should have backed away as subtly as possible, but you hope that your dyed hair might be different enough that Jungkook wouldn’t know it was you if he had glanced your way.

Even when you stagger towards your work establishment, the walls cannot perfectly muffle his soothing singing. You can’t make out the lyrics to his song too well, but his unmistakable voice is hard to ignore. Working as a hostess, your station is also coincidentally as close to the door as possible for maximum torture.

This can’t get any worse, you think as your mind races with conflicting emotions. You thought you had moved on, thought you were past the pain and the memories, but seeing Jungkook again, unexpectedly, stirs up a storm of feelings you thought were buried deep. Anger, hurt, betrayal—all rush to the surface, threatening to overwhelm you.

But there is no time to unpack all that baggage right now. Time will continue to march on, and your job is still on the line. How can you have the time to have a mental breakdown when you were still living paycheck to paycheck?

But even as you try to push Jungkook out of your mind, his voice echoes in your ears, his image burned into your memory. It's as if the universe is laughing at your misery, reminding you that despite all your supposed growth, you are still just you.

Painfully and pathetically you.

As you struggle to pull yourself together, a familiarly loud voice rings outside the edge of your consciousness. “Hey, Y/N! Fancy seeing you here…” Jimin greets you, his usual jovial demeanor halting midway when he sees your panicked expression. He clears his throat, perplexed. “Umm… Are you alright there, girl? You’re looking a little pale.”

You do not even have the mental capacity to wonder why Park Jimin was miraculously early to his shift, nor why he seems genuinely worried for you. Rather, all you can do is wave him off and use what little time you have before the restaurant opens to steel yourself for hours of melodious torture.

“I’m fine, Park. You should get to work,” you grit out, wiping your sweaty palms on your uniform. Normally, Jimin would have teased you about the obvious wrinkles on your skirt.

“You’re not the boss of me,” Jimin huffs, always the contrarian. He thinks better of it, however, and softens his tone. “Are you feeling sick or something? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

You freeze, perhaps giving yourself away a little. “I’m fine,” you repeat.

“You know, if you refuse to elaborate, I’m going to have to retract your shower privileges,” Jimin taunts with a smirk.

You feel a migraine growing by your temple, making you wince. God, why must men be the source of all your problems?

“I’m just… a little annoyed by the busker outside the restaurant,” you eventually admit, trying to be vague. Unfortunately for you, Jimin hates beating around the bush and would never take your crap if he knows something is up.

Unable to withstand the weight of his unimpressed stare, you clarify, “He was someone I used to know, that’s all.” You aren’t going to be any more specific than that, though you imagine Jimin gets the picture. You zip your lips, hoping to whoever is causing you pain that Jimin would somehow let the matter drop and leave you to your misery.

You brace yourself for his onslaught of questioning to come, and… it doesn’t happen. Instead, when you glance at Jimin, he is mysteriously stone faced. You wait for him to speak for what feels like a few minutes, but he doesn’t show any signs of wanting to tease or ridicule you. He simply watches you with a pensive expression. You can barely stop yourself from staring back at him, slack-jawed at his silence.

Of course, you aren’t just going to question your luck, or what little you have at least. So, you stay silent back and fidget uncomfortably.

Finally, Jimin seems to snap out of his strange reverie. He fixes you with a bizarrely sympathetic grin, patting you affectionately on the back. “I see… Well, if you ever need a drink tonight, head over to the bar for a little sip. I got you covered,” is all he says in response before sashaying away.

That was so fucking weird. You want to chase after him, perhaps beat the truth out of him. Jimin is nothing but a scheming dick, and you aren’t about to let him roam free with such sensitive information about yourself. Just as you’re about to stomp his ass (perhaps to relieve some of the building tension from your weary soul), your manager pops his head from his office door.

“Y/N! Make sure you’re logged into the booking system. There’s going to be a party of 20 coming in about an hour,” he reminds you, shooting you an apologetic look. You nod back with a sigh, swiping the booking tablet from the hostess desk and scrolling through the logs. Sure enough, it is going to be a busy night despite being a Monday evening. Perhaps a little busier than usual, in fact.

Whatever. You will use whatever distraction you can get, and perhaps the approaching noise from the restaurant patrons will be enough to drown out the sound of his voice.

You aren’t religious by any means, but you pray to whatever higher power exists that Jeon Jungkook doesn’t somehow decide to enter the restaurant. Stay outside, you plead. Outside the restaurant and your life, if possible.

Throughout the evening, you do your best to push aside the memories that threaten to resurface. You greet customers with a smile, lead them to their tables, and ensure their dining experience is pleasant despite the anxiety poisoning your insides. It's a routine you've perfected over time, a shield against the chaos of your emotions.

As the night wears on, you can feel Jimin's eyes on you from across the restaurant. You sneak glances back at him, and you blanch at his pitying gaze. If the restaurant had been slightly less crowded, you would have flipped him off.

He’s probably enjoying my suffering, you think darkly. Unwilling to give him the satisfaction, you straighten up and do your best to appear more unaffected. Just as you do so, you can hear Jungkook perfectly hitting a soulful high note.

“I’m so sorry for thinking I was strong,” you whisper to the universe. “Forgive me for my insolence.” You clench your fist in anguish, ignoring the confused looks from the customers in front of you.

By the time your shift comes to a close, you are completely and utterly drained. You feel like a snail that has been continuously salted over the past eight hours, and you cannot help but cheer in relief when the clock finally strikes two in the morning. You have to wait for the last few diners to make their leave, but otherwise you are ready to let your bed swallow you whole.

You stand by your hostess desk, leaning your head against it with a defeated sigh. Jungkook’s voice had died down only a few minutes ago, and you hope that by this point he has mercifully left the premises. You want to take a peek to make sure, but just as you’re about to make your way to the door, you feel a hand on your shoulder stop you in your tracks.

“‘Sup, bitch.” Jimin still has that weird, pitying gaze pointed at you, though his words don’t match it. “Are you okay to go home alone tonight? I can bring your dumb ass home if you want.”

You shove his hand away, ready to bite his head off when you think better of it. If Jimin drives you home, then that lowers the chances of seeing Jungkook down to pretty much zero.

“You know what? Thanks,” you grouse. Jimin smiles at you winningly, and the image of it brings a shiver down your spine. You hit him, creeped out. “Hey. Stop that, will you? You’re being really weird?”

Jimin scoffs, crossing his arms. “Me? Weird? At least I don’t look like a damn firework ready to explode just because my cringelord ex-boyfriend is singing sappy love songs outside—”

“Shut the fuck up,” you seethe, stomping on his foot. He yelps in pain and slaps your shoulder in retaliation.

“Ouch! Watch your ogre feet! My shoes are worth twice your monthly rent I’ll have you know,” he bristles. He breathes deeply, likely finding his inner calm (which you doubt exists). “But because I’m so nice, I’ll ignore your earlier transgression and blame it on your underdeveloped amygdala.”

You don’t know what’s more surprising: the fact that Jimin knew what an amygdala was or that he was forgiving you in the first place. “Whatever. Let’s finish closing up and then head out. I’m exhausted.”

You make quick work of your task and when you’re ready to head out, Jimin is already waiting by the backdoor. He’s twirling his car keys with a finger and gestures for you to follow him. As you make your way to his car in the back parking lot, you catch sight of a lone figure standing next to a beat-up pickup truck. He’s leaning against it, his hands busy tuning a battered guitar.

Your breath hitches, and you immediately feel nauseous. Of course the incident has yet to end. The night is young, after all.

Jimin accidentally slams the backdoor closed, and the noise wrenches Jungkook’s attention away from his ministrations. Immediately, his eyes lock with Jimin before finally turning to you.

Your heart skips a beat as he gazes at you, your mind racing with a hurricane of emotions. You hadn’t expected to see him again so soon, especially not after the tumultuous encounter earlier in the day. What did you say earlier? That “the chances of seeing Jungkook was down to pretty much zero”?

The chances of seeing Jungkook is low, but never zero, your mind unhelpfully supplies.

There is a long period of awkward silence. Jungkook has his mouth slightly agape, his hand subconsciously lowering his guitar to rest against his truck. To your left, Jimin’s breathing quickens slightly. You, on the other hand, are trying your best not to projectile vomit in this damned parking lot.

Jungkook is the one who decides to break the delicate silence. “Is that you…?” he calls out hesitantly.

Don’t say my name don’t say my name don’t say my name don’t say my name don’t say my—

“Y/N,” Jimin interjects. His gaze is steel cold, uncharacteristic of the carefree boy. He slings an arm around your shoulders, gently nudging you towards his car. With your view still fixed on Jungkook, you miss the way Jimin shoots the other boy with a playful smirk. “C’mon, babe. Let’s go home.”

His words startle both you and Jungkook. “Wha—? Jimin?” you splutter, flushing at his flirtatious undertone. You want to curse him out for his strange behavior, but all the shock has left you mute.

Jimin all but shoves you into the passenger seat. But just as he’s about to slam the car door, you hear Jungkook call out your name. It’s fleeting and quiet, but you heard him crystal clear.

It breaks your spirit to hear him say your name. For a moment, you feel as though you are floating.

When was the last time he called your name? And so softly, too? If you could replay that moment over and over, would you be able to catch some signs of tenderness in his voice? When you close your eyes later that night, would your dreams show you that he had been gazing at you with yearning? Was any of it true?

As Jimin starts the car and pulls away from the curb, you steal one last glance out the window, only to find Jungkook staring at you with an arm outstretched. You continue to watch him until his figure disappears into the night.

You are quietly immersed in your own thoughts, the whirlwind of emotions intensifying your persistent migraine. Unaccustomed to silence, Jimin decides to give his unsolicited two cents, as per usual.

“Geez. Didn’t know you were into the whole starving artist type. If I’d known, then maybe I’d stop trying to brag about my fortune to you,” Jimin scoffs. “If loser buskers like him impress you, then maybe I should—”

“Would you shut the fuck up for once in your fucking life!” You explode, whirling to face him with a glare. Jimin has the audacity to flinch, but he doesn’t take his eyes off the road.

“What the fuck? Why the hell are you mad at me?”

“What the hell was that back there? ‘C’mon babe.’” You mimic his voice with a sneer. “Why on earth would you do that? Now he thinks that we…”

“Why do you care what he thinks? He’s your ex, remember?” Jimin cuts you off, but you can’t even refute him. He continues, “Figured as much. And judging by how spooked you’ve looked all day, I have to assume that he was an asshole, right? Why else would you accept my offer for a ride home if you really wanted to avoid seeing him?”

You shrink under his accurate assumptions. Damn, were you really that easy to read? “I… I mean, yeah but…” You clear your throat, still feeling wronged by him. “You didn’t have to act like a weird prick in front of him!”

Without warning, the floodgates burst forth. You begin to ramble, the thoughts that have been weighing you down pouring out of you in waves. “Jungkook was my ex, yeah. But he wasn’t an asshole. On the contrary, he was really sweet. The nicest guy in my school, at least. Wouldn’t hurt a fly, that sort of person. I dated him all throughout high school and he was a great partner.”

Jimin hums skeptically. “Then why the messy break-up?”

“It wasn’t messy!” You retort defensively.

“Could’ve fooled me!” Jimin snorts. “I also frequently act like a trembling kitten when I see my exes,” he says sarcastically.

You ignore him. “The reason we broke it off was because he wanted to pursue his dreams to become a singer after high school and I wanted to do other things. It was a mutual break-up! Honestly, I’m glad that we did. Too many girls wanted him and all the unwanted attention was getting on my nerves. I was glad to find a reason to end it all,” you explain, hoping you didn’t sound as shaky as you felt. What you said was mostly true, though you left out the important bits to yourself. Mostly to save some of your dignity intact. (Truthfully, you just didn’t want to admit things you weren’t ready to face.)

“Then if you’re so glad, why do you look like you wanted to shit yourself? It ain’t adding up,” Jimin fires back.

“It’s just—” you stammer, trying to find a reason why you were so bent out of shape after seeing him. “I-I was caught off guard, I guess. I knew he was pursuing his dreams to sing and all, so I expected him to leave the country. I wasn’t expecting to see him outside where I work, of all places,” you mutter lamely. You have your head bowed, biting your lips from the nerves. Again, you weren’t totally lying.

Jimin is silent for a moment, contemplating your admission. When he looks so calm like this, it’s hard to get a read on what he’s thinking. As Jimin speeds down the highway, the street lights illuminate his face in a strange way, and for once, he looks like a stranger. His steely expression makes you nervous, for some reason.

Eventually, he asks you a question you would never have expected. “And he just let you go?”

You pause. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Jimin huffs, irritated. “He just up and left without a fight? If I were him, I would have…” he trails off, his jaw clenching.

You don’t know where this Jimin came from. Under the moonlight, Jimin looks livid, but that can’t be right. Jimin, mad for you? Sure, you’ve seen his anger directed towards you, but this? Everything’s gotten so complicated, and you are just about ready to succumb to sleep and hope to wake from this nightmare.

The rest of the drive to your house is silent, save for the sounds coming from passing cars. Jimin pulls up to your apartment complex, his mysterious anger finally subsiding.

Just as you’re about to reach for the car door handle, Jimin places a hand on your shoulder. “Listen, Y/N. I’ll talk to management tomorrow morning. I know the manager well enough that I can probably convince him to do something about that ex of yours. He’s busking on private property, so it should be easy to get rid of him,” Jimin says, tone serious. He swallows, and for a moment you think he looks a little nervous. “If that’s what you want, I guess.”

His kindness scares you. You want to tease him, ask him where Mr. Bitchy and his $2000 Chelsea boots had gone. Anything to make this air of severe sincerity to abate. This new Jimin feels suffocating. But instead, you nod your head stiffly.

Jimin makes a pained expression for a moment, but it’s quickly replaced by his usual playful smirk. He slaps you upside the head, laughing heartily at your stunned face.

“Get some rest, babe. I’ll see you tomorrow evening,” he chuckles, reaching over to open the door for you. You scramble out into the cold city air, taking one last look back at him through his window.

He rolls it down, leaning forward to flash a toothy grin at you. “Hey, stop with all the angst, pookie. Wouldn’t want my favorite toy to get sick from overthinking. Who else would I bother at work if not you?”

You snort, both endeared and irritated in equal measure. He’s right. Everything was going back to normal tomorrow, you’re sure of it. You flip him off with a cheeky grin before making your way to your apartment.

Everything is going to be okay. Jimin says he’ll do something about it, and for whatever reason, you feel like you can trust him on this. Surely good fortune was soon to be upon you.

xxx

Jimin had texted you while you were still sleeping:

Spoke to Manager Jeong about your little problem. He said he’ll deal with him.

You breathe a sigh of relief, your body feeling significantly lighter. Your sleep last night had been tumultuous and restless. You feel more tired than you did when you went to bed, but all your weariness fades once you read Jimin’s text.

Once you make it to work, you find that management has gotten rid of Jungkook somehow. Added with the fact that your landlord has promised to look into repairing your shower (no guarantees, but you want to stay optimistic), today has been significantly better compared to yesterday. You even catch yourself humming as you set up your workstation, a small smile gracing your lips.

Jimin has a later shift this evening, and you find that you are somewhat disappointed for once. Your overwhelming gratitude is surely the only reason, otherwise you would never admit to wanting to see him at any given time.

You are in the midst of texting Jimin about all the good news when your manager passes by your desk. You are quick to pocket your phone away from his prying eyes, ready to defend that you aren’t slacking off… but his demeanor does not reveal any ire. In fact, he looks rather pleased for once.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Jeong. What’s up?” you ask, suspicious. You instinctively fold your hands behind your back; it is a subconscious effort on your part to keep your distance from him. Something about your manager always gives you a bad feeling when he looks a little too happy.

He grins widely. “Everything is going splendidly, Ms. Y/N. In fact, I think today might just be our lucky day!”

Never during your time working here has his and your luck ever coincided. “Our lucky day?” you echo.

“Why, yes! I spoke with your lovely friend and coworker Jimin this morning,” he starts, and immediately your alarm bells ring. You don’t even bother correcting him about the ‘friend’ part like you normally would. He continues, “He gave me a brilliant idea about the busker who had been performing in front of the restaurant the past two days.”

You nod slowly, not quite understanding. “Yes… The busker has been quite… the spectacle,” you say carefully. Somehow, you know calling Jungkook a ‘nuisance’ would have been the wrong choice in this instance.

Manager Jeong beams. “Exactly! You must have noticed the amount of people we served yesterday despite being a Monday. Additionally, almost all of those new customers requested outdoor seating no less!”

You feel the world tilt on its axis. What is he on abou—?

“What are you talking about?” you exhale.

“Don’t you think it would be even better for business if we got that busker to perform inside the restaurant? Why, it’s a brilliant idea and I don’t know why I didn’t think of it first! Our live band has always been missing something special, and perhaps a vocal accompaniment is the exact answer to our problem! Think about it, the atmosphere would be…”

Manager Jeong continues to prattle animatedly about his plans to your unhearing ears. There must be static or cotton plugging your head because you cannot possibly understand anything he is saying. Jungkook? Inside? Performing at your restaurant? But Jimin said he had spoken to the manager about getting Jungkook away from you! None of this makes sense.

“That makes no sense,” you verbalize, unknowingly cutting Manager Jeong from his monologue. He halts in surprise, as if now just realizing you were standing there (much less capable of interrupting or disagreeing with him). When he snaps out of it, you sense that familiarly sinister aura emerging from him in waves. You belatedly realize he must have mistaken your outburst as antagonistic.

“Well, Ms. Y/N. Whether it makes sense or not, we have hired Mr. Jeon to perform live at the bar stage for the next four weeknights. If, for some unknowable reason, I am incorrect,” he pauses to emphasize his words, “then his services will be promptly terminated. However, judging by his popularity from simply standing out in the cold and singing silly love songs, I am sure that worry is unwarranted.”

Behind you, the telltale sound of the main door swinging open catches you even more off guard. You do not even have the chance to turn to face the newcomer, only managing to register the gust of cold wind that accompanies their entry.

And so, you hear him before you see him.

“Hello?” Jeon Jungkook greets quietly.

Even without turning, you can imagine how he looks, how he stands, how he feels, how he tastes—

Manager Jeong claps his hands gleefully. “Splendid timing! Speak of the devil…” The older man nearly skips towards Jungkook like a youthful school girl, accompanied by his uncharacteristic squeals of excitement.

You can feel his gaze on you, almost tangibly. With nothing but your shreds of dignity left intact, you force yourself to face him.

He’s still so tall, is all your mind can helpfully supply as you stand feet away from your high school sweetheart for the first time in two years. He’s still wearing the same bucket hat from the night before, semi-shielding him from view. Despite that, you catch a small flash of white graze his bottom lip as he chews the soft flesh nervously.

“Hi, Y/N.” He addresses you directly, completely overlooking your manager without a single glance. Despite his hat, he still has his eyes lasered on you, as if not quite believing you were there. You hate how his attention makes you shiver all the same.

Even though he ignored your manager (which would have been a major dispute had you done the same), Jungkook still receives a friendly handshake in return. “Mr. Jeon! I’m surprised you know Ms. Y/N, though I’m sure you must have spoken with her when she was escorting guests to the outdoor seating the other day.”

You had actually gotten your co-hostess to seat all the outdoor seatings yesterday, but you weren’t going to mention that.

Manager Jeong claps him on the back, inadvertently causing Jungkook to stumble forward closer to you. He looks up at you then, eyes bugging out of their sockets like a rabbit caught in a bear trap. You stagger backwards in turn, barely concealing the anxiety on your face. Oh fucking hell.

Your manager is none the wiser, of course. “Well, this makes my job much easier! Since you’re both acquainted, I’ll let Y/N show you the ropes. The band doesn’t start their set until later in the evening, but you’re free to take a look at the stage and other parts of our facility in the meantime,” he says, chuffed. Meanwhile, Jungkook looks like he’s been shot by a freeze ray.

Then, your manager points a sharper gaze at you. “Ms. Y/N, treat our super star well. I know you won’t disappoint me.”

Fucking superstar… You can only nod in defeat. “Y-Yes, sir…” you whisper, clenching your uniform with your fists. It is the only way to keep them from shaking like a leaf. You watch as his figure disappears behind his office door, leaving you to fend for yourself. Powerless, you train your gaze to the floor, unwilling to meet Jungkook’s eyes.

But the nerves are taking control of your body, screaming at you to eject, eject, eject!

“Sorry, I have to go to the toilet,” you splutter quickly, almost tripping over yourself on the way to the restroom. You dimly wonder if Jungkook is going to think you’re leaving to throw up, but you can’t find any self-respect left to care. All you need is air and space to breathe—preferably away from him.

You slam open the stall, hardly checking to see if anyone else is around before locking the door shut. You sit on the toilet, plant your face between your knees, and scream.

Should you go home and use sickness as an excuse? But even if you did, you still had shifts every weeknight. You would have to see him eventually. You can pray all you want that Jungkook will be fired by the end of the week, but even your delusional mind can never fathom the idea that anyone would willingly want to send Jeon Jungkook away. Plus, you remember that the regular band that plays at the restaurant has been wanting to get a singer to accompany them for ages, and you know just how damn affable he can be. They are going to love him, and you hate him for that.

It is clear to you that there is no other option:

You pull out your phone to quickly open up Indeed on your browser, frantically hunting for any openings that might fit your measly qualifications. However, you have to pause in your search to deliberate. Wouldn’t it be better to move out of the country? You had been so naive to think that moving cities was enough distance between you and Jungkook—going across the ocean is the obvious answer. Should you start up your Duolingo lessons again and hope that you can somehow survive in a different continent with only a few dollars to your name?

You shut your phone in despair. Whether or not your plans of escape are feasible or not, in the short term, you are stuck with having to suck it up and just learn to ignore your ex-boyfriend’s presence. Surely you can force out a fake smile or two, especially with how much practice you’ve gotten after working with unbearably entitled customers.

Taking a step outside of the restroom stall, you head to the sink to splash some cold on your face. You stare at the mirror, confronted by a girl who looks two seconds away from having a Netflix Original-esque meltdown. You rake your fingers through your hair, doing your best to look like you aren’t about to rush into incoming traffic. To no one's surprise, it doesn't work.

“Okay, I got this. Just pretend like he’s just some guy, because at the end of the day, he is just some guy,” you mutter to your reflection. She looks back at you unconvinced. “He may have broken my heart into little bite size pieces, but who cares! HE’S JUST A GUY!” You repeat the phrase over and over again like a lunatic, in a desperate attempt to cognitively alter your brain chemistry.

At that moment, one of the other stalls in the restroom creaks open, and a girl you recognize who works as one of the dishwashers walks out. You both have a silent eye conversation as she quietly studies your crazed expression and crumpled work uniform.

Eventually, she awkwardly clears her throat, pointing to the only sink in the restroom. “Uh, sorry to hear about your, uh, guy problem. Could I use the sink please?”

You hastily back away, allowing her to take your spot. You don’t even have the energy to apologize for your spectacle, just bowing sheepishly to her before making your way back to the main hall. If she rats you out to the rest of your coworkers, then that gives you another reason to move out of the country. Maybe you should consider a name change while you’re at it.

When you exit the restroom, you half expect Jungkook to be waiting for you by the door, but find that he isn’t anywhere nearby. He isn’t by your hostess station either, and you thank your lucky stars for once. Even if your manager had asked you to show him around, you’re sure that Jungkook can find his way around just fine. Plus, the stage is at the corner of the restaurant and is sufficiently far enough that you wouldn’t have to make eye contact with him if you were careful.

You don’t know which greater entity has been messing with your sanity these past few days, but you hope that they can show you mercy just once—a brief reprieve, if anything.

You clasp your hands in prayer. I’ll eat more vegetables, I’ll remember to floss, I’ll call my parents from time to time… Just please let me survive tonight.

“Remember, Y/N… He’s just some guy,” you reiterate through gritted teeth. If a passing coworker happens to overhear your demented chanting, then you pay them no mind.

You walk towards the entrance, flipping the sign to open. You feel like a video game character when you glance at the clock, which signals the start of your shift. You can imagine the red bold text hovering above your head: 8 more hours until freedom.

This is just like playing Five Nights at Freddy’s, except you’ve only watched the movie and you suspect your life is probably worse than whatever Josh Hutcherson had to survive through.

You take a couple heaving breaths to brace yourself for what will be the longest eight hours of your life. You’ll show Jungkook just how well-adjusted and mature you’ve become. You are a professional, and not even a boy with angelic vocals will make you crumble. After all, what’s the worst he can do?

xxx

He could, in fact, do a lot worse than you thought.

“I have many regrets being born at all,” you mutter bleakly, three hours into your shift.

Jungkook had started singing only an hour ago, so you had been filled with false confidence at first when the restaurant was filled with nothing but ambient chatter and soothing jazz music. You felt more and more confident as the minutes ticked by and your anxiety slowly melted away. You even forgot that he was somewhere in the back, likely warming up or whatever it is that singers did before a performance.

However, your brief moment of courage shatters almost immediately when Jungkook finally takes the stage.

At first, you did your best to tune out his voice, but it’s especially hard when whoever was in charge of the sound system decided to crank his volume to an excruciating level. You wanted desperately to grab some napkins and shove them in your ears, but you suspected that your customers (and manager) would be unappreciative of that gesture. And so there you lay, forced to wallow in Jungkook’s melodious singing like a criminal strapped to an electric chair.

But how much more pleasant an electric chair would be! Why on earth was Jungkook so adamant to sing sad love songs the entire time? Why couldn’t he be like his other singing contemporaries, who loved to write songs about getting bitches and making money? At the very least, even if he wasn’t quite a platinum selling artist just yet, surely he was constantly sharing beds with anyone he pleases? Couldn’t he sing about that?!

(In the back of your mind, you wonder if it would be less painful to learn that Jungkook has slept with multiple people… Because then, it would mean that he had moved on while you stood alone on your island, stranded and yearning.)

You didn’t want to think too deeply about his lyrics. However, you're only human. So when your mind barrier failed and you caught snippets of his singing, you noticed a pattern. There was always a girl in his songs. She was omnipresent, and Jungkook was always pleading for her. Begging and aching and wanting. But most all… he was always repenting. In every song, he always whispered a pious apology.

You feared what would happen if you turned around in those moments of weakness. You were terrified of admitting something, of letting words spill that had been trapped in your throat for the better part of two years.

Lucky for you, salvation comes in the form of one Park Jimin. Though, can you even count him as your savior when he had also inadvertently caused your demise?

Jimin doesn’t even have a shift today, so you’re more than surprised when his bright blonde head stumbles through the restaurant doors. His expensive coat is askew and his signature designer shades are nowhere to be found. He is panic incarnate—an expression you have never seen on his face before.

“Holy fuck,” he greets, his chest heaving as he struggles to catch his breath. His profanity startles the elderly couple waiting to be seated, their glares menacingly sharp. To his credit, Jimin doesn’t even seem phased.

In lieu of an answer, you gesture vaguely behind you. You can imagine how dejected you must look. “Holy fuck indeed,” you sigh.

It takes a moment for Jimin to regain his bearings. He straightens up and pats down his coat, but his hair is still tousled by the wind. If not for the fact that he has a car, you might have thought he had run all the way here.

“I am so sorry. I didn’t know this was going to happen,” he starts, genuinely remorseful. “I texted Manager Jeong this morning and he said he’d get your ex to leave, but I didn’t think he’d offer the damn bastard a job!”

“Mind your language, Park. I’m still at work,” you scold. You try your best to ignore the scrutinizing gaze of the elderly couple. You lower your voice. “And don’t apologize. I know you’re an asshole, but I doubt you’d actually prey on my downfall like this. I know you’re not into public humiliation.”

Jimin brightens slightly at your joke, but he still looks like a guilty puppy who'd been caught shitting on the carpet. “Yeah, well. I happen to enjoy tormenting you and I won’t let some upstart Charlie Puth wannabe ruin your life. That’s my job.”

You smile wryly at him. “Well, that’s too bad. Jungkook’s been singing for a few hours now and I’m pretty sure Manager Jeong is going to keep him long-term. He might have broken my heart, but damn does he have vocals. I'm sure you'll have plenty competition when it comes to 'who can make Y/N's life feel like hell.'”

Jimin doesn't smile back, but instead studies your face for a moment. Then:

“Do you think if I offer to suck Manager Jeong off, he’ll fire him?”

“What the fuck?” You nearly yell out in surprise, your jaw dropping to the floor. Judging by his serious scowl, you know he's actually considering it. By now, the elderly couple waiting to be seated have left the premises.

Jimin continues, unperturbed. “I know he secretly wants me, based on how his wife seems to have a personal vendetta against me. He definitely wants a taste of my bus—.”

“Stop, I get it!” You wave your hands to make him shut up, heat rising up your cheeks. “Never say that string of words to me ever again. You have just inflicted ten years of suffering onto my poor brain.”

“Hey, I’m just offering solutions here!” Jimin pouts.

You stare at him, unimpressed. “Save it. You tried solving my problems already, so let’s just accept the fact that there’s nothing else for me to do but to suck it up. It’s time for me to put on my big girl pants for a change.”

“I mean, I could do all the sucking instead, but you’re being a little bitch about it,” Jimin mumbles. He’s lucky you didn’t hear him this time, lest you give him something to really whine about.

“Anyway, I guess this is my life now. Nothing to do except hope that he never tries to interact with me or I can find another job,” you shrug.

Over your shoulder, Jimin fixes Jungkook with an icy glare that is cold enough to give you the shivers. For the first time that entire night, you hazard a glance back at the stage, finding that Jungkook is already looking back at you.

You whip your head back forward, perspiration forming down your back. For fuck’s sake, this guy.

“Well, let me know if he tries anything. I’ll beat that little freak into the floor if he tries so much as breathing the same air as you.” Jimin huffs, puffing up his chest with false bravado. You can’t help but laugh at his empty threat, knowing that Jungkook could probably bench press Jimin without breaking a sweat. Jimin's muscles are only for aesthetics, after all.

“Don’t worry, he hasn’t actually spoken to me actually. He can keep singing his sad little love songs, I really don’t mind,” you say, like a liar. Jimin snorts, wholly unconvinced.

“Well, if you need me, I’m heading to the bar to grab a drink so I can stare at your ex uncomfortably until he leaves. See you!” Jimin bids you farewell with a cheery grin as he skips a little too happily inside the restaurant.

Why'd you have to befriend the largest lunatic in the city? You massage your forehead with a groan, willing away your growing headache.

The rest of the night trickles away like molasses. Jungkook continues to sing his heart out, save for an hour intermission where he presumably takes a short break. In his absence, you hear Jimin guffaw loudly, his laughter too sharp to be considered happy. You faintly hear Jungkook shy stutters in response, and you momentarily consider running in to interrupt.

Why? Did you want to save Jungkook from Jimin’s unnecessary harassment? It’s not like Jimin is doing it out nowhere, he was just trying to be… a good friend?

You pause to ponder. As much as you hate to admit it, you know why you want to help Jungkook. But Jimin on the other hand? Why did he want to help you? Questions begin flowing through your head like a whirlwind, and your nausea increases. God, when was your next therapy appointment again?

You save those questions for another day. As you look at your watch, there are only thirty minutes left until two in the morning. You tap your foot impatiently, smiling curtly at departing customers as the restaurant slowly emptied. As they left, you overhear some of your regulars giggling amongst themselves, whispering about the cute new singer and his charming demeanor.

The last nail on your coffin has been hammered. Yeah, Jungkook isn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

With the restaurant closing soon, it sounds like Jungkook is ready to end his set as well.

Throughout the night, Jungkook rarely made a point to speak. The only time he didn’t sing was when he quietly introduced the title of his next song and the band swiftly began the first opening notes. For his last song, however, Jungkook decided to give a little more backstory for his final song.

“Hello, everyone. Thank you so much for listening to me for the night,” Jungkook says with a soft voice, his tone awfully shy despite his powerful belting throughout the evening. The few customers left give him a warm round of applause, and you hear the familiar sound of his timid giggles spill from the restaurant speakers.

“This will be my final song for the night. Most of the songs I sang today were covers, but this one is an original. I…” He hesitates for a moment, and something pulls you to turn despite the alarm bells ringing in your ears. You face him, and just like earlier in the evening, he is already looking back at you.

This time, you don’t look away; he does. His eyes flit to the ceiling, and he licks his lips from nerves. “I… I wrote this song a long while ago. I’ve never sang it in public before and I never thought it would ever see the light of day. Until, well…”

He stops again. This time, he gestures to the guitarist in the band, silently asking to borrow it. With a guitar in hand, he smiles a little more confidently at the small crowd of people. He begins strumming the first few notes, and your heart stops. “I hope everyone had a pleasant evening. Get home safe and have a great rest of your week. My name is Jungkook, and this last song is called…”

Before he can sing the first line of his song, you make a break for it.

You slam the restaurant doors open, and the stinging cold air immediately pierces their fangs into your skin. Your coat is still inside, but you can’t bring yourself to reenter. You take a long breath, the chill barely registering in your mind with how loudly your heart is pounding in your ears.

Hearing the opening to that song was enough to bring you back in time, three years ago:

You are in his childhood bedroom, his walls littered with concert posters and his floor a mess with unfolded laundry and guitar picks. The afternoon sun is streaming through his windows, bathing him in gold. You have an exam the next day and he has cram school to go to, but you’ve both chucked your books somewhere on his desk, left forgotten.

He has his eyes closed, concentrated. You’re both on his small twin bed, squished together side by side and thighs touching. You have your head on his shoulder and he has his hands on his guitar. He strums a few chords experimentally and sings a melody that only the two of you know.

(Not anymore.)

“Are you writing a new song?” you ask, voice a little scratchy. Neither of you had spoken for the past few hours, just basking in the setting sun and Jungkook’s indistinct strumming. But now, his chords sound more sure, more certain of something.

“Yeah, I just thought of it,” he hums. He opens his eyes a smidge, a smitten smile on his lips. You mirror him.

“What’s it about this time?”

His brows furrow. “I’ve been trying to write about other stuff, you know? Namjoon-hyung tells me it’s important that songs have meaning and impact.” He pauses in his strumming, looking a little conflicted. “And I get what he means. Art is all about saying something, but… I can’t help that there’s only one thing I ever want to talk about. Is that so wrong?”

You chuckle, understanding what he means. You nudge your head against his cheek, grinning from ear to ear. The fluttering in your chest has become routine to you at this point, but he somehow always knows how to increase it tenfold. “God, you’re such a sweet talker. Really, Koo. There’s no need to serenade with love songs—I’m already yours.”

He looks back at you, brimming with tender affection. “I know,” he responds. Then, he takes a pen from his bedside table, and begins writing.

During those years of dating him, you always thought that If he was a waterfall, then you were a teaspoon. You desperately tried to be enough for him, but you’re barely able to fathom the depth of his devotion. Everything about him was excessive, and you could seldom understand how he managed to contain himself. He was born to share himself, to tear bits of his soul so that the world may understand him, love him. His songs were a testament that he was trying to do that, and you always felt so lucky to be able to receive him, wholly and fully.

How cruel was it that Jungkook uses that same song to rip open the barely healed scab on your heart, leaving you bare and stinging and raw all over again.

You have no idea how long you've stood there in the cold. It must have been barely a few minutes when Jimin finds his way to you. He wordlessly shrugs his coat off and places it on your shoulders, but you make no move to acknowledge him.

You hope your silence is enough for Jimin to infer that you are not in a conversational mood, but he’s nothing if not impatient. He forcibly pulls you to face him, his hands warm even through your clothing.

“Hey, you good? Did something happen?” He asks with barely concealed irritation, but it’s not directed at you. Still, you flinch at his scathing tone, shrinking in on yourself. In your daze, you vaguely notice his resemblance to an angry baby chick.

“It’s nothing. Go back inside, I’ll be right there,” you mumble lamely, weakly pushing him back towards the restaurant. Jimin does not budge, instead leveling you with a hard stare. This time, you’re sure his irritation is for you.

“You idiot, you literally ran out like someone was out to get you. Of course it’s not nothing,” he grouses.

You sigh tiredly, shaking your head at him. “We can talk later. It’s almost closing time and I just want to go home and sleep.”

Before Jimin can argue further, the door to the restaurant opens once more, but it isn’t a leaving customer.

“What the fuck? What are you doing out here?” Jimin all but shouts at Jungkook. He holds up an accusatory finger at him and uses his other hand to nudge you behind him as if to shield you.

Jungkook winces, instinctively stepping back. Despite being a few inches taller than Jimin, Jungkook’s timidness makes him look smaller. “I… I was just worried about her—”

“Don’t you have a song to finish in there? Talk about professional,” Jimin spits out. Jimin maneuvers you so that Jungkook can’t see you, but you manage to catch sight of how his gaze follows you unfailingly.

“I finished up my set. It’s closing time.” Jungkook responds coolly. He’s still a little quiet, but you can sense some of his natural composure rising to the surface. When he needs to be, Jungkook has been known to stand his ground—usually when it comes to matters involving you.

At this time of the night and after hours of mental torture, the last thing you need is to watch your two worst nightmares duke it out in front of your work establishment. You are beyond exhausted, and you hardly have the fortitude to withstand another minute of their voices ringing in your ears.

Your eyes well up with tears of frustration, causing the two boys to freeze up in panic. You don’t give them the chance to fuss over you; instead, you haphazardly wipe your cheeks before roughly pushing them back towards the restaurant.

“Get back to work, you idiots.” Your voice sounds warbled even to your own ears, but you push past your overwhelming emotions in favor of getting back inside to close up. Hell, you might even call in sick tomorrow, just so you can cry pathetically into your bowl of cereal in solitude.

“I’m not even on the clock today!” Jimin complains faintly, but you only push him harder.

When you all reenter, you walk back to your desk and pointedly ignore the two of them until they awkwardly float away from your orbit. Despite the distance they give you, their gazes are still fixed plainly on you and they feel like knives digging into your back.

Eventually, all the final customers of the day take their leave, and your remaining coworkers start dimming the lights and bidding their goodbyes. From the corner of your eye, you see Jungkook bowing respectfully to the band, who were giving him friendly pats on the back for a job well done. Jimin walks toward you, his car keys dangling from his left pinky.

“No thanks. I’ll take the bus home today,” you declare before he can offer a ride. Jimin opens his mouth like a goldfish, flapping his lips dumbly as he stares at you in shock. You have no idea why he’s so surprised, given how you’ve been making it obvious that you need some space.

He looks like he wants to argue again, but thinks better of it. A singular moment of restraint from Park Jimin, which is an act you once thought impossible. Maybe he does care about you more than you thought.

He stiffly nods at you, shoving his hands and keys into his pockets. He still has a frown on his face when he tells you to text him when you get home. You flip him off with a shaky smirk in response, a feeble attempt to bring some levity back to your now tense relationship. It works a little, and Jimin brightens up significantly. How simple-minded of him.

With a flippant wave, you leave work and head towards your bus stop. At this hour of the night, the streets are mostly dim, save for some street lamps and bars that stay open longer than your restaurant. There are always some people milling about, enough that you never feel too on edge about how late it is. Still, your bus stop is often empty, leaving you to mull over your thoughts in peace.

You are in the midst of jamming your earbuds into your ear when a presence makes itself known beside you.

Is it possible to go through the five stages of grief in under a second? You suppose not, but it’s hard to tell what sort of emotions swim through you when you come face to face with Jeon Jungkook again.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you mutter under your breath. You pause the song playing on your phone to glare at him with as much venom as you can muster.

Jungkook holds up his hands in surrender, doe eyes wide like prey. “I-I’m heading home too! I’m not following you, I swear!”

You groan internally. Figures that you and Jungkook take the same bus home. But hold on— “Don’t you have a car? I remember you were parked near the restaurant the other night,” you note, squinting at him.

Jungkook looks sheepish as he rubs the back of his neck. “Oh, yeah. That car was my hyung’s. He lets me borrow it sometimes, but he needed it tonight.”

“Sure…” You level him with a skeptical frown. You remember his hyung, but don’t recall him ever owning a car. You aren’t even sure that his Namjoon-hyung is allowed by the country to drive a car, much less own one.

He could be lying, but you don’t want to give him an excuse to continue any conversation. So, you busy yourself with your phone and keep your head bowed away from him.

When the bus arrives, Jungkook makes it a point to sit a few rows behind you. Thankfully, he has a better understanding of social cues than a certain Park that you know. He leaves you alone, but your entire body still feels like a rope pulled taut. You have to convince yourself not to look behind you, your morbid curiosity scratching your insides raw.

You are in the home stretch now, and it’ll only be a few more minutes before you get to your stop and make your way to your safe haven. Hell resumes the next day and the next, but at the very least you’ll have your home to yourself. No one could take that away from you.

Again, this is where you learn that tempting fate is never a good idea.

When you exit the bus at your stop, you can hear his footsteps following you. It’s hard not to notice, especially when his large and distracting boots make such a distinct racket that makes him so Jungkook.

You hasten your pace towards your apartment complex, your shoulders hunched and hands shoved into your coat pockets in an attempt to hinder the bile rising from your stomach. He had promised that he wasn’t following you, but that proclamation seems to be standing on feeble legs with how long he’s been on your tail now.

Your street is filled with rows of low-rise apartment buildings, so you hope that if anything happens, you can yell as loud as you can and alert some compassionate neighbor to come to your aid. (Not that you think he would ever physically harm you, but… You can’t say the same about your mental state.)

Your home is just two buildings away from where you are, but Jungkook still seems determined to follow you to the end. You all but skip the remaining feet to your apartment entrance, your breath coming out in puffs as you finally muster up the courage to face your supposed stalker and give him a piece of your mind.

“If this is some convoluted way for you to find out where I live, then you aren’t being very subtle about it,” you say, your chin held up high despite the growing urge to vomit pathetically in front of your ex-boyfriend. You have your hand rested on the doorknob, just a moment’s notice away from bolting into your house if the need for a quick getaway arises.

To your surprise, Jungkook wasn’t following you as closely as you expected. He had stopped trailing you about two buildings down, his own hand poised on the door with a look of genuine shock.

You both stand there, staring at each other as mutual understanding dawns on the two of you.

Everyday, the universe learns of more creative ways to be cruel.

“Oh…” Jungkook’s voice falters. He looks simultaneously frightened and amazed, as if he too finds this entire situation unbelievably harsh. He swallows thickly, looking at you and back to his door in quick succession. “Well… This is a strange coincidence,” he murmurs.

You want to believe that this was his entire fault, that Jungkook had somehow managed to track you down to haunt you for the rest of your days. You want to believe that he’s a crazed stalker who is willing to find where you work and live so that every hour of your wretched life is filled with nothing but reminders of what-could-have-beens. You just want someone to blame instead of just the cosmos—you want someone tangible to hate so that your suffering can be given some sort of identity. You want to give your mourning and hurt a name so that you can learn how to heal.

You want to believe all of that, but it’s hard to do so when Jungkook looks so incredibly uncomfortable, as if he’d rather melt into the shadows and never be seen again.

In all your memories, you have never seen Jungkook look so small.

You heave a big sigh, your fingers grasping the door knob so tightly that you half-expect it to be dented from the force. You linger for a moment, your mouth opening but nothing spills out.

What is there to say? What do you say to an ex-boyfriend that you haven’t seen in two years, who is suddenly so deeply entwined in your life once more? Do you tell him goodnight? Tell him to stay away? Tell him to come home with you?

Jungkook looks equally as conflicted. His lips are pursed tight with words left unsaid. You aren’t sure whether you want to punch the confession out of his mouth or seal them up forever. It feels like eons before he finally breaks the silence with a mirthless laugh.

“I… I just wanted to say—back at the restaurant. When I sang that last song,” Jungkook begins, and his voice feels loud because of how empty the streets are. For a moment, you are reminded of a cathedral you once visited during a vacation, how sacred silence can be. The world holds its breath, waiting for him to speak.

“I meant it all. Every word. Every lyric. I never stopped…”

He trails off, shrugging his shoulders. He stares at you helplessly, but you don’t know what to say. You don’t want to listen any more, but your feet are planted to the ground. You’re frozen like a deer in headlights, forced to brace against him as he crashes into you.

He continues, “And when we broke up back then… I never wanted that to happen. You broke it off before we could even try something—and I hated how I didn’t fight for you harder. I let you misunderstand me because I was afraid you wouldn’t want to stick around if I didn’t succeed. I convinced myself that I was holding you down, but I never gave you—us—a chance. I never stopped regretting it since.”

“Me? Break up with you?” You echo incredulously. That statement is enough to break you from your trance, the telltale signs of indignation rising up your chest. “How dare you suggest—Me? You were the one who broke up with me, asshole! You were the one who broke my heart and decided to up and leave to god knows where! Only to miraculously respawn right next to me, groveling at my feet with sad love songs as if that’s enough for me to forgive and forget? Fucking entitled bastard,” you seethe.

Somehow, Jungkook manages to shrink more, like a bunny with his tail tucked between his legs. “Yes, you’re right that I broke your heart but… When I told you I was moving away to try and become a singer, it was always with the intention of staying together. I know it would have been difficult, but I wanted you to be with me through thick and thin. But when you misunderstood and took it as a break up, I let you go because, well… I was scared that it would happen eventually. Who wants to date a broke busking fool anyway?”

He laughs, but it sounds watery. He sniffles, and you hope it's only because of the cold. “I tried looking for you, but you blocked me everywhere and no one from back home seemed to know where you went. So I just accepted that we’d never see each other again… Until a few days ago, that is.”

A misunderstanding? Is that what everything boils down to? Years of trying to build yourself back up again, relearning what it means to be happy—all the fallen domino pieces in your life trailing back to a single moment in time? All because Jungkook was scared that you didn't love him enough?

You’ve never felt angrier in your life. You fear what you might say if you continue to stand outside there, face to face with the singular person strong enough to whittle you down to the bone. Jeon Jungkook is all soft smiles and sweet songs, but how come he’s always able to knock you off your axis? Few people on this earth can stitch you up and break you down in equal measure, but somehow, Jungkook manages to do all that and more.

Then, comes the guilt. Had it been all your fault? That you hadn't returned his love in equal measure? Had you secretly given up on the hope of being on his level? Always looking down on yourself: unable to move past your insecurities. Were you terrified of being his side piece, his girlfriend, forever?

Who are you, even? And where do you stand?

(Beside him, is what you want to answer. You don't know if that's the right choice.)

You can’t bear to look at him, least of all answer him. Without another word, you shove your house key into the door before slamming it shut despite the late hour. If you awaken any neighbors, you’ll apologize later. For now, all you require is sleep and hope that this has been all a terrible nightmare.

xxx

Reality is a bitter pill to swallow.

Jeon Jungkook continues to sing at the restaurant, and after only two days of repeat stellar performances, your manager decides to promote him as the official vocalist for the band. It hurts to admit that you're not the least bit surprised; you might have a hard time looking at him, but you can never deny his talent.

His song list has added a larger variety of genres ever since his first performance. That is to say, he isn’t always singing about lost loves and tragic couples every night. Perhaps it is due to some requests from customers or his other bandmates, but it doesn’t stop him from sprinkling one or two love songs into the mix.

He doesn’t sing any original songs ever again. That, at least, is a small mercy. He doesn’t make any moves to speak with you either, despite the daily awkward trips back home after the end of your shifts. Whether that’s because he’s given up on you (again), or he’s waiting for you to make the first move, you don’t know. Frankly, you don’t think you have the energy (nor courage) to do anything about it.

It’s a few weeks after Jungkook’s first performance at the restaurant, and closing time is approaching. You appreciate Friday nights the most because it means you’ll have two consecutive days to relax and avoid your problems. It’s also the busiest night of the week, when white-collar workers decide to drink and eat for as long as the night allows them. Busier nights mean more distractions, and you’re willing to deal with twenty Karens over one Jungkook.

During nights like these, your manager occasionally asks you to fulfill some waitress duties when there aren’t enough hands on deck. Normally you’d hate it, but earning the extra tips is enough to keep your grumbling to a minimum To this day, your landlord has yet to do anything about your broken shower, and you’ve finally conceded to the fact that you’ll have to be the one to do something about it.

As you inform the customers in your area that the last call for orders is approaching, you sneak a glance at the bar to see Jimin dutifully performing his job. That is to say, he’s flirting up a storm, getting women and men alike to blush from head to toe as he serves their drinks with a salacious smirk.

What a swindler, you think to yourself, snorting when he makes eye contact with you. He gives you a cheeky salute, mouthing something as he gestures to the back door.

Despite the semi-fight the two of you had all those weeks ago, Jimin was never one to argue about the same topic two days in a row. When you saw him the next day after your confrontation with Jungkook, Jimin was back to all smiles. You still catch him sending death glares towards Jungkook on most nights, but he doesn’t bring up the matter with you anymore. For that reason, you’ve gratefully settled back into your weird, banterful friendship with him. Even if there’s still a lingering tension between the two of you that you refuse to acknowledge.

You nod thankfully back at him, excited to go to his house and take a much needed shower. At this point, going to his house has become second nature to you, and it gives you an excuse to not see Jungkook at your regular bus stop every day. You have half a mind to never fix your shower for that reason, but of course there is still the problem of having to deal with Jimin every time you need to bathe. You hardly consider yourself an impatient person, but Jimin likes to toe the line far more often than necessary.

You’re down to your last two tables before you can close up shop when your manager suddenly barrels right into your path. You nearly drop your tray of dirty dishes to the floor, holding in a loud yelp as your suspiciously stern-faced manager halts you in place.

“Ms. Y/N, may I have a word with you for a moment? It’s regarding your paycheck for the month,” he barks, lips downturned. He appears disgruntled about something, and it sends a worried shiver down your spine. And here you thought Fridays are meant to be fun. He doesn’t wait for you to reply before he stalks back to his office, an unspoken command for you to follow.

You unload your dishes in the kitchen before making your way to his office. The small, dark room is cramped with overflowing file folders and coupons from multiple take-out places. You accidentally step on a stack of papers, and upon further inspection, seem to be a pile of applications for new hires. You distinctly remember complaining to him months prior about being understaffed and him replying that no inquiries were coming in.

As you approach, your manager shuffles through your coworkers pay stubs, and you notice yours and Jungkook’s on top of the piles.

Manager Jeong clears his throat. “Well, Y/N. It seems to be your lucky day. As you know, we split the tips based on your hours and what sort of duties you fulfill. With the new hire we have as our in-house singer, we’ve had to split it one way more to accommodate his arrival. However, he has recently requested to me that his portion be reallocated… to you, Ms. Y/N.”

Your jaw drops immediately. “I-I don’t understand, Manager Jeong,” you sputter.

Manager Jeong snorts, bemused by your reaction. “Don’t understand? Well, I suppose you’ll have to ask Mr. Jeon if you want his reasoning. Regardless, since we normally deposit your salary straight to your bank account, would it be alright if I hand you his tips in cash for now? He only informed me about his request an hour ago, and the accountant has already clocked out for the week.”

All you can do is nod dumbly back at him. With a huff, your manager presses a white envelope into your hands before promptly ushering you out of his office. “Well, that's settled. Out you go! Have a good weekend, Ms. Y/N. Don’t forget to lock the register before you leave!” He calls out before slamming his door in your face.

It takes you a moment to reanimate back to life. You stare at the white envelope for a long while, unable to fathom the scribbled out name of Jeon Jungkook replaced with your own name. Then, you crumple it into your fist before stomping over to where Jungkook and the rest of the band are in the middle of packing it up for the night.

Jungkook looks up from his guitar case when he senses you fast approaching. For a fleeting second, a smile graces his handsome face before it’s smacked away by your crumpled envelope.

“Keep your fucking cash, Jungkook. What the hell is your problem?” You fume, cheeks heating from agitation. Jungkook splutters for a moment, prying the envelope away from his face and looking at it in bewilderment. When he sees it clearly, recognition dawns on his face, followed by guilt.

“It’s just… my way of saying sorry, I guess.” He answers you meekly, neck flushing red in embarrassment. Behind him, the rest of the band grow silent at the scene before them, and you debate on telling them to mind their own business when they quicken their pace to leave.

“Well, keep your apology to yourself. There’s nothing to apologize for,” you correct him with a frown. To offer an apology is to offer accountability. You aren’t sure if you’re ready to hear him say that.

“No, it’s a sorry for… using you, I suppose.”

“Using me?” You repeat, dumbfounded. “For what?”

Jungkook smiles wryly back at you. “For inspiration?” he clarifies. For being the reason I can sing? He leaves that part unsaid, but you can almost imagine him saying it.

You feel heat rising to your cheeks again, but this time you aren’t quite sure if it’s from embarrassment, anger… or something else.

Unable to conjure up a response to his simple confession, you stomp away from him with a pounding heart and shaking hands. You continue the rest of your closing shift routine instinctually, your body moving on autopilot as Jungkook’s words continue to ring inside your head. When all is said and done, Jimin makes his way to your station with a questioning stare, but you wave him off in favor of stomping ahead of him to the parking lot.

In his car, Jimin rattles off about his latest exploits and purchases, his grating voice a comfort for once. You hum noncommittally during his stories when appropriate, but you suppose your usual indifference feels different, even to Jimin's untrained ears.

At his house, you drift to his bathroom immediately. You already have a shirt button undone by the time you get a handle on the door when Jimin’s hand stops you in place. You can feel his warmth emanating against your back as he slowly pulls the bathroom door close. With a tired sigh, you reluctantly turn to face him and find him standing closer than you expected.

He has an arm resting above your head, effectively caging you. You feel your shoulders sag. Damn, here comes another confrontation. Why can’t everyone just leave you alone?!

“Talk to me,” he says. No, he demands.

You push him away weakly, but he hardly budges. “Nothing to talk about,” you lie. Had you no filter, you’d be word vomiting all over the place ages ago.

Jimin groans, rolling his eyes in exasperation. “Enough with the emotional constipation. I’m here to listen, alright? No teasing or anything, I’m all ears and maybe a shoulder to cry on. Just don’t stain my Chanel top too bad,” he jokes.

You puff out a short breath—a sorry excuse for a laugh. “Don’t you get it? I don’t want to talk about it, and that’s that.”

“It’ll make you feel a lot better, though,” he offers.

You scoff. “What makes you think that? What if I just want to ignore all my problems forever and never grow from it? Is that so bad?”

Jimin pushes himself away from you, raising his hands in mock defeat. “You’re so fucking annoying. Can you stop running away from your problems and talk to me? Hell, talk to Jungkook for all I care! Just stop being a doormat and speak your mind for once in your damn life!”

“What are you, my therapist?” You brush past him, shower all but forgotten. You begin toeing your shoes back on, ready to head home tired and smelly. At the very least, you won’t have to deal with this stupid annoying asshole any longer.

Jimin strides back towards you, but for once he doesn’t do anything to forcibly stop you. Jimin has always been gruff with you, not afraid to push and pull you in any which direction. It’s part of the reason why you can’t take him seriously, even though you’ve recently realized why he was always being such a prick towards you—

“Yeah, I’m not your therapist. But for better or for worse, I’m your friend and I—I fucking care about you, alright? And it sucks seeing that good-for-nothing stick his nose in your business and act like he can do anything without any repercussions.”

Is Jimin being for real right now? “With how often you look at yourself in the mirror, you’d think you’d be better at introspection,” is all you say to that. You shove your feet into your shoes, not caring that you’ve probably put them on wrong. Maybe it’s because it’s Friday and the fatigue from the week has finally settled deep in your bones, but you can’t help but leave one last scathing remark to drive the final nail in the coffin.

“You know, if you were a little nicer to me, maybe I would talk to you. Hell, maybe I’d like you back. But no, just keep being your domineering, asshole self and I’ll keep being the same fucking doormat bitch you know and love,” you spit, turning towards the door and away from his face. You’re not even curious to see how he reacts. “I don’t need protection, alright? When I tell you to stay out of my business, you stay out of it. So don’t try and pretend to be my knight in shining armor.”

There’s an ocean of silence, enough to hear a pin drop. The urge to apologize surges to the surface, but you stamp it down. He’s petty all the time, so now it’s your turn.

Okay, maybe that’s a little too mean on your part, but you’re exhausted. Perhaps it is true when they say you should never act on your anger when it’s past midnight. But can anyone blame you? You’re only a girl, and girls need to snap too.

When he responds, his voice sounds weak. Park Jimin, weak? It's almost unthinkable. "Why don't you trust me?"

Isn't it obvious? you want to say. But some mercy remains within you. You'll pick up the pieces another time. Instead, you rasp out, “Good night, Park. I’ll see you on Monday.”

The walk of shame back to your house is long and arduous. Your phone dings thrice, likely signaling texts from Jimin, but you turn it off without checking for sure. For once, the weight on your shoulders is slightly lighter. You huff out a dry laugh, realizing belatedly that maybe Jimin is right—maybe speaking your mind has its benefits.

There’s a small park in your neighborhood that you always pass by. You don’t remember the last time you spared it a second glance, but this time you notice a lone figure swinging back and forth, arching dangerously higher than what you would consider safe. From a distance, all you can make out are the person’s comically bright boots, and you have a sinking suspicion you know who it is without seeing their face.

Cosmos, or whoever it is that controls my life, why must you braid our strings of fate so tightly? You ask, but as always, it refuses to reply.

Against your better judgment, your feet bring you closer towards him. He has his back towards you, his feet pumping him higher and higher and you half expect him to swing in a perfect arc like a gymnast on parallel bars. You have to keep your distance a bit, lest you get the wind knocked out of you by his signature stompers.

You clear your throat, and the boy stops mid-swing and nearly catapults himself into the spongey, playground floor. Hunched over and wheezing, Jungkook directs his shocked eyes at you with a comical stare.

You raise a hand in greeting. A peace offering, maybe. “Hello—”

“I swear I’m not stalking you!” Jungkook interrupts as he scrambles to his feet. He bows deeply in remorse, the action so endearingly him. “S-sorry, I’ll make my way home now…”

“I don’t own the park, Jungkook. I was just saying hello…” You snort, wringing your hands uncomfortably. You grind your shoes into the ground, the sound of crunching leaves breaking the still air. “A-and… to say sorry, for earlier.”

“Sorry?” Jungkook repeats, confused. When he realizes what you mean, he waves his hands frantically. “No, no! Don’t be sorry! It was my fault for being so inconsiderate. I understand how you might misconstrue my actions, and I made things more awkward. I’ll consider your feelings more in the future…”

In the future… You cough, unwilling to meet his bright and honest gaze. If you stare too long, you fear you might go blind.

“I come here to the park often, when I feel too cramped inside my apartment,” Jungkook explains, frantic energy radiating off him in waves. He’s gesticulating too much, a clear sign that he’s trying to hide his nerves. You remember how he would do the same thing in high school, whenever he had to present his projects in front of the class.

You hold a hand up, a weak attempt to get him to calm down. “I’m not here to interrogate you. I just wanted to…” What is it that you wanted to do?

The two of you just stand awkwardly like that, similar to a few weeks ago when you discovered you were neighbors. You’re grasping at straws in your head, both conflicted for wanting to tell him something and running away. Even if you were to talk to him, what would you say? There’s a reason you told Jimin you didn’t want to talk—frankly, it’s mostly because you have no idea what to say or feel.

But you do know, the universe responds.

I ask you questions all the time, and this is how you respond?

Either that, or you’re going insane, the universe remarks.

Jungkook pulls out his phone, his fingers fumbling as he unlocks it. He takes a furtive step towards you, but thinks better of it. There’s a few feet of distance between you, but it feels like worlds apart. Close and yet so far. You recall how you’d easily pull him towards you in the past, how being together felt as natural as breathing.

“I know you absolutely hated it the last time I played my original song at the restaurant, so I refrained from performing any ever since that night. But that didn’t stop me from writing them. I was fine with keeping them locked in a vault forever, but…” He hesitates, searching you for any signs of discomfort. When he sees the carefully blank look on your face, he continues with trepidation.

“Can I try a song for you? You don’t have to say yes, and you’re free to tell me to fuck off and I’ll never even look at you ever again. Just…” He flails one last time, a choked sob making its escape from his throat.

Are you hopeless for wanting to say yes? Or were you reverting back to your old self who relied on him and believed in him so heavily? If you wanted him out of your life for good, you would have quit your job at the first sight of him. Maybe you were masochistic. Or maybe were you hopeful for a new start, a chance to rekindle a relationship that you’ve secretly always wanted to repair.

You have so much life ahead of you. Many more mistakes will be made and maybe they’ll haunt you when you’re older. But would it really be such a terrible gamble to take one more chance?

You nod, and seal your fate.

He presses play, and the soft strumming of a guitar fills the empty playground air.

Not for the first time, you wonder how it can be so easy for Jungkook to be so… honest. He spills his heart in every song that he writes, and you know he’s never been a great liar. He can’t help it, being genuine is in his DNA. This crashing waterfall, this boy with overflowing emotions—he sings what he thinks but feels terrified because of it. You might not understand his honesty, but you know that fear. You know it all too well.

He beholds himself to you—raw and unfiltered. A little battered and bruised, but still Jungkook. Behind everything, still the boy you’ve been yearning for.

Maybe this song is what will give you enough confidence to admit everything to him, too. As you stand there, listening to his mellow voice sing confessions to no one but you and the stars, you think you grow a little more courageous that day.

Maybe you won’t be able to tell him tonight. Maybe not tomorrow, nor next week either. But as you gaze back at his hopeful eyes, you know deep in your heart that you’ll find the words you’ve been looking for.

“I’ll keep waiting for you, if you let me.” Jungkook’s voice floats gently to you, and settles in your open palms. This time, you don’t let go

xxx

Months later, Jungkook stops working at the restaurant when an offer from a major record company arrives in his mail. Apparently, a big shot from the local radio station had pitched him to an employee at that company and they were all pleasantly surprised to find a hidden gem at a random bar and restaurant.

In your apartment, you stare outside your window and to where his home is—well, where it was. You wonder if he finished packing his things, ready to make the big move tomorrow. You stand up with a stretch, sparing a glance at your still broken shower. It would be nice to have one more shower at his place… And after that? Maybe you should start looking for a nicer apartment; somewhere far away might be nice.

Your phone rings, and you see his contact photo light up your screen. With a smile, you answer.

“Come over, if you want. I won’t make you,” Jungkook assures you.

You laugh lightly, already halfway out the door.

#bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #bts reader insert #bts fanfiction #bts imagines #bts fluff #bts angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bangtan #bts #bts fanfic

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honeytae · 9 months ago

Text

“you refuse to meet his gaze, afraid that your carefully constructed facade will crumble if you do. and it seems like that's exactly what is happening - the walls you've built around yourself are slowly falling apart.”

genre: angst, fluff, comfort

warnings: reader is overworked af and petrified of showing vulnerability, brief argument between reader and jk but only bc he cares, so many tears..like a LOT of crying, descriptions of kissing, make out sesh💋, an unforgivable amount of fluff and L bombs, i really didn’t know what to call this one so it’s just riptide, sorry not sorry you guys

wc: 2k

the air in the apartment is mostly silent, save for the gentle scratch of lead on paper and the muted pattering of rain against the windows in your home office.

jungkook’s teeth play with his bottom lip as he fidgets in his seat, intently observing you from the opposite end of the table.

across from him, your brows knit together in an attempt to focus, lips pursed in concentration as you stop for a moment, then resume moving your pencil across the page.

he cringes at the disruption of his phone vibrating on the table, abruptly snapping you out of your daze.

as your pencil slips out of your grasp, you sit up straight and flex your fingers around in the air to release some of the tension residing in your joints.

jungkook murmurs an apology but you brush it off, glancing wearily at him and providing a small smile. a sigh of relief escapes you as he leans in, taking your hand in his and gently massaging your tired fingers with a few strokes of his own.

“that feels good,” you mumble, shifting closer to the table for more of his touch.

he hums softly, taking another few moments to work his fingers into your skin, creating a small pocket of silence.

"are you bored?" you ask, feeling a twinge of guilt for leaving him essentially alone at the table. "i'm sorry, baby, i'll be finished in just a few more minutes."

jungkook shrugs in response, casual as he moves his arm to gently rub up and down your own. his touch is comforting and helps ease your anxiety, preventing you from spiraling further.

“it's okay,” he reassures you with a gentle smile, “just take your time. i'll be here.”

his eyes shift from your face to your hand, a frown forming as he notices the red mark on your finger, evidence of how tightly you've been holding your pencil.

you watch, endeared, as he leans down to kiss the spot, then replaces his lips with his finger, gently rubbing over the indentation to soothe the redness.

"you work so hard," he says, tutting his tongue as he continues running his thumb over the spot.

you can only manage a sigh in response, feeling drained and unable to speak. plus, tears are starting to form in your eyes, and you’re desperately trying to hold them back. jungkook notices, of course he does.his expression turns into one of concern as he studies your face, trying to assess the situation.

your mouth is set in a deep frown, almost a scowl, and your eyebrows are furrowed in discomfort from holding back your true emotions. you refuse to meet his gaze, afraid that your carefully constructed facade will crumble if you do. and it seems like that's exactly what is happening - the walls you've built around yourself are slowly falling apart.

in a rush, he rises from his chair and rounds the table, your eyes following him through tears.

once next to you, his fingers weave through your hair, leading your head to rest on his stomach. he wraps his arm around you and massages the tension from your shoulders as you nestle into the soft fabric of his t-shirt, taking in the familiar scent of his laundry detergent.

“time for a break?” he muses, watching as you adamantly shake your head in response.

“i just need to finish,” you reply, trying to stifle the lump in your throat.

he watches as you draw your laptop closer while blinking rapidly to chase away any tears.

you’ve always been one to persevere, which he greatly respects. but it also irritates him that at times, you don’t allow yourself to fully feel.

jungkook suppresses a groan as he watches you type something else into your search engine, briefly tilting his head up to the ceiling in frustration and closing his eyes to take a deep breath.

it can be hard, to watch those you love push themselves beyond their limit. he understands, knowing that he often puts you through the same thing.

you and him share an achilles heel of refusing to give up easily, which is both a blessing and a curse.

the sound of your fingers tapping on the keyboard snaps him out of his trance and he reopens his eyes, sneaking another glance over your shoulder.

he’s about to drop it altogether when he sees your bottom lip quiver, his breath hitching in his throat when the first tear makes it over your lash line.

“baby,” he utters softly, nearly tripping over the leg of the chair he pulls out from the table to sit beside you.

you can’t help but let out a throaty chuckle at his clumsiness, swiping the single tear from your cheek and trying to wave him off.

“i’m okay,” you sniffle, but jungkook just shakes his head in disbelief. he leans forward, balancing on his knees as he takes your fidgeting hands in his own, running his fingers gently along your knuckles.

“seriously, jungkook, i’m fine. stop making it bigger than it is,” you attempt to push him away, but he refuses to budge.

“stop making it smaller than it is!” he counters, voice raising slightly as his anger takes over.

he takes a breath, continuing in a softer voice.“baby, i’m not gonna stop until you let me in.”

his brows furrow in frustration, wide eyes pleading with you.

in the heat of the moment, you hate how intrusive he’s being. you hate that he sees you as his responsibility and that your struggles are ruining his day.

“jungkook, if i’m just a burden-“

“a burden?” he interrupts in disbelief, “you could never be a burden,” he reaches for your hand when you try to get up. “hey, all i ever want to do is help you, because i love you,” he stresses.

his words instantly calm your mounting emotions, preventing you from any more self sabotage.

“i love you,” he says again, “and i cannot sit here and watch you ruin yourself.”

you simply blink at him, the last of your resolve shattering when he starts to soothingly caress your arm with his warm palm.

even when you’re so difficult, he’s so unbelievably kind to you.

“please let yourself not be okay,” he begs, eyebrows pulling together, pained, as he watches you stifle a sob. “it’s so hard to watch you be so strong all the time,” he says, “please don’t shut me out.”

and just like that, your wall comes tumbling down.

jungkook’s emotions bubbling to the surface seem to be the final push for you to tip over the edge. tears now stream down your face, features crumbling as you weakly lift yourself from your chair.

jungkook’s arms reach out to pull you into him, intercepting your body as you launch yourself onto his lap. his lips press repeatedly to the side of your head as he wraps his arms around your stuttering back, squeezing you to him.

“let go, baby,” he says, feeling tears well up in his own eyes as you collapse in his arms, “just let go.”

broken sobs wrack your frame as you cling onto him, one of his hands securely holding the back of your head while the other runs up and down your spine.

the dam has finally broken, and its cathartic for both of you.

soothing words are spoken softly into your ear as your breaths begin to even out, your face finding solace in the crook of his neck.

after a few minutes, your cries quiet and the pool of tears starts to dry on his skin.

jungkook leans back to glance over your face, reaching up to swipe at the leftover tear trails on your cheeks with his thumb.

“feel a little lighter in here?” he inquires, dancing his fingers over your scalp as you lift your reddened eyes to lock with his.

“a little,” you sniff, leaning into his touch as he starts massaging the crown of your head.

“hm, good,” he murmurs, “we’re making progress then.”

wordlessly, you stare into his big brown irises, the whites of his eyes showing evidence of his own tears. despite this, his mouth quirks in a small smile, and the guilt from ten minutes ago consumes you.

“fuck, i’m so sorry,” your frown deepens, closing your eyes when his lips press to your temple, remaining against your heated skin. “i’m so sorry for lashing out at you, i’m just,” you sigh, “i’m just overwhelmed and,” you glance up in thought, “in my own head.”

“i understand, baby,” he soothes, warm eyes finding yours to show he’s being genuine. “it’s all gonna work out, i promise.”

you inhale and sit up straighter, cupping his cheeks as you position your face in front of his. you stare at each other for a moment before he cups your jaw, adoringly squishing your cheeks with his fingers.

jungkook laughs as you pucker your lips, sliding his hands down to rest under your jaw when you tilt your head to the side, pressing your mouth to his.

with each pass of his lips over yours, you feel the ache in your head lessen. your heart reaches out for him and squeezes him closer to you.

he hums as you pull back and immediately go in for more, taking turns capturing your bottom and top lip between his. you grip on tighter to him to momentarily stop the world from spinning around you.

breaking apart for air, jungkook giggles as you unattractively sniff with your full nose, your fingers absentmindedly playing with his hair.

“sexy, huh?” you raise a brow, and jungkook’s features warm when the sparkle returns to your eye.

“duh,” he rolls his eyes, and there’s a beat of comfortable silence as you both recover from your breakdown.

“i love you so much,” you murmur, “thank you for everything you do.”

“yah, kiss-ass,” he teases, his high-pitched laugh escaping his mouth when you pinch his side as punishment for his snark.

“ugh, nevermind,” you sigh as you stand up, and he smiles at you in return, holding onto your hand to help you back over into your chair.

“i love you more,” he sings, chortling as you squint your eyes at him in response.

you redirect your gaze back to your notebook, still looking tired but not as weary as you did before.

jungkook lifts himself to reassume his position from earlier and stands behind you, dropping his arms around your neck. you tilt your neck as he plants a kiss onto the top of your head.

sensing your reluctance to go back to work, he leans down further, his cheek pressing against yours. the gesture seems to melt you back into your chair as the both of you stare ahead at your laptop screen.

“okay,” he starts, understanding your process, “how about some tea to get you through this last part?”

he waits patiently as you think it over. his eyes travel from the screen to your features, staring at your lashes touching your cheek each time you blink.

there’s a hint of water clinging to your bottom lashes, and the sight makes his heart squeeze in his chest.

“yeah, actually,” you answer softly, gently craning your neck so that you can press your lips to his, kissing him one, two, three, four times.

“you’re the best boyfriend ever,” you whisper against his lips, some of the tension in your body already subsiding.

his cheeks go pink with your praise, dark eyes catching the dining room light as he puffs air out of his nostrils.

wordlessly, you let your head hang off the back of the chair, closing your eyes when jungkook’s hand comes to support the back of your head, dipping down to kiss you again.

his fingers rub soothing circles into your neck, causing an involuntary noise to rise up from your throat.

you break apart with a “tch,” noise, pouting when he pulls his arms from around you.

“nooo,” you try to grip onto his fingers, jungkook chuckling as he pokes your bottom lip back into place.

meeting your lips one last time, it takes everything in him to step away from you, pointing at your dimmed laptop screen.

“i’ll be right back,” he soothes, “and i promise i’ll sit here with you the whole time.”

you smile despite yourself, because jungkook is simply the light of your life.

“you better. you’re my emotional support human.”

#bts fanfiction #bts x reader #bts fluff #bts angst #bts comfort #bts reader insert #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook comfort

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chimcess · 9 months ago

Text

Unparalleled || jjk

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader Other tags: Idol!Jungkook, Photographer!Reader Word Count: 6.6k+ Genre: One-shot, established relationship, PWP, long distance relationship AU, smut Synopsis: You had only met him once, a fleeting moment in the grand scheme of things, and the fact that he was on the other side of the hotel door felt surreal. Or, after being in a long-distance relationship for over a year, you and Jungkook are finally meeting up. Warnings: This is literally just porn, there’s a plot but it’s just filth, soft-dom JK, he calls reader “baby,” oral (m&f), d*ck piercing, tatted jk, jk wears glasses (the entire time), dirty talk, desperate sex, couch sex, they barely made it inside tbh, protected sex (wrap it up babes), multiple positions, light begging, light body worship, light praise, some teasing, reader cums on his face, multiple orgasms, nipple play, nipple sucking, some nipple biting, hair pulling, aftercare cuddling, sweet ending, let me know if I missed anything... A/N: I’m still getting used to writing smut, so I’m sorry if this is a bit awkward in some spots. Found this in my drafts, so I fixed it up a little bit and decided to post it. Thanks for reading.

Staring down at my fidgeting hands, I felt like the taxi was closing in on me, every tick of the clock amplifying the sense of claustrophobia. Twenty minutes felt like an eternity, dragging by as if time itself were taunting me. I stole another glance at my phone, re-reading Jungkook's last message like it was some sort of magic spell.

Kookie: 324

It was surreal to think he was right here in California, just a short drive away, no oceans or time zones separating us. My leg bounced nervously beneath the table, the excitement swirling in my stomach like butterflies in a frenzy. Each moment felt charged with anticipation, a thrilling energy that made my heart race. I quickly typed out a response, adding a heart emoji before sending my location. Jungkook always said sharing my location made him feel closer to me, bridging the gap between our worlds, even with his whirlwind schedule that rarely left room for anything else. Being one of the biggest pop stars had a way of pulling a guy in a million directions.

I couldn’t help but smile as I recalled our first meeting. It was right after the lockdown ended, during his band’s visit to California for a concert and the Grammys. I still vividly remembered standing by the snack table, nervously clutching a half-empty cup of soda, when our eyes met for the first time. There was an electric spark in that moment, something I hadn’t realized I’d been missing. His grin was infectious, his playful nature shining through, and my heart had skipped a beat at the sound of his laughter. It echoed in my mind like a melody I wanted to play on repeat.

A few months later, we had entered a long-distance relationship, navigating the challenges of his demanding career while trying to keep our connection alive. Late-night video calls, flirty texts, and the occasional surprise visit were our lifelines, but nothing could compare to the rush of being together in the same room. And now, the thought of finally seeing him in person again sent a rush of warmth through me, a blend of hope and nervous energy that was hard to contain.

As I waited, I replayed our conversations in my mind—each one a thread weaving our lives together despite the distance. We shared dreams, fears, and whispered secrets, laying the groundwork for something beautiful and profound. The thought of being in his presence again, of feeling his warmth and the comfort of his touch, made my heart race with excitement.

I glanced at the clock again, biting my lip in anticipation. Each minute stretched into hours, the seconds crawling by. Would he still feel the same? Would our chemistry translate into real life as effortlessly as it did through screens and messages? Doubts flitted through my mind, but I shook them off, focusing on the joy of the moment. Jungkook was just a heartbeat away, and soon, I would be in his arms. The very idea sent a shiver down my spine.

My phone buzzed, startling me out of my thoughts. I scrambled to open the notification, my heart racing. If Jungkook messaged, I had to respond quickly. Our conversations were a race against time, a way to squeeze moments of connection into his packed schedule. Phone calls were our only reliable lifeline, but the language barrier complicated things. We were both trying, though Jungkook's English was much better than my Korean.

Kookie: 나는 신나요

Giggling, I typed back a response.

Y/N: 나도

Kookie: Good job, 자기~

Nothing made Jungkook happier than seeing me try to improve my Korean. He always insisted it was adorable, his smile brightening every time I stumbled through a phrase. Yoongi was usually the more honest one, quick to point out my mispronunciations, but Jungkook wore that supportive boyfriend badge with pride, even if it meant telling me little white lies.

As the taxi pulled up to the hotel, my heart raced with a mix of excitement and anxiety. I thanked the driver, tipping generously as I stepped out into the warm night air. The moment I did, the fragrant scent of blooming jasmine wafted around me, mingling with the distant sound of waves crashing against the shore. I had only packed a small bag for our two-night stay, not knowing how much time we’d actually have together. Remembering that, I hurried up the steps, my footsteps echoing against the marble tiles.

The Sunset Hotel was unlike anything I’d imagined. I had envisioned a quiet, almost sleepy place, but instead, it was alive with activity. I couldn’t believe it was two in the morning; the lobby was bustling, a vibrant mix of laughter, clinking glasses, and the faint notes of live music drifting from the bar area. The energy crackled in the air like electricity, and I felt an exhilarating rush. Yet, amidst the lively atmosphere, a wave of inadequacy washed over me. Just a few moments ago, in the taxi, I had almost forgotten about Jungkook’s status as one of the biggest pop stars in the world, but now, beneath the sparkling chandelier that cast shimmering patterns across the polished floor, it was impossible to ignore.

As I walked through the brightly lit lobby, I caught glimpses of elegantly dressed guests, their conversations animated, their laughter ringing out like musical notes. I felt like a fish out of water, dressed in a casual sundress while they flaunted designer attire. Who would have thought my years in the service industry—working late nights and juggling demanding customers—would lead me here, about to meet someone who could afford such luxury? The thought both thrilled and terrified me.

At the front desk, the staff shot me quick, assessing looks. Their eyes were sharp, as if measuring my worth in this lavish setting. One of the hosts greeted me with a forced smile that felt far too wide for comfort. “Welcome to the Sunset Hotel! How can I assist you tonight?” Their voice dripped with that practiced hospitality, but I could sense a subtle skepticism beneath the surface.

“Um, I’m here to check in,” I replied, my voice steady despite the fluttering in my chest. I fished my phone out of my bag, ready to show them the reservation I’d made, but the host raised an eyebrow, glancing down at the computer screen as if evaluating my very presence.

“Name?” they asked, still wearing that unnaturally bright smile.

“Y/N,” I replied, and I held my breath as they typed it in. A brief moment of silence stretched between us, the bustling lobby fading into a distant murmur as I waited for their response.

“Ah, yes! We have you right here,” they said finally, their tone shifting to one of mild surprise. “You’re the other half of 324, correct?” They looked at me again, and I could feel the weight of their judgment, as if I were a puzzle they were trying to fit into a larger picture.

“Right,” I said, attempting to keep my tone light. “Should just be for the weekend.”

The host’s smile remained, but the glint in their eye suggested they were piecing together the details, perhaps even recognizing my connection to Jungkook. As they handed me the key card, I felt a rush of anxiety. What if they didn’t think I belonged here? What if Jungkook didn’t feel the same way about me once we were together?

I took the key, my fingers brushing against the cool surface, and turned to head toward the elevator. I was acutely aware of the looks I was receiving, a mix of curiosity and skepticism from both staff and guests alike. The air was thick with expectations, and I could almost hear the whispers in my mind, doubting whether I was truly worthy of this moment. But I pushed those thoughts aside. This was about Jungkook and me, our connection. And soon, I would be in his presence, feeling the warmth of his smile and the excitement of our reunion.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped into the elevator, the doors closing behind me like a protective barrier from the outside world. As the car ascended, I clutched my bag, heart racing with every passing floor. This was it. In just a few moments, I would be face-to-face with the boy who had ignited something within me, and no amount of uncertainty could overshadow that truth.

I shifted from foot to foot in the cramped elevator, the anticipation eating away at me like a swarm of butterflies taking flight in my stomach. Each second felt like an eternity, stretching my nerves thinner and thinner. I took out my phone, biting back a smile as I contemplated the moment. It was so surreal that I was just a few moments away from seeing Jungkook again after what felt like an eternity apart.

In a burst of excitement, I snapped a quick picture of the elevator doors opening, the sleek metallic finish reflecting the soft glow of the lobby lights. I sent it to Jungkook with a playful caption: *“Almost there!”* Watching the little blue ticks appear, I felt a rush of warmth, knowing he’d see it almost instantly.

Once inside the elevator, I pressed the button for the third floor with a mix of hope and trepidation. It only made sense that the 300s would be located on the third floor, right? Still, the absence of any signs directing me left me feeling a bit disoriented. The elevator hummed softly, its gentle movement barely easing the whirlwind of thoughts racing through my mind.

The walls felt a bit too close, almost as if they were closing in on me, but I took a deep breath, willing myself to relax. I replayed the memories of our conversations, the laughter we shared, and the longing I felt every time we parted. The excitement pulsing through me was intoxicating, a vivid contrast to the anxious tension coiling in my chest.

Suddenly, my phone buzzed in my hand, jolting me out of my reverie. I glanced down, my heart skipping a beat as I saw Jungkook's name flashing on the screen.

Kookie: I’m going to kiss you so much.

I couldn’t help but smile. I hoped kissing would be just the beginning of what would happen tonight. After a year of building up tension, I didn’t want to wait anymore. I wanted him.

Y/N: 또?

Kookie: I can’t think of it in English.

Rolling my eyes, I groaned. That was his way of avoiding a question. I knew he understood, but it amused me more than anything. Slowly, my nerves eased, and I felt more confident about seeing him, even if we were hiding away in a hotel I could never afford, lying on expensive sheets while the world outside spun with sharp eyes and curious gazes.

As the elevator dinged softly, signaling my arrival at the third floor, I felt a surge of adrenaline. The doors slid open smoothly, revealing a dimly lit hallway lined with plush carpeting and framed art pieces that whispered of elegance. Taking a deep breath, I stepped out, the plush carpet muffling my footsteps as I moved forward. The anticipation hung in the air like a charged atmosphere before a storm, and I could almost feel Jungkook’s presence drawing me closer.

I glanced at the room numbers, scanning for his. As I walked, I imagined what it would be like to finally be face-to-face with him. Would he look the same? Would that boyish grin still light up his face when he saw me? The thought sent my heart racing as I turned a corner, catching sight of the numbers I had been searching for.

Room 324. My breath caught in my throat, and for a fleeting moment, I hesitated, overwhelmed by a wave of nerves. What if things were different now? What if he had changed? But I quickly shook off the doubts; this was Jungkook, the boy I had laughed and shared secrets with, the one who had kept my heart fluttering even from a distance.

With a firm resolve, I approached the door, my heart pounding in rhythm with my steps. I held my breath, the moment stretching out like a taut string ready to snap. Would he answer? Would he be excited to see me? I could hardly contain the anticipation, my heart racing as I waited for that door to swing open. The air crackled with anticipation, buzzing with the weight of what was about to happen.

I raised my hand to knock, but before my knuckles could even touch the wood, the door swung open. And there he was—Jungkook.

He was everything I remembered: pitch-black hair tousled in a way that was both effortless and enticing, metal glinting in the light, thin, silver rimmed glasses, and a thin white t-shirt clinging to his muscular frame. It felt surreal, like stepping into a vivid dream, but this was no illusion. This was real, and it took my breath away.

"You," I whispered, the word slipping out like a gasp.

His dark eyes widened in surprise, delight flickering across his features. My heart raced as I watched him take me in, his expression shifting from uncertainty to something deeper, more intimate. Had he been waiting for this moment as much as I had? Was he just as happy as I felt?

All my doubts faded when that eyebrow, heavy with steel, raised in appreciation instead of scorn. He stepped into the hallway, and my heart pounded wildly, the space between us charged with an unspoken promise.

"You," he echoed, his voice low and husky as he took my hand in his, guiding me back into his room.

He kicked the door shut behind him. The air thickened as he moved closer, inches separating us, electric and intoxicating. I inhaled the scent of him—soap and laundry detergent—sending shivers down my spine. A soft whimper escaped my lips, desire pooling in my stomach like a spark waiting to ignite.

With an air of confidence, he advanced, and I leaned back, the weight of his presence drawing me in like gravity. I stopped when my back hit the couch, the world outside fading away as we paused, our breaths mingling in the charged silence. My fingers, betraying me, reached up to trace the row of piercings in his eyebrow, trailing down the line of his jaw to his lips. They were soft and rosy, a striking contrast to the rough stubble that scratched my palm.

In that moment, he darted his tongue out, the pointed tip brushing against my fingers, and I moaned softly, the sound echoing in the intimate space between us, igniting the fire that had been simmering beneath the surface.

And then he was on me.

He seized my hand, guiding it into the tousled mess of hair I had longed to touch. It was softer than I had imagined, and I lost myself in it. His mouth descended on mine, a fiery torrent of passion and urgency. My body responded instinctively, arching into him as our breaths mingled, his desire palpable against my stomach, the taste of longing lingering on his lips.

His palm traced a path down my arm, firm and possessive, sliding over my shoulder and back again. He tugged at the buttons of my cardigan, peeling the fabric away to reveal the inked skin beneath. I shivered at the roughness of his touch, a thrilling contrast to the softness of his kiss.

Breaking away, I pressed my mouth against the line of his jaw, trailing wet kisses toward the piercings in his ear, letting my tongue tease them as my breath washed hot against his skin.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to kiss you?” He whispered against my lips.

I panted, my fingers tangling tightly in his hair.

His hands tightened around my arms, pulling us together, the weight of our bodies colliding in a desperate embrace. “Every single day,” he swore, his voice rough yet melodic. He began a slow, deliberate exploration of my neck, the heat of his tongue tracing my pulse and making me shudder. “Every night that you called me, whispering sweet nothings in that voice. It drove me insane. I just wanted to hop on a plane and have you in my lap.”

“God, I wish you would have,” I gasped, feeling the bite of his teeth just below my collarbone, a thrilling blend of pain and pleasure that made me clench around nothing. “Why didn’t you?”

“You make me nervous,” he murmured, teasing aside the cup of my bra.

He took my nipple into his mouth, his tongue flicking against the bud with reverence. I whined in pleasure, arching into him. Emboldened, he bit down.

“Self-conscious, huh?” I teased, winded and shaking from pleasure, even as my nails dug into his back, urging him closer. “I have a hard time believing that right now.”

He pulled back, capturing my face in his strong hands, kissing me fiercely as a low growl escaped him. “Believe it.”

We kissed with a fierce intensity that made me feel like I was on fire, the heat radiating off him, his glasses pressing against my face. He shifted to remove them, but I caught his wrists, holding him in place.

“Don’t,” I growled. “I like them.”

A primal sound erupted from his chest, desperate and raw. He lifted me effortlessly, settling me against the back of the couch, our bodies grinding together, my thighs aligning perfectly with the hard heat of his jeans. Each thrust sent a new wave of pleasure surging through me, my head falling back as I teetered on the brink of ecstasy, feeling weightless and electric, consumed by a desire that felt like it could set us both ablaze.

But he caught me. Just as I was about to tumble backward into dizzying, white-hot pleasure, his arms wrapped around me, firm and unyielding, pulling me against the solid expanse of his chest. My breath came in quick, frantic gasps, my heart racing like a wild animal as I clung to him, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, drawing him closer.

“Careful, pretty girl,” he breathed into my ear, a soft murmur that sent shivers racing down my spine. I grasped at his back, fingers digging into the taut muscles, anchoring myself to him, afraid of being swept away in the tide of desire threatening to pull me under.

My hands roamed from his back, gliding over his shoulders and down his arms as he stroked his fingertips along my thighs, mapping a path from my knees to my hips and back again. His skin was warm, electric under my touch, and I traced the intricate black curls of ink adorning his pale flesh—an abstract tapestry resolving into a lion on one arm and a lamb on the other.

“You’re beautiful,” I gasped, the words spilling out before I could stop them, but he silenced me with another heated kiss.

My fingers fumbled at the hem of his t-shirt, desperate to see what those curls of ink transformed into beneath the fabric. He shifted me closer, his grip on me unwavering, even as his hands momentarily released me to lift his arms above his head. Seizing the opportunity, I tugged at his shirt, peeling it away to reveal the canvas of his torso, the intricate lines of ink telling stories I longed to hear.

I barely had time to take in the intricate Sanskrit lines etched along his side and the lone kanji character hovering over his heart before he was lifting my shirt, pulling it over my head. For a heartbeat, I was enveloped in darkness, blinded by the fabric. My hands scrambled behind me, fumbling to unclasp my bra, and he kissed a heated trail along the bare skin of my shoulder as the straps slipped down my arms.

“I love this,” he murmured against my skin, his lips trailing softly across my collarbone, down my ribs, and back to my breast, igniting every nerve in my body. “And I love it all the more because of this.”

His tongue brushed over the small butterfly tattoo on my ribcage.

His fingers roamed lower, and when he pulled away, I let out a whimper of protest, longing for his touch. The light-headed sensation returned, reminding me just how long it had been since a man had touched me—since I’d felt filled.

I braced myself with one hand against the edge of the couch while the other tangled in his tousled hair, relishing its softness as it slipped through my fingers. His mouth found my stomach, his tongue dipping into my navel, tracing a tantalizing line toward my most sensitive spot. I gasped, an overwhelming hunger igniting deep within me. I had been yearning for this, for him, and the desperate need flooded my senses.

With deft fingers, he teased apart the button of my fly and drew down the zipper, revealing delicate black lace beneath. He licked and sucked his way to my hip, his hand lingering on my abdomen, thumb skirting under the edge of my underwear before descending lower, finally finding bare, glistening skin. When his fingers grazed my clit, pleasure surged through me, and I nearly cried out at its raw intensity.

“Fuck, baby, you’re dripping,” he cursed, his voice rough with desire as he buried his face against the joint of my hip and thigh.

“For you,” I groaned, my body arching instinctively. “I’ve been wet for months just thinking about you.”

A low growl escaped him, and in a blur of motion, he tore the hem of my jeans down, ripping them from my body until I was left in nothing but my panties. He pushed my naked thighs up and over his shoulders, positioning his head exactly where I craved him to be.

I struggled to contain my frantic breaths, fast and shallow, echoing my absolute need to feel his hands, his mouth, to be consumed by him entirely. He inhaled deeply, reverently, his nose brushing against the lace where my body met my thigh. The sensation sent shockwaves through me, rendering me breathless.

He wrapped one hand around my leg while the other snaked behind me, gripping my ass firmly, anchoring me as he pulled the soaked fabric aside, exposing my bare skin to his hungry gaze. His thumb descended onto my clit, and I gasped, waves of need crashing over me as pleasure radiated from his touch. I cried out, the sound escaping me like a prayer, my body arching toward him, desperate for more.

And then he kissed me, his mouth capturing my clit with an intensity that sent me spiraling.

The moans clawing their way from my chest were unrecognizable, a desperate symphony of need as I became a writhing mass of pure, unadulterated hunger. Unlatching himself, his thumb worked expertly at my clit, sending jolts of pleasure coursing through me. His tongue darted out, teasing the edges of my entrance before plunging inside, and I felt the pressure building, the storm that had been gathering finally reaching its peak until I exploded, my thighs clenching around his face as my body ignited into a searing inferno.

I teetered on the edge of ecstasy, and then I actually fell over, the world spiraling away.

When I regained awareness, I was sprawled across the back of the couch, my neck twisted awkwardly, the top of my head grazing the seat cushion. My arms draped limply above me while my thighs remained anchored to his shoulders. He gazed down at me, a mixture of curiosity and satisfaction etched across his face, his mouth glistening—a testament to our fervor.

With a wicked smirk, he wiped his mouth with his forearm, leaving me in my awkward state as he peeled my panties down my body, rendering me completely exposed and unable to rise. His finger glided along my opening, my body still thrumming with aftershocks from one of the most intense orgasms I’d ever experienced. When he dipped gently inside, I gasped.

“Is this what you want, Y/N? My hands inside you?”

I found myself ensnared in a whirlwind of emotions; I craved this intimacy with him more than anything, yet it felt like just a fragment of the whole picture. The sensation of his fingers deep within me was intoxicating, but beneath that, there lingered a yearning for more—more than just his hands. I ached for him—his body hovering over mine, the heat radiating from him as I traced the ink etched across his skin, my tongue teasing the silver piercings that adorned him.

“Yes. No. God, I want you,” I gasped, my voice a mixture of longing and desperation.

He raised a pierced eyebrow, still kneeling before me, his fingers buried deep inside me. “Want your cock.”

“You want this dick?” he asked, his tone both teasing and serious.

“Yes,” I panted, the word slipping out as both a plea and a command.

“Where?”

I knew exactly where I wanted him; the desire burned brightly within me. “Everywhere. My hand. My mouth. My pussy. Just… everywhere.”

A low growl escaped him, reverberating through my body, raw and hungry. But just as quickly, his fingers slipped away, leaving me aching and empty. He gripped my hips, securing me against him and the back of the couch, rising to slide my slick core against the hard line of his body. The urgency of his arousal pressed against me, igniting a fire within.

He leaned down, gathering me into his arms, kissing me with such fervor that I felt dizzy, his hardness grinding against me—a promise of what was to come.

I pushed him away gently, his expression shifting to one of confusion, but all I needed was a moment to slide off the couch and drop to my knees. He groaned as I ran my nose along the thick outline of him through his jeans, feeling him twitch in response to my teasing. With trembling hands, I tugged his pants and boxers down, revealing him—long, thick, and glistening with anticipation.

The chrome piercing at the tip caught the light, gleaming enticingly.

Looking up, I found him hovering above me, his body bared save for those damn glasses. His intense gaze locked onto mine, a silent plea reflected in his brown eyes. “Y/N,” I breathed, letting my warm breath wash over the tip of him. He groaned, his fingers tangling in my hair, urging me forward.

“God, I want to feel your mouth on me,” he implored, igniting a wild hunger within me.

I opened my mouth, eager and wet, my lips closing around the head of him, my tongue tracing the underside, the cool metal against warm flesh sending shivers down my spine.

“Y/N.”

I pulled away before I could take him too deep, trailing my mouth down his length, savoring every moment as I buried my nose into the soft hair at the base of him. He was practically whimpering, and I couldn’t resist the urge to pump him twice with my hand, the slickness gliding over him before I took him into my mouth, relaxing my throat to envelop him. Yet even with all my efforts, I couldn’t fit him completely, and I rubbed my thighs together, craving the moment he would finally fill me.

I moved my mouth up and down his length, achingly slow, feeling the tension coiling within him, his hips twitching, restrained. He wanted to thrust, to take control, but I held him back, guiding his movements while keeping him still. I could sense his legs trembling, teetering on the edge, so I pulled off, leaving him panting, his length throbbing, a testament to our shared desire.

Kissing the sharp bone of his hip, I pulled his pants the rest of the way down as he kicked off his shoes, the fabric sliding away like a whisper in the night. Just as I was about to toss the jeans aside, he stopped me, his voice low and husky. “Back pocket.”

Curiosity piqued, I glanced up at him through narrowed eyes and retrieved the little foil package from his back pocket. I noticed at least two more tucked away, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he had remarkable recovery time or if he was planning a very long weekend with me. Both notions sent a thrilling rush coursing through me

I held the condom up between two of my fingers. Jungkook snatched the package from me, tearing it open with a deft motion, rolling it over his cock from tip to base. He pressed his sheathed length against my hip, our bodies brushing together with a desperation that left me breathless.

“Turn,” he commanded, gently pushing at my shoulder. I obeyed, and his hands shoved me down, bending me from the waist, positioning my elbows on the back of the couch. When he was satisfied with my submission, he settled his hands firmly on my shoulder blades, a searing presence that felt as though it might melt through my skin, branding me with his touch.

His hands glided down my sides, over my ribs and hips, finally settling on my ass, rubbing it appreciatively. The edges of his fingers grazed my lips, parting them, and I jerked backward, feeling the heat of his cock resting against my back.

“Wider, baby,” he cooed, his fingers sliding over my trembling thighs. I closed my eyes, overwhelmed by the rush of sensation, and obeyed, spreading my legs for him. His knees bent between mine, the tip of his cock gliding tantalizingly from my clit to my entrance, brushing against me but not penetrating.

“Please, Jungkook,” I panted, desperation clawing at my throat as I felt myself teetering on the edge of begging.

Even he found himself pleading. “Please let me inside you,” he whispered, his length teasingly tracing my wet flesh, dipping slightly to part my lips but not filling the aching void within me.

“Yes,” I groaned, finally feeling the head of his cock pressing against my entrance, slipping into me inch by glorious inch. Nothing had ever felt this intense. “Fuck, yes,” I moaned, his grip hot and possessive at my hip while the other hand cradled the back of my neck, steadying me.

It was maddening not being able to move, even though all I wanted was to rock back and pull him deeper.

My body stretched as he pushed forward, achingly slow until he was fully seated within me, his hips flush against my backside. I gasped as he filled me completely. The sensation was electrifying, and I felt him rock back slightly before surging forward again, the combination of his length and the hot tip of metal against my walls making my eyes roll.

“Please,” I urged, my mantra of ‘yes’ and ‘fuck me’ spiraling from my lips as he finally began to thrust with abandon, our bodies locked in a passionate dance.

He tightened his grip on my hip, the other hand sliding to the middle of my back, pushing down. I could feel his movements becoming erratic, less steady—so close to coming inside me.

But I didn’t want it to end like this. Not after all this time.

“No, stop,” I breathed, the words barely escaping my lips before he froze, a pained sound erupting from him like a wounded animal.

“Please, Jesus, Y/N, you can’t—”

I glanced over my shoulder at him, squeezing him tightly inside me. The resulting moan from his throat sent a jolt of electricity through my body. The rejection and frustration etched across his face twisted my heart. “After all this time missing you,” I whispered, locking eyes with him, “I need to see you. I need to see you come.”

In an instant, he withdrew, turning my body roughly until I felt the couch pressing against me once more. Supporting my back with one hand, he parted my thighs with fierce urgency, stepping into them and plunging back inside me. I screamed, the sound echoing through the empty corners of the room.

His face was close to mine as he began to move again, quick, short thrusts finding a new rhythm. Our sweaty brows collided, the metal hoops of his piercings scratching my skin, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. His name spilled from my lips as we captured each other in another fiery kiss, a moment so intense I thought I could lose myself entirely in the swirl of our bodies, his ink swirling around us like dark tendrils of smoke.

His patience began to fray as he kissed me harder, his body pressing into mine with more urgency. I felt the fiery bloom of pleasure building again, hot and electric, and I craved him hard and fast—a deep connection stripped of all restraint.

He must have sensed my need, too, as he quickened his pace. “Hold on, baby,” he instructed, and I complied, wrapping my arms and legs around him tightly. I let him brace himself against the back of the couch as he drove into me, his pubic bone hitting my clit with each thrust, the metal piercing hitting deep within me making me mewl.

“I’m coming, Y/N. Fuck,” he moans, the raw desperation in his voice igniting something primal within me.

His face contorts in a beautiful, twisted expression of pleasure, each thrust deeper, harder, as if he’s trying to etch this moment into my very soul. The intensity of his words washes over me like a tidal wave, pulling me into a realm of oblivion. My body pulses in rhythm with his, a white-hot light flashing behind my closed eyes, merging with the vision of him—so fully present in my arms, lost in the sheer ecstasy we’ve created together.

As the world around us faded, time seemed to suspend, leaving only the two of us in a cocoon of warmth and intimacy. I could feel the weight of our shared moments pressing against us, every sensation amplified in the silence that enveloped the room. Slowly, we began to come back to ourselves, his body still pressed against mine, a gentle reminder of the electrifying connection we had just shared. The feeling of him lingering inside me sent shivers down my spine, and our breaths intertwined in a rhythm that was both calming and exhilarating.

We exchanged soft kisses, each one delicate and filled with unspoken promises, contrasting the raw passion that had ignited between us moments before. It was a tender kind of intimacy, one that held the power to ground us in a whirlwind of emotions.

After a moment, he pulled away, slipping out of me with a reluctance that made my heart ache just a little. The sudden emptiness was palpable, a gentle reminder of the closeness we had just experienced. Jungkook reached for the condom, his movements careful and deliberate, disposing of it in the wastebasket beside the couch. When he turned back to me, the soft glow of the room caught the contours of his face, illuminating him in a way that made him look almost ethereal.

“You’re really here,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking too loudly might shatter the magic of the moment.

“I’m here,” I replied, unable to suppress the grin that broke across my face. He was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, and this moment felt surreal.

Jungkook walked back over to the couch, his gaze roaming over my features as if he were trying to memorize every detail. “You look even better than I remembered,” he said, his smile soft and genuine, lighting up his eyes.

“And you look exhausted,” I teased, noticing the faint shadows under his eyes that spoke of sleepless nights and busy days.

He laughed, the sound brightening the room and melting away any remnants of anxiety I had carried with me. “It’s been a crazy week, but seeing you makes it all worth it.”

A smile broke across my face, the tension of the past months finally beginning to dissolve. For the first time since I had arrived, I took in my surroundings. The room felt both elegant and cozy, drenched in soft light, with tasteful decor that radiated warmth. A large bed dominated the space, its crisp white sheets looking impossibly inviting, and I found myself wishing we could make our way over there. It seemed far more comfortable than the couch.

“How was your flight?” Jungkook asked, bending down to plant a gentle kiss on my forehead, sending warmth flooding through me.

“Long,” I admitted. “But I couldn’t sleep. I was too excited.” The truth was, anticipation had been buzzing in my veins like electricity ever since I’d set foot on the plane.

He settled next to me on the couch, his hand finding mine, our fingers intertwining in a way that felt instinctive. “I’ve missed you so much,” he said, his thumb tracing small patterns on my skin, making my heart flutter in response.

“I’ve missed you too,” I replied, squeezing his hand tightly. “It feels like forever.”

We fell into a comfortable silence for a moment, the city lights twinkling outside like a constellation trapped within a glass jar. The reality of being here with him began to sink in, settling deep in my bones. No more video calls with choppy connections or hurried texts exchanged amid the chaos of our lives—just us, flesh and blood, finally in the same place.

Breaking the quiet, Jungkook’s tone turned serious, slicing through the warmth that enveloped us. “How are you holding up? I know it’s been tough.”

I took a deep breath, weighing my response. “It’s been hard,” I admitted, the truth heavy on my tongue. “But knowing we’d have this, even just a couple of days, kept me going.”

He nodded, understanding etched on his face. “It’s the same for me. The craziness of the tour and the constant traveling—it’s all worth it knowing I get to see you.”

His words wrapped around me like a warm blanket on a cold night, soothing my weary soul. We talked for hours, drifting through a sea of conversation that felt both substantial and light, catching up on everything and nothing. His stories from the tour spilled out with infectious excitement, his eyes alight like fireflies in the dark. I shared my own experiences, and with every word, the distance between us began to melt away until it felt like the space of a single breath.

Eventually, exhaustion crept in like a gentle shadow, heavy yet comforting. Jungkook stood up and held out his hand, a playful glimmer in his eyes. “Come on,” he said, a teasing lilt in his voice. “Let’s move to the bed. It’s way more comfortable.”

I took his hand, allowing him to guide me across the room. The large bed loomed before us, inviting and cozy, the crisp white sheets beckoning like a sanctuary. As we settled into the plush comfort, I felt a wave of contentment wash over me, a feeling that we were finally exactly where we were meant to be. We lay side by side, fingers intertwined like threads in a tapestry, the world outside fading into a dull hum, the city’s chaos a distant memory.

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yoongleboonglepie · 2 months ago

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Pechsträhne Masterlist

Genre: Horror ish au, paranormal au, hurt/comfort, slow burn, romance, psychic au, friends to lovers, Mystery, BTS ot7 x reader

Rating: 18+: Keep that in mind as this is at its core a paranormal/heavy theme rooted in history and myth, and some things are emotionally disturbing or spooky (so be prepared for potential gore/violence or scary elements). Read at your own discretion as I will only be putting trigger warnings for things that can pose severe safety risks to those affected. All else, like I said it is a spooky and mystery au.

Y/n Wörner left the Wörner Hotel and Estate nearly 5 years ago in an attempt to run away from a family argument that put a firm divide between her and her parents. She was managing fine, for the most part -save for the constant existential crisis of what she should do with herself and her life. That was until an invitation for the 150th anniversary of their family hotel ended up shoved in her mailbox on Thursday morning, and for no rational reason she found herself running back; unable to stop the pull to return home to her family and friends who live on the grounds. Once she arrives, however, it becomes inarguably apparent that things are very wrong. The ghosts of her long past family who were once friendly, are now vengeful and violent. Her friends are divided by secrets, mystery, and fear- changed in tandem with the ghosts she used to love. She has to relearn how to balance who she knew her friends as children, and who they have become in the recent years as a result of the darkness that threatens to drown them in its wake. She knows that something is threatening her home and her friends, but she doesn't know what. And if there's one thing about Y/n Wörner, it's that she's not a quitter. No ghost or demon will stop her from getting the answers she needs- even if it means they have to try and kill her before she gets to them. Because what does she have to lose?

_________________________________________

Main story,

Chapter 1 - 2/16/2025

Chapter 2- 2/19/2025

Chapter 3- 2/22/2025

Chapter 4- 2/24/2025

Chapter 5- 3/1/2025

Chapter 6- 3/10/2025

Chapter 7- 3/15/2025

Chapter 8 - 3/20/2025

Chapter 9 - 3/28/25

Chapter 10 - 4/6/2025

Chapter 11 - 4/11/2025

Chapter 12 -4/21/2025

Chapter 13- 4/27/2025

Chapter 14 -5/4/2025

Chapter 15 - 5/16/2025

Chapter 16 - 5/23/2025

Chapter 17 - 5/30/2025

Chapter 18 -6/7/2025

Chapter 19 -6/21/2025

_________________________________________

Pieces of Red String for you to Follow if you Dare...

Namjoon Character Moodboard

Seokjin Character Moodboard

Yoongi Character Moodboard

Hoseok Character Moodboard

Jimin Character Moodboard

Taehyung Character Moodboard

Jungkook Character Moodboard

Pinterest Boards

Family Tree of Y/n Wörner

Historical Archives of the Wörner's and more (locked)

Photos of rough outline of the estate (not hotel)

Morse code clues, chapters 7 and up: x x x x x x x x x

Find chapter and character playlists here:

Spotify

Youtube music

_________________________________________

P.S: to avoid spoilers, I use a spoiler tag on asks for new readers to avoid if they want to.

Do not repost anywhere or steal my writing/story. Thx.

Obvious disclaimer: this is just fiction and not actually about the bts members, they are simply face cards and names here. Enjoy, love you lots.

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melancholy-of-nadia · 11 months ago

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infatuation (m) | myg

title: infatuation pairing: yoongi x f. reader rating/genre: m ; smut ; agust d universe (AgustDverse based in Haegeum) ; gang leader / mafia AU summary: Living with fragmented and blurry memories has lead you to live under the roof of Bangkok's biggest secret crime boss, Agust D, as his bodyguard. Though, being confined to the mansion most of the time has made you feel isolated, craving freedom and answers. When he decides to take you out to dinner for the first time, the atmosphere is charged with tension and suspicion. You're not the only one who's patience is wearing thin, however, instead, it's discovering this man's infatuation with you that will lead you to change your mind. warnings: weapon mention (katana), reader has minor amnesia, back and forth arguing, murder mention, deep fish imagery/analogy, haegeum!suga mention, dominant haegeum! agust d, making out, penthouse s*x, f*ngering, cl*t stimulation, orgasm denial, choking, power imbalance, bl*w job, bre*st play, spiting, deep throating, pet names, agust d praises you by calling you "good girl", unprotected s*x, lowkey breeding k*nk, choking, possessiveness, multiple orgasms, uh i think that's it!... yandere? haegeum!agust d maybe note: it's been a year since i uploaded my first fic in this universe i call the AgustDverse. Also the first fic that got me into writing bts fics! I've been requested to continue this universe by my dear friend @daegudrama. I don't know if it'll ever become an actual cohesive series, but if you guys like it, let me know! also this is veerrrryyyyy much unedited im sorry i will edit later word count: 6.0k drop date: August 6th, 2024 7:30pm PST mood playlist | ao3 link – –

You never thought you'd find yourself in this situation—nestled within the mansion walls of a mafia boss masquerading as a police detective.

Known as Agust D.

How did you get here? It's a question that continuously echoes through your mind like a constant drumbeat.

It’s not an easy question to answer. It’s actually pretty complicated. Time travel? A quantum jump? You don’t know whatever scientific phenomenon this is.

But for your own sanity, you decided not to dwell too much on it, especially when the present demands your full attention.

Agust has let you live here under the guise of acting as his bodyguard, which is perhaps the strangest thing you've ever done. You had no prior guarding experience, but the katana sword that hangs by your side now tells otherwise. This item is a constant reminder of your supposed purpose here: to protect the mansion, to protect Agust D. But deep down, you know there's more to this arrangement than meets the eye.

Tonight, however, is different. Agust D, the enigmatic master of this mansion, has extended an invitation—an invitation to dine at an upscale Chinese restaurant. It's a rare opportunity to step beyond the confines of these walls, to breathe in the outside world, if only for a fleeting moment.

As you stand before the full-length mirror in your room, you can't help but feel a surge of apprehension. The maids have stated that Agust D insisted you wear a black satin dress he selected for the occasion—a garment that feels foreign against your skin, yet somehow fitting for the night. You’re too used to wearing a collared white button-up and a plaid skirt for most of the time while you’re at the mansion. You don’t know how long you’d been wearing that, but definitely longer than a young girl who’s in prep school.

Adjusting the delicate fabric, you take in your reflection, the unfamiliarity of the attire almost unnerving.

A knock at the door interrupts your contemplation, and without waiting for a response, Agust D enters, his presence commanding the room. Dressed in a tailored black suit that exudes power and authority, he regards you with a scrutinizing gaze.

"You look stunning," he remarks, a hint of satisfaction tugging at the corners of his lips. "Are you ready to go?"

With a half nod, you follow him down the stairs and out of the mansion, the cool night air wrapping around you like a shroud of secrecy. Then you hop into the black sports car, which Yoongi decides to drive this time instead of his chauffeur.

The journey to the restaurant is silent, punctuated only by the quiet sounds of the piano music playing, which came from connecting Agust D’s phone to the car’s aux.

He really does love Ryuichi Sakamoto’s music, you comment internally to yourself.

When you arrive at the restaurant, you're met with the grandeur of an upscale Chinese eatery perched on the top floor of a hotel building. The space is a harmonious blend of modern elegance and traditional opulence. As you step inside, the ambient chatter of elite people and the soft clinking of cutlery fill the air, creating a lively yet refined atmosphere that contrasts sharply with the muted silence of the mansion.

The restaurant’s interior is a feast for the senses. Rich, dark wood paneling lines the walls, accented by gold and red details that evoke a sense of luxury. Elegant lanterns hang from the ceiling, their warm, golden light casting a gentle glow across the room. The tables are adorned with crisp white linens, polished silverware, and delicate porcelain dishes, each piece carefully chosen to complement the sophisticated ambiance.

The scent of Chinese cuisine mingles with the faint aroma of incense, creating an inviting and tantalizing atmosphere. The restaurant's design features intricate latticework and traditional Chinese artwork, adding a touch of cultural authenticity to the modern setting. Plush, comfortable chairs surround each table, offering a sense of intimacy and relaxation.

As the restaurant host takes note of Agust D standing beside you, there’s a brief moment of panic in his eyes. He quickly ushers you both to a secluded corner of the establishment, a private nook separated from the rest of the dining area by elegant silk drapes. This area, though separated, still enjoys a view of the city skyline through large, floor-to-ceiling windows, offering a breathtaking panorama of the illuminated city below.

You are seated across from Agust, but there’s still a subtle awkward atmosphere surrounding the both of you when he orders and after the food arrives.

For a moment, the clinking of silverware against porcelain fills the silence before Agust D finally speaks.

"Do you still not remember anything?"

You hesitate, uncertainty flickering in the depths of your eyes about how to respond to him. "Bits and pieces," you admit, your gaze lingering on the dimly lit surroundings. "But nothing concrete. It's like trying to grasp at shadows."

His expression remains impassive, but you catch a fleeting glimpse of something else—something akin to regret, perhaps, or even longing. "It will come back to you," he says, his tone softer than before. "With time."

You only nod, going back to eating one of the xiaolongbao at the center of the table.

The air between you and Agust D grows heavier once again with unspoken words. You don’t like the silence. As someone who is very self-aware of their self, you feel compelled to break the silence to not be stuck in your head.

"Agust D," you begin tentatively, the name feeling foreign on your tongue yet strangely familiar. You don’t refer to him by name often, as you opt for ‘sir’ or the occasional ‘Hyungnim’. "Why did you bring me here tonight? You never do this sort of thing…"

He regards you with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. "Well, you've been cooped up in that mansion for so long," he replies cryptically, his gaze piercing through the facade you've carefully constructed. “Thought it would be good to treat you for your work.”

"But why now?" you press, unable to suppress the curiosity gnawing at your insides. "And wearing this?" You refer to the short piece of black fabric covering you.

Agust D's lips quirk up in a wry smile, though there's no warmth in it. "Maybe I wanted to see how you'd be like out… not on duty," he muses, his eyes never leaving yours. "Or perhaps I simply wanted company for the evening."

Company, huh? From the outside, it looks like you’re on a date. You wouldn’t doubt the restaurant staff is already gossiping from behind the curtains partitioning you from the rest of the world.

You can't help but feel a sense of unease at his words, a nagging suspicion that there's more to his motives than meets the eye. "Is that really all?" you press, your voice tinged with uncertainty. "Or is there something else you're not telling me?"

For a moment, Agust D's mask slips, revealing a flicker of vulnerability beneath the facade of indifference. "There's always more to say," he murmurs, his gaze turning distant as if lost in memories you can't access. "But some things are better left unsaid."

What does he even mean by that? You feel like every time you speak even a bit casually to this man, you only end up more confused and maybe even a bit more scared.

"Agust D," you venture cautiously, "...are you still looking for Suga?"

At the mention of the name, a shadow passes over Agust D's features, his expression hardening into a mask of resolve. "Suga," he repeats, the name dripping with bitterness and contempt. "Of course I’m looking for him. That man is nothing but trouble. I need to get rid of him."

You can't help but feel a pang of sympathy for the man whose name hangs between you like a specter, a reminder of the past you can't quite grasp. "But why? Why do you hate him so much?" you ask softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Agust D's eyes darken with a mix of anger and regret, a storm raging beneath the surface. "He’s got my face and that in itself is a danger to all of us," he admits, his voice raw with emotion. "He could also be the answer to everything I've lost, but it’s better if that answer is never revealed."

The words hang heavy in the air from a confession laden with pain. And as you gaze into the depths of Agust D's eyes, you realize that beneath the cold exterior lies a man haunted by his past—a man who, like you, is searching for answers, but afraid to confront them. You want to pry into what he means, but you’re scared that he may act aggressively. So instead you change the topic.

"Don’t you know his whereabouts though?" you inquire softly, your voice laced with concern.

Agust D's gaze meets yours. "I do," he confirms, his voice low and measured. "He’s in Chinatown. Living in an apartment at the end of Weng Nakorn Kasem. But I can’t act on impulse. I’m too heavily involved in the Asia Pacific Police Union, and that already involves too many variables, too many unknowns."

A sense of foreboding settles over you as you listen to his words, the weight of his burdens pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket. "What do you mean?" you press, your voice barely a whisper.

Agust D sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I can't move against him yet," he admits, his tone laced with resignation. "Not until I know how many people are on my side. There are spies within the organization. If I act too quickly, I could end up getting myself killed…"

The gravity of his words hangs heavy in the air, casting a shadow over the fragile truce that exists between you. And yet, despite the dangers that lurk in the darkness, you can't help but feel a flicker of hope. If you help him in capturing Suga, then maybe you’ll be able to piece your own puzzle together.

But would that even be a good idea?

"Agust D," you say softly, smiling gently at him, "you know you don't have to face this alone. Whatever happens, I'll stand by your side. Not like I have much of a choice anyway." Your words trail off at the end. He doesn’t comment on it though.

For a moment, there's a vulnerability in Agust D's gaze, a fleeting glimpse of the man beneath the mask. He reaches out to take your hand, his expression softening ever so slightly at your words. "Thanks," he murmurs, his voice a whisper in the dimly lit restaurant.

“It’s my job after all.”

––––––

After finishing dinner, the two of you begin to walk out of the restaurant, entering a long hallway that leads to large red sliding doors that exit. Your eyes drift toward the grand wall aquarium positioned near the exit, its towering glass panels reflecting the soft glow of the overhead lights.

The aquarium is a masterpiece of design, housing a diverse array of aquatic life within its transparent confines. Colorful coral reefs sway gently in the water, their vibrant hues casting mesmerizing patterns of light and shadow across the sandy substrate below.

But amidst the bustling underwater ecosystem, your gaze fixates on a lone goldfish, its sleek form gliding gracefully through the water. Its vibrant orange scales shimmer in the ambient light, a stark contrast to the subdued colors of its surroundings.

A pang of concern tugs at your heart as you watch the solitary fish navigate its artificial habitat. Don't goldfish typically reside in tranquil ponds, surrounded by the soothing sounds of nature? Is it even safe for them to be confined within the confines of this glass enclosure?

Lost in thought, you fail to notice Agust D's departure until you feel a gentle tug on your arm. Startled, you turn to find him regarding you with a curious expression, his gaze flickering between you and the aquarium.

"What's on your mind?" he asks softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You tear your gaze away from the mesmerizing display before you, your thoughts still lingering on the lone koi fish. "I was just...thinking about that fish," you admit, gesturing toward the aquarium.

“The goldfish?”

“Mhm,” As you stand there, watching the solitary koi fish swim about, a wistful sigh escapes your lips. "I wish I were a fish sometimes," you murmur.

As funny as your sentence sounds, you thought the older man would laugh at you for making a comment like that. However, Agust D's gaze flickers at you, curiosity gleaming in his eyes.

"Why's that?" he asks, his voice soft with intrigue.

You pause, contemplating your answer as you watch the graceful movements of the fish. "Uh, well they seem so free," you explain, your voice tinged with longing. “They get to go wherever they want. move through life with such ease in the water, not burdened by the weight of the world.”

As you continue to watch the fish, a sense of yearning wells up within you—a desire to shed the constraints of your human existence. "Sometimes," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper, "I wish I could trade places with that fish just so I could be able to live freely, to live without my own burdens."

Agust D nods in understanding, a silent reassurance amid your musings. "But you know, even fish have their own struggles. I mean, look at it, it’s trapped in this Chinese restaurant’s aquarium as entertainment for guests, fighting to survive in a place it doesn’t belong,”

Sigh.

He’s right. But you hate the fact that he’s right.

“That still doesn’t change what I said. Plus, I don't want to be that fish.” you interject, your voice laced with a hint of sadness. "Slowly destroyed by its surroundings… not belonging there."

Agust D's brow furrows in contemplation, his gaze returning to the small goldfish. "So what are you trying to say?"

"I don't want to feel like that," you admit. "Trapped in a world that doesn't feel like home, constantly struggling to find where I belong!"

And you hate it because that is exactly how you’ve been feeling right now. You’re living with a man several years older than you, who is probably the most dangerous man in Thailand, maybe even all of Asia. And you have no idea why you stuck here with him, but where could you really go? Where are you actually from? Where is home?

Agust D's expression hardens slightly, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. "Life isn't always about feeling at home," he counters. "Sometimes it's about surviving where you are and making the best of it."

No! He doesn’t get it.

You feel a flicker of irritation at his words, your emotions bubbling just beneath the surface. "That's easy for you to say," you retort, tone sharp. "You're not the one who's been confined to that mansion, to these guarding duties, waiting for memories to come back."

His eyes narrow slightly, a spark of challenge igniting in them. "You think I don't have my own battles?" he snaps back. "I'm out there every day, dealing with threats you can't even imagine."

"At least you have control over these things. You have the entirety of this city wrapped around your finger," you snap, the words spilling out before you can stop them. "At least you know who you are and what you're fighting for!”

The tension between you two shifts. Agust D steps closer, his presence looming, but you refuse to back down, meeting his gaze with unwavering resolve.

Inside, you're a storm of emotions—anger, confusion, and a touch of desperation. How can he be so dense and unreadable, yet so annoyingly calm? It's like talking to a brick wall sometimes. Every word you say seems to bounce off him while his expression remaining infuriatingly stoic. You want to scream, to make him understand just how much this is tearing you apart, but he stands there, unmoved, as if your turmoil is nothing more than a slight breeze in his world.

“Agust, you–”

"Fuck…you're so hot when you're upset, doll," he murmurs, interrupting you with a low growl that sends a shiver down your spine. Before you can react, he grabs your arm, pulling you toward the exit.

Huh?

"Hey!" you protest, your frustration mingling with a surge of adrenaline. But Agust D doesn't relent, his grip firm as he guides you out of the restaurant and into the elevator.

As the elevator doors slide shut, sealing you both inside the confined space, the tension between you reaches a boiling point. "What are you doing?" you demand, your voice a mix of anger and confusion.

Instead of answering, Agust D pushes you against the wall, his lips crashing down on yours with a fierce intensity. Your initial resistance melts away as the kiss deepens, the heat between you igniting into a blazing inferno powered by unknown frustrations beneath the surface.

You pull back just enough to catch your breath, your chest heaving as you glare at him. "You can't just—" you start, but he silences you with another kiss, his hands roaming possessively over your body.

"I can and I will," he murmurs against your lips, his voice a husky whisper. "Because right now, all I can think about is you."

Your frustration mingles with a heady mix of desire, the lines between anger and passion blurring as you give in to the moment. As the elevator ascends, the world outside fades away, leaving only the two of you.

When the elevator dings softly, signaling its arrival on your floor, you find yourselves in a private hallway in the hotel building, the opulent surroundings a stark contrast to the intensity of your kiss. Agust D pulls back, his eyes dark with desire and determination.

"We're not done talking," he says, his voice a low rumble that sends a thrill through you. "But right now, I need you."

Your eyes are left wide open, feeling hormones coursing through you.

This can’t be happening. Is this all a dream? Yes, this has to be. And what’s with the scenario? Are you that sexually frustrated? You admit you’ve never done this sort of thing and have only spent your free time reading erotica for entertainment.

But to dream about fucking the very man keeping you captive within his mansion and living as a bodyguard. There has got to be something wrong with you. Maybe you’re experiencing Stockholm syndrome? But you’ve not once felt emotionally attached to this man.

Though there have been times you’ve looked at him and thought about how beautiful he looked.

Shit.

Maybe you’ll go along with this. Everything else be damned, for now.

“Show me then,” You word out, which only fires him up more.

Agust D’s grip on your arm is firm but not painful as he leads you down the luxurious hallway to a penthouse suite, the plush carpet muffling your footsteps. Your thoughts are a chaotic jumble, torn between the logical part of your brain screaming at you to stop and the primal part urging you to give in.

As soon as the door to a suite clicks shut behind you, he’s on you again, pushed against a wall, his lips claiming yours with a hunger that leaves you breathless. You respond in kind, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. Every touch, every kiss feels electric, igniting a fire within you that you didn’t know existed.

In the back of your mind, you know this is wrong. You know you should be resisting, should be fighting against the pull he has on you. But right now, in this moment, all you can think about is the way his hands feel on your skin, the way his lips move against yours, the way his presence consumes you.

He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his breath hot against your lips. “You’re mine,” he murmurs, showcasing his possessive nature. “I refuse to let you go.”

His hands start to inch up under your dress until he reaches your core and starts flicking at your clit. You gasp, the sensation sending shockwaves through your body. He watches your reaction with a smirk, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you.

“Is this what you wanted?” he whispers, his voice low and teasing. “To feel me, to know that you’re mine?”

You can barely form a coherent thought, let alone a response. All you can do is nod, your body arching toward his touch, craving more.

“Good,” he says, his fingers moving with a deft precision that has you teetering on the edge. “Because I’m not stopping until you know that you belong to me.”

He continues his ministrations, his touch driving you wild with need. The logical part of your brain has long since surrendered, leaving only the raw, primal desire that burns within you.

His fingers slide below your black lace underwear until he inserts them inside you with a sly grin. You can't help but moan at the invasion, your body trembling with anticipation. He moves them in and out, hitting just the right spot, causing you to writhe beneath him.

"This is what you get," he growls, his voice low and commanding. "For. every. time. you. talked. back. to. me. today." He growls, punctuating every word with a thrust inside your pussy.

“F-Fuck A-Agust!” And holy shit does it feel so good.

As lust starts to fog your mind and the air fills with moans, you don't know what's happening to you. But you don't care. The fire inside you is burning brighter by the second, and you can't get enough of the man who's taken control of your body and mind at this moment

Yoongi places his thumb on your nub and plays with it, squishing it in circular motions, then using his finger to rub it a little faster then slowing down only to fasten the pace again. You felt a very familiar feeling boiling up in your lower belly threatening to unleash itself.

“I’m not gonna let you reach your high yet.”

Suddenly, he removes all his fingers from you and you whimper immediately, the absence of his touch leaving you desperate for more.

Yoongi bites down against his lips, eyes quickly traveling from your face and down your body, “Huh…W-Wait..P-Please…” You pant heavily, trying to rub your thighs together to pick back up the pace that was headed toward your release

“I thought you wanted to leave me, doll?” He leans in closer, chuckling in your face, and you shake your head. At this moment, you realize that he’s hard under his dress pants. “Are you sure? I don’t give orgasms to people that won’t obey me.”

“I-I’ll prove it to you!” You drop to your knees quickly, placing your hands on both of his sides. “Oh? And how will you do that?” He gives you a curious look, already knowing what to expect from your sudden submissive behavior. While he spoke, you unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, pulling it down along with his boxers to reveal his cock.

“Oh fuck…” You let out in the smallest whisper. He wasn’t long per se, but more than average. But the girth… holy shit. Will it even fit in any of your holes? And the way his precum is already pearling on his tip just from what you two did earlier? You swallow nervously, but you’re not one to back away from a challenge. “Like this.”

You hold his cock gently from the base, proceeding to gather spit from your mouth and letting it drop on it. You proceed to move your hand, spreading his precum and your saliva on his dick, managing to get a good slide and starting to move your hand quicker. You looked up innocently, already noticing a flicker of Agust’s facade fade as he felt himself slipping away in pleasure. In his mind, he was tempted to say fuck it all and let himself fuck against your hand, but he knew better than just to let himself become an animal. After the prep, you part your mouth and slowly take him in, the stretch already starting to hurt your jaw from his wide size. In the meantime, you just suck around his head and use your hand to deliver pleasure to the rest of his shaft, earning deep-sounding curses and moans while your tongue swirled around him.

His eyes are glued to you, watching you work his cock with your kitten-like licks. Though, this isn’t enough for him. He wants to thrust up down your throat so bad and fuck you until your voice was sore. He wants to see how much you’re willing to take in that small mouth of yours.

And that’s exactly what he does. He places his hand on your head, giving you small pats and rubs disguised as encouragement for your efforts. Then his hand starts inching towards the back of your head until he suddenly grabs a handful of your hair and forcibly pushes his dick further until your smacked against his pelvis.

“Seems like you still need practice. Don’t worry, I’ll train you,” he murmurs, his grip tightening on your hair as he begins to thrust into your mouth. The tip hits the back of your throat and you gag reflexively, but he doesn't let up, pushing deeper with each thrust. Your eyes start to water, now holding onto his sides for dear life, but you force yourself to take it, willing your throat to open up and accommodate his girth. His palm comes up to your cheek to rub your cheek, feeling himself on the other side enter in and out of you.

He grunts with each deep thrust, his hips pistoning in and out of your mouth as you struggle to keep up with his rhythm. You feel like you're choking, but you don't want to disappoint him and prevent you from reaching your orgasm after. However, it doesn’t take long for him to come undone, swallowing saliva and cum down your throat. He removes himself and you begin to cough erratically. You have never deep-throated before, so it’s a miracle you didn’t throw up or die from this. It’s definitely not as easy as porn makes it seem. You’ve been lied to by the media! “Haah… Holy shit…” You groan, trying to catch your breath and stabilize your heart rate.

“You alright?” He questions, voice tinged with slight worry as he fixes his pants and underwear back up and leans down towards your face. “I lost myself for a bit…”

“It’s okay–” You pause, shocked for a moment to hear your voice sound hoarse. Despite that, Agust chuckles, using his palm once again to rub against your cheek to comfort you, smiling softly. “Good girl. Now you’ll get your reward.” With this, he guides you to the master bedroom, his grip on your arms firm yet careful, leading you through the opulent suite. The room is a testament to luxury, with rich, dark wood furniture that you knew Agust requested in the hotels he invests in and soft, ambient lighting that casts a warm glow over everything. The large windows offer a stunning view of the Bangkok city skyline, but your focus is solely on him.

He pushes you gently onto the king-sized bed, the plush mattress sinking beneath your weight. The silk sheets feel cool against your skin, starkly contrasting the heat building between you. Agust D stands over you, his eyes dark with desire, a predator savoring his prey.

He slowly removes his jacket, his movements deliberate, his eyes never leaving yours. You watch, your breath hitching as he unbuttons his suit vest, followed by his shirt, revealing his semi-muscular and beefy figure beneath. You’ve never seen him like this before, as he’s a very reserved man when it comes to his body. But each inch of exposed skin sends a fresh wave of anticipation through you.

“You’ve been so good,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky. “Now, let me take care of you.”

He climbs onto the bed, sitting between your legs where his hands start trailing up your thighs, pushing the hem of your dress higher. His touch is electrifying, each caress igniting a fire in your core. He leans down, his lips ghosting over your skin, leaving a trail of burning kisses from your collarbone to your ear.

His breath is hot against your ear as he whispers, “Tell me you want this.”

“I want this,” you breathe, your voice trembling with need.

“Good,” he says, his lips curling into a satisfied smile. “Because once I start, I won’t be able to get enough of you.”

His hands are everywhere, exploring, teasing, and driving you to the brink of madness. He slips the dress off your shoulders, letting it fall away completely, leaving your body exposed and vulnerable beneath him. His eyes rake over your body, a dark hunger in his gaze.

“So fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. “My doll.”

He lowers himself, his mouth finding your breast, sucking and nibbling until you’re arching into him, your fingers tangled in his slick black hair. He trails kisses down your stomach, his hands gripping your hips as he positions himself between your legs.

You gasp as he presses a kiss to your inner thigh, his breath hot against your skin. “Ready for your reward?” he asks, his voice a seductive whisper.

“Mm..” You only make a sound and nod due to the lust clouding your mind. How do you say words? Do words matter?

He pinches your clit slightly which makes you jump and arc your body a little.

“Words, doll.”

“Y-Yes!” you manage to finally speak out, your body wiggling around close to his face eager for him to move.

He doesn’t hesitate after your verbal consent, his tongue flicking out to taste you from your clit down to your entrance, drawing a cry of pleasure from your lips. He works you expertly, starting with his tongue sucking against your clit, then eating you out in your entrance.

And holy fuck does he have you wrapped around his finger with these ministrations. You had heard rumors of him being good at oral sex from the women at the events you would accompany him to, but fuck, the actual thing doesn’t compare to their mere descriptions.

His tongue soon returns to nibble and suck at your aching bud, with his fingers replacing his place inside you. And before you know it, you’re lost in the sensation again, body jerking as every nerve ending is set aflame as he brings you closer and closer to the edge.

And Agust D knows it, smirking against your pussy as he feels you tighten against his fingers. “Come for me,” he growls against your skin, his voice a command that you can’t resist.

With a final, shuddering gasp, you fall apart, the pleasure crashing over you in waves. He holds you through it, his hands and mouth coaxing every last bit of ecstasy from your body until you’re left trembling and spent beneath him.

He pulls back, his eyes dark with satisfaction as he watches you recover. “Such a fucking good girl,” he murmurs, his voice filled with pride. “But we’re not done.”

He stands up and swiftly pulls down his pants and boxers, revealing his cock, red and eager. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight, your mind racing.

Oh? Is he going to put it in?!

“Huh? W-Wait you–”

Before you can finish speaking, he puts your legs on his shoulder and aligns himself to your entrance, his eyes locking with yours. The heat and intensity of his gaze make your heart race.

“You’re on birth control, correct?”

“Yes…”

You’d be surprised that he knows this fact, but he does look over your medical records after all. You’d also question the ethics of this, but not now.

“Then we can go all out,” he whispers, his voice rough with desire. “And I’ll show you that you’re truly mine.”

He pushes into you, his cock stretching and filling you completely.

“F-Fuck!” You gasp, the sensation is overwhelming, fueled with pleasure and pain that leaves you breathless. He pauses movements for a moment, allowing you to adjust, his hands gripping your hips tightly.

Your eyes close as you try to focus on relaxing your body.

“Look at me,” he commands suddenly, his voice low and firm as he holds your chin. “I want to see your face when I take you.”

“Y-Yes, sir!” You meet his gaze, your eyes wide with a mix of fear and excitement. There’s a primal hunger in his eyes that sends a shiver down your spine.

He begins to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate at first, each one sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. You cling to him, your nails digging into his shoulders as you try to keep up with the intensity of his pace. The feeling of him inside you is overwhelming and does not compare to his or your own fingers pleasuring you.

“Do you feel that?” he asks, his voice a rough whisper. “Do you feel how your pussy is being molded by my cock?”

“Y-Yes!” you manage to gasp, your voice trembling. “I feel it!”

“Good,” he says, his thrusts becoming faster, more intense. “Because you won’t ever be able to be pleased by another cock as long as I live,”

His movements are relentless, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. The room is filled with the sounds of your shared pleasure, the slap of skin against skin, and the ragged gasps and moans that escape your lips.

As your eyes meet his, he suddenly wraps his hand around your neck, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp. His grip is firm but not painful, sending a rush of adrenaline and arousal coursing through your veins.

“Doll, you like being choked while I fuck you? Having you wrapped around my fingers now.”

“F-Feels so mmh good!” You mumble, your breath hitching as his grip tightens slightly, the sensation heightening the pleasure coursing through your body.

You never thought you’d be so turned on by choking. You don’t know if it’s you getting high off the lack of oxygen and feeling pleasure, or giving up your life’s control to this man before you that has your toes curling.

The pleasure builds up to an unbearable peak once more, but this time, you know that he is feeling the same thing too. His thrusts become harder, more forceful, each one sending shockwaves through your body. His hand on your neck adds an edge to the sensation od dominance and possessiveness that leaves you breathless.

“Come for me, doll,” he growls, his voice a command that you can’t ignore. “I want to feel you come around me as I do at the same time.”

With a final, shuddering cry, your orgasm crashes down, your body convulsing in pleasure. He follows you soon after, his grip on your hips tightening as he spills into you, his own release mingling with yours. The intensity of the moment leaves you both breathless, clinging to each other as the aftershocks of pleasure ripple through your bodies.

He pulls back slightly, his eyes dark and satisfied as he looks down at you with a smile that exposes his gums. He lays down next to you and pulls you into his arms, his lips finding yours in a tender, possessive kiss.

“You’re mine,” he whispers against your lips, the words a promise and a declaration.

“You’re mine,” he repeats. “I’ll never let you leave.”

At that moment, as you lie there in his arms, you realize that maybe, just maybe, you don’t want him to. The world outside may be complicated and uncertain, but here, with him, everything feels right.

This is your home.

All you want is for this man to be infatuated with you for the rest of your life.

This is how things should be. Right?

–

– tbc?

✨ let me know ur thoughts! how are you feeling?! ✉️

#AGUSTDVERSE #Prequel #bts fic #bts imagines #bts x reader #yoongi x reader #yoongi fic #yoongi smut #yoongi x you #yoongi x y/n #yoongi angst #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts reactions #bts reader insert #haegeum #agust d #THE WORLD IS BACK!

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dr3amlab · 7 months ago

Text

Sweet escape ⎯ jjk x reader

SUMMARY. The gala was boring, thankfully, Jungkook was there to save the night.

PAIRING. Jungkook, Y/N

GENRE. pure fluff, rich! jungkook, rich! reader.

WORD COUNT. too lazy

AUTHORS NOTE. hey y'all so I've never been to New York or a bodega so sorryyyyy if it's innacurate.

From the moment you arrived, the gala had felt stifling. The room brimmed with opulence: crystal chandeliers casting golden light, designer gowns glittering like jewels, and tuxedos tailored so sharply they could kill someone. The air was heavy with laughs too perfectly timed and fake smiles plastered constantly on faces, without a break.

This wasn’t simply a gala; it was a marketplace for power. Deals disguised as small talk, people showing off their wealth and champagne glasses clinking with agreements.

Even the champagne in your hand—a rare vintage you’d read about in Forbes—tasted sour on your tongue. You took another sip anyway, more out of habit than enjoyment, your gaze wandering across the room in search of something—anything—to make this night tolerable.

And then you saw him.

Jungkook.

He was leaning against one of the long, polished banquet tables, his posture casual. His tuxedo fit like it had been sculpted directly onto him. His dark eyes caught yours from across the room, his lips immediately curving into a grin at your sight that sent a jolt through your chest.

He raised an eyebrow at you, tilting his head slightly, a silent question.

“What?” you mouthed, trying to stifle a smile.

He didn’t answer, not immediately. Instead, he took a sip from his champagne, set the glass down, and crossed the room toward you with the kind of ease only someone born into this world of wealth could manage. When he reached your side, he leaned down, his voice low and intimate in your ear.

“We’re leaving,” he said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You blinked, startled. “Leaving? What do you mean? We just got here.”

His grin widened, and for a moment, you were sure he was enjoying this far too much. “I mean, we’re ditching this entire circus. Right now. You in or not?”

You hesitated, the weight of expectation pressing on you like a stone. You glanced back at the room—at the glittering chandeliers, the clinking glasses, the meaningless conversations.

Then his hand brushed yours. Warm, steady, and just enough to convince you.

“Fine,” you said, setting your glass down on a passing tray. “But you’re explaining this if anyone asks," you touched his chest with your index fingers, "this is none of my business if we get caught."

“No one will notice,” he said, smirking. “Trust me. These people are too busy pretending they’re not bored out of their minds.”

Without another word, he took your hand and led you through the maze of elites. You moved quickly but without haste, the confidence of your exits as polished as your entrances. People glanced your way, but no one dared to question you; power has a way of silencing curiosity.

The back door clicked shut behind you, and the cool night air hit your skin like a breath of freedom. You stood in the private valet area, lit by soft amber lights that reflected off the sleek lines of luxury cars waiting in neat rows.

Jungkook pulled a key from his pocket, clicking it once. The low purr of an engine answered, and a black Aston Martin rolled forward, sleek and unapologetically expensive.

“You had them bring the car around?” you asked, incredulous.

“What do you think I was doing while you were over there pretending to enjoy your champagne?” he teased, opening the passenger door for you with a dramatic flourish. "Aren't you a villain? You planned this meticulously, didn't you ?" you teased.

You slipped into the seat, the soft leather cradling you like a second skin. He slid into the driver’s seat a moment later, the car’s controls lighting up under his hands as he adjusted the mirrors, tossed his jacket in the backseat and peeled out of the lot with effortless precision.

“Where are we even going?” you asked, kicking off your heels and tucking your feet beneath you. . The gown might have cost more than most people made in a month, but at this moment, you didn’t care if it wrinkled.

“You’ll see,” he said, the city lights reflecting in his eyes as he glanced over at you. “Trust me.”

“Trust you?” you repeated, laughing softly. “You just dragged me out of a $10,000-a-plate gala.”

“And yet,” he countered, his grin mischievous, “you didn’t even try to argue.”

The city blurred past as he navigated the streets with a confidence that felt second nature. Eventually, he pulled into a rooftop parking garage, the kind with a perfect, unobstructed view of the skyline. He killed the engine and stepped out, coming around to open your door.

“This is your big escape plan?” you teased as you stepped out into the crisp air.

“It’s better than pretending to like people I don’t,” he replied, gesturing toward the edge of the rooftop. “Come on.”

The view stole your breath. The city stretched endlessly, a sea of lights glimmering like stars. The faint chill of autumn lingered in the air, sharp and refreshing.

Jungkook leaned against the railing, looking more relaxed than you’d seen him all night. “Worth it?” he asked, his tone softer now.

You nodded, a smile tugging at your lips. “Worth it.”

He turned to you, his grin taking on that familiar mischievous edge. “So, how does it feel to ditch the gala for a view like this?”

“Liberating,” you admitted, glancing back at the skyline. “Though I’m sure the gossip blogs will have a field day tomorrow.”

“Let them talk,” he said, reaching for your hand. His grip was warm, grounding. “They’d find something to say even if we stayed. Fuck them.”

For the first time that evening, you laughed—a genuine laugh that echoed against the quiet night.

And as the city buzzed below, Jungkook smiled, his gaze lingering on you longer than it did the skyline.

But eventually, reality began to creep back in. You glanced at Jungkook, leaning against the railing with his hair tousled by the wind, looking far too pleased with himself.

“Alright,” you said, breaking the silence. “We’ve officially escaped. What now, genius?”

He tilted his head, considering you with an amused glint in his eyes. “You hungry?”

“Starving,” you admitted. The champagne had done nothing to fill you up, and you’d barely touched the microscopic hors d’oeuvres at the gala.

Jungkook straightened up, his grin turning mischievous again. “Perfect. I know a place.”

“Please tell me this place doesn’t involve a sommelier explaining the origin of the salt,” you said, giving him a pointed look.

“Nope,” he replied, popping the p. “I promise, no reservations required.”

The Aston Martin wound its way down the parking garage ramp. Neon lights and flashing billboards passed by in a blur, the car effortlessly weaving through the sparse late-night traffic.

When he finally slowed to a stop, you glanced out the window and blinked. “A… bodega?”

Sure enough, the glowing yellow awning of a corner bodega greeted you, its hand-painted letters advertising everything from sandwiches to lottery tickets. The fluorescent lights inside flickered slightly, casting a faint greenish hue over the tiny store.

“You’re kidding,” you said, turning to him in disbelief.

He was already grinning as he opened his door. “Come on.”

The bells above the door jingled as you stepped inside, and the sharp scent of deli meats and cleaning solution hit you immediately. The bodega was cramped, its aisles barely wide enough to fit two people side by side. Shelves overflowed with snacks and canned goods, all illuminated by flickering fluorescent lights that gave everything a faintly greenish hue.

And then there was the clerk behind the counter, scrolling on his phone without a care in the world—until he glanced up.

You and Jungkook were so out of place that his reaction was almost comical. Jungkook stood in his tailored tuxedo, the tie long gone and his collar undone. Meanwhile, you clutched your designer heels in one hand, your gown still sparkling like it belonged under a chandelier.

The clerk blinked, his expression shifting from confusion to resignation, as if deciding it wasn’t worth questioning how the two of you had ended up here.

Still holding your hand, Jungkook grabbed a basket from the entrance, swinging it casually as his grin lit up the store. “Alright,” he said, turning to you with a mock-serious tone. “What’s the plan? Sweet, salty, or chaotic?”

“Chaotic,” you replied immediately, scanning a nearby shelf stacked with chips. “If we’re committing to this escape-from-reality thing, we’re doing it right.”

He nodded solemnly. “I respect that.”

The two of you wandered down an aisle together, gravitating toward the snacks like moths to a flame. Jungkook grabbed a bag of spicy chips and tossed it into the basket without hesitation. “Essential,” he declared.

You held up a package of neon-green sour gummies. “How about these?”

He squinted at the package, pretending to deliberate. “Hmm… passable. But only if we balance it with chocolate.”

Rolling your eyes, you plucked a bar of dark chocolate from the shelf and added it to the growing pile. “There. Balance achieved.”

“Perfect.” He picked up a tiny jar of peanut butter, holding it aloft like a trophy. “This too. Trust me.”

“Peanut butter? Really?”

“Yes, peanut butter,” he said, his tone firm as he placed it in the basket. “You’ll thank me later.”

By the time you reached the drinks, the basket was overflowing with a kaleidoscope of snacks—chips, candies, crackers, and even an impulsive pick of pickles. Jungkook studied the rows of soda cans with the intensity of someone analyzing stock market trends.

“Too sweet,” he muttered, putting one back. “Too boring. Ooh, this one has a bunny on it.” He tossed it into the basket with a proud grin.

You laughed, grabbing a can of sparkling water. “And for me, something a little more… refined.”

“Refined?” he echoed, raising a brow. “You’re barefoot in a gown, in a bodega at midnight. I think ‘refined’ left the building about an hour ago.”

You bumped your shoulder against his, grinning. “Let me live.”

As you rounded the corner toward the baked goods, something under the glass display caught your eye: a slightly misshapen cinnamon roll, its icing glistening under the harsh lights. Your heart skipped a beat.

“That,” you said, pointing with conviction, “is mine.”

Jungkook followed your gaze and smirked. “You’re sure? It’s… seen better days.”

“It’s perfect,” you insisted, tapping the glass to signal the clerk.

The man behind the counter shuffled over, raising a single eyebrow at your ensemble but saying nothing as he carefully placed the cinnamon roll in a paper bag.

“Anything else?” he asked, his voice gruff but not unkind.

Jungkook leaned on the counter, his grin playful. “What’s the secret menu? You know, for the cool kids.”

The clerk snorted. “Coffee’s fresh. That’s about as fancy as we get.”

“We’ll take two,” Jungkook said smoothly, ignoring your protests as he handed over a few crisp bills. He grabbed the steaming cups a moment later, holding one out to you with a grin.

You found a small table in the corner of the bodega, the chairs mismatched and the surface slightly sticky, your knees were touching his and the basket of snacks spilled across the table.

“This,” you said, breaking the silence as you tore off another piece of your cinnamon roll, “is the best thing I’ve eaten all night.”

Jungkook smirked, leaning back in his chair and sipping his coffee. “Better than the miniature lobster tarts and gold-dusted macarons?”

“Way better,” you said with conviction. “Although I guess I didn’t eat much of those, did I?”

“Because you were too busy being miserable,” he teased lightly.

“Not anymore.” You met his gaze, your smile softening. “Thanks to you.”

Jungkook reached across the table suddenly, brushing a crumb from the corner of your mouth with his thumb. The gesture was casual, yet it sent a wave of warmth through you that was anything but.

He set down his cup, his expression shifting just slightly, the teasing fading into something quieter. “You know I’d do anything for you, right?”

The words hit you harder than they should have. You felt your breath catch, your heart doing that annoying fluttering thing it always seemed to do when he let his guard down.

“What?” he asked, his grin reappearing as he leaned forward, his elbows resting on the edge of the table. “You look like you’re about to cry. Did the cinnamon roll disappoint you?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “No, it’s perfect. I’m just… I don’t know. Happy, I guess. Like, really happy.”

He didn’t reply right away, just tilted his head slightly, studying you like you were some sort of puzzle he was determined to solve.

The bells above the door jingled faintly every time someone entered, though the bodega was nearly empty at this hour. It made you feel as If your entire world had shrunk to this tiny corner store and it was kind of the case : As long as he was there, you always felt at peace.

Then Jungkook grinned, his expression turning mischievous again. “You realize this makes us official partners in crime, right? There’s no turning back now.”

“Obviously,” you replied, rolling your eyes, though your smile lingered. There was something absurdly perfect about the scene—the flickering lightbulb, the random bodega cat and the ridiculousness of sitting in a bodega dressed to the nines.

“You know,” he said finally, his voice lower now, more serious, “I really mean it Y/N. You're my partner in crime, my person.”

“For life?” you asked, your tone light but your chest tightening at the weight of his gaze.

“For life,” he confirmed, leaning closer.

Your breath hitched as the air between you seemed to shift, and everything faded into the background.

It was just him.

Just you.

And then he leans to kiss you.

Soft, at first, like he wasn’t entirely sure if you’d let him. His lips brushed yours gently, testing, waiting—and when you didn’t pull away, he deepened it, his hand coming up to cradle your jaw. The taste of coffee and cinnamon mingled between you.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested lightly against yours, both of you catching your breath. His grin appeared yet again, though his voice was soft when he spoke.

“Well,” he said, his thumb brushing your cheek, “guess there’s no going back now.”

“Was there ever?” you murmured, smiling against his lips as you leaned in for another kiss, this one bolder, like you were finally letting yourself want this as much as you had all along.

By the time you pulled away again, you were both laughing.

You grabbed the warm paper cup of coffee in your hands and it felt grounding, “partners in crime,” you said, lifting your coffee cup in a toast.

He clinked his cup against yours with a grin so warm it made your chest ache. “For life.”

“I hope you know,” Jungkook said, breaking the comfortable silence, “this means you’re stuck with me.”

You raised your brow. “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

“Because no one else would ever agree to ditch a gala and raid a bodega with me. It’s a very specific type of partnership.”

You laughed, tossing a gummy worm at him. He caught it mid-air, popping it into his mouth with a triumphant grin.

“And you think I’m the lucky one?” you teased.

“Obviously,” he replied, his voice light but his gaze warm.

When the two of you finally left the bodega, stepping hand in hand into the cool embrace of the city night, it felt like the world was brand new. The gala, the gowns, the chandeliers—they felt a lifetime away.

Because this moment, this freedom, this sweet escape was yours.

#bts #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #jeongguk #jeon jeongguk #bts reader insert #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #bts x you #jungkook fluff #jungkook fanfic #jungkook au #jungkook imagine #jungkook x you #jungkook x y/n #jungkook rich au #ceo au #jungkook ceo au

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wwilloww · 3 months ago

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sh. | chapter twenty five | ot7

PAIRING ot7 x reader RATING Explicit. 18+. GENRE smut. fluff. angst. nonidol au. wildnerness au. roommates au. friends to lovers. SUMMARY Six months of quarantine have kept you apart. Somehow the distance sparks something new in each of you: questions, unfinished conversations, threads once chased now left cold. So when your roommate invites you to come with him to a mysterious house in the mountains with your friends, how could you even think of saying no? WC 4.2k

WARNINGS AND TAGS none

AN hi, thank you to each of you who's been reading and leaving comments. each comment that comes thru is equivalent to two to three cups of caffeine when it comes to writing these chapters. essential, and so deeply appreciated! and thank you to @thatlongspringnight for her help with this one. love you all so much.

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CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE: OUT THE WINDOW

“But what is it?” Jimin asks, his brow furrowing.

You think back to all of those times you shuffled off pointed questions from your friends with a joke, every moment you skirted conversations with a change of subject, every time you simply walked away. You think of Jungkook, with you in the kitchen all those weeks back, who had whispered in your ear, “Don’t run.” You think of how those words me your ears like ice, how they had frozen something inside of you.

For so long it has felt like you have existed in the void between two selves—maybe even more than two.

There is the careful portrait you allow everyone else to see; the self that appears polished and in control. Even the chill, cool-girl facade comes from a kind of careful grooming, a filtering of all of the filtering, messy, confusing bits of you.

And then there is the beast that lives inside you. The creature that croons the names of your seven friends, again and again, in your dreams and in the quiet moments of your waking life. This creature that wants and wants and goes on wanting. The creature that—if you give her what she truly wanted, would turn wild and rip through your carefully built life, destroying everything in her wake. You had worked so hard to build this shelter, this sanctuary of friendship and you believe, with your entire self, that giving this beast what she truly wants will shatter it all.

You wish things were simple and straightforward for you—like Yoongi or Jungkook, two men who chase what they want, who hold immeasurable depths but surface quickly and with honesty. You wish you could have waltzed into this life with ease, but that was never the case.

As you sit with Jimin in the bathtub, you picture the beast, laying in the center of a forest clearing of sorts. She sleeps, her chest slowly expanding and falling in a gentle rhythm. A flurry of snowflakes falls thickly around her, like static, keeping things quiet, keeping things still.

You wonder if you stand still long enough, if the snow will cover her entirely. If she will disappear beneath a blanket of snowdrift if you leave her undisturbed for long enough.

And you know that to answer Jimin’s question is to wake this beast.

So when he says, “But what is it?” with the floral aroma drifting up with the steam from the bath, you say, “I don’t know.”

And Jimin says nothing. He does that thing again, where he just holds your stare. There is no coldness in his gaze, in fact, there’s something soft, like sympathy or understanding lighting the back of his eyes. And there is firmness in that warmth. That is what terrifies you.

He waits.

And finally, after what feels like minutes, you whisper, “It feels like a monster.”

He tilts his head just a little. You have the eeriest sensation that he can see right through you, into the snowy clearing with the beast, where the flurries are falling even faster now. “Why is she there?” he says, finally.

“What?” your voice shakes.

“Why is she there?” he repeats, as if your question has expressed that you haven’t heard him, not that you don’t understand. “Where did this monster come from?”

The snow is falling faster. It’s harder and harder to see straight. The ache in your chest is beginning to burn.

“I—I—” How do you know why a beast is a beast? How do you know what makes a monster? How do you trace something sick back to its root? You want to dunk underneath the water—you want to drown out the pressing tone of his voice—but for a moment your stubbornness wins. You stare back at him.

His eyes are soft.

You know your eyes are cold.

“Do you want it?” Jimin asks quietly. “Do you want to keep running?”

It’s like he can feel your muscles tensing, ready to stand up out of the tub, drip your way angrily and resentfully across the tile and through the rest of the house until you’ve put a league of distance between you and this question.

And him.

But before you can, he reaches out to you and grasps your hand. You flinch when he makes contact. He wraps your hand in his.

The snow stops. The flurries freeze in mid-air. Your breath halts in your lungs. The beast in the clearing is stirring, stretching her sleeping limbs, a little sound escaping through sharp teeth.

And then—finally—you say something true: “No,” you say. “I don’t want to keep running.”

The words echo too loud through the bathroom, and the clearing, and the whole house.

The beast opens her eyes.

Your chest feels like it’s going to break open.

Jimin leans towards you, pulling you between his legs and into his arms. You are stiff against his movements, but he folds your bodies into one another, his legs and arms wrapping around you. His breath, slow and steady, brushes against your ear. You squeeze your eyes shut and wrap your arms around your chest. How can he breathe so easily when something is about to break inside your chest?

“What are you so afraid will happen if you let yourself feel?” Jimin whispers. The question takes up all the air left in the bathroom. It echoes around like a ghost, like something you’ve heard before. Like a voice spoken from the cold of the mountains just beyond the room that you sit in, a haunting from a far-off winter.

Instead of responding, you choke out a rattled breath.

He pulls back his face far enough to get a good look at you. It feels like he’s looking right into you, right through you. Like with that heavy gaze he sees every little bit of you. But he’s not turning away from you, or what he sees in you. He’s not running from you.

How come?

Your mouth gapes open and closed like a fish. You are looking for words. You are looking for air.

Jimin repeats the question, slowly, holding your gaze. “What are you so afraid will happen if you let yourself feel?”

Within you, the beast, stands. Stretches. She is ready.

But you aren’t.

You can’t—

You start to pull away from Jimin. You make to stand up from the tub, but Jimin holds you firm.

“Don’t,” he says, and your rebuttal rises within you. But he surprises you. “I’ll go,” he says. “You stay.”

You’re not sure if that’s disappointment flickering in his eye, but there’s also clarity there. He sees what you can’t—and that terrifies you.

Jimin leaves you silently. You remain in the tub. The bathroom suddenly seems gigantic.

You press yourself back against where the tub meets the wall, the chill of the tile a stark, cold contrast to the warm water, and wrap your arms around yourself. It’s not the same as Jimin wrapped around you, but it’s quiet. The scent of rose drifts up from the water, reminding you of summer, which has entirely disappeared from the air in the last weeks.

Maybe it’s too quiet.

Plink. A drop of water falls from the faucet, hitting the water.

You stare at your hands through the water. They are wrinkled and pruney, and shift lighter beneath the water. These hands which have brought you all this way. These hands that have held each of the men in the house.

It was a gift Jimin gave you, you realize. He gave you the choice to have space and silence without making you run away from him to access it. A hollow opens in your stomach as you look at the contents of the day. The sweetness of your moments with Jimin, juxtaposed with the seeping coldness that spills out from you now.

You see it clearly now.

Jimin’s absence—the too-large space remaining in the tub—the loud silence of the bathroom—the empty air—is a new kind of separation.

And your stomach begins to sink anew.

You find yourself standing up out of the bath. Towel-less and clumsily, you knock your shin against the tub as you clamber out. You drip water and rose-scented soap onto the bathroom floor.

“Jimin?” you call as you open the door. But the bedroom is empty and dark.

He has laid out a towel and set of clothes for you, both folded neatly on the bed. The bed has been made, the curtains opened. There is a new freshness to the room. But he’s not here.

You try to dress quickly, attempting to pull a t-shirt over your head. But you fail. The water has the fabric clinging clumsily to your skin.

When you leave the bedroom, you force yourself to walk: you fight the urge to run through the halls, calling Jimin’s name.

—----

He’s nowhere to be found. And when you can’t find him, and begin to think maybe he doesn’t want to be found—at least by you—you give up. Maybe too quickly.

You make your way back to the living room after combing through the house. The place feels mysteriously empty; you hadn’t run into a single friend or fuck-buddy in your wanderings.

Your chest still feels unsettled and restless, and you think of that one overused quote you see all over Pinterest and Instagram: The mountains are calling and I must go. You think, in that moment, that you understand anew what John-whatever-the-fuck meant in that long-ago letter: when everything inside you feels without a home, there is direction in the mountains. They simply cannot be ignored. As the sun sets over those broad peaks, the rivets and valleys of the great range before you call in a way that feels all too physical. It’s magnetism, this place, this land that calls your name.

And yet—

You have wet hair.

And you cannot help the sinking feeling that this place does not want you.

As much as this place has trapped you here.

Stuck between the conundrum of wet hair in the cold autumn wind and the burning sensation in your chest that cries for cool air, you compromise: you beeline for one of the large windows overlooking the firepit, and throw it open.

Hands gripping the sill, you lean out, testing your balance. Your wet hair is plastered to your scalp and face in, what you can only imagine, is an unsightly manner, and your t-shirt clings in odd damp spots to your warm skin. You’re sure you look like you’ve just been through half of a laundry cycle, but you don’t care.

The bathroom was too quiet. But here, the wind howls and howls until you can no longer hear the call of the beast.

You try to remember all the things you’ve learned along the way, you try to cobble together the pieces of what you know now.

Inside you, your chest swims with muddiness. A swirl of snow, leaves, detritus. It seems as if the beast has left you entirely. Everything you said to Jimin, that too, lies before you.

What have I done?

You cannot help but think of Jimin’s face, open and afraid, as he had told you about what he feared most all these months. The fear that he had shown to you—trusted you with—and that you had chosen to slam back in his face with the brutal clang of a great thing breaking. Something once carefully built up, now crashing down.

All those months ago, on the floor of your bedroom while you talked with Taehyung, you thought you had made a change. In that moment, you believed you had taken a critical turn on the long path of isolation that you had created for yourself. But as you look at the wreckage behind you—in the direction of Jimin’s room—you realize you had never really stopped running. At least, not in the way that you needed to. Not in the way that loving—op, living with—these men required you to.

You are surprised when a spot of rain slips down your cheek. You lift your finger to touch it, finding the trail from your eye to the drop—are you crying? As the tears slip silent down your face, you realize.

I am unhappy.

You squeeze your eyes shut.

You suck the alpine air into your lungs. In. Out. The burn of the cold is the antidote—chilling your mind, slowly, slowly, stilling the storm. Or, stuffing the beast back into sleep.

You jolt as a body wraps around your back, a head notching on your shoulder. Breath brushes your tender neck, and hands run down your bare arms.

“Christ, you’re freezing,” Yoongi says.

“It feels good,” you say, automatically. Your system shudders with shock as a memory from long ago rises to the surface. A balcony. Yoongi wrapped around you. A secret lingering on your tongue. A hidden relationship. How is it that so much time has passed—how is it that everything has changed—and yet you still feel just like you did that January night almost a year ago?

“Why are you always chasing the cold?” Yoongi asks.

“Why is everyone always asking me so many questions?” It comes out harsher than you meant. You cobble yourself together, and think this is a question you think you can answer. You soften your tone: “The cold lets me feel.”

Yoongi nods against your shoulder like he understands immediately. “I don’t have to ask any more questions,” he says, a note of disappointment in his tone.

You feel him begin to pull away from the one sided embrace, so you wrap your arms around his that snakes to your front and cradle it—and him—against you. You don’t want him to go. He tenses, as if surprised, then relaxes and wraps himself further around you. You still haven’t opened your eyes. You fear, if you do, everything will shatter. “I won’t ask what’s going on,” Yoongi says. “But can I assume—if it’s alright with you—that you’re less than okay right now?”

You find yourself nodding, praying that he hasn’t seen the quiet tears on your cheeks.

“That’s okay,” he says. “I’m here. I’ll stay here.”

You nod again. Yes. Yes, please stay. You feel like a hypocrite, subtly asking Jimin for space, and then falling into Yoongi’s arms. The difference is, Yoongi has seen you like this before: raw, open, yearning. You’ve never shown this side to Jimin before.

“I’m sorry,” you say, your voice thick. “I just don’t have words for it.”

“And that’s okay too.”

So, he just holds you, his arms wrapping even tighter around your belly, pulling you in closer to him. You find your head tilting back to rest on his shoulder. He places a chaste kiss in the hollow of your throat—and you know, suddenly, that he means the gesture as reassurance, he means it as a response to all the words that you cannot say.

At your front, the mountain howls.

At your back, Yoongi stands firm and steadfast, the heat of his body bringing yours back into balance. Your breath calms. The tears dry. You are breathing together. In. Out.

“Thank you,” you whisper to Yoongi, finally, finally opening your eyes to the night before you. But when you do, you’re surprised by what you see.

At the fire pit just beyond the house, two figures huddle around a blazing fire, figures darkened in contrast with the flickering red flame. After a moment, you realize it’s Hoseok and Taehyung. They’re talking, but you can’t hear them no matter how you strain. In a flash, you feel suddenly nervous. What could they be talking about?

—------

Tonight, with the brisk wind that rushes down the mountain side, it seems as if the stars are huddled closer to earth than ever before. Hoseok thinks they shine a little brighter tonight, like they are leaning in to hear what he has to say.

Taehyung and Hoseok sit close together on one of the benches that surrounds the fire pit. The rest of their friends—Jungkook, Namjoon, and Yoongi—had abandoned them a few minutes before for bed, refreshed drinks, or the more reliable warmth of the house. Silence had settled over the pair as they gazed out over the scenic view, the sun only just disappearing entirely from the sky. For Taehyung, it was a comfortable silence.

For Hoseok, his words mulled and churned as he searched for the right iteration, the right pattern. And then it had all come out like a flood, a bursted dam: a rushed question that only Taehyung could answer.

“I dunno dude.” Taehyung rubs the back of his neck in response. “I didn’t realize you were that down bad after—”

“It’s not bad, is it?” He answers the question for himself: “It’s bad. I know it’s bad. It looks bad, right?”

“Nah,” Taehyung chuckles and grips the arm of his friend squeezing him in reassurance. “Nah, it happens to the best of us.”

“It does?” Hoseok asks. Taehyung nods vigorously. But before he can respond, Hoseok continues: “You’re sure I’m not asking the wrong person about this?”

“I mean, to be totally honest, it is a little weird but—” Taehyung sighs. “I want you to be able to talk to me about these things. You’re my friend. It’s important for you to talk about them. Actually—it’s important for all of us.”

Hoseok nods solemnly, wringing his cold hands before speaking. “I just don’t know what to do,” he says. “I want to show her that I can be the kind of man that she wants.”

His friend gives him a long, appraising look and sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, I get it. I remember that—wanting the same thing—like it was yesterday. She deserves the world.”

“Do you…still feel that way?” Hoseok asks slowly.

“Are you asking, do I still feel the same way I felt when we were nineteen?” Hoseok nods. “Hell no.”

But Taehyung glances to the ground. Fiddles with his fingers. Hoseok tries to read whatever’s going on in his friend’s head—but before he can understand what Taehyung is thinking, his friend speaks abruptly: “You know, she’ll want space to grow. Smothering her is only going to make her freeze up. But man, I don’t think you have all that much to worry about. I see the way you look at each other.

Hoseok’s brow presses in confusion or interest. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Taehyung chuckles and lightly slaps his friend on the shoulder. “My friend, you’re worried about something you have no need to worry about. You’re already five steps ahead in this game.”

“What game?”

“The game of loooove.” This, Taehyung says with a childish tone and a handsome smirk.

Hoseok looks shocked. “I—I didn’t—We didn’t—But—” He collects himself. “We agreed as a house that this is all only sex. Anyways, I said nothing about love.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“Do you really think…?” Hoseok asks, his eyes wide with hope.

Taehyung shrugs, then picks up a stick to poke at the fire with. “I dunno. I can’t promise you the future—no one can. But I see something… I see things starting.”

Hoseok nods as if he understands the vague statements of his friend. When he stands to walk away, he walks with the particular stride of someone who finally sees the light through the end of a hedge maze.

—-------

You watch as Hoseok strides inside while Yoongi is still wrapped around your back, speaking softly in that deep lilt of his about his day.

While you hadn’t heard what the two men discussed, you did feel a strange sense of watching something you weren’t supposed to be seeing.

Yoongi’s warmth has brought you back to earth. When his breath brushes just-so against your neck, you find yourself shivering in his grasp.

“Are you finally getting cold?” he asks. You hear the smirk in his voice—and the tender care too.

“Maybe,” you say. “Yes,” you correct as a deeper chill settles within you. “Warm me up?” you ask softly.

He leads you back into the living room, where he wraps a blanket around you and settles with you on the large couch.

“Come here,” you insist. “I need your body heat. All of it.” Never quite the one to indulge in—or, better said, initiate—cuddling, Yoongi hesitates like he’s calculating where to fit his limbs. Then, he settles with a jolty, awkward collaboration of limbs into a spooning position with you tucked into him.

It’s there, wrapped up in his arms while he tells you about the song you’re working on, that you slowly start to drift towards a deep sleep.

—

As Hoseok strides back into the house, he wears a smug smile on his face. He’s a man on a mission, a guy with gusto, a dude with direction. He’s chosen his path—he’s walking it now.

As he swings open the back door to a dark hallway in one of the lower levels, he notices a figure, lingering against the wall. The hallway is dark. He can’t make out the figure’s face.

“Oh—hey,” he says anyways, making himself smaller to scootch right on past.

But the man steps into the center of the hallway, effectively blocking Hoseok’s path. “I was looking for you,” the figure says. “But I didn’t want to interrupt. It looked like whatever you were talking about seemed quite important. I haven’t seen Taehyung that serious in a minute.”

Hoseok shifts back and forth. “I guess you could say it was.” Then he shakes his head, as if to clear it. “But to be clear, I wasn’t making a move on Taehyung—nothing like that—I promise—”

The man steps closer, and Jin’s handsome face comes into the dim light of the singular bulb that burns outside.

“I wouldn’t mind it if you were.” Hoseok’s mouth flops open and then shuts again. Jin takes another step closer, tipping Hoseok’s chin shut. “Though maybe I’d like you to tell me if you were, first—just to know what’s going on between the people in my life. But why are you suddenly so nervous, Hoseok? Have you done something you’re not supposed to be doing?”

Hoseok flounders for an answer. “I—no, I mean, I don’t think so. I mean, maybe we aren’t supposed to be doing things like this or—” He shuts himself up. “No, no I don’t think there’s anything wrong.”

Jin tilts his head, scanning Hoseok’s flustered gaze.

“Then why do you seem so nervous?” He takes another step towards Hoseok and suddenly Hoseok’s back is up against the wall and Jin is impossibly towering over him. “Do I make you nervous, Hoseok?”

“You keep saying my name like that—”

“Like what?” Jin’s thumb traces Hoseok’s chin, then wanders upwards, tracing around the bottom of his lip. Hoseok swallows loudly. “Like I want you?”

“Do you want me?” Hoseok asks. “Really?”

“I do.” It’s such a simple phrase and it makes Hoseok’s mind go empty. Jin places a kiss right below the younger man’s ear, his plus lips warming the tenderness there. “And if you don’t want me—tell me to stop.”

Hoseok says nothing, but his hands come up to grip Jin’s shirt, implicitly pulling him closer.

“What about Taehyung?”

“What about him?”

“Won’t he be upset?”

Jin pulls himself up from where he had begun kissing down Hoseok’s throat, leveling his gaze. “Why? Do you plan to take me from him?”

“Not him—”

“Then tell me to stop or kiss me, goddamnit.” The decision is as simple as Hoseok tipping his chin towards his friend. And as Jin’s lips descend on Hoseok’s, the younger man nearly smiles.

—-

Yoongi watches carefully as you drift towards sleep. He chooses his words carefully, too, to be simple and mundane enough to soothe the storm he sees warring within you.

You mumble mmms and oh?s as he tells you about the way the music moves in his mind—how sometimes it is like water flooding him through and through—and how other times it is also like water, but only arrives in a trickle.

He knows you’re only catching a few of his words, but he likes how they fill the dark, large room. He sees more of himself in speaking it all aloud in this way.

When he tells you about his most recent song, you too feel the water in him lift up and sing. It is simple, passion. And you can do nothing but lift your lips to his and kiss him, softly, like finding your way in the dark.

He hesitates in surprise, and then leans in.

Your mouths move gently with one another like curiosity, or learning someone’s body anew, and you find your breath filling your entire chest. Your arms wrap around him. You find that in you, too, everything has turned to water. You find that you can give Yoongi this—messy, tender, uncertain. You find that you are giving him exactly what Jimin asked you for, and a door in your chest creaks open with a painful creak.

Light shines in through the crack.

When the kiss is done, which—as many kisses do—arrives softly and sweetly and with finality, you tuck your head into his shoulder. Together, you breathe without saying anything.

“I need to find Jimin,” you murmur as sleep comes over you.

“Soon,” Yoongi says.

As you cross that final barrier into sleep, Yoongi kisses the tear that slips across your cheek—the one you thought you could hide from him.

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peoniesnro · 12 days ago

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In Another Universe

#15. Changed!

Synopsis – When you are just another iteration of Park Jimin’s girlfriend in a different universe.

Park Jimin × Reader

Genre – parallel universe / kind of fantasy/ strangers to ??/ SMUT/ maybe romance/ angst/ fluff /Infidelity

Warnings- Language/ Angst / INFIDELITY /SMUT- Semi public sex (of course)/ Unprotected sex/ Oral (M. recieving)/ Oral (F. recieving)/ Cum eating/ Risky sex/ Dirty talking/ They are being little nasty shits/ They are doing very questionable, not good, desrve to be slapped things/

Word count- 25K

a/n- First, I guess these few last chapters will be pretty long since I don't want to rush the ending. So I'll be writing around 20- 30K per a chapter before I bring it to the long awaited ending. For now, I guess the story is back on the track and it'll be angst, angst, and angst from now on until the end. Anyway, thank you for reading like always lovelies. I love you all ❤️

Taglist?

Chapter Index

Previous - Next

Coffee?

Jungkook never liked Liya. Maybe it isn’t fair to say that since he thought you were Liya. But then if it was Liya who he met that day at the club, the story could’ve been a lot different.

See now, Jungkook knows the person who’s doing something wrong here is you, not Liya. Yet he can’t find it in himself to sympathise with her. Call him biased, inhuman, or an asshole but something about Liya doesn’t sit right with him. Just like how it doesn’t sit right with him at the moment.

He doesn’t like how restless she looks. Doesn’t like how she’s been mumbling with Seoyeon. Absolutely doesn’t like how distressed Seoyeon looks. Something is fishy. Something is definitely happening. Something bad. Jungkook isn’t an idiot, he can tell the jealousy apart. That— the way Liya is acting— definitely is not jealousy.

And you haven’t returned yet. Of course, you haven’t. Why would he ever expect you to return so fast when you just got that little get away with the man you love? Fuck, even the thought makes Jungkook’s heart clench painfully. He must’ve agreed when you asked him to move on and not make a fuss about that night. Consider it a mistake that happened under the influence. But God, how it hurts.

It wasn’t much to be honest. But it was everything to Jungkook. He was a little fool that let himself get carried on and allowed to taste the forbidden fruit. It only made him want more. More and more. The only thing that did was make him fall for you a little more. The thing is, you were so worried. So worried about ruining your friendship. Worried about Jimin. You were blaming yourself for using Jungkook when that wasn’t what happened. Jungkook was the one who used you.

He is a fucking idiot!

And he wanted to ease your burden. It was much easier to agree on your terms. Who knows what would’ve happened if he’d disagreed—if he’d told you he actually has feelings for you? For one, he knows you won’t reciprocate them. Then it would’ve made you run away from him. Well, fuck that. Jungkook can’t let that happen. No. You’re too precious for that. But this is the price for that. Now he has to be the silent lover who watches his girl fall for someone else and walks away in front of his eyes.

Fuck his life!

How unfortunate that he can’t do anything about it. Because he is a coward.

“Don’t tell me you have a crush on her?” Taehyung’s voice brings Jungkook back to earth, forcing him to snap his gaze away from the two distressed friends in the distance.

“On who?” He scowls.

Taehyung gasps. “Yah! Man, mine and Seoyeon’s relationship can be very rocky and we must be very fucked up but I don’t like to think that you have a crush on my girlfriend,” He throws an incredulous look at Jungkook. “Even if it’s just by name.” Adds. “Besides, trust me man, she’s fucking exhausting.”

Jungkook grimaces. “Eww… what the fuck, Tae!”

“Exactly!” Taehyung says with a serious voice, leaving Jungkook to figure out what he meant. This time Jungkook grimaces even harder.

“Fuck no…” He turns around abandoning his task at hand. Preparing the barbeque pit.

“Then why are you looking at her like that?” Taehyung doesn’t let Jungkook walk away, peacefully.

“Because… she and your- namely- girlfriend, look like they are planning to bomb the damn world.” Jungkook gives Taehyung a look. That makes Taehyung stop and take a good look at the duo on the topic. A small crease appears between his eyebrows.

“Oh shit! That’s not good.” After a long second of staring, Taehyung says.

“That’s what I’m saying.”

“But that can be business, you know. She’s a CEO, Kookie.” Taehyung pats Jungkook’s shoulder, shaking his head nonchalantly. Jungkook tries to protest when Taehyung already changes the topic. “Anyway, you don’t have to look so repulsed when I say you have a crush on Kim Liya.” He does a cheeky bob in his shoulder, then a wiggle in his brows. Jungkook groans.

“No…”

“Why not? You can have a crush on her sister, but not on her? They are basically the same person, dude.” Taheyung gestures at Liya. Jungkook turns his head so fast toward him. His attempt at talking once again got stolen by Taehyung. “Oh, c’mon, whole fucking universe knows you like, Li.”

Jungkook almost declines before deciding against it. What’s the point of disagreeing anyway?

“Yeah? Is that why you made her go with your friend?” So, instead he asks with a little scoff. He doesn’t want bad blood with Taehyung. He swore it wouldn’t happen, but sometimes it’s just... hard. It’s hard when he’s jealous. Taehyung sighs.

“I didn’t do such a thing. Her name was on the paper, it was a fair game.”

“You made everyone awkward. That was so—”

“You’re jealous!” Taehyung cuts Jungkook off with an amused smile. For a minute. Then his smile drops. “I like you, Kookie. And I really don’t want to take sides but—”

“Then don’t take sides. Nobody asked you to take sides.” It’s Jungkook’s time to interrupt this uncomfortable conversation. He has no idea why Taehyung brought it up in the first place. “We’re good, Tae. I mean, let’s just pretend everything’s fine and honestly, I’m more worried about Noona’s health at the moment.” He pats Taehyung’s back, just like he did earlier. “And let’s please pretend this convo never happened and do me a favor and keep an eye on your just- for- the- name- girlfriend. She scares me.” Jungkook shudders visibly.

Turns around, heading for Namjoon and leaving Taehyung behind.

……………………

The moment you got back from your little trip to the nearest supermarket, an hour and thirty minutes later, it had been super awkward. For a minute, it felt like the whole trip was ruined. But of course, Taehyung and Jungkook took matters into their own hands. Just with a banter that made no sense, they managed to break the ice.

And for your pleasure, no one has made it awkward for you, except Seoyeon and Liya. But in turn, it made you feel awfully guilty too. The thing is, the giddiness inside you—the butterflies, the warmth, the happiness that makes your chest feel like it's ten times too big—doesn't leave much room for guilt.

“I think I love you.”

An uncontrollable grin spreads across your face as the memories flood your mind. Not even in your wildest dreams did you expect the day to unfold like this.

That had been so unexpected. But what’s there to be surprised about? It’s Park Jimin. He’s unpredictable. He always amazes you. No wonder he chose a random ass time to confess.

“I love you.”

Oh God, you want to jump up and down like a crazy school girl.

Jimin loves you!

Park Jimin is in love! With you!

You wander your eyes to the man plaguing your mind completely. He’s helping Taehyung put the barbecue grill on. That was supposed to be on Jungkook, but the guy is otherwise occupied with you. Helping you to prepare dinner with Yoongi. Jimin’s attention is fully on the task but just as your eyes land on him, he raises his head. Eyes catching yours directly. As if he has an invisible line connecting to your mind. You bite on the inside of your cheeks to contain the cheeky smile. This is embarrassing on one hand. You two are acting like two teenagers. As if to prove your point, Jimin cocks his head to the side, eyes glinting. You blush furiously.

Ridiculous.

“I’m telling you, we need to run.” Jungkook, luckily, grabs your attention. You break eye contact with Jimin. Jungkook has been talking about how Liya and Seoyoen are going to bomb South Korea.

“If they’re doing that, then I’m staying. That is going to be a one helluva video.” Yoongi rejects Jungkook’s pre advice.

“And who’s going to upload the video, when you die?” Jungkook argues. Not ‘if’ but ‘when’. The guy is serious about his theories.

“Oh, c’mon…” You roll your eyes. “She’s just a CEO, she can’t bomb a country.” It even feels ridiculous to entertain his idea.

“Uh huh,” Jungkook nods. “And her father is The Kim so, I’m saying she can bomb the world if she wants.”

“And where would she go after destroying the world?” You question.

“To space, obviously. I bet she already has it planned.” Jungkook squints his eyes suspiciously at the said woman. You follow his gaze to find Liya hunched up over the pile of logs that would turn into a camp fire within a few minutes. She’s working with Namjoon, Yoona, and Seoyoen.

“Yah! Will you stop talking nonsense? We have to get the dinner ready in time for dinner, not breakfast.” Yoongi interrupts yours and Jungkook’s keen inspection.

“Why the hell it’s always us three who end up in cooking duties?” You look down at the makeshift kitchen you’ve made under a tent. You’re not really cooking per say. Just getting the things prepped for the grill. Still, it’s you three who are doing it.

“Take that as a compliment, Noona. That’s because our food is delicious.” Jungkook gives you a cocky smile. “And let’s make sure we prepare the best last meal for us.” His smile drops as he goes back to squinting at Liya.

“You watch too many films, kid? Do you even have time for college? What are they teaching you these days?” Yoongi hands you a bowl of mushrooms. Jungkook sighs.

“Bunch of stuff that won’t be of help if an evil woman decides to bomb the country.” Jungkook sadly answers Yoongi’s question, making you snort. Jungkook is so far gone in his fantasy that there’s no bringing him back now. It’s just like when he was super interested in finding your antennas those days.

“Just let him, Yoongi.” You say to Yoongi as Jungkook starts describing how exactly Liya is about to destroy the world. With a gentle shake of your head and smiling to yourself, you avert your gaze back to Jimin. This time, however, you do it at the wrong time.

Poor timing and bad luck!

Just as you avert your gaze, you catch Liya has changed his earlier position. She’s now walking over to Jimin and Taehyung, slowly. Her arms crossed and her long hair flows behind her like a silk scarf. Just like that, your stomach drops. So does your smile.

Fuck!

Oh, for God’s sake, you can’t be like that. What are you? Freaking fifteen? You can’t act like an obsessive girlfriend. You know Jimin loves you and you know the situation with Liya. Then what the hell do you need more? You need to grow up and get your shit together.

You try your best to shift your eyes away. Into what you’re doing. You do your best not to feel bitter. Only to fail miserably. A flash of green crosses your eyes as you keep staring at the way Liya slowly approaches Jimin. It’s like your eyes are literally glued to the scene and you’ve no option but to watch. You keep watching as Liya stands next to Jimin. She says something to him that gets him to bend down to her height and listen properly.

Your stomach churns awfully.

They’re standing too far away for you to be able to listen. And you’re bad at reading lips. So, you have no idea what passes between them when Jimin gently nods. Then much to your horror Jimin mutters something to Taehyung and starts walking away, followed by Liya. He throws a brief glance at your way but that’s not enough to understand anything. They walk away from the campsite. Your eyes follow the figures until they disappear in the darkness.

Where did they go?

Why?

Oh, God, this is ridiculous!

Why are you being so paranoid anyway? You don’t know where they went?

Exactly! That’s the problem here. You don’t know where she took Jimin. But there’s nothing to be so worked up about. Maybe they walked down to the vehicles. Maybe Liya forgot to bring something. Or maybe she needed to use the bathroom. The bathhouse and the other facilities are located a bit farther from the campsite and it’s getting dark. It’s understandable if Liya doesn’t want to go there alone or with Seoyoen.

This is totally not a big deal and you’re definitely not being a bitch. It doesn’t matter who he’s helping, you can understand Jimin helping a woman in need. Liya or not.

“Where is my damn cousin?” Fortunately for you, Yoongi breaks your stupor as he looks around him. Noticing the obvious lack of a certain sun shine. Yet as in cue, just as the words leave Yoongi’s mouth a scream startle you all out of your bodies.

“Fuck!” Jungkook and Yoongi curse aloud in unison. You all turn your head to where the sound came when Hoseok appears from behind a tent.

“Fuck, what happened?” Yoongi asks him, wearing an expression torn between worry and confusion. Then as Hoseok answers in a pant, Yoongi’s expression completely morphed into something frustrated.

“A freaking bug,” Hoseok points his finger back toward where he just appeared. “It was this big.” He brings his hands closer to imitate the bugs size, which is as he shows, the size of a coconut.

“Are you sure that’s a bug?” Jungkook snorts. “Looks like a fucking scorpion or something to me.”

At his words Hoseok’s face drains of color. “You think?” He takes a cautious glance back.

“Oh my God! No, Hoseok!” You throw a glare at Jungkook. He shrugs. “There are no scorpions here, I’m sure. Fuck you Kook.” You nudge Jungkook’s ribs.

“What? He’s the one who—”

“Enough!” Yoongi interrupts Jungkook. “Get the dinner done, kids. Yah! Hoseok-ah, help with this?” He shows a bowl across the table to Hoseok. Hoseok takes one look at it.

“You know what? I’m no longer afraid of any bugs,” He states with a nod and turns around like a flash. “Or scorpions. In fact,” He holds a finger up. Doesn’t look at any of you as he starts walking away. “I’m going to get a pet scorpion.”

“That fucking…” Yoongi mumbles under his breath.

…………………………

It’s been twenty minutes since Jimin disappeared with Liya. Not that you’ve been counting the minutes… You’ve been counting every second. And every second feels like an eon. You don’t want to be like this, but you can’t help letting your mind spiral. They definitely didn’t go to the bathrooms. Who the hell spends this much time in a common bathhouse? Everyone has decided to park the vehicles from a little distance from the campsite. That would take five minutes to go and return. They clearly didn’t go to any of those places and you’re becoming restless.

You eye Taehyung apprehensively. He knows where Jimin went. Should you ask him? It wouldn’t be weird either, since Taehyung knows about you. Yet at the same time you’d look like a possessive bitch. Why would you ask other people anyway? Why can’t you ask Jimin himself? You might not be in a standard relationship but the guy admits he loves you. And you love him in return. What more of a right do you want to shoot him a text and ask where he is?

You grab your phone from the foldable chair next to you. Unlock it quickly and almost shoot the text when you notice the ‘sos’ on the top corner of the screen. No fucking connection. You groan internally before throwing the useless device away. Taehyung and J had to find a place that has no proper connections, didn't they? What if an emergency comes up? This is how people get slaughtered in movies.

“Oh my God, Tae! This is ridiculous. You had no other ideas for a game than this?” Seoyeon whines, grabbing your attention. You might not like her much, but you can’t agree with her anymore.

Taehyung is busy setting up the table for a game of spin the bottle.

“I did, but this was the best one.” Taehyung disregards his girlfriend.

“How old are you?” Seoyeon rolls her eyes.

“Just a year younger than you.” Taehyung yet again answers nonchalantly. Everything has been prepared. Food is ready. The grill is going. The camp fire is up. All you have to do is start the night. But the case is, two people are missing. You throw another hasty glance to where they disappeared earlier.

Should you ask Taehyung or should you not?

“And what? You want us to kiss each other?" Jin butts in, sporting a bottle of beer, J casually attached to his side.

Taehyung pays his elder friend full attention. His eyes gleaming. “I like the idea of it very much,” he states happily, making half the table scrunch up their faces in repulse. “I mean, there are bunch of gorgeous women here—”

“Men too.” Jungkook quips. Looks a bit offended that Taehyung didn’t notice that. Taehyung blinks at Jungkook for half a second before picking up from where he left.

“Yes, men too… So, it would be such a fun idea, but looking at all of your horrified faces, I guess that none of you want to kiss each other—except for me—”

“In your dreams Tae…” Namjoon grumbles.

“You don’t have to admit it, Hyung.” Taehyung waves a casual hand in front of his face. “Anyway, considering this—”

“Oh for fuck’s sake! We decided to change the game.” J cuts Taehyung’s unnecessary speech. “Where the hell is Park Jimin?” Then she voices out the exact question in your mind. “Do we have to wait until it’s next year?” She glances around as if she can find a clue.

Someone tries to answer that question. But before they could, a soft sound of approaching footsteps disturbed everyone.

“Sorry.”

You snap your eyes to Jimin as he walks over to the table. A little breathless. Your eyes first land on his face, then travels across his body and stops where Liya’s hand is resting on his wrist.

For God’s sake!

You have to bite the grimace back physically and swallow it down to keep your face neutral. You can’t cause a scene. You have no right to cause a scene. Besides, she's holding his wrist.

Why’s she holding his wrist?

Why the fuck is he allowing that?

The flash of green that slashes across your sight earlier slowly starts to engulf you whole. Travelling down your body through your veins. You clench your fists over your sweats, turning your gaze back to Jimin’s face. To find him already glancing at you. You force a smile into your lips.

You can’t be a bitch. You can’t be a bitch.

You’re an understanding matured woman!

You’re positive your smile came across as a sneer. Yet you don’t get to dwell on that issue when J sighs in immense relief.

“Thank God!” She exclaims. “Thought you’d take fucking years. Sit down please, we have a game to play and food to eat.”

Jimin keeps his gaze on you. Doesn’t break eye contact as he gently free his hand from Liya’s hold. You almost feel happy but just as he takes his hand away, Liya hooks her arm through his. And you fail to keep your eyes on Jimin and shift it to Liya. Mistake. She’s glancing at you too.

A tiny smirk appears on her lips before she starts dragging Jimin toward the table.

………………………….

“Why would I have to start this?” You grumble, holding the empty beer bottle in your hand.

“Because you lost in the rock-paper-scissors.” Taehyung lets you know matter of factly. “Now, please spin the bottle, Li.” He taps the table. You sigh heavily. Like they promised, the game isn’t going to contain any kissing. Taehyung’s genius mind— as he says— has come up with the idea of combining it with the truth or dare. Truth or dare minus the truth because there’ll be no choices.

The rules are simple. You’ll now spin the bottle and when it stops, the person who’s behind the top end of the bottle will have to do the dare given by the person behind the bottom end of the bottle. It’s either doing the dare or chugging down a monstrous blast mixed by Yoongi, which he himself doesn’t know includes what. All he knows is that he mixed every type of alcohol in it. You’re positive that one of you is going to die tonight. Death can happen while trying to complete a stupid dare or drinking Yoongi’s drinks.

With another heavy sigh you place the bottle on the table and spin it. Everyone falls silent as the bottle starts to spin, and spin, and spin. Then eventually stops. The mouth of the bottle pointing to Taehyung and the back pointing to Jungkook.

Tangled noises of satisfaction flow across the table. Taehyung, however, doesn’t even look concerned at the fact that he got selected. He gives Jungkook an excited glance.

“Bring it in, boy.” he squares his shoulders. You turn your head to look at equally elated Jungkook. God, this is going to be fun. Despite your skepticism, even you can’t help but grin. And it says a lot since you’re in an awful mood having to see Liya causally leaning against Jimin.

“Please give him something impossible.” Yoona says to Jungkook with a straight face. Jungkook nods.

“Okay, I… dare you to…” He purses his lips in contemplation. Then after a second of thinking he yells. “Do a body shot.” Clasps his hands.

“On who?” Taehyung looks discouraged for a minute.

“On anyone you want. You agreed we’re all a bunch of gorgeous women and men.” Jungkook shrugs. Scrunching up his nose adorably.

“Okay…” Taehyung drags, scowling. His eyes jump from each person on the table. Now, Taehyung is a fucking meal himself but you’d die out of embarrassment if he tries to lick a drink up from your body. That’d be so weird.

Taehyung’s eyes sweep over you and to Seoyoen. That would be the best, least weird and wise choice. Yet before anything, Seoeyoen lets out a horrified gasp. “Hell no!” Even shakes her head.

If it was someone else, this would’ve turned into an uncomfortable silence. But fortunately it’s Taehyung and he just clicks his tongue.

“Don’t worry I’m not going to embarrass you highness,” He stretches his hand toward Yoongi, silently requesting a shot. It’s just a normal shot of tequila instead of a monstrous blast. That one is reserved for losers. “Jimin-ah, do me the honor, please?” Taehyung gets to his feet after Yoongi hands him over the drink. The table breaks into a unified applaud and cheers.

Jimin, however, chokes on his own spit. Does a comical failed motion of trying to push back in his chair with wide eyes as Taehyung reaches him.

“No. No. No! What?” He shouts. “Why me?” His unexpected movements cause Liya to pull away from him.

At least a good thing.

“Beacuse you’re my best friend?” Taehyung smiles cheekily at him.

“We’re all your friends.” Jimin reasons.

“Yeah and you wouldn’t mind if I….” Taehyung raises a brow. His expression is smug. And for a second you think he briefly glances over at you. Just for second, though and it’s over even before you can register it. Jimin’s face turns serious immediately. “Oh, c’mon, Jiminie, we’ve done worse in college.” Taehyung kicks Jimin’s leg. Abandoning what he said earlier completely.

J gasps. “I’m very interested in knowing what the worst is?” She leans forward over the table. “What did you do?” Questions.

“I assure you…” Jimin looks at her over his shoulder. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing—”

“What do you mean, Jimin-ah?” Taehyung cuts Jimin off with a gasp. Offended. Then turns to J. “Trust me when I tell you, there’s nothing in this world we haven’t done—”

“Tae…” Jimin groans. Now you’re interested in knowing the story too.

“Once we brought this girl to the dorm and—”

“Okay, do your fucking body shot.” Jimin snaps, interrupting Taehyung immediately. His face is the color of a tomato. Even Liya has turned red. Several noises of disappointment mixed in the air.

“That’s ma boy!” Taehyung grins. Grabs a slice of lime and holds it for Jimin to take between his lips.

“Can we just do the shot?” Jimin sighs. “C’mon that counts.” He looks at Jungkook. For a second Jungkook looks like he wouldn’t let Jimin go that easily. The dare was supposed to be Taehyung’s but Jimin’s the one who’s obviously suffering. And Jungkook is enjoying it to the fullest. Yet,much to Jimin’s relief Jungkook shrugs.

“Yeah… can do that.” Jungkook nods. “You’ll take the whole year to do this, otherwise. Be quick, will you?”

“Okay, fuck, okay… so, uh- how- um- can you do it on my palm?” Jimin innocently and adorably holds his palm out. Noises of disagreement break down again.

“That’s not a fucking body shot!” Yoona is the first to protest, to your surprise. Then making it nothing, even Yoongi disagrees.

“I thought you went to college. You don’t know how to do a body shot?” He raises a brow.

“Why not? My palm is a part of my body?” Jimin argues. Everyone starts to put their two cents on the table.

“No it’s not.”

“Be quick!”

“Abs, do it on your abs.”

“Oh my God, I’m embarrassed, I can’t even look at this.”

“This is fun!”

You don’t know if it’s fun or not. But despite your knowledge you’re currently cackling up. So hard you have to use Jungkook as leverage. Everyone is laughing hard. Even Jin is laughing disregarding his flushed face. J and Yoona have joined the battle field on the other side of the table and are convincing Jimin to lift his shirt up.

“This is freaking assault you know? I’m not drunk enough to do this.” Poor guy practically cries as his best friend kneels in front of him. Yoona holds the shot glass slightly above Taehyung’s mouth, aligned with Jimin’s defined abs. Somewhere between the chaos everyone has come to a compromise that Taehyung doesn’t have to lick the shot over Jimin’s body. Instead of that, Yoona pours the shot across Jimin’s abs and the drink would pool in Taehyung’s mouth.

You do a half scream and half squeak as Yoona starts pouring. Cheers, yells, and laughter fill the air as the liquid disappears from the glass. When it’s completely gone Yoona takes the glass away, and walks over to her flush- faced boyfriend. Sits on his lap. Taehyung rushes to his feet. A proud and smug look on his face. He doesn’t even bite the slice of lime as he gives a look to Jungkook.

It takes everyone at least five minutes to sober up and pay attention to the game again while paying eating as well. In the course of five minutes the bottle is on Taehyung’s hand. As the target of the previous round, he gets to spin the bottle now. With residue laughter here and there, everyone gets ready to face a cruel destiny when Taehyung spins the bottle. After a few spins, it this time stops pointing at Yoongi and Hoseok. Hoseok receiving the bottom end of the bottle, making his face lighten up like the morning sun.

“Fuck, yes. I waited for this moment my whole damn life.” Hosoek bellows, making Yoongi roll his eyes. Just like Taehyung, Yoongi looks unphased.

You steal a glance at Jimin, who still looks like he wants to throw himself off a bridge but is recovering. Liya, however, looks like crawling into a hole. So does Seoyoen. Jimin smiles at you when he catches you glancing. You return the smile easily this time. That smile, however, lasted only a second as Liya yet again leans against him. You try your best not to glare at her. You tear your gaze away to look at what’s happening in the game just after you catch Jimin putting a short distance between him and Liya.

Well. That is awkward.

“Okay, here’s your dare, Hyung.” Hoseok rubs his hands together. “Tell me what you said to that cute barista the other day.” Hoseok leans against his chair, putting a leg over the other.

“Sorry, what?” You scowl. Thinking you caught only a part of the dare.

“Boo! You’re killing the fun, man. Give him a real dare.” J holds her thumb down.

“This is a real dare. Now listen, that man over there,” Hoseok gestures at Yoongi, who now looks exasperated. “Doesn’t know how to flirt—”

“How the fuck do you know that?” Yoongi gasps, offended.

“Because I do. But he flirts with the barista at our favourite café the other day she looks like about to fucking cum.”

“That’s too much information.” Jin butts in just to get rudely ignored.

“I want to know what he told her.” Hosoek explains his dare.

“You’re so fucking nosy, Hyung.” Namjoon shakes his head in disapproval.

“I’m just curious.”

“That’s exactly what being nosy means. Being too fucking curious.” Namjoon huffs.

“Well either way, you’re not getting that out of me, Hobba. I’ll die rather than telling you about my sex life.” Yoongi flips Hoseok off. Then before anyone can say anything he pours his own drink into a glass and knocks it down in one go. A millisecond of silence passes before Yoongi groans aloud and bangs his head on the table, dramatically, with a soft thud. “Holy fuck! What’s in this shit?” He shakes his head. Looks like he’s actually in pain. “I’m gonna die.” Grumbles and after another few seconds he finally raises his head. Facing all of you who are gaping at him with opened mouths.

“You made that drink, Hyung.” Jungkook points out. Still very horrified.

“Yeah. And I should’ve done the dare, fuck, this is—” He stops whatever he wanted to say to stuff his mouth with some pork bellies. Probably to get the awful taste away.

“I’m going to do any dare. No questions.” Jin mumbles to himself. And all agree.

Starting from there everyone almost does every dare. Fortunately, you are only dared to throw a pickup line at Taehyung which makes you cringe hard but everyone else impressed. Except for Jimin, of course. Guy is pouting at you hard. On another day, you would’ve become mad at the prospect of him being jealous when he’s the one who has a woman attached to his hip. But to his credit, he is actively putting distance between him and Liya. It is Liya who doesn’t pick up the sign.

And the only other person who chooses a drink— despite Yoongi’s warnings— is Namjoon. He refuses to give a lap dance to Seoyeon. Understandably so. But the thing is that he makes sure that all of you’ve got another live witness as to why you shouldn’t try the drink even by a mistake.

Yoona spins the bottle for what must be the twentieth time at night. To keep it fair, you all have been changing your positions across the table, which has put you next to Jimin now. Taehyung on your other side. Liya has to sit across from Jimin. Yoona’s bottle stops pointing between Liya and Seoyeon this time. Seoyeon earns the chance to give the dare. After all casual drinks- not the monstrous blast- she looks a bit relaxed and seems to be enjoying the game. A wicked grin appears on her face as she wiggles her eyebrows at her best friend. Liya rolls her eyes. Being the only sober person in the group at the moment.

“Please, don’t make me kill you, Seo.” Liya warns Seoyeon even before she can start speaking.

“Oh, you know I’m not that unhinged,” Seoyeon smiles softly. Someone else gasps but no one pays that any mind. “Okay, I know we said that we’re going to stay away from the kisses but, I dare you to kiss someone�� on the lips.” She bites down on her lip.

And like that the wind gets knocked out of your lungs. In a very bad way. The soft smile you’ve been adorning on your face, instantly vanishes. You sober up immediately. The silver of green you’ve been feeling that has gone away during the night, returns.

Liya isn’t obviously going to kiss just someone. No. Why would she, when she has her boyfriend right here? Seouyeon didn’t specify who Liya should kiss, which gives Liya plenty of freedom to kiss whoever she wants. And everyone knows that she’s going to kiss her boyfriend. It’s the easiest dare that has been given to someone so far. Liya just has to kiss her boyfriend.

Your heart clenches weirdly inside your ribcage. A strange urge to storm away from the premises gets to you. You really don’t want to sit here and watch Liya kiss Jimin. No. You’re too weak for that. Too jealous for that. Even the thought is making your eyes sting and throat tight.

“Seoyoen…” Taehyung sighs. Seoyoen looks at him with disbelief.

“What?” She questions.

“We agreed, there ain’t going to be any kissing.” Taehyung reminds.

“No kissing other people!” Seoyeon argues. “Nobody said anything about kissing their partners. It’s totally fine.”

Nobody says anything to it. Everyone is gaping at Liya as if kissing her partner would be the weirdest thing to do.

Partner!

Jimin is her boyfriend!

Just because he loves you, fact doesn’t change. You’re still the other woman. Maybe you should actually leave. That would catch unwanted attention, though.

“What?” Seoyeon questions from no one in particular. Then she gestures to Liya. “C’mon, complete your dare.”

A minute passes. Then Liya gets to her feet. You gulp harshly, your left leg starting to bob up and down crazily.

You can’t be here.

You can’t just watch Jimin kiss someone else.

The clog in your throat tightens to a point you actually find it hard to breathe. Your stomach lurches, making all the food you ate threatening to reappear. You avert your gaze to your lap, staring at the hem of your cozy shorts.

It’s okay. It’s fine.

It’s just a kiss.

A kiss.

Jimin is going to kiss someone else.

You screw your eyes shut. You can’t cry. Nor can you say anything. All you can do is wait until it’s over. You feel like all your insides are melting away, leaving a hollow shell behind. You imagine that Liya must’ve made it all the way to Jimin across the table now, who’s just sitting next to you. You try to guess where she exactly stands right now. Behind you? Or did she walk over to the other side of him?

Maybe this is the karma for being a bitch. You deserve this. If you don’t look, then it would be allright. What you can’t see, can’t hurt you right?

But what about the knowledge, though. You know Jimin is kissing Liya while sitting right next to you. Even your ears start to ring. The pain inside your chest grows higher and higher, mixing up with a strange anger that makes you want to scream.

Then, just as you think it’ll happen, you feel a warm hand on your thigh, forcing your bobbing leg to still. A very familiar touch. It prompts you to shoot open your eyes. Just as you do, Jimin’s voice fills the sudden silence that has been filling the air.

“I’m not doing it.” He states with a stern edge. Someone slowly gasps. Your jaw drops. Liya, who had only made it halfway across the table, stops dead on the track. Yet it’s not she who questions Jimin.

“What?” Seoyeon scowls deep, seemingly at a loss.

“I said I’m not doing it.” Jimin repeats as an answer to her question.

“Why? Like, are you shy to kiss your girlfriend in front of us? You let your best friend lick tequila across your stomach.” Seoyeon raises a brow. “C’mon kiss your girlfriend Park Jimin.” Huffs.

“No.” Jimin mutters again.

“Why the fuck not?” Seyeon’s scowl deepens.

“Because it’s fucking weird to kiss someone who I haven’t even touched properly for years.” Jimin speaks aloud this time.

“Jimin.” Liya finally lets her voice out. Saying Jimin’s name in a manner of a warning. Yet it does nothing but make Jimin scoff.

“Oh for fucks sake! We’re not in public, with your family, or with anyone else that we have to pretend to be in a relationship that we’re not.” Jimin gets to his feet. The chair stumbles back at the force he does so. “These people,” He gestures around the table. “They already know we fucked up and probably know we are still fucking up. So, let’s just not do this, Liya.” He turns around with that. You stay still. As if a single movement from you would cause a bomb detonation. “I’m fucking tired of pretending.” Jimin almost walks away when Liya stops him.

“Not in a relationship?” She muses. “I thought we’re even getting engaged, Jimin.” Says while still standing awkwardly where she stopped earlier. She looks uncomfortable. A faint flush coloring her face. Maybe, Jimin should take this conversation away. Somewhere private. As much as you appreciate him not kissing Liya, this is getting painful.

“Well that’s the thing Liya. You thought we’re getting engaged.” Jimin points a finger at Liya. He doesn’t look exactly mad. Yet there's a hint in his voice that tells you the damn is about to be broken. “You thought, you decided, and you planned. Not me. And guess what? I’m done. I’m done acting like everything is normal when it’s not.” He takes a step. Only to be interrupted again.

“So, you’re suddenly tired?” Liya closes the distance between Jimin and her. Raises her hand to grab Jimin’s arm but then decides against it. “Are you sure that’s all? That’s why you don’t want to do this?” With every word her voice raises. “Are you sure, it’s not because you fell head over heels for my sister?” Liya yells out those last words with a finger pointed at you.

You suck in a harsh breath when everything falls into a silence yet again. This time, though, it’s as if everyone disappears. Leaves rustle in the wind. Crickets chirp in the near distance. The roar of the river leaks into the campsite. The fire crackles softly. Yet not a single sound is made by a human.

You wait with a bated breath for Jimin to just deny it and walk away. Like he should. Because that's the right thing to do.

“No,” At last Jimin mumbles. You let out a breath in relief. “We were doomed a long time ago. We were walking down to this moment from years, Liya. We were already fucked up even before I knew her. So, no. This has nothing to do with her.” He says, rather calmly. For a second, you think it’s over. Well, you should learn not to expect miracles all the time.

Liya scoffs. “Yes? That’s the only reason?” She raises a brow. Her perfect expression slowly slipping away, reminding you of the day at the club. “But why can’t you deny it?” This time she actually grabs Jimin’s t- shirt sleeve. “Deny it, Jimin. Say that you haven’t fallen for her and this has nothing to do with my sister.” Pushes Jimin.

Liya should learn when to give up. You feel a headache forming. The day has swung into darkness yet again. Why the hell is your life like this? Why are you going through a roller coaster? Bad moment to good one then to another bad one.

You bite into your lower lip, preparing yourself to hear Jimin saying that he doesn’t like you in that way at all. You know it’d hurt but you would understand. Of course, you would. Those words, however, don’t come. You throw a hesitant glance at Jimin. Wondering. Confused.

He’s taking too long. He’s staying silent. And sometimes, silence speaks volumes.

Your heart starts to hammer inside your ribcage.

No!

Jimin needs to speak up.

“Say it!” Liya screeches. “Say you don’t—”

“I’m sorry.” Jimin blurts and takes his departure for real this time. Leaving a bunch of dumbfounded people back. You feel the sudden pressure on your body. Heaviness of the stares. Burn of glares. Even without raising your head to look at it, you know that everyone is looking at you.

A beat passes before a second chair pulls back.

“I should- I- uh- check on him.” You hear Taehyung says before the sounds of receding footsteps reach your ears. You don’t dare to look at anyone. You keep your gaze on the table, suddenly finding an immense interest in a stain.

“Are you happy?” Liya’s voice, however, prompts you to turn your head.

“Why’s it her fault when your damn boyfriend is the one who refused to kiss you?” Jungkook barks out of nowhere. Slightly startling you and several others. You pay attention to find him glaring at Liya with an intensity enough to burn her down. But if you think his sudden raised voice is startling, the next voice makes your soul leave your body.

“Don’t fucking defend her, Jeon Jungkook!” Seoyeon bangs the table with both of her palms. Stands up. “You don’t have to baby her all the fucking time when she’s the one who’s wrong. If she can do bitchy things, then she can own up to it too, don’t you think?” Yells. Jungkook opens his mouth to refute but before he can get a word out a third voice booms across.

“Shut the fuck up!” J’s the one who snaps this time. “All of you.” She adds. Tongues the inside of her cheek. Then turns to Jungkook. “She isn’t wrong you know? You need to fucking get your head out of your ass and see things, Jungkook. You need to fucking stop following a woman who doesn’t want you.” Her head turns back to you. Doesn’t look at anyone in particular as she continues. “And you guys? You need to talk. Get your shits figured. Like, I’m fucking tired at how you’re making every damn moment about you. I’m done watching your petty dramas. Either fucking grow up or please don’t ever be a part of any plans. You all are so fucking selfish.” With that she gets up like a flash. Leaves the table without another word.

Jin doesn’t even waste a second before he follows J.

You feel the sting on your eyes worsen, threatening to sooth it with tears that you don’t want to shed. You have no right to cry. Every word J said was true. That’s why it hurts so hard. Every moment spent with a close proximity with Seoyeon or Liya, had been a disaster. It had always been thick of tension and no space for actual fun. You crashed her birthday. Now this. You know they— Taehyung and J— worked so hard to make this trip fun and memorable. They worked for it and you ruined it in a blink.

You are selfish.

You keep your gaze down, trying your utmost not to cry when you hear someone else shuffling as well. You catch a brief glance of Namjoon getting to his feet out of the corner of your eyes. He holds his hand for Yoona.

“Let’s get some sleep. You must be tired.” He says as Yoona closes her palm over his. The next people to walk away are Hoseok and Yoongi. They don’t even utter a word as they do so.

That leaves only you, Jungkook, Seoyeon, and Liya to face each other. You don’t want to look at any of them. Hell, you can’t even look at Jungkook. You don’t know what exactly J means when she calls Jungkook out but it makes sense as well. Jungkook shouldn’t be defending you. You’re the wrong one. Taking your side makes him a bad person as well. And that’s not fair because he’s the most genuinely good- hearted person you’ve ever known.

Yet he doesn’t leave. Even after his best friend talks to him that way, he doesn’t leave you. You lift your teary gaze up when you hear his voice next to you.

“Bed, Noona?” Like Namjoon did with Yoona, Jungkook holds his hand for you. You don’t want to rely on him. You don’t want to make him look like a bad person but he leaves you with no option when he bends down, grabs your hand and pulls you into your feet. “Let’s talk later.” He mumbles before starting to walk toward your tent, dragging you along with him.

…………………………………………….

Jimin paces aimlessly in front of his car. His mind is going haywire. Jumping from one thing to another. All the things that happened and the inevitable consequences of them. He's running risk calculations in his head while pacing around to burn out his nervous energy.

He can’t believe that he did that. Is about to lose his mind. It feels too hard. There’s too much pressure on his shoulders. He’s scared. Wishes you are here. Maybe a simple hug from you would solve everything. Your smell would make him relax. Just a simple hug.

He just fucked up. Without a doubt so. Yet he isn’t regretting it. Not even a bit. This would cause chaos that he can’t even bring himself to clear up. This would mark the end of his career. He—despite all the advice, and everything he’s been through— had let everyone down. Still, he would’ve done it again. Because fuck everything, he refuses to be the coward who kisses someone else in front of you just for the show. And nor would he admit he doesn’t love you. Because how can he? That feels wrong. It is wrong. He loves you too much to be able to do that.

“That’s not going to help.” Taehyung’s voice makes him stop his pacing. Sometimes he can’t understand what everyone has against his peaceful pacing. Taehyung had followed him right away. And has been leaning against his car watching his pacing.

“I know.” Jimin simply says. Yet before he can continue his energy wasting, Taehyung stops him.

“Need a smoke, maybe?” He fishes inside his pocket. Pulls out a pack. Jimin doesn't smoke much. But times like these it feels good to embrace a bad old habit. He nods once before reaching Taehyung.

Within a minute he finds himself propped against his car hood, next to Taehyung. Blowing out soft puffs of cloud into the windy night air.

“That was pretty good, though.” Taehyung breaks the silence first.

“Was it?” Jimin questions. He doesn’t mean to sound harsh or bitter but it comes out as that.

“Course, it was. It was fucking satisfying. And I love you decided to say fuck it.”

“Yes, right?” Jimin chuckles. “Now you can be a proud friend of loser CEO who’s about to fuck his company up.” He throws the half burnt cigarette down. That shit isn't helping. All he can feel is his throat burn. He steps on it.

“I don’t give a fuck, Jimin. And you’re not going to fuck up the company. We will find a way.” Teahyung eyes the way Jimin crushes the cigarette as if it personally offended him.

“Yeah? Like what? We would need a fucking miracle Tae. I- just- fuck, you all worked your asses off for this company. You all have been working day and night for the upcoming launch and I just—”

“Do you really love her?” Taehyung interrupts Jimin’s rant. “Li I mean.” Clarifies even though they both know who he’s referring to. Jimin takes a second, drowning in guilt. He can’t believe he’s fucking up Because of love. He never thought that would be the case. Yet he can’t deny it.

So, he nods with a loud exhale. “Yes.” Answers quietly.

“Listen man, like I always said, I know shit about love. And I’m not someone who should give advice since, I am as fucked up as you are. But if you love her, then you love her.” A little shrug. Taehyung throws away his cigarette butt as well. “I mean, I’m pretty sure the feeling is worth all the trouble.” Pats Jimin’s shoulder.

It feels weird when Taehyung is serious. It doesn’t matter how many times Jimin has witnessed it. Not much maybe. Probably a couple times. Feels weird nonetheless. Jimin doesn’t even know what to say. Because Taehyung is speaking facts. And Jimin is speechless. Luckily or unluckily for him, another voice saves him from having to speak.

“Worth it?” Both Jimin and Taehyung turn their heads to catch Jin and Hoseok approaching them. Former being the one who just voiced out. “Is that so?” Jin adds as they finally come to a halt in front of two friends.

“Oh, c’mon, Hyung!” Taehyung whines. Jimin knows that among all his friends Jin isn’t going to let him slip without calling his shit out.

“What?” Jin snaps. Throws a glare at Taehyung. Then his full attention is on Jimin. “I mean if it was worth it, fine. Good for you. I just hope you have a plan, boss.” He raises a brow. “Tell me what it is?” Crosses his hands across his chest. Jin looks downright terrifying when he’s in that mood. They used to make jokes saying it’s his ‘hyung’ mode.

Jimin only gulps harshly. He has nothing to say.

“Yeah? Nothing?” So, Jin presses at Jimin’s silence. “Yet you decided to play the hero like that? What were you thinking, Jimin? That you were the main character of some fucking tragic romance?”

“What the fuck, Hyung? Can you please have it easy? Why the hell does it have to be a tragic romance?” Hoseok clicks his tongue. Looks so ready to yank Jin away, if he doesn’t shut up.

“Because this ain’t a fucking book, Hoseok. This is fucking life and things aren’t going to fall into places by themselves.” Jin half yells. Then composes himself. “When you accepted that money from Kim, all those years ago,” He points an accusatory finger toward Jimin. Even though he is standing from Jimin a good five feet away, Jimin feels the jab in his chest. “I asked you not to do it, Park Jimin. I almost fucking begged you on my knees. I did my very best to convince you that we could’ve made it either way. You were—” Jin clenches his teeth. “You were a stubborn idiot. And so did I tell you that you’ll fuck everything up if you don’t figure your shit out before this could happen. All you had to do was be fucking patience Jimin. At least you could’ve done that. We could’ve found a way to—”

“So what, Hyung?” Jimin finally snaps. He knows what Jin says is true but something makes him see red. This is not fair. He did what he did. And he wanted to make all of them proud. Wanted to fulfil everyone’s dreams. “What do you say I should’ve done? Keep pretending? Are you fucking suggesting that I should’ve kissed Liya?” Jimin takes a second to breathe in. He doesn’t want to fight. Not with his friends. “I love Lil…..” A pause. “ I love her. I already fucked up so many times. I- I—” Another heavy sigh. “I know I'm a bad person. I cheated on my girlfriend. I’m a fucking asshole because I didn’t even hesitate doing that—but I don’t want to do the same to Lil as well. I don’t want to hurt her. I’m not hurting her.”

Jimin swears that he didn’t intend to say any of that out loud. But it's already out and all of his friends are gaping at him as if he’s grown an extra head.

“Fuck!” Then Jin groans aloud. “Fuck, Jimin.” He repeats.

“Fuck, indeed!” Jimin agrees with a nod. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” He looks straight into Jin's eyes. Then at his other two friends. He owes them the biggest apology.

“Yah! It’s fine.” Taehyung nudges his side. “We can make this work guys. C’mon, Hyung!” He says to Jin. “This was bound to happen one day and we all knew it. We all knew our stupid friend was falling for that woman.” Adds. Making Jimin gives him a stare. Confused. Offended.

“What?” Hoseok answers for his questioning stare. “You think we are blind or something? Of course, it was fucking obvious. But I didn’t see that thing coming. I really thought you’d kiss Liya. I’ll give you that.” He shrugs, coming to stand on Jimin’s other side. “I don’t know about the mess but at least you’re progressing, kid.” He curls an arm around Jimin’s shoulders. “You’re doing things the right way, even though,” He eyes Jin. “It’s going to cost you.”

Jin sighs heavily. “You’re an idiot, Park Jimin.” Says. But this time with a small smile tugging on the corners of his mouth.

“You’re not mad?” Jimin mumbles weakly.

“Course, I’m mad.” Jin rubs a hand over his face. “But unfortunately for me, I happened to be friends with you and as much as I’d love to beat the shit out of you and leave, I can’t. Too late for that. So, I guess we’re ride or die.”

“It’s his way of saying, he loves us.” Taehyung says matter-of- factly.

“Fuck, no!” Jin cringes.

“It is.” Hoseok agrees with Taehyung.

“Enough bullshit guys,” Jin’s small smile disappears. “We need a plan.” States. “And we need one quickly. I mean, we couldn’t find a shit about Kim that would’ve helped us to hold against him if he threatens us with pulling away. We were supposed to have enough time to do that.” He raises a brow at Jimin. Jimin visibly winces at his words. Jin is going to hold that for a while. Even though he wouldn’t actually give a double fuck if he has to choose. “Now since we don’t, let me remind you, we’re on a ticking bomb. We have to do something before everything goes down the drain.”

“What about, Joon.” Taehyung suddenly perks up. Every eye falls upon him.

“You mean, Namjoon?” Hoseok asks. “Like our friend Namjoon?”

“You know another Namjoon as well? How many Namjoons do you know?” Taehyung furrows.

“Okay, so it’s our Namjoon. What about him?” Hoseok leans forward so he can have a better look at the younger.

“He works in ‘Blindside’ guys.” Taehyung says as if that would make sense. When it doesn’t and everybody keeps gaping at him, he straightens up. “He works in ‘Blindside’. A fucking news magazine that digs their noses into every type of shit they can. I’m pretty sure they exposed that politician a few years ago.”

Suddenly what he says makes all the sense. The implication is clear. Yet Jimin doesn’t see any hope. Any point.

“We had the best investigators work on this shit for months, Tae. Why do you think a smart guy who works for a news company would be able to do anything?” Jimin glances at Taehyung skeptically.

“First, I don’t think he’s just a smart guy. I think he’s capable of more than he’s showing. And second, maybe that’s the problem, guys. Maybe, we’re aiming too high when we should aim low. Maybe someone small can do what someone powerful can’t. Maybe the problem isn’t about the talent at all. Maybe the problem is about loyalty” Taehyung sticks to his point.

“What do you mean? The investigators we hired are fucking us up?” Hoseok pins Taehyung with an intense stare.

“Can be, can’t it? This is Kim we’re dealing with. He can buy the damn government if he wants. What’s a few investigators?” Taehyung shrugs.

“Do you know, if that’s the case then Kim already knows we are after him?” Jimin folds his arms across his chest.

“Maybe.” Taehyung shrugs. “He won’t know shit if we assign someone trustworthy.”

“Okay, hypothetically, let’s say, the ‘Blindeside’ can get some info. But then who’s going to stop them from publishing that to the public. We need blackmail material. Something to hold against him. If it actually ruins Kim, that means we’re ruined too.” Jin points out.

“It’s not the ‘Blindside’ that finds the info, it’s Namjooon.” Taehyung looks smug.

“And what made you think that Namjoon would want to operate an illegal investigation to dig the Kim’s dirt?”

Teahyung doesn’t answer Jin’s question right away. He turns to Hoseok. “Because he's a friend?”

Hoseok chuckles. “I don’t think they want to be our friends anymore. Besides, we would need much more convincing to get him to agree to do something like that. A closer friendship.”

Following his words, Jimin’s eyes fall over to Jin even though he doesn’t mean to. It’s only when Jin scowls that Jimin realises it’s not only him who has done that. “What?” Jin barks.

“I’m sure you know someone, who’s extremely close with Namjoon?” Taehyung suggestively smirks.

“Don’t. Even. Think about it guys. She’s not being a part of this mess.” Jin states sternly. Jimin doesn’t blame him at all. He doesn’t want to make you a part of this mess as well. He wants to keep you away. Protected. Jin wants the same thing and that’s fine. So, he beats Taehyung into whatever he tries to say.

“No, you’re right, Hyung. Let’s just ask Namjoon—if he agrees, great. If not, I’ll come up with something.” He pats Taehyung’s back. Then does same to the Hoseok. “It’s late. Have some rest.” Leans away from his car. “And don’t worry, I’ll apologise from everyone. I’m not ruining your trip, Tae.” Says before, walking over to Jin. “Thanks, Hyung!” Mumbles awkwardly. An awkward pat follows that.

…………………………………..

You had refused to talk about what happened with Jungkook. Even after he offered multiple times. You simply weren’t ready. Besides, you believed there wasn't anything left to talk about. However, you still wanted to know how he felt. Especially, after J yelled at him. He had assured you that it was fine. And that he would talk to J in the morning and they’d figure it out like they always did. You could only wish that you hadn’t ruined another relationship. Which is why you also wanted to talk to J as soon as possible. Maybe not only to her. But to everyone. You had to wait till the morning to do that, though.

So, you and Jungkook had spent the night watching a movie which neither of you paid attention to. Jungkook knew exactly how to distract you with the right topics. He did a good job making sure you didn’t wallow in your misery. At least until sleep won him over and he dozed off on your shoulder.

Now it’s finally early morning and you know the dawn has cracked, you want to go out and take a deep breath maybe. You might as well start this dreaded day early. You adjust your body to the left slowly, being careful not to awake the peacefully asleep muscle bunny on your shoulder. After laying in the same position with Jungkook’s heavy body leaning against you, you feel like your body is about to snap in half. You need to get out.

You do your best in holding Jungkook’s head gently and slipping out from under him. Then place his head gently on a pillow. He only huffs in sleep. You cover him in the throw blanket before finally exiting the tent.

The faint glow of the morning greets you as soon as you step outside. You close the zipper door before turning around to make your way to the bathhouse. Only to stop halfway when your eyes land on a figure sitting at the table. Nobody had bothered to clean the table the previous night. It's still covered in leftover foods, empty glasses, and beer bottles. And sitting in one of the chairs is Park Jimin. Simply going through his phone. You don’t know if the right thing to do is avoid talking to him or not. Before you can decide, however, your legs make the decision for you.

In a second, you find yourself approaching Jimin. He turns around, probably hearing your footsteps. Any doubt you had about talking to him vanishes like dew in the morning under sunlight, when his face lightens up. Immediately. Even a small smile breaks across his otherwise pale face. You can’t help the warmth that shoots through your veins. An instant relief washes over you.

“Hey!” You mumble when you finally reach him. He shuffles to his feet.

“Hey!” Greets you back. Voice barely a whisper.

“How- um… how are you doing?” You begin hesitantly.

“Like shit, actually.” Jimin says, making you softly snort. At least he’s honest.

“Haven’t you slept?”

“I didn’t want to. I- uh- like you were awake so…” He drags. Shrugs. “Couldn’t have slept anyway either.”

You pout. Nod. Then fall into a silence. Not awkward. No. It’s peaceful and relaxing. It’s like meditating to look at Park Jimin.

“Do you wanna talk maybe? I mean somewhere private?” After a blissful second of silence, Jimin blurts out. “I want to. I just- uh—”

“Yes.” You stop his unnecessary rambling. If he wants to talk, then you want to talk. He doesn’t need to come up with reasons. You don’t give a fuck. If it’s wrong, so be it. What’s there to go wrong anyway. “Please.” You add in the end. A little breathless.

Jimin nods with a soft smile. You think he looks so relieved.

…………………………

You stand near Jimin’s car. Morning gentle breeze plays with your untamed, wild hair as you ogle Jimin like you’ve never seen him before. Feeling your heart doing weird skips. Your breath tangling and your body getting warm. Strange. Jimin isn’t even doing anything. Is simply existing but you’re about to turn into a puddle.

You’ve just arrived in this place and have been staring at each other for a few seconds now. You clear your throat as you finally manage to tear your gaze away. “So…” You start, hoping Jimin will pick up from there and actually talk. He doesn’t. Instead, he surprises you when he suddenly grabs your hand. Yanks you forward. Pulls you into his chest and curls his arms around you protectively. Hides his face in your neck, sighing in relief. You only let out a gasp.

“I just wanted to hold you, Spring Roll… I- God… You feel so good.” Jimin mutters into your neck. Inhales deeply. As if he just found his source of energy. You melt in his hold. Wrap your own arms around his body. Rub your hand across his back.

“Yeah?” You ask, nodding. “Feel good now?”

“A lot.”

A silence.

“Thank You.” Then you say from nowhere. Even you don’t know where that came from. Jimin pulls away from you.

“For what?” Cups your face.

You drag in a deep breath. You’ve had a long two hours to think things through after Jungkook fell asleep. During that time, you’ve come to realize how much you appreciate Jimin’s actions. Even though you would’ve never wanted him to do that. Even though you would want him to choose the easy way.

“For not ki-kissing her. For n-not saying you don’t love me or something,” you chuckle awkwardly to ease the suddenly fallen tension in the air. “I mean that would’ve sucked.”

“Holy fuck, Lil.” Jimin surprises you when his face falls. That’s not what you’ve expected. You look at him with wide eyes when he pulls you into his embrace once again. Arms holding you by your waist. “I’m so fucking sorry that I made you worried about that even for moment, and I’m- fuck baby, why would you have to thank me for that. I shouldn’t- It’s the right thing to do. The bare fucking minimum. I shouldn’t—”

“I understand, Jimin. I know. It’s okay. I really didn’t want you to do that.” You reluctantly withdraw from his hold so you can look at his face. Heart wrenching.

“I’m not going to fuck up again, Lil.” He shakes his head. “Not going let you go.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Now it’s your time to cup his face. With both hands. He leans into your touch like a flower leaning into the sun. You squeeze his cheeks slightly. Making those thick lips adorably pouty. Well, it’s not your fault his lips look so kissable. You can’t help but peck those. Once. Twice. And maybe three times for good luck. Makes Jimin giggle.

A sweet symphony to your ears. Oh, how beautiful he looks. Oh, how damn in love you are with him.

“You did good, baby.” You whisper softly. Just want to let him know you appreciate him. Maybe, it’s the bare minimum. But you’ve just started. It’s not fair your story is fucked up. It’s not fair you found the right person in the wrong world. It’s not fair how hard it is.

Jimin nods. Taking the compliment. Good. Still, you have questions. Questions which have been plaguing your mind for the entire night. Making you sick with worry.

“What would happen, though? Are you- um- will she?” You search for the right words to phrase. “What about the company? I don’t want you to lose anything Jimin.” Finally manage to voice out your concerns.

Jimin places his hands on top of yours. Clutches them tightly. Then brings them down. “I think we figured something out, if Namjoon helps.” He worries into his bottom lip. Groans. “Ah! I don’t know… this is so…” Explains softly what they’re planning to do. You don’t know about the possibilities but it sounds like a plan to you. It’s better to have something than nothing, anyway. So, you let him know that.

“It’ll work.” You say to him in the end. You’re still holding hands. Just standing under the morning sky. Sun rising in the horizon and creating that magic on Jimin. Making him even more ethereal. Breathtaking. Glowing. Isn’t it crazy he loves you?

“It will.” Jimin agrees. A beat passes. “But Lil,” Adds. “Even if it doesn’t, I’m gonna choose you.” A playful chuckle. “I think I fucked up so hard, you know. I’m fucking neck deep in this, in you, I think I won’t be able turn back.” Admits. You feel your face heats up. His words make your stomach tingle so hard that you can’t breathe.

“Jeesus, since when do you say such cheesy things?” You turn your gaze away. Jimin gasps.

“I don’t know. Probably since I’m in love.” He leans to his left so he can peer at your face. “Do you hear me, lady? I’m in love. I love you.” Says aloud. Making you blush even harder. For a moment you consider running away from him just to hide your face somewhere. Ridiculous how shy you feel. Yet then you catch his gaze. Inviting. Hopeful. Expectant. Nervous. He’s expecting something.

Your heart starts to beat in your throat. Your palms suddenly get clammy in his hold. You’re certain you fell for him first. You’ve been in love with him for so long. So, why wouldn’t you say the words? What makes you stop from confessing?

Fear?

You try to open your mouth. Before you can, however, Jimin lets go of your hands slowly. There’s no remorse in his face. Maybe a little disappointment. A hurt. Yet he smiles.

“We should get ready for that water- sport- day bullshit.” Then he says, referring to the agenda of the day. Almost turns around to leave. That’s when the panic sets in you. Like a hard slap across your face. You practically jump forward, grabbing his t-shirt, and stopping him. Jimin looks at you with wide eyes. Surprised.

A breath escapes you shakily. “I love you more.” Then follows the words. Rolling through your lips easily. Far easier than you expected. And you feel your chest deflate like a balloon losing air. A sudden pressure leaving you. It comes out easily. Just like your feelings.

It is easy.

Just like that.

If you were afraid of something you couldn’t pinpoint earlier, it vanishes into thin air the moment the words are out.

And Jimin’s face lights up as you watch. A small smile spreads across his lips which quickly grows into a huge grin. A grin that he can barely keep contained. In a second, he’s grinning like a mad man. Eyes sparkling. Not that familiar sparkle you’ve seen in his eyes when he’s amused. But a sparkle that makes you see the entire universe in his eyes. It’s like a clockwork that a grin splits across your face as well. Making both of you smile at each other like you’ve lost your minds.

Jimin takes a step forward. Still holding into his pretty maddening grin. You stand your ground as he closes the little space between you. Lift your head up so he can easily rest his forehead against you. “Yeah?” He asks after he wraps his arms around your waist. You just nod. Apparently not it’s enough. He needs more. “Say it again.” Jimin mumbles. A soft command.

This time, you pull it out easily. No ounce of hesitation or fear. “I love you Park Jimin. I’ve been in love with you probably since the day I met you.” You breathe out.

“That’s good to hear.” Jimin squeezes you. “But say it again, Love.” Requests again.

“I love you…” You mutter through your grin. Blushing hard.

“Well, I love you more…” He places a soft kiss on your lips. You absolutely can’t help the giggle that escapes you, which is very contagious. Jimin joins you in that giggle pretty soon. You bet you look stupid. No wonder people say you look stupid when you’re in love. It’s good, however. You’re a happy idiot. All you want is to live in this moment forever. No matter how stupid you must look. You just need this. Safely wrapped in Jimin’s arms. Looking at his adorable grin. So close to him that you can map every perfect imperfection of his. Little freckles to his crooked tooth. Perfect. Park Jimin is. And you’re oh so madly in love.

You’re about to say the magical words again when Jimin presses his lips to yours. This time, though, he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he deepens the kiss. Pressing hard on your lips and then capturing your bottom lip between his. Suckling softly. Moving against you gently. You melt into him. Sighing pleasantly. You have no idea how long he kissed you softly and sensually, like a lover would do. Because that’s who he is. A lover.

The next thing you know is that his wet tongue is seeking permission to enter. He’s dragging the tip of his tongue across the seam of your lips. You give him what he’s looking for immediately. Let his taste invade your taste buds. The taste of sweet caramel. Allow his tongue to tangle with yours. Creating a hot wet mess. You show no reluctance when he starts pushing you back slowly. Just step with him. Let him lift you up and place you on his car hood. Only moan into his mouth when he pries your legs open and finds home between your thighs. Aligning his crotch perfectly with yours. You encourage him when he starts to grind against you slowly.

All you do is sneak your hands inside his black t-shirt. Palms dragging across his chiseled abs and chest. You just need to feel him. That’s it. Want to feel his heart beat beneath your palm. Want to feel his skin. Want to feel him close. His tongue that is dancing with yours isn’t just enough. You need more. You always need more.

Jimin pulls away, panting, breathless.

“Touch me more.” Commands before falling into kissing you again. You don’t let him keep that for too long. You have questions.

“Like this?” You bring your hands to his sides. Then back into his chest.

“More, baby. Go lower.” Jimin breathes against you. You do as he says. Drag your palms down. An inch. “Lower.” Another inch. “Lower.” You comply like a perfectly designed robot. Bring your palms down and down. “A little more.” Jimin whispers as your hands come to a halt at his waistband. You beat a second there, making him whimper softly. Just a soft sound that is almost inaudible. Yet you hear it. And it makes your hand fall down automatically. Cupping his length over his sweats. “Fuck!” He hides his face in your neck, peppering the skin with soft wet kisses.

You rub him over the soft cottons. Over and over. Until that isn't enough anymore. You allow both of you no time to think anything before you slip your hand inside his sweats. Under his boxers. Your fingers wrap around his bare cock, making him twitch in your grasp. His eyes flutter close as his mouth falls open.

“Holy fuck, Lil.” Jimin moans just as you gasp. You squeeze his length. Start pumping. Graze your thumb over his tip which is already leaking precum and wetting your fingers. You keep your eyes fixed on his face. There would be nothing better than seeing Park Jimin in pleasure. Especially because of you. The way he’s trying to control the moans. Soft gasps that are leaving his mouth. All makes you keep wanting to go. Pleasure him more. So you squeeze him even harder. Pump him faster. “Slow- fuck slow down Lil…” Jimin throws his head back. Grabs your hand over his pants and stills your movements. “Fuckfuckfuck…. Okay..” Inhales deeply before looking back at you. “On a scale of one to ten, how bad would it be if you give me a handjob at this moment?” Asks.

“A hundred.” You answer right away. Honestly. It is bad. Your friends are still sleeping in their tents. Liya is here. Jimin might have indirectly hinted at the end of their relationship but you know they haven’t ended things officially yet. You ruined your friends’ trip.

And you’re going to do this here? There would be nothing worse than this.

Jimin nods. “You should do it. I’ll die if you don’t.” Pants. You nod with him. In agreement. You’ll die if you have to take your hand away. You can’t do that. No. He feels so good against your palm. Warm. So painfully hard and throbbing. You love the wetness coating your fingers. Love how he hisses every time you rub his tip. God, you need more.

“On a scale of one to ten, how bad would it be if I suck you off now?” You pick up your speed again.

“A thousand.” Jimin moans. Again honestly.

You shouldn’t. Absolutely shouldn’t.

That’s so fucked up.

You shuffle your way down. Jimin makes room for you without a word. Hurriedly. You drop into your knees, drags from his sweats, just enough to get his hardened cock out. You have no time. Hence no teasing or admirings. Just your lips wrapped around him. Tongue swirling across his tip and tasting the precum. You can’t help but moan. He tastes good. So fucking good. You can’t help but squeeze your thighs.

Jimin tangles one of his hands on your hair. Other one finds strength in his car hood. You let him take control. Give him your puppy eyes and a nod to let him know that he can fuck your mouth. A slow curse escapes him before he slowly starts to feed his cock into your mouth. Inch by pleasurable inch. Until he hits the back of your throat and you gag. Making your eyes sting. This is a familiar dance for you now. You know Jimin as the back of your hand. You know how to get him off.

You keep your teary eyes on him as he starts to slowly thrust into your throat. Once. Twice. Slowly. Then building up the pace.

“Fuck, love… You like it?” He whimpers in between his thrusts. You nod while trying to keep your jaw relaxed. Spit starts to drool out of the corners of your mouth and gather on your chin. Tears start to finally roll down on your cheeks. You love every minute of this. You can cum untouched. Just sucking him off is enough. The more he gets closer to his end, the higher you feel. And you almost fall into a state of euphoria when the sudden voices reach you.

“You need what?”

You recognize the voice to be Namjoon’s.

“What? This is a good chance to dig up some valuable—”

The rest of the words don’t reach you as Jimin pulls out from your mouth at light speed. He doesn’t even care to tuck himself back inside his pants. Just yank you into your feet and wipe down your face with his palms. Leaving you to take care of him. You adjust his pants back in place. Just a millisecond before Hoseok’s tired voice booms behind Jimin.

“There you are?” Hosoek’s voice perks up suddenly. The tiredness disappearing. Jimin rubs your chin one more time before turning around to face Hoseok and Namjoon.

“Morning!” Jimin clears his throat. You do your best to act normal, praying to god that you probably don’t look like you just got your face fucked. You don’t look at them. A moment ago, you were floating in cloud nine. All the problems banished to the back of your mind. Namjoon and Hoseok’s appearance bring those problems back. You feel ashamed to even look at them. Last night's incident aside, you’ve got caught here alone with him. You scream how much of a shameless bitch you are. Hoseok says something else to Jimin which doesn’t reach your ears.

You should go away.

“I- I’ll see you guys later…” You bow stiffly to them and step away without another word. Not even bothering to take a single glance at any of them. Not even at Jimin.

…………………………..

You sit under a tree, nibbling on corn, watching Taehyung explaining to an indignant Seokjin why he lost the game. They are on the water. Almost everyone. It’s water sports day after all. Taehyung had come up with various games that can torture everyone. You have no idea how he managed to get J to agree to his bullshits.

For your immense pleasure, despite the chaos you caused the previous night, the trip has fallen into its original plans. Or at least everyone is trying to act like nothing happened. Trying to save the trip. And you’re glad. Nobody has paid any mind to you. It’s like they’re avoiding you on purpose and if that’s the case you won’t blame them at all.

Liya and Seoyeon haven’t joined others in the river. You don’t know where they are. Probably at the campsite, plotting your death. Jimin is with Hoseok and Namjoon the whole morning. Just a few metres away from you. They are sipping beer and seemingly having a serious conversation.

“Eat slowly, Noona. Chew, will you?” Jungkook speaks up from next to you. You turn to him with an annoyed pout. He’s been nagging you about not chewing food properly before swallowing, ever since you were sick with an upset stomach. According to Dr. Jeon Jungkook, it was all because you were eating too fast. Says the man who inhales the food.

“Seriously?” You pout even harder.

“Yes, very. Chew properly.” He stares you down. Intently watching the way you nibble on the corn.

You roll your eyes. Yet start chewing deliberately. Twenty times, counting in your head before you swallow. “Happy?” You ask in the end.

“Yes. See, you’re such a good girl.” Jungkook smiles coyly before ruffling your hair.

“Oh for the sake of fuck!” You slap his hand away. He snorts loudly. You join him. Both of you break into soft laughter.

“Wanna join the next game?” Jungkook offers you once your laughter subsides. He takes a look over at the way Taehyung holds Jin underwater while Yoona and J are losing their minds. Yoongi stands next to them looking bored. “I mean that looks like the last game we would play… but…” He glances over at you again. “Do you maybe want to try and survive?” Raises a brow.

You take a good look at your friends– who might not see you as one anymore. “I- uh…” You drag out. Not knowing whether they would want you to join.

“What?” Jungkook asks with an edge in his voice.

“What if they–” You try to find the right words to describe the situation. Jungkook isn’t happy about it, however.

“Oh, c’mon… I’m gonna fucking declare war if they don’t want you there. Don’t worry,” He rolls his eyes before rising to his feet. Holds his hand out for you to take. “If they don’t want you, then they don’t want me either. If someone is going to say anything, we’re leaving right away.” Offers you a proud, soft smile. You don’t find much comfort in his words, though. You’re glad he’s still on your side after all. But it feels so unfair.

You might not have wanted to talk about it last night but now after your mood has considerably lifted after the morning encounter with Jimin, you think it’s time to talk.

“Jungkook.” You whisper his name.

“Yes. C’mon, Noona. We should go over there before Jin dies.” He bends down and reaches for your hand. You let him yank you up by your wrist.

“Kookie…” Yet you don’t let him drag you away. “They were right.” You sigh.

“Who?” Jungkook throws an impatient glance at the commotion in the river. Jin’s head is fortunately back above water and the man is breathing perfectly. Is trying to strangle Taehyung.

“Namjoon!” Yoona screams over to the man who’s still in a conversation with Jimin and Hoseok. “Will you come here please? They are trying to kill each other. We need an adult.” She yells through the top of her lungs.

“Can you do something?” J asks Yoongi.

“What do you want me to do? I can lend Jin a hand if he wants maybe.” Yoongi takes a few steps toward Jin.

“Yah! Kim Namjoon!” Yoona shouts over again.

“J and Seoyeon,” You start. Take Jungkook’s attention back to you. He clicks his tongue, ready to cut you off but you don’t let him. “No, Kookie. They were right. You- uh- you shouldn’t take my side all the time.”

“Why not?”

“Because I am wrong. I’m not a good person and everybody knows it. The more you take my side, the more they think you’re a bad person as well. You’re not a bad person Jungkook. You deserve far better.” You pull from his hand to make him face you.

Now it’s his time to sigh. “Well, that sounds like a them problem, Noona.” He furrows his brows. Looks really pissed.

“But, Kookie—”

“There are no buts. If J thinks I’m a bad person just because I’m taking your side, then she doesn’t know me at all. What kind of friend would do that?”

His words twist in your gut. To think that you have caused problems in Jungkook’s and J’s friendship makes you want to bawl.

“Are you even hearing yourself? You’re not throwing away years of friendship because of me.” You say sternly.

“I’m not doing that. She does. That’s not my fault and for God’s sake, stop saying you’re a bad person. You’re not.”

“But I—”

“You what?” Jungkook grips your wrist tightly. “Fell in love? Well, guess what, Noona. Shit happens. And you can’t help with whom you would fall in love. Maybe you could’ve done it differently or in the right way. But now it’s already over. You did what you did. You made your choices, so let me make mine. I’m going to stick to your side as long as I can.” He turns around. Starts walking toward the people who are still screaming in the river. “Because like I said, you can’t help who you’re falling for.” Mumbles one last time before your feet meet the pleasant chill of the water.

You don’t get to process what he said exactly. You have more questions to ask him to be honest. J said something about how he had to stop chasing a woman who doesn’t want him back. You need to ask him what that means. But you’re already waist deep in the water and just like you expected J is turning around. About to leave.

“J!” Jungkook calls after her. “We need to talk.” He states. No wavering in his voice. Sounds like a man who knows what he wants.

“Oh, yes, we do.” J chuckles. Bitterly. Rolls her eyes. Yet doesn’t oppose it when Jungkook leaves your hand and starts to drag her away. Leaving you behind to stand in there awkwardly. Only for a minute, however. Next, you feel Taehyung slings an arm across your shoulders.

“Li!” He exclaims as if he just saw you for the first time. You peer at his face. “Wanna find out how long you can hold your breath underwater?” Questions. An alarm blares in your mind.

“No.” You say slowly, ready to step away from him immediately. Yet Taehyung catches you even before you can try. “No!” You cry aloud this time. “Holy fuck, nononono…” A shrill scream leaves your mouth as Taehyung tackles you down. Taking you underwater with him. Your scream which turns into laughter muffles under the water. Yet you hear Jimin’s voice before your ears get full of the muted gurgle of the river.

“Yah! Kim Taehyung. I’m going to fucking kill you!”

…………………………….

Jungkook eyes the suspicious-looking soup Namjoon has made. It looks like anything but soup. There’s a good chance someone might die before this trip ends. J is giving a similar kind of suspicious look at the brewing broth on the camping stove.

His earlier talk with J had gone… okay, for lack of a better word. They are definitely not on friendly terms yet but Jungkook knows his friend will get over it. Despite what he told you, Jungkook doesn’t want to lose J. But on the other hand, he just wishes J can understand him. What she says is true. Jungkook needs to get his shit together. Move on. He needs to prepare for the worst. Because you don’t reciprocate his feelings. Now the chance of you leaving his side for someone else is closer than ever.

Jimin is an asshole. There’s no argument in that. What he did yesterday was just the bare minimum. You deserve better than that. Still, there’s only so much Jungkook can do. Especially when you want Jimin. When you’re in love with Jimin. Not Jungkook. And now, despite Jimin being an asshole, he might actually figure things out. When that happens, he will take you away from Jungkook. Jungkook will be left behind in his lonely apartment to pick up the pieces of him you shattered.

He doesn’t want to think about that. Even the thought makes his eyes sting and throat constricts. But he knows it is coming. The selfish part of him still wishes that it will take time. More and more time. Even though he knows it’ll put you and everyone involved in this to suffer.

You say he is a good person. Well, you can’t be any more wrong.

He’s a selfish asshole. He is no better than Jimin. He’d actually sabotage Jimin’s plans, if he can keep you for another second. Just one more day. Curled on his couch watching shitty romantic comedies. Strolling through super market isles and bickering over what sauces to buy. Deciding who should do the dishes. Play video games even though you’re so bad at it.

Just one more day!

Because, Jungkook just can’t let you go. He liked you from the first day. Then with every moment he spent with you, he liked you a little more. How can he not? It’s you. Jungkook turns his gaze to you. You’re talking with Yoongi from a distance. You’re saying something to the older man animatedly. Your pretty eyes the size of saucers and your delicate hands in motion. Whatever you’re saying, Yoongi is obviously disagreeing with you. And you’re getting offended. Jungkook knows you are. He can read you like a book.

Just like he knew, you gasp. Then your head is turning. Eyes are searching. They stop on Jungkook. Of course, you are looking for him. The ache in his heart doubles as you look at him with wide eyes. Communicating without using words. You point at Yoongi, showing him to Jungkook. Are clearly complaining. Jungkook doesn’t know what you told Yoongi or who’s right or wrong. Still he nods, agreeing with you. Forces himself to smile. That makes you happy. You turn to Yoongi coyly.

Fuck, he’s going to lose you.

And he’s not ready.

Maybe he passed the stage of having a silly crush long ago. Maybe he’s in love with you now. It makes sense. To be in love with you. You’ve become a part of him. That’s what he wants J to understand.

Maybe now she does.

“You gotta be kidding me!”

Or not.

Jungkook tears his gaze away from you to J at her loud voice. So does Namjoon. His brow lifted with question. J talks to Namjoon instead of Jungkook.

“Are you seeing this Joon? After everything… even after they fucking admitted they were freaking jerks and all… this idiot here is giving her heart eyes like she’s the only woman alive in this planet.” Then she throws a piercing glare at Jungkook. Forcing him to roll his eyes.

“I wasn’t giving heart eyes.” He mumbles. Pay attention to the soup.

“Then what were you doing?”

Jungkook tries to reply but Namjoon doesn’t let him.

“You two need to stop bickering for no good reason.” He says to both of them. Jungkook is offended. It’s not him who starts anything. Unfortunately, he doesn’t earn much of a chance to defend himself.

“No good reason?” J gasps. “Our friend over here is so smitten over that woman who’s good for nothi–”

“J!” Jungkook growls.

“See?” J huffs. “He’s still defending her.” Complaints to Namjoon. Then turns back to Jungkook. “Let’s put the fact that she doesn’t like you away, okay. Overall, she’s a homewrecker. She’s a bitch, Jungkook, and you still–”

“Maybe she’s in fucking love.” Jungkook doesn’t intend to say the words aloud. Saying it aloud hurts more. Words physically tangle in his throat, making it so hard to breathe. Yet he can’t just stay put. Maybe you’re a drug and it’s too late for him to turn around. He’s already addicted and he can’t help it.

“That,” J sighs. As if she’s tired of trying to make Jungkook see things. “That doesn’t justify shit Jungkook.” She says exasperatedly. “She did what she did—”

“What if it’s you and Jin?” This time it’s Namjoon who interrupts J. She scowls.

“You mean, what would’ve happened if Jin was in a relationship when I first met him?” J questions. To which Namjoon just nods. “I obviously wouldn’t do it. Not all of us are bitches.” So J mumbles. Jungkook wants to ask her to shut it again. Namjoon apparently has more questions, though.

“What if Jin falls in love with you and starts following you around until you give in? Would you still not do it?”

“Of course, not. Not in a million chance Joon. And Jin wouldn’t do that either. If he was in a relationship he would’ve never done it. It’s that simple, you know. Those are just choices. You chose what you want. And they–Jimin and Li—” J gives Jungkook a stare. “They’ve decided to choose the wrong path. And everyone should stop treating them like the victims just because they act like a poor couple in a stupid romance.” She blurts out in one breath that she almost turns red. A silence follows after her words. “Because that’s not fair.” Then she adds.

“You know what else is not fair?” Jungkook mutters slowly. “It’s not fair that love comes to some people so easily and it’s so hard for others. It’s not fair that it’s so easy for you and Jin but it’s so hard for them. It’s not fair, some get what they want and some don’t.” He even surprises himself with that. But he meant what he said. It may not be the best argument. Probably not fair either. Yet it is the truth. It is not fair how he never even had a chance. It is not fair Jimin at least even has a chance to fight for it but he doesn’t.

J opens her mouth to argue. Then closes again. Clears her throat. “So what? We all gonna pretend that there’s nothing wrong?” Chuckles. “Pretend like Park Jimin doesn’t have a mistress? That he’s using Liya’s status and name for the sake of his business?”

“Probably not for long.” Namjoon interjects.

“Yeah? He’s gonna give up the business?”

“No. Not exactly. They asked for my help.” Namjoon states casually. Yet both Jungkook and J snap their heads toward the older man. Surprised. Confused. J is the one who voices out the questions.

“For what?”

“Eh, you know. Dig some dirt.” Namjoon shrugs. “They apparently think my team would be able to do something the freaking investigators couldn’t do. Maybe they are right. I have a pretty impressive track record.” Despite his words Namjoon doesn’t sound proud at all.

“And you said no, right?” J presses. Her eyes wide as she regards Namjoon curiously. Jungkook, without knowing himself, is doing the same thing.

“I haven’t given them an answer yet.” Namjoon looks into the distance. They all follow his lead. His eyes had wandered to you, who had walked away from Yoongi and now joined Taehyung and Jimin. Helping mix up the drinks.

Shit! When did that happen and why do you look so happy? Just by standing next to Jimin.

You’re not standing that close to the guy. There’s a space that would fit two Jungkooks in between you and Jimin. Still it seems like the guy has his hands all over you somehow. That’s how stupidly you’re grinning and blushing. The same goes to the Jimin as well.

Fucking hell!

“Do they think we have no eyes?” J mutters under her breath before going back to interrogate Namjoon. “Why haven't you given them an answer? You don’t do that type of shit anymore. You’re not a rookie journalist who publishes shit to keep your job.”

Namjoon gasps. “I haven’t published shit. Everything I’ve ever published was true and served a purpose all right? I have revealed truths and have saved lives, you annoying brat!”

“So, you gonna do the same with Liya’s father to save lives? Whose lives are in danger here? Oh, c’mon, Joonie, you’re better than that. Don’t let them drag you into this mess. Let them figure out their problems. Besides, you’re not that much of a friend with Hosoek.”

“What about Jin then?” Namjoon brings the weak point back into the conversation.

“What about him?”

“You know, if Jimin fucks up, that means Jin fucks up as well. If Jimin goes down then that means all four of them do. I hope you’re aware that this isn’t just Jimin or Hobi who are asking for my help. Jin is a part of it too. He may be a good person, J, but he’s willing to do the same type of thing Jimin does to keep the company alive. I’m not blaming him, they worked hard for it.” Namjoon sighs. “So, you still don’t want me to do it? You want me to let years of their work go to waste?”

Jungkook doesn’t hear what J says. His eyes go back to where you were a minute ago. Now in that space stands Taehyung alone. You and Jimin have disappeared again. Jungkook gets this urge to go after you. Drag you away from Jimin. Force you to stay with Jungkook. Maybe he can confess. Go to his knees and beg you to choose him. To give it a second thought. Ask you to stay for one more day.

Or…

He can ask Namjoon to stay away. Namjoon will find a way. Jungkook knows it. Jungkook knows that his friend is more than capable. Yet if he persuades Namjoon enough, he’ll not do it. Every passing day without Jimin finding a way would be a day you spend with Jungkook. Jungkook will be your home in this world. No matter what.

He can actually sabotage Jimin’s plans. What a sweet revenge that would be.

He can keep you. All he has to do is ask Namjoon not to do it.

Easy.

“Do it please.” Jungkook speaks to Namjoon. He doesn’t know where Namjoon and J’s conversation had gone while he was lost in his thoughts. It doesn’t matter anyway. “If it’s going to end this, you should just do it. I’m pretty sure Kim isn’t that much of a good person either. Nor is his daughter. She doesn’t love Park anyway.” Jungkook turns around. Walks away after a gentle pat on Namjoon’s back.

He lost you!

…………………………………..

Jimin presses hungry kisses into the side of your neck. Tangled moans reverberate in his throat. You do your best to keep the noises at bay. Your breath hitching and body shuddering. Jimin trails the kisses from your neck to your face back again, ready to capture your already kiss bitten lips in his. You stop him with a gentle hand on his chest.

“We—” You pant. “We can’t- we shouldn’t…”

“I know.” Jimin mutters before placing a kiss at the corner of your mouth. Then kiss your cheek. Jaw. Nibble at your earlobe.

“Jimin…” You whine. Half heartedly. You don’t want to stop. No. But it feels awful. You almost got caught this morning. Jimin says they have a plan and his friends understand him. Still, how shameless and insensitive to do this while Liya is still here.

“Fuck, I can’t stop, baby. You taste so good,” He hisses in your ear. Hands molding your ass cheeks and keeping your body pressed against him. His hardened length rocking against your tummy. You’re covered from a tree. Are just a few meters away from the campsite. It’ll be a disaster if someone walks in. You already have enough embarrassing, shameful encounters to deal with. You need to stop this for now.

Jimin licks a path up the column of your throat.

“Fuck!” You grind your body back into his. Jimin pulls away from you. Eyes hooded and face flushed.

“We can be quick. Gimme just ten minutes. Twenty top.” Brings his hands up and cups your breasts. Over your t-shirt. Circles your nipples through all the covers. They harden and press against the lacy material of your bra, painfully. You wish Jimin would take them out. Roll your bare nipples between his fingers and then suckle on them. But it is too risky.

“What if someone comes?” You bring him closer to you. It’s chilly at night. Goosebumps are scattered across your skin. Fuel your desire to be closer to Jimin even more.

“Bet they don’t even notice we’re missing.” He answers your question as he lets go of one of your breasts to cup his own length. “Fuck, I’m so hard. Just ten minutes, Lil.” Your mouth salivates at the sight. He looks hot. Squeezing his dick. He starts pumping himself over the clothing at the same speed he’s molding your breast. You feel the arousal seeping through your body. Leaking out of your clenching hole.

You’ve managed to suppress the thirst for Park Jimin for an entire day. But just a touch from him is just enough to make you suffer as you’ve been on Sahara for seven days. The memory of his taste invades your brain. The weight of his cock on your tongue. His sweet moans and grunts.

“You’re such an asshole!” You replace his hands.

“But you love me.” Jimin sighs in relief as you start to pay attention to his cock.

“Yes, I love you!” You repeat after him, searching for his lips. Pulling him into a messy kiss. You’re the one who heave for oxygen first. Jimin’s hard cock, twitching on your hold even more. Demanding more attention. “Wa-want me to suck you off?” You ask, ready to push your hand inside his pants. Jimin balances himself by placing a hand on the tree trunk above your head. Shakes his head.

“Sounds like honey to my ears but need to fuck you baby. Have to be inside you. Want to feel your sweet pussy gripping me tight.” With that he withdraws from you. Just to turn you around. You brace yourself by holding on to the tree trunk. “Gonna be quick okay?” Jimin asks from behind you. Doesn’t let you answer before he’s yanking your shorts down, together with your panties. You gasp aloud. The cool air of the night hits your skin, pebbling your skin more. “Need prep, princess?” Asks again. Bends you down a bit with a palm placed on your back. Adjusting you into the perfect position for him to take.

You barely shake your head. Body already shuddering with excitement. “I-I’ll be fine. Be quick, Park. Fuck me already.” You rush him with a wiggle or your ass. Earn a smack. Just light. He soothes it so fast. His cold hands rub your asscheeks.

“You’re so beautiful, Spring Roll.” Compliments. It’s as if he’s in a daze. Your eyelids flutter close. Blood rushing through your veins. More juices leaking out of your hole. “So wet.” Jimin keeps muttering. His fingers come in contact with your weeping core. Cold. His hands are so cold that your back arches. He drags his fingers over your slit and flicks your clit, making the bundle of nerves pulse under his touch.

“Oh, Jimin…” You push back into his hand once again.

A soft chuckle escapes Jimin. He leans forward, crowding your space for your pleasure. Whispers in your ear. “Aren’t you getting a little impatient now, baby?” His voice is sinister. Almost mocking. Is saying the absolute truth. This new urgency in you has nothing to do with having to be quick but everything to do with wanting to be full of him. Wanting to feel his cock stretching you out. “Gosh… love when you’re being a little slut for me, baby.” Jimin rasps as you feel him fumble with his pants as well. “Look at you…” He comes even closer to you. And you finally feel his tip prods against your entrance. “Such a slut.” Moans. Then enters you in one powerful thrust, ripping a moan out of you. “A fuc-king sslut for me.” Drags his hips back slowly, rams forward hard and fast. “My perfect little slut.” Grits.

Pulls his cock almost out. Thrusts inside your warm walls. Does it again and again. Picks up his speed. The next thing you know is that you’re holding on to the rough surface of the tree trunk for your dear life. Eyes rolling and drooling while Jimin hits all your good spots like he always does. His hard cock dragging along your velvety walls, bringing you closer to that piece of heaven. It’s coming closer and closer. You can taste it. You’re going to—

“Hold it the other way, you idiot!” The sudden voice from distance reaches you out of nowhere. You almost lose your balance at how much it startled you. Jimin’s hips stutter. Then you hear the rustling sound of footsteps. Someone’s coming. No. Scratch that. Not just one person. There’s more. You straighten up immediately. Turn around halfway to look at Jimin and urge him to move away quickly when you feel a pair of hands turn you back around. Jimin grabs your hands and places them back on the tree trunk. Bends you down again. Falls back into his rhythm. Or even faster rhythm this time.

“Jimin…” You hiss. Eyes wide in disbelief yet also finding your brain scrambles at the sensation between your legs. The fullness. Leaves you torn in two.

“It’s fine, they won’t come this far, just keep it quiet.” Jimin hides his face in your neck. Thrusts into you relentlessly.

“Fuck!” You whisper yell. Ears straining to hear if the voices are coming any closer. You recognize Taehyung’s voice. So do you, Yoongi’s. There are some others as well.

Fuck, fuck, fuck…

Jimin needs to stop.

He doesn’t. He starts plunging even deeper inside you if it’s possible.

“Jimin!” You writhe in his hold. Trying to look at his face and keep your balance while not making a sound.

“Shit. Shit!” Jimin groans. “Can’t stop, Lil. I just… not now… I’m not stopping now. Can’t stop. Not fucking now.”

His words spurs your inside pleasantly. Previously ebbed orgasm closing in again.

“Keep it quiet, Princess.” Jimin instructs. A hand snakes between your legs and starts rubbing your clit. The distant voices of your friends slowly drown out by pleasure. Leaving only a ring in your ears. Your legs start to shake. “Fuck, take it like that. You’re doing great, baby. Such a good slut for me… Good girl.” Jimin praises you. With his words the knot inside your tummy blasts.

A high pitched squeal leaves your throat before you can contain it. You don’t even get a chance to even be afraid, however, when Jimin’s hand clamps over your mouth. Muffling your sounds.

“Shhh… quiet, fucking hell…” Jimin shushes you. Still doesn’t even slow down his movements let alone stopping. “You want them to catch us?” Asks in a whisper. You shake your head desperately. Nails digging into the tree. Tears stinging your eyes. It suddenly feels too hot and Jimin is holding you too tight. And it’s pleasurable. Even with the impending danger of getting caught. The humiliation. Jimin is about to push you over the edge again even before your first orgasm subsides. “No? You don’t? Then shut up, baby. Be a good slut and make me cum, yeah?” He kisses your neck. Jaw. Ear. Temple. Hair. Every place he can reach.

“So close, baby. Hold on for me, hm?” Jimin keeps talking to you in a hushed voice. You can only pray that your friends actually can’t hear you. Because you can hear them. Laughter. Banter. Then they might hear you as well. You’re glad Jimin is having a vice clamp over your mouth with his palm. It’s making a mess, however. You can’t help but drool, struggling to breathe. More triggers for that second orgasm. “Let go, princess. I know you can.. Fuck, cum with me, Lil.”

You cry into his hand. Back arching as the second orgasm of the night washes over you. Your walls squeezing his dick tight. Your cries are sparking Jimin. “Yes, fuckfuck, god, I love you…” Jimin bites onto your shoulder to keep his own voice muffled as his dick throbs inside you, shooting white hot cum into the warm confines of your cunt. He drags out both of your orgasms by keep thrusting into you. Reducing his speed gradually until it comes to a halt.

He takes another second before taking his palm away from your mouth. You heave for much needed air. Then another before quickly pulling away from you, making you wince and clench tightly so you won’t make a mess on you.

Fuck, you don’t even have anything to clean you up. You don’t even know how you’d walk back to the campsite.

What if they heard you?

What if they know?

And you’re going to walk back with his cum dripping down your thighs?

You hold on to the tree helplessly, trying to come to your senses. Trying to fill your lungs with enough air. That’s when you feel the sudden hot sensation at your still uncovered cunt. You raise your head in alarm. This time your head successfully turns around to find Jimin on his knees. Mouth hovering near your battered pussy.

“Wh-what are you…” You gasp. Your question melts into an inaudible moan when Jimin drags his tongue through your slit. “Jimin…”

“Gotta clean you up.” He answers simply. Nonchalantly. You, on the other hand, almost die on the spot. Your quenched thirst resurfacing again.

“Nononono….” You do your best to stay on your legs as Jimin starts to eat out your used pussy. As if he was starved. He licks up your slit and curls his lips around your clit. Then he slides his tongue inside you, eating his own cum from your cunt. Cleaning you up. Like he said.

Deep groans rumble in his throat. Sounds of thirsty slurping fills the air. He rubs your legs and ass soothingly while raving on your cunt.

“Oh God, baby… Jimin…. Fuck!” You pant and gasp. This time having to keep your sounds inside by biting on to your own fist. Jimin moans in answer. Making your core vibrate.

“Taste good, Lil. You taste so fucking good.” He mutters into your pussy. Dwells back into sucking and licking. Buries his whole face in you. “Cum again, Love. Cum on my mouth. Taste good. Need more… please!” Pleads.

You’re losing your mind. You can’t control the way you’re seeping out of your pussy. You can’t set off the fire inside you. Jimin knows what he’s doing. With his tongue and lips. With his teeth.

He cleans you pretty well. He does it too much to be precise. He does it over and over again. Until another orgasm ripples through you. Until he cleans that up as well. Until he’s satisfied and his knees ache. That’s only when he stops and gets to his feet. Fixes your clothes. Turns you around to face him. Wipes down your face.

You peer at his eyes. Sparkling eyes. Filled with adoration. Abundance of adoration. The lust has vanished and in its place remains the affection.

“You doing good, Love?” Jimin holds you close. You nod. You feel good.

Even despite this being your second night being awake in a row, you feel good. Physically at least.

“Fuck, Jimin. We’re so… god, that’s so fucked up!” You scowl. Slap his arm. Still panting and heaving for breath.

“It’s fine.” He nudges his nose against yours. “No one gives a fuck!” Reassures you. You don’t agree. Yet decide not to say anything. Just hope for the best. “I didn’t tire you a lot, did I?” He takes your attention back to him. Suddenly looks very concerned.

“I’m fine Jimin.” You give in. Relax. Curl your arms around his waist.

“No pain?”

“No pain. Just perfect.”

“Good.” He kisses your forehead. “You're gonna find me if something happens.” Says. Not a request. Not a question. Just a command. You roll your eyes.

“Sure, will find you, Daddy!” You smile coyly. Jimin’s breath slightly catches in his throat. His eyes darken.

“Okay, don’t start now.” Almost pulls away from you. You don’t let him.

“Wait? You like that?” You perk up. Amused.

“I… don’t… know, I guess.” Jimin smirks. “Should find out next time.” Pulls you into another kiss. “We should go back, baby.” Mumbles against your lips. You nod in agreement. Luckily the sound of your friends have finally subsided. “Find me if anything’s wrong, okay?” This time he asks softly. You nod with a gentle smile.

“I’ll find you.”

“Thank you!” He loosens his grip on you. “I love you.” Purrs before actually letting you go. You stop trying to control your goofy smiles. Just grin from ear to ear.

“Uh huh.” Nod. Agree. Jimin scowls. You giggle. “I love you more, Park jimin…. I love you more…”

………………………………

Key wanted to see pictures. Of all of them. You don’t think everyone would agree to model for you at this moment. Yet it never hurts to try.

“Smile, Jeon Jungkook.” You poke the said man’s ribcage, who’s sitting next to you with a deep scowl in his face, while holding your phone in front of you. The front camera opened. He’s been that way for quite a while now. You assume that his talk with J has gone like shit. Jungkook grumbles. It makes you feel awfully guilty. It’s all because of you.

“Your friend has seen me before. Why do you need my photos too?”

You watch through your phone screen as Jungkook eyes you wearily.

“That’s before. She hasn’t seen you at a summer camp, wearing your bucket hat, eating ramen and looking like a grumpy granddad.” You argue. Mostly because you want to make him feel okay. Want to make him laugh. Go back to his normal goofy self and annoy you to death. Make fun of everyone and act as if he has all the energy in the world inside him. It doesn’t work.

“I’m not grumpy.” Instead of the laugh you expect, he gives you a simple answer and goes back to his ramen.

“Oh, c’mon, Kookie.” You pout before squeezing his cheeks. He stiffens in your hold. For a second. Then he’s removing your hand away from him.

“Fine, take the damn photo.” He sighs. Faces the camera properly and gives a soft and very fake smile. You don’t press the shutter. You watch him carefully.

“What’s wrong?” You ask. You know it must be J. Yet you ask anyway. “She’s still mad at you?” You trail your gaze toward the woman in question. Is in a mood as well. Jin is mumbling something to her. Whatever he’s saying it makes J pouts even harder. Jungkook shakes his head.

“We’re good.” Jungkook snatches your phone away from you. Don’t let you bat an eyelash before he takes a quick selfie of both of you, in which you look like an ugly surprised goose. “There you go!” He hands you the phone back.

“Yah!” You start. Annoyed that he just did that. Bunch of curses sitting at the tip of your tongue. None of them, however, get out when a sudden pang erupts under your ribcage.

Sharp. Like a knife pierced through your skin and flesh. A silenced gasp escapes your mouth as you bend down slightly. Your mouth falls open, brows furrowing. The pain only lives very short. Just as it comes, it vanishes. Yet you stay bent down for an extra minute. A ghost of the pain still lingers in your veins. Your brain is failing to realize what just happened.

“Noona! Fuck!” Jungkook’s voice comes from a distance. You take an unfocused look at his face as he hurries to straighten you up. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…. Are you okay? Is that it? Are you in pain?” Throws question after question at you. It takes you another long minute to come to your senses and answer him.

“I’m fine… I- uh—” You shake your head slightly, forcing yourself to sober up. “I’m fine, Kookie. It was… nothing. Probably just heartburn.” You finally manage to pull it together. Perk up. Smile. “ Nothing to worry about. Yeah. Maybe it was my stomach.” Rationalize.

Jungkook doesn’t look convinced. Of course, he doesn’t. But you really think it is a heart burn. Because it is too early for you to be in pain. Jungkook has his timer on. According to that, it’s just thirty five hours. You’re pretty sure you stayed more than forty eight back at the cottage last year. And you weren’t in any pain either.

“It’s just a stomachache, Kookie.” You try to convince him again. The last thing you want is Jungkook to lose his shit and spread it to Jimin. They both would drag your ass away or—if necessary — knock you out cold.

“It didn’t look like that.” Jungkook frowns.

“But it is.” You chuckle. “You know how it is when that happens.” You refer to your unusual pain caused by the mystery of sharing Liya’s space. “ It doesn’t go away this quickly.” Point out. Shake off his protective arm which is still draped around your shoulders. “It’s probably because I just ate.” Gesture at the empty ramen bawl of yours. He still doesn’t look convinced. His charcoal eyes are fixed on you. Studying. Frowning. You almost decide that he’s going to seriously take you away. That’s when a bright voice cuts in.

“It’s time for this new game!” Taehyung announces, taking everyone’s attention at the same time he plops into the empty chair on your other side.

Good! You’re glad for the interruption, even though you don’t want to play any games after yesterday night. Besides, you don’t think drinking would do you any good either.

“Nope. I'd rather go swimming again.” It’s Jin who immediately rejects Taehyung. “At this hour. In the ice water.” Adds. Gets to his feet hurriedly. “Naked. And I’ll end up catching pneumonia. That’s fine. I’ll rather die in a hospital bed than dying playing your stupid games.” Practically storms away.

Taehyung whines in complaint. “Did you see that?” Turns to you. Face adorably scrunched up.

“I did see that.” You nod sympathetically.

“Dude is mad at me because he couldn’t hold his breath underwater. Not my fault.” Taehyung reasons. You agree again, doing your best not to roll your eyes.

“Yes, it's not your fault at all.” You pat his arm. “But I guess we shouldn’t play any games either.” Mutter when he gasps even louder this time. You shake your head immediately. “I mean your games are so fun and all but I’m tired. Everyone must be very tired. These are a bunch of old people, after all. We can take selkas, though.” You show him your phone. “I have a friend who’s dying to see you all.”

Taehyung scoots closer to you instantly. “Yeah? Is she single?” Asks with a beaming face. This time you roll your eyes.

“No.” You state. “Don’t even—” Your words get cut off when a third voice joins you.

“You have a fucking girlfriend moron.” Yoongi pokes his head between you and Taehyung. Facing the selfie. Surprising you and Taehyung both. The last person you’d expect to come willingly for a photo is Min Yoongi. Hence, the weird looks you’re giving him together with Taehyung. “What?” Yoongi snaps when you don’t click the photo.

“What the hell happened to you?” You voice out.

“Why are you so happy?” Taehyung joins.

“Did you and Jungkook swap your souls?” You throw a brief glance at the said guy, who’s intently watching you.

“Oh, fuck off!” Jungkook scowls even deeper and a pout appears on his lips.

“Yah! What do you take me for?” Yoongi retorts. Doesn’t let you answer, however. “Take the photo kid.” Orders you. You bid a second more in pure disbelief before actually complying. This time capturing a perfect shot of a pouting you, a grinning Yoongi and a surprised— yet still manage to look incredibly handsome— Taheyung in the frame. “Now,” Yoongi straightens up. “If that friend of yours likes it, I’m a single guy.” Shoots you with his gummy smile.

“I think he is drunk.” Taehyung whispers aloud. Yoongi hears it obviously. And it doesn’t even take a fractured second before they start arguing like mad cows. You don’t get to join the chaos. Not when Hoseok takes your attention.

“You’re taking selka without me?” He comes behind you, being careful to avoid Yoongi. “Rude!” Says before winking into the camera. You grin as you press the shutter button. Another frozen moment storing in your phone. The screen goes dark and then the photo you took appears. Just as it does, another sharp pang shoots through your body. Again started under your ribcage. Then travels through your veins. This time you fail to keep it quiet. A mewl leaves you as the phone drops down to the table.

“Noona… no, no, no.” Jungkook appears next to you like a quick breeze.

“Fuck!” You hear Hoseok curses. The pain nearly blinds you. Makes your entire body paralyzed for a minute. Then it subsides. Goes away. Only leaving the shock behind.

“Noona?” Jungkook turns your head toward him with your chin. You’re met with his scared brown orbs. “Jeesus! You’re not okay. We’re going to sleep. Now!” Commands. This time you comply. Without another word. Your brain is still in shock as you allow Jungkook to pull you into your feet.

A mistake!

The moment you fully stand up, a new kind of pain hits you. A loud ring in your ears makes your vision go black. Your head starts to thrum with pain. Sending your head spinning and body stumbling. You feel weak. Then there comes a wave of nausea. Powerful.

Powerful enough that you actually gag before your hand flies to cover your mouth.

Jungkook turns you around immediately. Helps you take a few steps away from the table to avoid the mess. You feel his palm rubbing your back as you bend down in half.

“It’s okay baby. Let go.” He soothes you. Yet it doesn’t come. No matter how sick you feel. How violently your stomach turns. It doesn’t come. Nothing comes out of your mouth except the sound of gagging. And you’re left with the sour taste in your mouth. “It’s okay, it’s okay…” Jungkook keeps coaxing you.

You hear someone else saying something else, reminding you that you and Jungkook aren’t alone here. You can feel everyone’s eyes on you.

“Shh… it’s fine. Let’s go to the tent, yeah? It’s going to be okay once you sleep.” Jungkook whispers. Soothingly. Softly. You just nod. Praying the annoying nausea and the throb in your head would go away soon. This is new. You’ve been in pain before but it hasn’t been like this. This is an uncharted territory and it scares you.

You force your weak body to straighten up, ready to leave with Jungkook. You don’t want to give up that easily but it’s becoming harder and harder. Maybe you should rest for a bit and it will go away.

You turn around halfway with Jungkook. That’s when you notice a figure a few feet away from you. From the camp site. To your left. Just standing among the clusters of stunted trees and tangled underbrush. You stop. Eyes zeroing on the figure. Heart picking up speed. You were expecting someone to visit you after all. So, you turn back again, paying full attention to the person who’s standing there eerily still. You try to ignore the trembling in your limbs and the dizzy pulse in your head.

Your eyes travel from the stranger’s head to toes. Taking in everything.

Woman. You’re certain it’s a woman. You watch the way her hair frames her face. It flows around her face, tangling with the summer breeze. She looks young. Is wearing an oversize black t-shirt—just like the one you’re wearing, which you stole from Jungkook—and a pair of white shorts. Again just like the one you’re—

Wait what?

You jerk your gaze down to your outfit, ignoring the way the sudden movements cause your nausea to double and your head to pound like it’s about to explode.

You’re wearing a black t-shirt. White shorts. A strange sensation travels across your spine as you turn your gaze back to the woman in the distance. She has moved while you were busy looking at your outfit. She has taken a step forward. Now you can see her better than before.

Hair.

It’s just like yours. Same length. Same color and she’s even wearing it down like you do at the moment.

She takes another step forward. You take one back. Her face becomes even clearer. Your breath catches up in your throat.

It’s you.

Undoubtedly. Unmistakably.

You feel like you did when you saw Liya first. But this is different. Even as your alternate version, Liya has her own differences from you. From fashion to habits. This? This is not like that. You’re staring into a mirror.

She takes another step toward you, forcing you to back up. An alarm blaring in your head. You stare back at your reflection. She is you. Just a little thin. Isn’t she? Now you look closer you think she looks weak.

Another step forward and another back. Slowly. One. Two. Three. Until you feel the back of your thighs graze the table behind you, backing you into an end and leaving no more escapes. You stop. She doesn’t. She keeps walking forward. One. Two. Three. Until she’s standing a mere few feet away from you.

You let out an audible shaky gasp. Unexplainable fear engulfing you.

This can’t be happening. No. No. No.

You turn your head toward Jungkook, wanting to know if he’s seeing what you’re seeing. Just for reassurance. You expect to see his horrified face as well. Except…

He’s not where he was.

What?

You immediately turn to your other side, hoping to find Taehyung and others.

Empty. There’s no one.

Panic rises in your throat as you turn to your right again. This time faster. Jungkook is not here. But he was just a second ago. So were Taehyung, Yoongi, and Hoseok. You turn around completely. Eyes doing a quick glance over the campsite.

Empty.

The table. Chairs. Everything is empty.

No… What’s happening?

You start scanning the area while your entire world tilts and spins. Everything else stays the same. The tents. The empty ramen bowls and beer cans on the table. The campfire flickering. But there’s not a sign of anyone else. Of your friends. Only you’re left here alone.

“Ah you little stupid!”

And the other you speak. You turn to her in record speed as you hear your own voice.

“You fucking moron,” She shakes her head. Looks utterly disappointed. “Look what you’ve done to us.” Gestures at her body. Body that looks weak. She looks sick. She looks like how you feel right now. You gawk at her face, noticing hollow cheeks. You’re pretty sure, your cheeks don’t look like that. Nor do your eyes look that empty and sunken.

“Wh-who? H-how?” You stutter. Your throat is dry and your mouth is still sour.

“Look what you have done to us…” She repeats. Ignores your half question. “You ruined us. All because you were a greedy whore,” A bitter laugh escapes her.

You find yourself incapable of even uttering a single word. She lifts an arm. Thin. As if her flesh has been melted. Brings it toward you. You recoil into yourself, just to fail miserably. There isn’t enough space and her fingers grazed over your cheeks, eliciting a shiver in their wake. “You think this gonna last forever?” She keeps talking. “You think you’ll be able to stay like this?” Another laugh.

“No… you’re stupid. This is all your fault. Now, these pretty cheeks are going to turn into dust.” She tilts her head to the left, adds pressure to her fingers that you wince at the way her nails dig into your skin.

“What? I-I—” You try to form words. She ignores you.

“This pretty skin he adores so much is going to turn into dust.” She drags her fingers down toward your neck. “And he wouldn’t want to paint it with his marks anymore.” The other you smile so brightly. Yet it does nothing to hide the emptiness in her eyes. “And…” She lets her hand fall into your breast, over the soft curves and down toward your stomach. “Everything he likes about us will turn into nothing…” Stops her movements there. “Just because of your greed, we’ll lose everything and—” Her nails dig into your stomach harsher this time. Harsh enough you whimper. “The only thing that would be left for us will be this.” She states. “Only this!” Repeats but louder this time.

And her nails pierce into your skin. So suddenly and out of nowhere. For a millisecond you feel nothing. Then a sharp pain erupts from your stomach and an inhuman scream rips out of your throat.

“No!” Both your hands go to hold her wrist when she starts to slice through your skin. Her fingers plunge into your flesh like a blade, tearing your muscles. The wet sound of skin tearing fills the air, together with your screams. You watch in utter horror as the trickles of crimson cover both your hands and hers, then fall down to the fresh grass underneath you.

“No..Nononono….” You scream again as you do your best to hold her hand in place. She seems weak but right now, no matter how much you try, you fail to keep her from crushing your guts. Literally. Her hand disappears inside you. Forcing more and more horrible screams out of you and making your whole body burn. The sour taste in your mouth gets mixed with the taste of metal. Tears fall down your cheeks uncontrollably. You need to ask her why. But no words make it out your mouth apart from cries and disgruntled noises. She keeps pushing her hand inside you, inch by inch. Until you can only see the white pain.

“It’s okay, it’s okay…” And she shushes you. Like she’s consoling a child who lost their piece of candy. “It’s fine…” The pain intensifies. “It’s going to be okay…” Her voice is a high pitched scream that rings inside your head. “It’s okay…”

It’s okay.

It’s okay…

It’s okay….

Her voice echoes around your skull as you bend down in pain. Still holding onto her hand trying to stop the assault. The pain. It doesn’t stop. But her voice starts to fade away. You think that’s because you’re about to faint. About to fall into an eternal darkness. You fully expect that. Yet it doesn’t come either. Instead her faded voice comes clearer again. This time though, not so high pitched. Low. Panicked. Scared.

“It’s okay… baby, I got you..”

“Lil… it’s okay. Hey, look at me. Eyes on me, baby…”

You blink. Just once. And the other you blends into thin air. In her presence appears a familiar face. Pale and scared to death. You blink once again and everything comes crashing upon you. The sounds. The concerned voices of your friends. Their presence. Yet you only see one face.

Park Jimin.

He’s holding on to your body, which is ready to fall into the ground limp any moment. You’re trying to push him away. You’re having a vice grip on his wrist. You stop thrashing around instantly. Eyes taking in the sight of how harsh you’re gripping his hand.

Was it him?

No.. you know what you saw.

You look at your stomach. Perfectly intact and there’s no single drop of blood. Only the pain. You take a minute to register that there’s no creepy woman who looks like you, trying to push her bare hand inside your guts. It wasn’t real.

It wasn’t real!

A new sob erupts from you as you let go of Jimin’s hand. Fall into his hold. Bawling and writhing in pain. He catches you. Of course he does. He holds you tight. Goes into the ground on his knees when you slide down. Still doesn’t let you go. Gathers you in his arms and presses your face into his chest.

“Holy fuck… it’s okay… Lil… Hey I got you. It’s okay…” His gentle voice wraps around you like a soft blanket. You would’ve fallen asleep there if it wasn’t for the nasty pain. The pain…

That’s all you can concentrate on.

At least until a sudden scream, which definitely doesn’t come from you, catches your attention. Several curses accompany the scream. Through your pain you feel Jimin gasp. Then you feel a soft warm hand on your head.

“Oh, you poor thing.” A honeyed voice speaks. A moment passes and in the next you feel the white pain in your guts disappear. Not instantly. No. Gradually. It subsides into nothing. Only the weakness being in its wake. “It was an illusion.” The gentle voice says again. This time you find your head turning around. Reluctantly leaving the protection of Jimin’s warmth. A kind smile treats you when you do. And you recognize the face right away.

That wrinkled face and grey hair. The old woman from the cottage. You perk up instantly.

“... what you saw…” She continues with something that quite doesn’t reach your ears. “That was an illusion. It wasn’t real.” She pats your cheek. “You still have time.” Stands up. You panic yet again. This time because you know you’re about to lose the chance. Unfortunately, though, your still weak body refuses to even speak.

“What do you mean she has time?” For your great pleasure, Jimin takes the chance. The woman throws Jimin a glance in disapproval.

“She has time, my child. She’ll live until then.”

“How long are we talking about here?” This time it’s Jungkook. His voice sounds stern. As if he’s ready to fight. Strangle this old lady to death.

“Until the day comes.” The woman on the other hand speaks ever so calmly. “Until she has to return ba—”

“What if she wants to stay?” Jimin doesn’t even let her finish whatever she’s saying. It’s kinda awkward since he’s still on his knees. You half on his lap. But he manages to bridge that with his voice somehow. He isn’t asking. He’s saying.

A chuckle treats you in return. “I wish she had an option.” The woman shakes her head. Slowly. Then her voice turns serious. “She doesn’t.”

Your stomach drops. You don’t think it’s possible to feel any more pain than you did a minute earlier but you do. You wait for the old woman to say something. She disappoints you. Or not. Maybe you’re glad when she turns around with nothing else. But Jimin changes that. It’s his time to chuckle.

“Every thing has more than one option. It can’t be just live or die. There must be a way. I know there is.” Jimin challenges. Voice sharper now. His grip on you tightens, as if he’s afraid the woman will take you away.

“Sometimes it is just live or die.” The kind smile on the old woman’s face slips away. A silence falls over. Once again it feels like the end. End of the conversation. End of your hope. End of everything until Jimin speaks again. This time soft but you hear the steel edge.

“Well, I’m gonna keep fighting.”

“Very well! Do it.” The woman simply shrugs. Expression indifferent. “I hope you’re ready for the consequences as well. It is, my dear,” She sighs. “not fair to force a fish to live on land just because you love it. That’s no love. That’s greed. Now,” She dismisses two of you as she turns to the rest of the people surrounding you. Hell, you even forgot they are here. You glance briefly at the dumbfounded faces. Mouths opened and brows furrowed. “This is a whole lot of work to do memory wipes.” The woman clicks her tongue in distaste. “Maybe I won’t do it…” Mutters to herself. “Yes… no need for such things. This memory will make her life a bit easy.”

She turns to take a final look at you. Then like the last time she dissolves into the air. One moment she is there and the next not. You hear a freaked out scream. See Hoseok pushes himself into Yoongi and Taehyung stumbles on his feet. Catch the way Yoona practically climbs on her boyfriend’s body as Jin is crazily trying to find connections on his phone. Next to him stands equally ashen faced three women. J, Seoyoen, and Liya.Only three people remain calm—you, Jimin, and Jungkook. You have other reasons to freak out, however.

All the pain and horror you endured sinks into the back of your mind as the hopelessness engulfs you whole. After everything, she said that you have no options. It’s either you leave or wither into dust.

How simple yet complicated.

You stay frozen in that way for what feels like years and you could’ve kept staying that way if it wasn’t for Jimin who finally breaks out of his miserable haze and prompts you to your feet. He offers to carry you when you refuse. Neither of you talk about what just happened. You ignore your friends. Only smile at Jungkook who starts following you and Jimin. You’ll talk about it later. You’ll talk and decide what’s the best way to say goodbye when your time finally arrives later. You’ll answer your friends’ questions later. For now, you’ll just rest.

You want it. Desperately so. Yet, apparently the universe always has something against you. Even before you can make two steps forward, a sharp whine of an engine disrupts you. You and Jimin come to a halt at the exact moment a grey car rattles into a stop in front of you. The screeching of tires tears through the night air. Then someone practically jumps out of the backseat before the car engine cuts down.

This time, it is a woman with a familiar bob cut. Face twisted ugly— you assume by dread. Mrs. Seong. Liya’s secretary. You only met her once and she was calm. Collected. Now, though, she looks as if she just escaped death. Still, you could’ve just shrugged off her presence and walked away if it wasn’t for the second person who joins her.

Emi!

That’s when you know something is wrong. There is no possible reason for both of them to barge in here if everything is fine. Especially, judging by the looks both of them are wearing, something is surely wrong. Terribly wrong.

“Mr. Park.” Emi is the one who breaks into a walk first. Makes a beeline toward Jimin who’s still keeping his hand around you protectively. She ignores your presence and the fact that Jimin is holding you, completely. Instead, she unclocks her phone furiously. “I know you’re on a vacation and I’m not supposed to interrupt you but this is very important and I- we had to…” She peers at Jimin like a deer caught in a trap.

“Okay, what is it?” Jimin inquires. You can feel the way he goes rigid despite the way he asked the question.

“I- um…” Emi stutters, holding her phone tight in her fingers. That makes Jimin snap. He snatches the phone away with one hand. Other still holding you. You curiously turn your face to look at Jimin. Try to take a glance at the screen but before you can Jimin’s hand drops from your body. He takes a step away from you. You feel someone else holds you protectively. Not letting you fall down. If there was any color left on Jimin’s face after what just happened, they all vanish leaving Jimin as a ghostly skull.

“Fuck!” He curses aloud, then starts scrolling through whatever he’s looking at, frantically.

“We are in the process of securing the removal of the videos and articles from all online platforms. I have already consulted with legal counsel, and we are preparing to pursue legal action against all parties involved, pending further analysis. But—” Emi starts rambling so fast that you only catch half of it.

Hoseok is the next person to snatch the phone away from Jimin. And you watch the way he pales as well. Next is Taehyung. You turn your head partially to catch Liya and Seoyone looks about to drop dead. Liya is holding a phone which you guess is her assistance.

What’s going on? Did Liya actually bomb something down?

“How did this—” Jin questions, now a part of ashened people and holding Emi’s phone. “Who?” His question is directed at Jimin who looks too stunned to even speak.

“I- I—” Jimin tries. Fails. Rubs a face across his face.

“Someone obviously has tailed you.” Hoseok expresses.

You scowl deeply, getting partially annoyed that no one is making any sense. You are at the verge of breaking when Jungkook steps in. He just casually takes away the phone from Jin, which is probably rude since that can be a company matter that doesn’t need strangers poking their nose in. Still, Jungkook does it anyway and that’s only when you realize that the person who was holding you wasn’t him. You glance over your shoulder to catch a curious Yoongi, holding you. You don’t get to dwell on him further when Jungkook gasps. His eyes instantly land on you.

Well, that’s your cue to say fuck it and see what that is. You walk over to Jungkook with your wobbly legs. Peer over at the screen while he still holds the phone. An article title written in black bold letters is covering the screen.

Public Decency Out the Window? The Power Couple’s Latest Stunt.

For a second, it doesn’t make any sense. Then your gaze travels to the picture under the title. Captured clearly and in full resolution. A man and a woman inside a supermarket. He has his arms around her. Her face is scrunched up. Not in a painful way but in a pleasurable way. She’s in pure ecstasy.

You’re in pure ecstasy. Wrapped around in Jimin’s arms.

Blood drains out of your veins. Heart stops beating. It’s like in a dream you take the device from Jungkook’s hand and start scrolling down. If you thought the worst was having a picture of how you look when you cum published, then the next image knocks the wind out of your lungs. Painfully.

This time it isn’t a clear shot. Nothing is clear but anyone can see it’s two people having sex inside a car. Jimin’s car. You scroll down.

The CEO of R.U.N and the CEO of The SE were caught engaging in public sex….

The words fade away. Then comes back again.

Park Jimin and Kim Liya have reigned as the undisputed power couple of the business world…

Industry peers have voiced their disapproval of the couple’s controversial public behavior…

More pictures. Inside the super market. Jimin whispering in your ear. Back in the car. Even shots from your conversation after those moments. The precious moments you shared. You in his arms again.

“You said there are videos?” You hear Jin questions.

“Yes. But we’re already taking them down—” Emi starts. You don’t look at anyone. Just keep your gaze fixed on the screen. Maybe if you stare long enough it would change.

“That won’t change shit. People must have copies on them already.” It’s Taehyung.

“How long has it been since this was out?” Hoseok’s voice is shaky.

“Uh- since this afternoon." Emi answers.

“Afternoon? Fucking hours? And you’re only reaching out now?” You no longer care who says what.

This is a nightmare. This can’t be really happening. Surely, this is another illusion of your mind. Hallucination. Any minute now, you’ll find Jimin talking to you gently and bringing you back to earth. But when you raise your head, you find him helplessly staring at you.

“I’ve been trying to reach Mr. Park all these times…” Emi finds excuses, her eyes going to Jimin but he doesn’t care. Instead, he reaches you.

“Lil…” He starts. You shake your head silently asking him not to do it.

“Okay, how did this get out, though? Someone was following you and you didn’t notice?” Jungkook turns Jimin around with a firm grip on his shoulder. Jimin winces.

“How did they know how to find you?”

“This is clearly Lil, right? Not Liya?”

“Have you traced it back to who took the pictures?”

So many questions bombarded the space. Only the last one gets an answer, however. Emi clears her throat awkwardly.

“Yes. We did. We got the person behind the camera.” She taps a finger on her lips. Nervous.

“Good.” Jimin talks for the first time. “Who’s the bastard? What’s the fucking reason?” He turns fully toward his secretary. Emi looks utterly uncomfortable.

“It’s- it’s someone from The Daily Scandal.” She mumbles inaudibly.

“Daily Scandal?" Jimin repeats. Seemingly at a loss.

“What do they want? They don’t fucking videograph illegal pornography. It’s shit— the tabloid but since when do they do these kinds of shits.” Jin presses.

“The photographer was from The Daily Scandal but the photos are not being published in their magazine. He’s sold them to someone else. Some illegal sites.” Emi explains.

“What the fuck do you mean, Emi? This doesn’t make sense.” Jimin is visibly trying to keep his calm.

“He was there to catch some sweet moments of you and Ms. Liya.” Emi rushes to explain. Her face is red and is squeezing her left hand’s fingers with the right. “But he got something big and he sold it…”

“But why was he there in the first place?” Someone brings out. And Emi falls silent.

“Emi?” Jimin calls her out. Voice flat. Stern.

Emi heaves a sigh. Then she turns to look at Liya, who’s standing there looking half dead. Her shoulders slump. Dread covering her beautiful features. It worsens when everyone’s eyes land on her.

“What the fuck did you do?” Jimin barks so loud that even you flinch. He crosses the distance between him and Liya faster than a thunder. Liya takes a few steps back.

“Do-don’t,” She tries to regain her composure. Acts like the powerful woman she is. “I- I just wanted to make sure the public knows we’re still in a relationship. My father was nagging me so much about the engagement. I wanted to show it’s—”

“So you sent a man after me?” Jimin yells.

“No!” Liya finally matches his tone. “I sent a man after us.” Gestures between Jimin and herself. “It was supposed to be moments of us together. People were questioning our relationship after what happened in the club. My family was questioning. I just wanted to show everything was okay. It’s not my fault you decided to take your whore there and fuck her in public.”

“Kim Liya!” Jimin’s voice booms across the endless night. Shutting everyone including Liya into a dead silence. “Don’t fucking talk about her like that.” He adds through clenched teeth. Liya doesn’t say anything back. Just glares at him with a fiery glaze that’s enough to burn the world down. Silence stretches into eons.

“They think it’s you.” It’s Mrs. Seong who breaks the silence this time. Her face is a blank canvas. “The public.” She continues. “Your family. Everybody thinks it’s you who’s with Mr. Park.” Says to Liya. “Which is a good thing.” Says to Jimin. “This is a violation of privacy and you two are victims. We just need to make an official announcement, apologising for the indecency you caused and claim that you’re ready to face any legal consequences. You were together for a long time and people will surely take your side if we do this right and the news of the engagement will drown out the rest.” She states in one breath.

And a different kind of realization dawns upon you.

You’ve seen Liya’s name all across the article but it’s only now that it’s registering in your mind. To anyone and everyone who saw that article, images or the said videos, it’s Liya who’s getting pleasured by Park Jimin. His girlfriend. Not you. In this world you don’t exist. You’re not supposed to exist.

No wonder you were experiencing a new kind of hell. This explains the hallucinations, doesn't it? It’s not just a few people this time. It’s whole fucking world. This relief you’re feeling right now, probably because that old woman did something. You don’t know how long it will last and the moment it goes away, you think you’ll turn into dust at the spot.

“You’re not doing that,” Jungkook says. His voice is hoarse. Funny how he’s straight out ordering. “It’s going to put Noona in pain.” Mumbles. He doesn’t have to, however. You know it’s the first thing that rings on Jimin’s mind as well. “It’s going to destroy her.” Still Jungkook adds. Voice raising. Dangerously.

Jimin’s gaze turns to yours. He doesn’t answer Jungkook. But just one look at his eyes you know what he’s about to say. You almost take a step forward when Liya beats you to it.

“No. No Jimin. No no no… you can’t” She grabs his arm. Only for Jimin to step back, yanking his arm away from her hold. “This will ruin us.” Liya shakes her head frantically. “You’ll never get through the backlash Jimin. This will ruin your whole damn—”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake Liya. Stop pretending. We both know you don’t give a damn about my company. You’re only worried about yours. Don’t try pretending to be a concerned girlfriend, because you’re not.”

“Well, of course I am worried about my company, like I should. But this is going to ruin more than just a company, Jimin. This will ruin my whole damn family. And what are you planning to do? Just give up on everything. Please don’t do this. We have to go with the plan.” Liya’s words turn into a plea at the end. Yet Jimin’s expression doesn’t even falter. He simply shakes his head.

“I’m not putting her in pain. You created this mess Liya. It doesn’t matter what you wanted to do, it was fucked up to do that anyway.” Jimin takes a step back.

A strange dread wraps around you.

“Jimin.” You call him. Ready to ask him not to do that too. He doesn’t let you.

“No, Lil. I’m not doing that. That’s it.” He states firmly.

“Well what do you want to do then?” Taehyung asks.

“We’re- I’m admitting that it wasn’t Liya on the videos. I’ll apologise all they want. I’m gonna admit that I fucked up but I love Lil.” Jimin walks to you. Ignore the way everyone goes berserk.

“Mr. Park.”

“Oh, please, Jimin…”

“Are you serious?”

“What’s even happening?”

Every voice drowns out as Jimin makes it toward you. He cups your face.

“You need to sleep, Love.”

……………………….

You tried your best. You talked and talked until you couldn’t anymore. Yet no matter how much you tried, Jimin stayed like a stubborn boulder. He was going to admit it wasn’t Liya on the videos. He was going to admit he was an asshole and a cheater. And then he was going to do his best to try and save his company. According to Jin, that was impossible. Several things were bound to happen.

First, people were going to give Jimin hell. Second, Mr. Kim was going to pull out. Third, Liya was going to survive as the victim. Fourth, there won’t be a company named R.U.N the next time you come into this world.

And you felt like shit. This never has been your intention. Still you had no other options but to give up in the end. Jimin wasn’t having any of your nonsense, as he said himself. No one could change his mind.

That’s how you had to leave with Jungkook. You wanted to go home. You were tired. Pained and in the end were mad. You were burning with anger at how stubborn Jimin was acting. So, you wanted to storm away. You did. You practically threatened Taehyung and took his car with you. You even gave Jungkook the cold shoulder since he was supporting Jimin with everything.

You were a mad mess when you went to sleep last night. Yet sleep had found you in its all glory the moment your head hit the pillow. You had ignored Jungkook’s request to use the bed and had slept in your good old mattress on the floor.

Now as the morning has finally arrived and the first thing you can feel is a painful thrum in your head, even before you open your eyes. You groan in pain, keeping your eyes shut as you blindly reach for your bedside drawer where you leave your other phone behind. You’ve learned to leave it behind so you wouldn’t have to worry about losing so many possessions when you wake up in a ridiculous place every time you shift. You stretch your arm to the furthest you can. Something cold grazes your fingers but no matter how much you move your hand around blindly you can’t find the top of the drawer.

With another annoyed groan you open your eyes, cursing the dull headache. Your sleepy eyes land on a white wall.

What?

That’s definitely not a sight you’ve been used to seeing when you wake up in your apartment.

You furrow your brows in confusion. Turn to your back instantly, staring at the low white ceiling.

Familiar! You’ve stared into the same ceiling so many times but definitely not in the mornings.

You gasp aloud as you sit back like a broken string of a bow. Your head turning around and taking in everything as fast as you can.

The couch.

TV.

Coffee table.

The kitchen at the far corner.

You’re sleeping on a mattress, which is on the floor.

You’re still at Jungkook’s place!

You reach for your phone frantically. Check the time. It’s 7 a.m. And you’re certain you slept last night. You practically passed out for at least a good five hours. This can’t be. Maybe you’re dreaming. You’re supposed to wake up in your apartment. In your world.

Your swirling thoughts get distracted when you hear a throat clearing. You snap your head to your right at the same time a shirtless Jungkook appears in the living room. Seemingly just woken up. Hair all rumpled and face all adorably puffy. He stretches his arms and yawns. Cracks his stiff neck from side to side. To the right first. Then to the left…

His eyes land on you. He freezes. Just for a fractured second before a loud scream leaves his mouth and he stumbles backward. And you have no idea why you join him with that scream. A one loud scream before you feel your stomach churn and the taste of bile rising up your throat, bitters your mouth.

You rush to your feet in the next. Don’t pay any mind to still perplexed Jungkook as you disappear inside the bathroom. Throwing your insides out. Only one thing is plaguing your mind.

You haven’t travelled back home.

It didn’t happen.

You didn’t shift.

Something isn’t right.

Something has changed.

Yes it is.

Things have changed.

Changed!

..............................................................................................................................

a/n- Leave a note if you enjoyed this one!

..............................................................................................................................

Taglist - @chimmy-licious @graydolan12 @smoljimjim @likemeforme @sugas-baby-girl @canarystwin @jkayy @floboo6 @sunshinenmidnight @fiddlebiddls @unlikelycheesecakeenthusiast @mar-lo-pap @angelicsmilesworld @jimincrystal @datspjm @shakes0peare @butterymin @angellekookie @futuristicenemychaos @minijagiya @anumita-2007 @joulekanitz @llallaaa @fancypeacepersona @annyeongbitch7 @yunki-yunki-yunki @ilovebtsstuff

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yoongle--boongle--pie · 4 months ago

Text

Pechsträhne Masterlist

MOVED ACCOUNTS!

Find updated account @yoongleboonglepie

This masterlist will not be updated moving forward. Please refer to new account!

Love Y'all!

Genre: Horror au, paranormal au, hurt/comfort, slow burn, romance, psychic au, friends to lovers, Mystery, BTS ot7 x reader

Rating: 18+: Keep that in mind as this is at its core a paranormal/heavy theme rooted in history and myth, and some things are emotionally disturbing or spooky. Read at your own discretion as I will only be putting trigger warnings for things that can pose severe safety risks to those affected. All else, like I said it is a spooky and mystery au.

_________________________________________

Main story,

Chapter 1 - 2/16/2025

Chapter 2- 2/19/2025

Chapter 3- 2/22/2025

Chapter 4- 2/24/2025

Chapter 5- 3/1/2025

Chapter 6- 3/10/2025

Chapter 7- 3/15/2025

Chapter 8 - 3/20/2025

Chapter 9 - 3/28/25

Chapter 10 - 4/6/2025

_________________________________________

Pieces of Red String for you to Follow if you Dare...

Namjoon Character Moodboard

Seokjin Character Moodboard

Yoongi Character Moodboard

Hoseok Character Moodboard

Jimin Character Moodboard

Taehyung Character Moodboard

Jungkook Character Moodboard

Pinterest Boards

Historical Archives and Notes of Y/n Wörner

Photos of rough outline of the estate (not hotel)

Morse code clues, chapters 7 and up: x x x x

Find chapter playlists here:

Spotify

Youtube music

_________________________________________

Do not repost anywhere or steal my writing. Thx.

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jungshookz · 3 months ago

Text

y/n seems to have everyone wrapped around her finger and to be quite frank, namjoon's unimpressed

➺ pairing; professor!namjoon x y/n

➺ genre; mostly sfw with a little something something at the end!! namjoon is a philosophy professor who suddenly has to share his precious lecture hall newbie professor y/n!! we all know i am a big fan of enemies to lovers/opposites attract and i love it even more when both of them are total nerds!! y/n’s approach to philosophy is so ridiculous and namjoon can’t stand her!! namjoon is so stuffy and y/n can’t stand him!! god damnit just kiss already!!

➺ wordcount; 7.2k

➺ summary; you’re the newest professor joining the university, and all of a sudden, it feels like namjoon actually has someone to compete with for the first time.

➺ what to expect; “Also, please stick to black, blue, and red ink for future note-taking and grading purposes. Pastel purple is not an appropriate colour for a higher education atmosphere. Thank you.”

➺ currently playing on cee.fm; what is this feeling? — wicked soundtrack

»»————- 📚 ————-««

namjoon isn’t a fan of change.

he’s always liked things in a particular way — he only likes notebooks with a seamless, perfect binding for the spines, he only likes ballpoint pens and never gel, he only uses traditional coloured highlighters and none of that strange, pastel-coloured junk, and he only likes to use a sandalwood scented essential oil diffuser in his apartment and his lecture hall

most of his life has been planned out (he planned out how the next twenty years of his life would go when he was ten, and according to this twenty-year plan, he’s pretty on track) and he likes it that way, so yes, he isn’t a big fan of change when it comes to such an important timeline like this

he’s currently a professor at the university he got his phd from, and because part of his twenty-year plan included going from his bachelor’s degree to his master’s degree to his doctoral degree, it means that he’s actually the youngest professor on the staff’s roster (which, again, was part of his plan all along)

he’s been teaching here for nearly two years now and has built a very solid reputation with his co-workers, he’s the school’s most sought-after professor when it comes to his philosophy classes — he teaches three undergrad classes and two graduate classes and every semester they’re always packed and students will always email him to try and get into the class when the capacity is full — and he’s pretty sure he’s getting a raise soon, which is great because he’s been meaning to splurge on a new electric tea kettle that lets you control the temperature and sings a little song when the water’s done boiling

“alright, let’s bring today’s discussion to a close.” namjoon shakes his wrist, checking the time on his watch before nodding to himself — the lecture ends in five minutes, so he’s wrapping up right on time and he’ll be able to grab a coffee and a croissant before his office hours start, “what we’ve explored today is really just a glimpse into the vast and ongoing conversation about how to engage critically with your existence.” he hums, leaning back against his desk as he looks out at the sea of students in front of him, the sound of pen tips scratching on paper and typing on keyboards coming from all over the room

“after you leave class today, i’d like for you to reflect on the choices you make — not just the big, life-altering ones, but the miniscule, everyday decisions.” he reaches up to adjust his glasses on the bridge of his nose, “are they leading you toward a life of purpose and integrity? or are they dictated by external pressures and unexamined habits? we’ll continue this discussion next time, but until then, i’d like you to keep questioning, keep thinking, and keep living philosophically. as always, i have office hours here from 3:30-6 if you have any questions. class dismissed.” he nods, and almost immediately the class breaks into packing up, murmurs rippling through the vast lecture hall

namjoon smiles lightly to himself as he gives himself a mental pat on the back

yet another successful lecture!

he really does love teaching, and he’s so grateful that he’s able to do something that he actually likes for work

shaping young minds is something that he’s always wanted to do, and he thinks he’s been doing a pretty good job as a professor

…

oh, who is he kidding? of course he’s been doing a fantastic job as a professor!

he smiles politely as his students trickle out the door, turning around to grab his wallet out of his backpack

croissant time!

»»————- 📚 ————-««

“hello, are you here for office hours?” namjoon isn’t surprised when he opens the door to see someone standing by his desk, looking around the empty lecture hall, “it actually starts at 3:30, so it would be great if you could come back in fifteen minutes and i’d be happy to answer any questions you have about the lecture.”

“oh, hi!“ you spin around with a smile, and namjoon returns a polite one as he sets his coffee and pastry bag down on the desk, “no, i’m not here for office hours, i’m here to check out the lecture hall for when i start teaching alongside you next week. you’re namjoon, right? i’ve heard so much about you, i’m y/n y/l/n and i’m really excited to start working together-“ you stick your hand out for him to shake and he immediately frowns, glancing down at your hand before looking back up at you with a scoff of disbelief

“teaching… alongside me?” he tilts his head, reaching over to give your hand a shake after a moment of hesitation (it would be rude of him to turn down a handshake, and he has to admit you have a nice, firm handshake), “i’m sorry, what are you talking about?”

“didn’t you get the email? i’m the newest philosophy professor joining the staff-“ you slide your tote bag off your shoulder and pull your phone out, “they told me i’d kinda be shadowing you before they can determine if i should lead my own lectures or not. so i guess i’m a co-professor for now, but eventually i’ll just be a professor. i’ve seen a few of your lectures online, i’m looking forward to working together and-“

“co-professor?” namjoon interrupts, holding his hand out to make you stop talking, “i’m sorry, this is the first i’m hearing of this.” he fumbles for his phone before looking through his email because there’s no way he would’ve missed an email as important as-

okay there it is

yep

he totally missed that

“i see.” namjoon pokes his tongue against the inside of his cheek, “okay, well… i guess you can just sit with the class and listen to the lectures. i don’t need an assistant professor, but you can help give out handouts or something-“

“well, that would make sense if i was a TA, but i’m not entering this classroom as a TA or an assistant professor, i’m entering it as a co-professor. we’re equals!” you point out, namjoon’s eyes widening when you pull a pen out from your bun and slap a copy of the class syllabus down on his desk

he’s appalled to see that you’ve written all over it, and not only that, you’ve used multiple colours to take notes instead of the traditional black, blue, and red

…pastel purple?!

“i took a look at the lineup you have, and to be frank, it’s a little stiff. your students are drowning in dense readings, and i don’t know about you, but i actually hated reading so much when i was in undergrad-“

“well, that sounds like it’s a you problem, because i liked reading and always appreciated when the professor gave us something dense and enriching to read-“

“why not swap out one of the medieval philosophy lectures for something a little fresher?” you suggest, using the back of your pen to point to the lecture he has planned in a few weeks, “maybe we can do a session on philosophy in science fiction? ooh, ethics in AI might be fun, no? it’s something they can apply to the modern world-“

“philosophy isn’t about chasing trends. it’s about discipline, rigorous thought, and engaging with foundational texts that have shaped human understanding for centuries, professor y/l/n-“

“it’s doctor.”

“what?”

“dr. y/l/n. i just graduated with my phd.”

a moment of silence passes as namjoon processes all of this new information

processing…

“you-“ still processing… “you what? how old are you?”

“you should never ask a woman how old she is, but i’m two years younger than you. and i know that because i actually took the time to look at your profile on the university’s website after getting the email that we’d be working together for the rest of the semester-“

“rest of the-“ namjoon chokes, reaching up to adjust his tie, “okay, respectfully, dr. y/l/n, my whole point is that students have no business calling themselves actual philosophers if they can’t wrestle with aquinas and avicenna-“

“right, because thirty pages of medieval metaphysical debates on the essence of angels is going to determine whether or not a student can call themself an actual philosopher. i’m not saying to abandon the classics, i’m just saying it’s not gonna hurt to throw in a few discussions that’ll make philosophy feel a little more… alive to them!”

namjoon resists the urge to roll his eyes as he takes a seat at his desk, keeping his eyes glued on the scribbles all over your copy of the syllabus

there’s no way he’s gonna work with someone who thinks pastel purple is an appropriate colour to use when taking notes

he reaches over to grab his coffee, taking a sip and-

his coffee is cold

he waited too long and now his coffee is cold, and he would’ve been drinking perfectly lukewarm coffee if it weren’t for the fact that you came and disrupted his whole schedule like this

“anyway, i’m open to discussing spicing up the syllabus once you have the time. i don’t want to take up any of your office hours, i know you probably have students lined up outside already-“ you fold the syllabus back up into four squares before tucking it away into your tote bag (namjoon is once again appalled you don’t have a folder for your papers and seem to have based your organising system off mary poppins’ purse), “but it was really nice meeting you, dr. kim. you have my phone number and email when you want to arrange a meeting.”

“…right…” namjoon trails off, and for the first time is rendered completely speechless and doesn’t know what else to say

all he knows is that there’s no way in hell he’s going to allow this co-professor business to happen.

»»————- 📚 ————-««

you let out a breath as you shut the door behind you, your shoulders finally slumping

you hated that whole interaction

you can already tell that working with namjoon is going to be a pain in the ass

you’d heard some things about him — you’d heard about how great of a lecturer he is and how he genuinely cares about what he’s teaching and what his students are learning from him, but you’d also heard that he was pretty stuck in his ways and not… super cooperative, which you already saw first hand

at the same time, you had to admit that that was a quality that both of you shared — you’re not exactly a fan of being co-professors, you’d much rather just take the reins and lead the class yourself while namjoon sits off to the side, but you are the new one around here and you do want to be liked

so you can play nice for now, because the most important thing you’re focusing on is securing your place as an official staff member and making a great first impression on your new co-workers and your new students

you’d prefer for namjoon to like you, but he seems to be a tough nut to crack

the both of you should at least try to get along, and you’re willing to do that as long as he’s willing to meet you in the middle

so… let’s just hope he’s willing to meet you in the middle

your phone buzzes in the back pocket of your jeans and you pull it out, surprised to already see a text from namjoon

okay

this is great!

the fact that he’s already opening a line of communication is a good sign, maybe this semester won’t be hell on earth after all

the smile on your face slowly disappears when you finally get around to reading the texts, your eyebrows knitting together instead

Hello, Dr. Y/L/N. This is Kim Namjoon. Please save my number so that we may communicate with each other if needed. The semester has already begun, therefore I don’t think there has to be any changes made to my syllabus. We do not need to discuss this topic any further. Thank you.

you don’t even get a chance to really process his text before another one pops up

Also, please stick to black, blue, and red ink for future note-taking and grading purposes. Pastel purple is not an appropriate colour for a higher education atmosphere. Thank you.

»»————- 📚 ————-««

namjoon sighs to himself as he makes his way up the brick stairs to enter the philosophy building, reaching up to adjust his tie

for the first time ever, he’s running a little behind (only by like, three minutes, he’s not that reckless) but it’s only because he spent the earlier portion of the afternoon speaking with the department head and practically pleading them to change their minds about this whole co-professor situation

he’d gone into the office with many good arguments tucked into a neat little powerpoint presentation

for example, he doesn’t need a co-professor because he knows what he’s doing and you would only slow him down

also his students consistently have high grades and his classes are always packed each semester so there’s no issues with consistency or lack of interest

sure, philosophy can be a stiff subject to work with but he thinks he’s done a great job at teaching it and upkeeping enthusiasm

the point is he doesn’t need you, and if anything you should just be teaching your own class and the students who don’t make it into his class can all go to you!

(maybe he shouldn’t have made that last comment, but it’s true.)

but of course, because luck wasn’t on his side, his presentation didn’t convince the department head to change his mind

apparently you were a “great addition” to the staff and that namjoon should feel lucky he gets to work alongside such a “smart, well-spoken young professional” who is “just as good at teaching as he is”

ridiculous

totally ridiculous

what’s even more ridiculous is the fact that you seem to have become a fan favourite despite only being here for literally a week

your mug is already right next to his in the cupboard in the professor’s lounge

it’s clearly a handmade mug you probably made at one of those pottery places because the edges are a little bumpy which makes it wobble a little when you put it face down

the outside is an eggplant purple and the inside of the cup is painted a shade of sage green and it looks like a child would drink chocolate milk out of it

his mug is sensible and professional

it’s plain white with his initials on the front printed in times new roman

everyone knows it’s his mug and there’s never any confusion

he even heard a rumour about one of the spare rooms in the philosophy department being cleared out for a new office for you if things work out

and yes, he has his own office already, but he just thinks everyone is being a little hasty clearing out an office space just for you

he can’t even imagine how you’d decorate the space

you’re probably one of those people who have little trinkets everywhere and you’ll probably have like a miniature pool table on your desk to play with

he shudders as he thinks about having to sit in oversized beanbag chairs instead of actual chairs

“alright, alright, alright!”

namjoon’s surprised when he opens the lecture hall door to an unusually bustling room, the students chatting animatedly as they flip through their notebooks

the air is alive with the rustling of papers, clinking of metal water bottles, and the occasional burst of laughter and he frowns as he sees a few of them leaning forward enthusiastically compared to the usual scene of them scrolling through their phones or talking to each other

he turns his head and sees you at the front of the room, perched casually on the edge of the desk twirling a purple pen between your fingers before shoving it into your bun, “now, something a little controversial...” you pause dramatically, “red ink for grading. ethical, or a crime against student morale?”

namjoon’s jaw immediately clenches as he rolls his eyes — obviously this has something to do with the text he sent you the other day about your ridiculous coloured pens and your little ego’s been bruised and that’s why you’re being bratty

but whatever, because if anything this is just proving his point — you’re an immature little kid totally unfit to be his equal! and he’s more than happy to let you make a fool of yourself in front of his students, so sure, go ahead and talk about your little purple pen for all he cares

the room erupts in laughter and groans and namjoon silently makes his way over to the front to join you, pulling his chair back to see that you’ve already put your backpack down on it

he picks it up and plops it down on the ground, using his foot to kick it under the desk before taking a seat and hanging his backpack on the back of the chair

“i always feel like i’m being yelled at when i see red ink!”

“exactly!” you laugh, sliding up to sit on the edge of the desk with your legs swinging slightly, completely blocking the class from seeing namjoon, “it’s psychological torture. red ink doesn’t just mark mistakes, it screams them. it’s aggressive. but what about if i used green? or pink? or… pastel purple? would you feel a little different about your grade?”

“it would feel… friendlier?”

“friendlier, right?” you grin, tapping your temple as you look out at the room of enthusiastic students, “then here’s the real ethical dilemma, kids — if something as small as ink colour affects how we perceive feedback, then what do we think that says about bigger, more serious choices? if we can reframe an experience with something as simple as colour, then what other biases are shaping the way we see the world around us? something to think about...”

“are you just about done, dr. y/l/n?” namjoon raises an eyebrow, tapping his fingers against the desk as he leans back against his chair, “because i’d like to get started with class now, if you’re ready to go.”

“ah! dr. kim, sorry — i know you usually like to start your classes with a silent ten minutes of quiet reflection of last week’s lecture, but i figured i’d warm up the class myself since this is my first day as co-professor.” you chirp, sliding off the desk before turning to face the class again, “very lovely to meet you all and i’m looking forward to getting to know each and every one of you as we progress with the semester!”

“kiss ass.” namjoon coughs into his fist quietly, getting up from his seat before smiling warmly at his students, nudging you aside with his hip before clapping his hands together, “alright, class! medieval philosophy, let’s get into it…”

you immediately roll your eyes when you turn to face away from the class, taking a seat next to the desk and crossing one leg over the other

he’s just jealous because the students clearly like you more and you’ve only been here five minutes

but if this is how he wants to play, then you’re more than willing to play along.

»»————- 📚 ————-««

namjoon finds that the simplest things in life bring him the most pleasure

a hot cup of black coffee, the perfect scent of sandalwood in a room, the feeling of cracking the spine on a brand new notebook…

but most importantly, a perfectly toasted buttery flaky croissant from the cafe on the bottom floor of the philosophy building

he’s eaten these croissants ever since he was a student here, and he always has a croissant after he teaches classes here on tuesdays and thursdays — it’s like a reward!

“what do you mean there are no more croissants?!” namjoon slams both palms down on the counter, pulling away immediately when he feels that the surface is a little sticky

gross

“sorry, namjoon!” hoseok shrugs, “i just sold the last croissant to- actually, i think you know her, she said she’s the new professor in the philosophy department-“

you.

“i know who you’re talking about.” namjoon grits his teeth, looking at the pastry case for anything else that might satisfy his midday sweet treat craving but he doesn’t want a stupid sea salt chocolate chip cookie or a raspberry white chocolate scone, he wants his plain buttery croissant that you probably only bought to spite him!

“yeah, her!” hoseok grins, setting namjoon’s coffee down on the counter, “she’s really nice, isn’t she? she said she likes the way i do my leaf design on her caramel lattes, no one’s ever complimented my leaves before- it just feels so nice to be appreciated for once-“

“no!” namjoon snaps, pointing a finger at hoseok, “you have to stop yourself from being charmed by her, it’s all an act and- and- next time she asks for a latte, you should do a giant- a GIANT frowney face-“

“well, i don’t think i’m going to do that but-“ hoseok frowns when he notices a vein starting to bulge out namjoon’s forehead, “hey, you seem a little tense! how about a cookie on the house?” he asks, using his tongs to pick up the sad-looking cookie before putting it in a paper bag for namjoon, “it’s just a croissant, namjoon. i know you like ‘em every tuesday and thursday but if it makes you feel better i’ll save you one on thursday! it seems like both of you guys like croissants so i can definitely save two of them-“

the both of them look over to where you’re sitting by the window with his croissant while you flip to the next page of whatever stupid book you’re reading, and namjoon’s gaze doesn’t waver in the slightest when you look up and over at them

you smile brightly, raising the croissant in the air a little before taking a massive bite out of it, rubbing your stomach and nodding your head exaggeratingly

namjoon’s eye twitches and he turns back to look at hoseok

“it is not just a croissant and you know that, hoseok-“ he snatches the cookie from his friend before shaking his head in disappointment, “she is a siren and you are a helpless, weak little sailor-“

“hey! what the hell, man?!”

“WEAK little sailor!” namjoon exclaims as he storms away, angrily shoving the cookie into his mouth and wiping crumbs off with the back of his hand sloppily

»»————- 📚 ————-««

“tae, have you seen my mug?” you frown, taking a few steps back to see if you can get a better view of the second shelf, “i usually have it on the first shelf but i can’t find it anywhere…”

“is it not there?” taehyung — he’s the janitor here and you guys got along pretty quickly — hums, setting his mop aside before walking over to join you by the cupboards, “i swear i saw it there this morning, that’s odd. i’ll keep an eye out and let you know if i see it anywhere. you sure you didn’t leave it in your lecture hall?”

“no…” you trail off, shutting the cupboard doors gently with a sigh, “hm. i’m sure it’ll pop up somewhere. thanks, anyway…”

you like to think that you’re a pretty chill person, but there’s just something about misplacing something that really irks you

because then you start thinking about when the last time you saw the missing object was and then it turns into a spiral of how you could be so careless and irresponsible and lose something and also it makes you anxiously think about someone else using something that belongs to you and only you

that’s your good luck mug!

you made it at a colour-me-mine in freshman year and you’ve used it ever since

you’re convinced it has some kind of magical power because the mug always happens to be there when you get good news

it was there when you got accepted into your graduate program, your doctoral program, and it was literally in your hands when you got the email from the university accepting you as a new professor

so… hopefully it does pop up somewhere

you used it yesterday after class and you remember washing and drying it immediately before sliding it back on the shelf

you chew on the corner of your lip as you push open the door to the lecture hall, your eyes widening when you see namjoon standing there taking a sip from your mug

you open your mouth to say something but he immediately brings a finger up to his lips to shush you — the class is having their silent time and the last thing you want to do is cause a scene, right?

“that’s my mug.” you whisper through gritted teeth, and namjoon moves his hands to the side quickly when you reach up to try to snatch it out of his hands, “you have a stupid, boring mug already-“

“oh, but your mug is so much fun!” namjoon grins, taking another sip of water from it

(it’s actually killing him having to drink from this cursed vessel. why are the edges so bumpy?! how do you drink from this stupid thing without dribbling all over yourself?!)

“it is on, dr. kim.” you hiss, forcing a smile on your face when a few students look up from their desks, “it is so on.”

“hm.” namjoon clears his throat quietly, the two of you standing side by side with your arms pressed together, “bring it, dr. y/l/n.”

»»————- 📚 ————-««

the next few weeks seem to go by like a blur — maybe because you’re actually having a good time teaching the class and slowly growing more comfortable being a professor (you agreed to stick to namjoon’s syllabus only if he allowed you to teach your ethics of AI lecture) but also because this rivalry between the two of you seems to be keeping you on high alert

after the croissant and the mug incident, the two of you only continued to one-up each other

you replaced the sandalwood essential oil in the lecture hall with a refreshing peppermint (and you really doused it in the machine so it would take multiple cycles to be fully flushed out) and in response namjoon bought the entire jug of caramel syrup from the cafe so you’d be forced to pick another flavour

and then you took all of namjoon’s sensible coloured whiteboard markers and replaced them with bright, fun ones forcing him to write in a fuschia pink and in response namjoon bought all fifteen croissants that day which felt kind of dramatic but at the same time you can’t help but kind of respect it

whatever

all you know is that you despise kim namjoon

every morning when you wake up, you’re thinking about how else you can terrorise him besides just taking the last croissant in the display case

every night before bed, you’re thinking about how else you can make fun of his stupid powerpoint presentations and you even considered hacking his laptop and adding fun transitions to his powerpoints to throw him off

he hates fun transitions

with that being said, you’re willing to put the fight on pause because today is an important day — it’s your first time leading a lecture! you’ve been prepping for this ethics in AI lecture and you’re more than excited to show the class (and namjoon) what you’re capable of

and if all goes well, you will be rubbing this success in his stupid, handsome face.

“handfphome?” you blurt out, toothbrush hanging out of your mouth as you blink at yourself in the mirror

oh no

you don’t actually think he’s handsome, do you?

well, there was that one time he rolled his sleeves up to his elbows and when he turned around you couldn’t help but notice how broad his back was

and that other time you were looking at his hands when he was pointing to something on his stupid powerpoint and you couldn’t help but think that he had such pretty hands

and also he always smells really good — like a combination of smokey sandalwood and his natural musk

and when you listen to him speak it’s really soothing because he has a deep voice that kind of makes you feel like you’re floating on a cloud being rocked back and forth

he’s also very intelligent and incredibly well-spoken

highly educated, charming in his own weird way (not with you, but you’ve seen the way he interacts with other professors), kinda funny sometimes, and you only know he’s single because you overheard two students whispering about it in the hallway — apparently they’d done a deep dive of his socials and there was no partner to be found, his instagram page was full of pictures of plants and quotes from philosophers

so basically he’s a hot single nerd who’s really into philosophy and plants and you guys are only two years apart and hypothetically if you didn’t know each other and you saw him at the bar you would probably feel a little flustered if he flirted with you

and maybe one time you watched him apply chapstick onto his plump lips and you wondered if they were as soft as they looked

…

you take your toothbrush out of your mouth, your eyes widening in realisation and-

“son of a BITC-“

»»————- 📚 ————-««

“would you let AI decide whether you get a loan? a job? parole? surgery?” you pause, letting the weight of the question settle over the students, “i know, it’s a crazy question. but maybe you already have… algorithms are making these decisions right now — sorting resumes, predicting crime, even diagnosing illnesses. AI is everywhere, and the question isn’t whether it should exist, it’s whether we should trust it…”

the only reason why namjoon is cooperating today is because you’ve (sort of) cooperated with his syllabus over the last couple weeks despite being a total menace to him personally

yes, he’ll let you teach your ethics in AI lecture today because he’s interested in seeing what points you’ll bring up today

he can also tell you’ve been really nervous about leading your first lecture and he still remembers how nervous he was when he was in your position, so he’ll take it easy on you

he caught you practicing your intro in the professor’s lounge and he slowly backed out so that you wouldn’t see him

and he’ll never say this to your face but from the intro alone it sounds like a pretty promising lecture

and it was kind of cute seeing you fumble with your cue cards and going over your lines with your eyes shut

namjoon leans back against his chair as he listens to you speak, keeping his eyes on the back of your head as he crosses his arms over his chest

sure, maybe you’re more than immature when it comes to buying his croissants and replacing his scented oils, but…

oh god

does he respect you as an educator?!

he pauses for a second to think, watching as you reach up to fiddle with a button on your shirt nervously

also you actually dressed up today compared to your usual attire of a sweater and jeans and namjoon can’t help but notice that your ass looks really round in that pencil skirt

he tilts his head slightly as his eyes continue staring at you from behind, the ooga booga man part of his brain wondering how it’d feel to grasp your waist and cup your ass as he-

oh no

he feels his dick twitch in his boxers and he clears his throat quietly, looking down at the desk and focusing on a speck of dust instead

what is this feeling?

he’s pretty sure he hates you

and he’s pretty sure you hate him, so it doesn’t make sense for him to suddenly be thinking about how sweet you smell and how pretty your smile is and how funny it actually was for you to buy the last croissant just to get on his nerves

nope

you guys don’t like each other!

that’s how this works!

you just came in here and totally messed up his flow and you just expect him to go along with it but he refuses to do that and after this semester is over he hopes they stick you in another building far, far away from him

he doesn’t need anyone messing with his routine, and especially not some hotshot professor who just got her phd

“now, some of my less adventurous colleagues-“ you step aside to reveal namjoon, and namjoon feels his jaw twitch when the class laughs lightly after you gesture to him, “would tell you that AI is a dangerous pandora’s box, something that we should fear. and sure, it’s got its problems… bias, accountability, control. but let’s not kid ourselves — human decision making isn’t exactly perfect, either. AI didn’t invent discrimination, it just inherited it from us. so can we teach morality to something that doesn’t feel?”

“AI is a threat to ethical stability. we’re delegating moral decision-making to machines that lack genuine understanding, consciousness, or accountability.” namjoon butts in, standing up from his desk with a scoff, “how can we trust algorithms with decisions that affect human lives when they can’t even grasp mortality in any meaningful way?”

you look at him, slightly surprised that he’s interrupted you this early in your lecture for a debate

but sure, you’ll give it a go — the two of you haven’t actually debated over a subject before and you’re down to totally humiliate him in front of the class

“dr. kim is a great example of what sounding like a doomsday prophet is, class.” you smile sweetly, fluttering your lashes at namjoon as the class breaks into a few giggles and chuckles, “AI is a tool. nothing more, nothing less. it doesn’t need to ‘grasp’ mortality than a calculator needs to ‘understand’ math. the ethical responsibility lies with us! blaming AI is like blaming a knife for stabbing.”

“that’s a dangerously naive view, dr. y/l/n!” namjoon laughs, the two of you staring each other down as you stand at opposite ends of the desk, “AI systems are already making high-stakes decisions — these systems inherit biases from their training data and can operate in ways even their own creators can’t explain. if we don’t impose strict ethical guidelines, we’re ceding control to forces we barely understand-“

“you’re acting like we’re summoning some digital god that’ll enslave us all! AI doesn’t have agency — instead of fearing it, we should focus on improving transparency and fairness in these systems. ethics in AI isn’t about rejecting technology, it’s about guiding it responsibly-“

“guiding it-“ namjoon can practically hear his heart thumping in his chest as his frustration rises inside him, “guiding it responsibly?! and what happens when corporations prioritise efficiency over ethics? what- what about when governments exploit AI for mass surveillance? when biased training data leads to systemic discrimination? you’re placing blind faith in a system that rewards profit over morality- you’re playing a dangerous game, dr. y/l/n, AI isn’t just another tool, it’s a tool we may not be able to control. and your reckless optimism makes you too eager to hand over the reins-“

“maybe you just don’t like that i’m willing to embrace the unknown!” you throw your hands up into the air before pointing an accusatory finger at him, “maybe that unsettles you because you have everything planned to a ridiculous degree, like the temperature of your coffee and what time you eat your croissants-“

“what unsettles me is your inability to take this seriously!” namjoon presses his lips into a firm line, feeling his face heating up, “you act as if ethics in AI is some intellectual playground when in reality, it has life-or-death consequences-“

“oh, i take it very seriously, dr. kim, i just don’t think fear is the right response. fear clouds judgement, and i think you just like to have an insane amount of control over things-“

“well, excuse me! someone has to have control, someone has to make sure we don’t create something we can’t contain-“

“you always think you can contain things, don’t you?”

“and you always think you can push boundaries without consequences!”

“you’d be surprised how many boundaries can be pushed safely, dr. kim.”

there’s a beat of silence between the two of you, the air heavy with something that doesn’t feel like loathing, but rather…

you pause, remembering all of a sudden that the students should be debating with each other instead of watching their professors do it

“uh-“ you turn back to face the class before letting out a chuckle, “let’s take twenty minutes to discuss this subject with the person next to you! dr. kim and i have to re-evaluate the structure of today’s lecture, please pardon us-“

the class breaks into discussion and both you and namjoon exchange glares as you head towards the door

the two of you stumble against each other and get caught in the door for a second, both of you wanting to be the first one out to lead the way

“oh, get off me-“

“you get off me!”

“what is your problem?!” you snap as soon as you leave the lecture hall, heading straight for an empty classroom nearby, “you’re supposed to let me lead this lecture, today was my day and you just couldn’t help yourself!”

when the hell is this going to end?!

there’s no way the both of you can work together if he’s going to get this heated in a debate

and sure, he made some really good points and the nerd inside of you is saying that that really good debate session might as well been some form of foreplay but that’s beside the point

“oh, please.” namjoon kicks the door shut behind him, “all we did was get into a debate, you should be glad i participated at all-“

“you know what, i actually do know what your problem is.” you whip around, jabbing a finger into his (firm) chest, “you’re just a little man who’s threatened by me because we both know i can do your job just as well — or honestly, even better than you can, and this is the first time you’ve had any sort of competition. i’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news but you just have to accept the fact that i’m going to be here and i’m sticking around for a long, long-“

“i’m going to kiss you, and if you don’t want that to happen, then tell me now and we can go back to the classroom and i’ll sit there quietly for the rest of your lecture.” namjoon interrupts, and your eyes widen as your breath hitches in your throat

“wha-“ your voice cracks and you feel your face flush, “you- i’m sorry, what?”

“you heard me, y/n.” namjoon looks down at you, and you’re half expecting him to quit the act and say that he’s just fucking with you, but… “so what’s it going to be?”

a moment of silence passes and you feel your thighs press together slightly when namjoon reaches up to loosen his tie slightly, his chest falling and rising in heavy breaths, “funny. you’re so quiet all of a sudden.”

“i…” your lashes flutter as you stare up at him, “fine. you- we-“ you straighten your posture, trying your best not to show how flustered you actually are, “but make it quick because i have a lecture to-“

without another word, namjoon closes the distance between the two of you and in one fluid motion, presses his lips against yours and now you can finally confirm that his lips are as soft as they look

you grip the front of his shirt to pull him closer, deepening the kiss with a fervor that matches the intensity of your back-and-forth over the last few weeks

your lips move against each other’s as namjoon’s hands slide around your waist to pull you in even tighter, his body pressing against yours as if he can’t get close enough

you’re breathless when the two of you eventually pull away, your cheeks flushed and your heart thumping wildly in your chest

“this better not be some weird prank-“ you manage to blurt out, head still spinning from what was a very, very good kiss, “because i’m petty enough to call the catering company and tell them to nix the croissant deliveries entirely-“

namjoon laughs, leaning down for another kiss — this time softer, more deliberate — before pulling away with a playful eye roll

“we’re gonna go back in and you’ll finish your lecture, and if you’re free tonight, i’d love to take you out for dinner.” he murmurs, and if you didn’t know any better you’d think he was being a little shy

it’s cute

“i’ll go out with you… on one condition.” you hum, reaching up to adjust his glasses for him

“hm?”

“next week you let me lead a lecture on examining the moral dilemmas faced by superheroes in film and comics — like how batman has a no-kill rule and-“

namjoon immediately groans as he turns and heads towards the door, “oh my god, you are infuriating-“

“what?! it’s a good subject!”

🎙️ ask y/n about her thoughts on the nature of consciousness (talk to my characters!)

📚 why not explore the rest of the library while you're here? (go say hi to yoongi and y/n in la vie en bonsai!)

💫 or perhaps you want something shorter to read? (drabbles and mini series!)

🌟 or something even shorter? (teeny tidbits!)

593 notes · View notes

ftminyoongi · 2 months ago

Text

𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 | M. Yoongi

title. our season

summary. where y/n writes letters to min yoongi, the person she knew before Suga and the person she misses dearly.

pairings. yoongi x fem. reader/writer

genre. journal entries, flashback scenarios

warnings. this collection of entries will contain sensitive topics regarding depression, loneliness, abandonment, etc. please read at your own discretion if sensitive to these topics.

╭──────────.★..─╮

*ch. 001, the scar*

╰─..★.──────────╯

2014 January 6

Journal Entry 1

I remember the way your eyes would close when you gave me that gummy smile of yours. The pictures do not show every little wrinkle or crease of that smile. I remember doing everything I could to make you laugh even when you had tears in your eyes. I remember the smile you gave me when I would bring you food that I learned how to cook, just so you had something to eat that day.

I feel like I am forgetting every one of those details as the days go by. You used to be a phone call away but now your phone rings and it says unavailable. I could walk over to your house but now you live in a shared apartment with your band mates. Now I live a whole plane flight away from our hometown and you don't know where.

I wonder if you think of me like I think of you, I wonder if you think of every memory we have made since we were children or the times I was there for you when no one else was. I have and will always be your number one supporter even if we don't talk anymore. I miss you but all I have left are our precious memories.

Do you remember when we were 7 and liked to play in my parents clothes? We would get in so much trouble for dirtying it but it was okay because we ran around the house like we were getting chased by a monster. We did not have anything to worry about as long as we were together.

—

"Yoongi, run! The monster is going to catch us!" Y/n yelled while laughing and grabbing Yoongi's hand. They ran away from Y/n's mom because Y/n was wearing her mothers dress and Yoongi was in her fathers suit.

They laughed together even when they knew they were going to get scolded later by both of their parents but it didn't matter, not now. Y/n was running in heels which resulted in her falling down and hitting her head on a cabinet. Yoongi looked at her and laughed. She hit him on the leg while complaining that it hurt so much.

He soon shut his mouth when he saw blood coming out of her forehead, "Mom! Y/n is bleeding! She hit her head! She is bleeding!"

"You see, you see! This is why I tell you two to not be running around like this but you never listen. Yoongi, I am going to call your mom to come pick you up so get changed. Y/n, sit down so I can clean you up."

Y/n's mother walked away and disappeared into the restroom where they kept the first aid kit. Yoongi sat down next to Y/n and held her hand. She squeezed his hand and complained about how much it hurt. Although his hand was hurting from how tight Y/n was squishing it, he said nothing and just sat next to her, comforting her and telling her it would be okay.

When Y/n's mom applied the ointment and cleaned her wound, Y/n was a crying mess. It burned but she knew she could not do anything about it. Yoongi's parents had gotten there fairly quickly, they only live about 10 minutes away, and he immediately got scolded.

They were blaming Yoongi, even when they knew it was probably Y/n's idea. Y/n kept defending him but her mother said to keep quiet and let the adults talk. She could tell Yoongi was holding back tears but he always refused to cry, at least in front of her. She hated that, but she couldn't force him to cry either.

—

The scar on my forehead has slowly started to fade. May be that is a way of the world telling me it is time to let you go.

Sometimes I think about emailing your company but then I would probably seem crazy if I did. I like thinking back about dumb moments like these because even if I don't remember it detail by detail, I remember what I felt at that moment.

I felt hurt, scared, and mad. Hurt because my head was pounding so hard, I could hear my heartbeat. Scared because I knew that our parents would scold us for hours and I hated seeing you sad. Mad because you laughed at me when I was hurt but now that I think about it, I am happy and sad.

I would do anything to go back and feel all that again, even if it means hitting my head again or getting scolded. At least I would be next to you and we would be able to comfort one another.

You would call my parents mom and dad. That is how close we were. I don't know if you remember that, but I do. Then, as the years went by, you started calling them by their last names and a Mr or Mrs in front of them. It might be a small change but that is when I knew, things were changing between us. Nevertheless, I still miss you.

I miss you so much.

Sincerely,

L/N Y/N

— notes! hi everyone, this is actually a story i wrote back in 2022 on wattpad that i never published. I was reading it and really enjoyed it so i hope you all do too. I only have two and a half chapters written but I plan to write at least five. This will be a short series! Please let me know what you all think. Also, if there are any typos or a name used for the reader, let me know, this story used to have an OC.

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kosmosguk · 1 year ago

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Lineage (M) | Special Chapter: How It Began

Pairing: Duke Yoongi x Princess Reader

Word Count: 4.4K

Summary: When an engagement locks you, the 8th and forgotten princess, to the duke infamous for his cruelty, you find yourself counting the days until your inevitable death. It’s terrifying to think of your end, but when you arrive at his territory, you realize there’s a more morbid reason behind your marriage, and that the duke is much worse than the rumors have painted him out to be. But many years before the events of Lineage's main story takes place, there was once only the love of a beloved goddess and a damned demon.

Warnings: HEAVY yandere themes, death, gore and death, near-death experiences, obsessive behaviors, manipulation, mentions of smut, 18+, explicit language

A/N: Surprise, everyone! It's been, what, 4 years since I finished Lineage and 3 years since I stopped writing on this blog. I've been through a lot of ups and downs in the meantime (to underplay it), but I'm now in a pretty good spot. I've thought about writing this for years and there's probably at least 10 incomplete versions of this on my old laptop, but writer's slump was a huge barrier. It wasn't until a conversation with a roommate who had complained that a fic she liked was never fully fully complete that I thought about trying again, from scratch, to complete this part for Lineage. Lineage will always be my baby, and on a reread of it to prepare to write this chapter, the me of the past did do better than expected (probably better than the me of today). I don't know if any of my original readers are still here from the days when I was active on this blog, but even if it's just one, I hope I brought this story alive just a little longer. Will I write the epilogue though (which also has 10+ incomplete drafts)? We'll see :) Hopefully it won't take another 4 years!

A beautiful clearing stretched on underneath the heat of a sun that always remained warm. It was green and lush, but void of any budding blooms. There were bits of dried flowers that showed that there might have been flowers once, which had blossomed as quick back then as rain drops fell from the sky. This clearing was eternal, and it could only be changed by the touch of a being blessed by the divine or damned by the evil.

A man, cloaked in black, bent down into the clearing. There was only one more bloom now that still remained, a reminder of a time that seemed distant and far. It was hard to pick out from the shadows that spread from his feet, but he restrained the shadows until the yellow flower could tentatively peek out through the green.

It was time now. He could bring her back. She would fill this clearing with flowers again like she did before, and she would laugh as he clumsily wove together a crown from them.

He plucked the flower out of the grass and pressed it against his lips tenderly. It shriveled and dried up, leaving a colorless husk. He let it flutter out of his grasp and looked up at the sun for the first time in his existence.

"I will bring you back," he promised then. His voice sounded like he had not spoken in many years. He pulled out his sword and pierced it into the grass, watching the green shrivel into gray.

In the glint of his sword, there was a reflection of a young maiden, her fists kneading against a ball of dough. When she moved slightly, nudging the hair off of her shoulders, a hint of red was seen on her skin.

You were born in a field of flowers, blooming beautifully underneath a sky lit with gold. The daughter of the God of Life and the Goddess of Creation, you were beloved by all beings who relied on the earth to live. You, who had lived under the protection of all who was Good, were woefully ignorant of the true darkness of those who lived in the shadows of Evil.

But then on a peaceful day, not unlike the day you had been born, you realized then how easy it was for Evil to creep into the realm of the Good.

“Wake up, my goddess!”

You flinched, peeking your eyes open to the Fairy of Tulips pulling the hem of your tunic with her small fists. “I am sleeping, Little Tulip. Only official orders will wake me.”

The sun was warm against your skin, and the clarity of your mind was still soft from the blurry haze of sleep. Though deities had little need for sleep, your habit of naps was known far and wide through the Creators’ realm. You tried to close your eyes again, nestling back into the bed of grass, and brush her off your clothes, but she clung onto your palm, chomping on your thumb. You yelped, now wide awake.

She squinted down at you, fluttering up off your palm, and placed her hands on her hips, the sunrise tulip petals adorning her body swaying in her frenzy. “The flowers have been murmuring that there’s evil nearby! We have to leave. Now!”

You laughed. Evil? Evil had not existed in this realm for many eons, after the War ended with victory of the Good. But when the little fairy’s expression didn’t show a hint of amusement and the muttering of the flowers around you remained, you frowned and pushed yourself up to stand.

“If you are certain of evil, then I will bring myself to check it out. It would not do any of us good if I left the situation unchecked, as we are by the border of the realm.” You stepped forward, flowers blooming underfoot to soften your path. The little fairy tugged at your clothes, hoping to stop you, but you kept walking further away from the clearing you had been lazing in towards the forest by it. Instead of the welcoming lush green that usually greeted you, the forest was coated in darkness.

When the muttering of the flowers pitched in volume, you knew you were getting close. You placed your hands out, ready to call for nature’s aid if the situation called for it. However, instead of some vile creature looming over you with venom oozing from its pores, a young man laid in the midst of the darkness. A closer look prompted a gasp to leave your lips. He was beautiful, more beautiful than any deity you had ever seen, and if you had not been entrenched in shadows, you could have been fooled to believe him holy. But the oozing black blood from the wound on his side and his eyes, which flickered open to glower at you, were a startling red.

He scooted back, his free hand falling to the blade by him.

“I will not hurt you!” you spoke before you could process the thought, mesmerized by the sight of his eyes. You showed him your hands. Your eyes dropped to the curve of his lips, which if it had not been pulled in a sneer would have been lush and have softened his features. “I am a healer and a grower, not a killer.”

His expression decreased in hostility. You hesitatingly asked: “Is it alright if I come close? You can keep your sword by you, and if I do anything unpleasant, I will understand if you slay me but...” You teetered for a moment. “But if you kill me, I cannot ensure your safety and that would be bad for you and me. Me because I would be dead and you because you would also be dead and...”

You were interrupted by a laugh. Your eyes flickered back to him. He looked startled at the sound he had made, and you smiled brightly in response. You took a step closer. When he did not tense, you dropped to your knees and raised your palm over his side. You lifted your gaze to meet his, and both of you sat in an entranced silence, staring at the other. His eyes dropped to your lips, though there was still a guarded look to him, and you held your breath.

“Do you want me to put my hand down?”

“What?” you sputtered. Oh. Heat burned at your cheeks as you noticed the playful tug of his lips. You nodded quickly. He must have thought you were amusing. You focused back on healing, and you would leave and tell Little Tulip to not say a word. You vowed that you would never see this brute, who enjoyed your embarrassment, again.

When he dropped his hand, you called your healing power, but the unpleasant quirk of your lips increased the time it took to fully heal his wound. When the flesh closed over the wound, you leapt back to your feet. You felt foolish, very unlike the noble and dignified deity you were supposed to be.

“I am going now. I will not tell a soul about you. You do not need to thank me, but I will tell you that you must not wander into this realm again. I guarantee that the next deity you meet will not be as forgiving as me and...”

Your lips pinched together when you felt his touch around your wrist. He pulled your hand down, and lifted his head to kiss the inside of your palm. You flinched at the press of his lips on your skin. He looked up at you, mistrust no longer in his eyes. “You are my savior. May I not be able to see you anymore?”

You dropped your gaze from his. If he heeded your words and you no longer saw him again, would the emptiness in you at the thought grow more and more?

“Only here,” your voice was but above a whisper. “If I see your shadows in the woods, I will come find you. But you must not come find me.”

He was silent for a second. “You are as cruel as you are kind, my goddess.”

He still had not let go of your hand and though his touch was cold, you felt fire licking up where his fingers made contact with your skin. You pulled your hand back like he had scalded you and spun on your heel, flowers having barely enough time to bloom underneath your bare feet with the quickness that you fled.

When you left the woods, your feet scratched up for the first time in your existence and your cheeks red, you could only force yourself to squeeze out a sentence at the quivering little fairy: “There was no evil.”

Your encounters with him continued, in secret and away from prying eyes. You talked about your visits to the human world: the songs you had heard and how you wished you could have danced and the loaves of bread you spotted cooling on the tables. You even talked about how your duties burdened you, though you were made to fulfill them, and how you felt like you were only able to handle them out of love for your humans. He talked about the books he had picked up in the human world, how he had found them meager and naïve at first and then interesting, and the little lake of lava he had grown up by and skipped rocks in. Though he spoke very little, when he did, you were captured by him.

And with the increase of encounters, your feelings of love, which you had reserved for only the creations that had been blessed by the hands of the Creators, grew. You let him hold you close to his chest, and when you laid your head on his flesh, you swore you could almost hear a heart beat quicker and quicker.

On your seventh encounter, when you had brought a basket of flowers into the woods to weave into crowns, you had placed one on his head. When he reached out into your basket and pulled out a handful of flowers, you watched him clumsily weave the flowers together and place the lopsided crown on your head. How could this man, as tender and clumsy as he was, be evil?

When he looked dejected at the sight of the crown limply hanging onto your head, you laughed and pressed a soft kiss on his lips. You had seen your lovely humans do this to express their adoration. And it was accurate to the moment: you adored him, to the point where you could ignore where his origins had laid root in.

Immediately, his hands reached up around your waist and pressed you close until you were on his lap. You gasped against his lips, and his tongue was in your mouth, delving into its depths. You burned underneath his exploration, your hands clenching onto his clothes into fists. Oh, you had never known pleasure like this, so unlike the simpleminded happiness you felt watching the trees hum in the wind and your humans create art. This pleasure was different: it blazed hotly, burning down trees and creating destruction in its path.

When the two of you were separated, your eyes blurred in a haze, he brushed his finger over the plumpness of your bottom lip, soaked in the mixture of saliva. His eyes were filled with anguish, but for what, you did not know. “My name is Yoongi.”

You let out a startled gasp at this. Oh. Oh no. You knew this name. You pushed away from him and onto your feet, flinging an arm out to point at him. “You are the Demon God. You...!”

He was on his feet now, his hands reaching out to grab onto you. But you were inconsolable, banging your fists on his chest. Fire burned before your gaze, glimpses of your beloved humans hopelessly shielding their children from horrible monsters that would tear them apart and consume their remains. You knew those screams. You could hear them even now.

“You are the one to harm my beloved humans! I have seen your creations rise up, full of evil and malice. I have seen them destroy and terrorize and kill-!”

He held your hands to his chest, pressing your fists against where his heart would have been had he been human. The fight drained out of you, as you laid limply in his embrace, tears wetting the fabric of his clothes. His voice was ragged as he spoke. “I am full of evil, my goddess. I was full of evil. I admit, I who had been wandering in darkness did not know good. But you, who could have slain me, showed me good when you saved me. I can be good for you, as long as you do not leave me. You hold my pitiful existence in your hands.”

He reached up a hand to touch the flower crown. The crown disintegrated underneath his touch, leaving bits of ashes. “You see, whatever I touch, I destroy. But with you, I can control this damned ability of mine. I can see reason.” He swallowed heavily. “I can see you. And when I see you, I see all that is good. I can see the flowers that you love to smell and out of all of them, you love lilies the most. I can see that you love humans, though they pillage and lie and kill. I can see why all beings seek the warmth of the day and fear the coldness of night.”

You looked up at him. You could only see the redness of his eyes then. But beneath it, there was a being who you were certain loved you. And you loved him, as much as you loved your humans. He, who was evil, was nothing more than a creation led astray.

“I am sorry,” you finally whispered, a stray tear slipping down your cheek. “I...You will have to give me time.”

When you pushed yourself away from him, this time for good, you walked away.

When he saw that you had left without even a look back at him, he looked up as a large crow flew down. When it landed, it transformed into that of a handsome man with narrow eyes and bronzed skin and cheeks that would have revealed a dimple had he been a smiler.

“Namjoon,” Yoongi spoke, “Keep an eye on her for me. I will leave to deal with the issues of the Demon Realm.”

Namjoon nodded his head and hummed in agreement. “I will. A favor for a friend.”

Yoongi laughed. “Your associations with humans have made you more like them. A demon has no need for friends. In our existence, there are those who lead, and those who follow.”

Namjoon turned his head to look at where the little goddess had been. “And how would you describe her: a leader or a follower?”

Yoongi’s hands clenched briefly, like he could still feel her warmth, and his eyes were still pinned to where she had been. “She is holy. Holier than my damned existence. And yet I still want to monopolize her and make her look only at me.”

“So then?” Namjoon asked again. “How would you categorize her?”

Yoongi remained silent for a moment. Then, he vanished, leaving Namjoon alone in the forest. Namjoon thought to himself then: what about this little goddess captured the attention of a demon that had been damned from the beginning?

Namjoon kept a careful eye on the goddess. Though on the surface, it was due to orders from his liege, he could not help the insatiable curiosity about her. She was kind—though kindness was not much familiar to a demon like him. She certainly loved those humans, as foolish and terrible they were. And when she watched a wedding, there was a certain sadness lingering in her eyes that captured him.

And so, as Yoongi remained away from her side, Namjoon found himself fixated on this presence.

He had been following her in a crow form when he was caught by the pudgy hands of some kid who was little more than the neighborhood bully. The kid had thrown him onto the ground and menacingly reached down to start plucking at his feathers. He had thought about growing back into a fierce snake, who could rear up to bite the human that dared to grab him and leave him on the verge of death, when a voice cried out.

“Leave that bird alone!”

The child bully looked up, prepared to viciously attack the person who dared to interrupt his fun time, but swallowed his words at the sight of the glowering adult. The little goddess had taken on the form of a muscular man, with biceps that bulged like the size of a boulder, and the kid had been too flustered to come up with a retort. Instead, the kid dropped Namjoon’s bird form and sped off.

When the muscular man shifted back into the form of the little goddess, Namjoon watched as you ran up to him and lifted him up to inspect him. “Oh, I am so glad you were not harmed! I love those humans, but I do not particularly enjoy it when they decide to hurt other innocent beings.” You squinted down at him with analytical eyes. Namjoon gulped, fearing that you would have caught onto the true self that lingered underneath the disguise. “Do you think I was too mean by taking on that scary form, right?”

Namjoon shook his head, forgetting that birds should not have understood the human language. But you laughed like this was to be expected, and Namjoon felt silly: of course, animals like birds would understand the words of this goddess. “Good! Well, I will let you be now, little guy. Try to be more careful, so you will not get caught again. You are a handsome bird, with very beautiful feathers. There are many humans who would catch you just to capture your feathers.”

Namjoon puffed up in pleasure. Of course, he was beautiful. He was a high-ranking demon. This crow form was nothing for him. If anything, he was the most handsome crow out of all the crows that occupied the human realm. He squinted his eyes. What was he even thinking?

In his agitation, he fluttered his wings and flapped away, ignoring the tinkling sound of laughter that she made when he almost rammed into a tree branch.

When Yoongi returned and had asked Namjoon on how his goddess had fared without seeing him, Namjoon could not help the zip of pleasure that ran through him when he had answered that she had been more than fine, and Yoongi had glowered in response.

Namjoon then understood why Yoongi had been unable to answer him when he had asked which category the little goddess had occupied. She was neither a leader nor a follower. Her existence itself was a source of contentment, of happiness that destroyed the boundary between who was meant to control and who was meant to be controlled.

There were many creations that were beautiful. And there were few creations that were both beautiful and kind. But beautiful and kind creations never lived long.

You loved most the most beautiful and kind of the humans: a young girl who had lived as a daughter of a baron. You had chanced upon her on one of your visits, watching her help the poor though her family itself had little means, and when she had begged for help from a deity to help save her from her plight, you had been listening to her pleas that she not be sold to the vicious king that ruled over her kingdom.

You did something that you reserved for only your most favorite humans: you appeared in front of her. When you had offered her a way to avoid the favor of the king—a bell that would turn her into a bird that could fly out of the king’s grasp—she had laid on the ground and kissed your feet in joy.

But word of the goddess that appeared with the golden bell spread far and wide. And when you entered the human realm, wanting to see how that human girl was faring, you were soon captured by the king’s army. When you were lead to the throne room, your hands wrapped in chains, you were distraught at the sight of your most favorite human pointing at you.

“This is the goddess!” she declared. She turned to the king, who looked like a walking corpse with sallow skin and hollow cheeks underneath the gold and silk he wore. “Your majesty, I implore you to remember our deal. For her capture, you will let go of my parents and give us enough gold to revitalize our land and tend to our people.”

Oh, though she had betrayed you so, you felt a rush of pride. Betrayal for a good reason, you could tolerate, for you loved her so. But the king had merely raised his hand, and a knight rushed forward with a fell swoop of his sword. When her head, bloody, fell in front of you, you let out a ragged cry.

The king knelt down in front of you, a blade in his hand. You flinched as he wielded the knife...and sliced his palm open. He reached up to cup your cheek, smearing his blood on your flesh. “I heard tears from a goddess could cure all wounds.”

He lifted his palm back and watched with awe as the wound on his palm closed up. His eyes glowed with a sick greed. “Then it must be true. That the blood of a goddess can cure all ailment. You know, I had this knife brought to me for this very moment when I first heard the legends. It is made of a terrible evil capable of killing good. You should know that I was granted this knife from the Demon God himself after I sacrificed many peasants.”

He raised the knife and sliced your palm. You felt pain for the first time in your existence, but even more hurtful, you felt anguish bite at what might have been your heart. Gold ichor spilled out of your wound, and he hastily bent down to drink your blood. Color returned to his cheeks at once. You watched in disgust and horror as he laughed with glee. He sobered up, looking down at you. His eyes glittered with the remnants of the sickness that had imprisoned him so.

“Then it must be true. That the sacrifice of a goddess can fulfill any wish, a wish that would last for all of time. Your death can bring anyone back to life. For with your death, life will follow. I will be able to see my wife then.” He lifted the knife, and you were silent as he brought it down in a fell swoop. The blade pierced the flesh above your clavicle, but not a sound of pain left your lips. You pinched them together, even as your body collapsed on the cold floor.

You thought of Yoongi then. You wanted to let him know that you forgave him, for his deceit and for how he had tricked your beloved humans. But you were no longer capable of doing so. You were bleeding out on this floor, just like any other mortal that you had loved. You hoped that the Creators would not hurt the humans who had harmed you. There were many you had loved. And you knew that the Creators loved them even more so.

You saw a flash of red in front of your blurry gaze. A voice called your name, begging. You had never heard a voice that despaired like this voice did. You wondered, for a moment, why it sounded like Yoongi. Something wet splashed onto your skin, the sound of a crackle and a pop following. Ah, the tears of a demon, unlike the tears of a god, caused pain. But you did not feel any pain, not now. Ah, it was Yoongi.

You wanted to tell him that you loved him, that you saw good in him, that even when you were not around he could still be good. But your time, which had seemed to stretch on infinitely before, was now finite, limited by a few seconds left.

You whispered, gasping out short little breaths between the words. “I...forgive...all.”

“Wake...!” you heard.

And then you could speak no longer. And you could hear no longer.

The end of the realms was imminent. Underneath the grief of the ruler of the demon realm, fires roared and overtook earth. Soon, once earth was taken and destroyed, rage would spread and bring all that existed down to the burning afterworld.

The God of Life could not stand by and witness the end of all that he had created. When he had found himself in front of the Demon God, he had been prepared for the sword that the Demon God had pointed at his chest.

“You...! She is your daughter, and you wish me to spare the lives of the humans who...!” The Demon God had screamed in anguish. He laughed then, the sound ironic and cruel. "I know you beings are both cruel and kind. For if she had been less kind, she would have been less cruel, choosing her love of humans over...over our love."

The God of Life loved all he created very much. And he had loved his daughter, who had sprung forth from the love he had with his wife, very much as well. But as the Giver of Life, he was unable to upset the balance of the world he had created, not when the balance was so fragile. He could not bring his daughter back. Not without an equal trade. Not without a deal.

“More than you would ever know in your damned existence, I love her very much." Loved. "Yet, I too am unable to go against the tide of Fate." In that moment, for the first time in his existence that had always been steady and predictable, the God of Life relented.

"However, there is a chance for her to return.” He started. “But you must adhere to what I will tell you. So that you will not destroy the world, I will tell you of how you may be granted mercy from Fate. But there is little in this world that is certain."

The Demon God was silent now, his face stony and emotionless. But there was something dangerous taking root in his eyes. A sickness that could not be cured: Hope.

And Hope was the most dangerous thing, for as much as it could create, it could also destroy. Hope would be the reason why humanity would continue. And hope would be the reason why the king, who in his madness had killed a deity, did not die. And why many, many years later, a princess that once had been the most loved existence in all of the realms would be born into this kingdom in the absence of love.

For hope could destroy lineage, as much as it tried to preserve it.

A/N: As always, leave a comment! Though I'm not active like I used to be, I do check messages that come into my inbox and do see when y'all (if anyone is still here haha) comment. If anything, another motivator that had me come back to this blog just for this story was someone who messaged me two years ago. @theedungeonwitch, though I was in a not so great place then and wasn't able to respond to you, I'm leaving my flowers here for you now. No tag list, since I'm not sure who's still here and still willing to read this chapter :)

#yandere bts #yandere yoongi #yoongi x reader #yandere #bts x reader #bts fic #yandere x reader #bts yoongi #yandere fic #bts thriller au #bts reader insert #bts fanfiction #duke yoongi #yandere male #bts scenarios

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coupsie-daisies · 1 year ago

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Kinktober '23: Free Use | Jeon Jungkook and Jung Hoseok

Pairing: Boyfriend!Jeon Jungkook x Girlfriend!Reader x Jung Hoseok

Genre: Smut (minors DO NOT interact), established relationship

Summary: Jungkook knew that you were his dream girl from the moment he saw you, but when you agreed to be the band's free Use stress toy, he knew he was a goner

WC: 1.7k

Warnings: free use, cumshots, unprotected sex, pet names (pretty), threesome, oral (male receiving), fingering, light overstimulation, praise, homoeroticism lowkey, Jungkook is kinda a simp

A/N: Unedited because, I won't lie, I've been writing and rewriting this for ages and I just keep not being satisfied, so hopefully you guys enjoy it and I'm being overly critical. let me know!

Tags: @dragonofthenorth0726 // @wooyussy // @burningupp-replies // @bunnypig18 // @decaffedthoughts // @brownieracha // @ferrethyun // @moonchild0325 // @wonuqrtz // @mixling-blog // @wonwooz1-blog

Main Masterlist

Kinktober '23 Masterlist

This fanfiction is property of @/coupsie-daisies, reposting on any other platform is prohibited

When Jungkook met you for the first time, his entire world shifted on its axis. He thought you were the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen, and he could have sworn that when you spoke to him it was like music to his ears. But Jungkook didn't believe in love at first sight, he was a big boy now, long past stories of fairytale sorts.

So he took his time, he took you on dates, some elaborate beyond measure, and some mundane as anything, he learned you inside out, top to bottom. The most difficult part, he'd discovered, was letting you learn him back. He wasn't always good at opening up to people, but he found that with every piece of him that you became familiar with, it was easier to give you more.

And Jungkook gave as much as he received in return. He knew within months that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you, but his fate was sealed completely on a late autumn night. Him and the boys had just gotten back from a particularly long schedule and he was enjoying his night with you over drinks. He knew as well as you did that you were something of a lightweight, the alcohol streaming through you always loosened your tongue and brought out a more relaxed side of you.

But once you were settled on his lap, your mouth inching down his neck, the moment took an unexpected turn. Jungkook gripped your hips as they rolled over his, head tipped back against the couch as he revelled in the feeling of you pressed up against him.

"Missed you so fucking much," You mumbled, nipping at the skin, but hardly enough to leave a mark. "Wish you'd just taken me as soon as you got home. Need you inside so bad, Kook,"

"You were cooking, babe." He laughed breathlessly as your hips rocked over his again.

"Don't care. I'm yours whenever you want me. Don't even have to ask, just fuck me."

So he had fucked you then, and again after that, and maybe a third time in the shower. But it was when you were laying in bed, curled against his side for the first time in ages, that he brought up your words again.

"You mean I could fuck you whenever I want? No matter what?" He asked you. You nodded sleepily against his shoulder.

"Within some pre-discussed limits." You answered. "If you wanted to. But that's not everyone's thing." You answered simply. Jungkook couldn't imagine anyone not wanting practically unrestricted access to their partner at all times, but he figured some people just didn't get it.

The limits discussion came in the morning, long and in depth, paired with safe words and mutual agreements. And after that, many more rounds until the both of you were spent. From that day forward, Jungkook took full advantage of your little kink, and you were happy to let him.

The allowance of his band mates to use you was his idea. He'd seen how stressed and frustrated his hyungs were, and sure it was easy for them to get laid, but it was also stressful to protect themselves as world famous idols if they did. So, he suggested they use you as their stress relief. You were more eager to help them than he'd expected. So another round of discussions came around, time frames when you were at their beck and call. And before you knew it, you were theirs to play with as they pleased.

It was during one of those time frames that Jungkook came home from a schedule, finding you laid out across the couch, legs pressed wide and Hoseok's fingers buried inside of you. When you noticed his presence, you buried your face in your arms, hiding from your lover's hungry gaze. He had already been looking forward to having a little fun with you, but he hadn't expected his hyung to be getting you warmed up by the time he got home.

"Starting without me?" He asked, crouching down beside the couch. Hoseok looked up, grinning at the younger man and continuing to scissor his long digits inside of you.

"Barely. Just got here." He answered. Jungkook reached up, pulling your arms away from your face and leaning down to press his lips to yours.

"Having fun, pretty girl?" He asked. You whined in response, Hobi's fingertips brushing against the spongy spot inside of you and making your hips jerk. "Look at how pretty you are. Always so embarrassed like you're not begging to be used."

His filthy words were still laced with a gentle affection that had your head spinning. Hobi pulled his fingers out of your pussy, pressing them to your lips and watching as you sucked them in. You had only just finished cleaning your arousal off of his fingers when Jungkook was turning your head, moving you so your face was pressed against the bulge in his boxers. You hadn't even noticed him stripping off his pants.

You mouthed at his cock through the fabric, suckling the tip and leaving a dark spot over it, wet with his precum and your saliva. Meanwhile, Hobi moved quickly, stripping his top half, then shoving his pants and underwear off his long legs. You wanted to look, but you couldn't turn your head far enough with Jungkook's hand pressing firmly against your jaw.

"Take it out," Jungkook told you, and you reached up, tugging his boxers down until his aching length was exposed to you. He didn't even have to tell you what to do, just sitting pretty while you wrapped your lips around the tip, tongue dipping against his slit. He grunted quietly, slowly rocking his hips to press his length deeper into your warm mouth.

Hoseok lined himself up with your weeping hole, tapping his cock against your clit and listening to the muffled whines you let out around his friend's dick. He pushed your thighs wider, and you winced at the stretch in your hips, but then he was sinking his cock into you and all thoughts were wiped clear from your mind.

Jungkook stroked your hair, fucking lazily into your mouth and letting you swirl your tongue along the vein running up his dick.

"Look so pretty taking care of us." Jungkook purred, fucking into your mouth deeper until you were gagging around him, spit trailing from the corner of your lips, and as far as he was concerned, it was the prettiest sight he'd ever seen. Nothing compared to watching your body be used to help his friends.

"She clenches on my dick so hard when you gag her like that," Hoseok hissed through clenched teeth, his hips rocking into yours and big hands gripping your hips so tight that there would probably be bruises. "Fuck her throat for me."

Jungkook didn't have to be told twice, holding your head in place and thrusting into your throat like it was his favorite toy. You squeezed your eyes shut, fighting to breathe with the tip of his dick kissing the back of your throat. He reached down, using his thumb to pry your mouth open a little more, drool and precum leaking down your face. Hoseok sped up, fucking you with deep, hard thrusts in time with Jungkook's hips. The feeling had you on cloud nine.

Your body had gotten used to the feeling of being used by them, but it wasn't often that you took more than one of them at a time, and it was even more rare for them to treat you like a total slut. Your chest was aching for breath when Jungkook finally let up, pulling his dick out of your mouth and allowing you to greedily gulp down air, coughing and spluttering and looking up at him through the tears spilling down your cheeks.

"Make me cum," He told you, bringing your hand up to wrap around his spit-soaked dick. You took over immediately, stroking him as well as you could with Hoseok's thrusts driving you up the couch. Jungkook groaned, feeling his orgasm building at the sight of you going dumb on Hobi's dick.

"Close," You warned, head tipped back as you swirled your thumb around the tip of Jungkook's dick. Every thrust Hobi made was dragging deliciously against your sweet spot, and your legs were trembling around his hips, pulling him in deeper. He reached down, expertly swirling his fingers against your clit and sending you careening into pure bliss.

The sight of you cumming was too much for Jungkook. He wrapped his hand around yours, tightening your grip on his dick and thrusting into it faster until he was spilling his cum onto you, some of it landing on your chest and neck, the rest dripping down your hand and along your wrist.

Hobi bit his bottom lip, fucking you through your orgasm until you were squirming away in overstimulation, then pulling out to jerk his cock a few times, his own cum painting your thighs. You closed your eyes, tired and sensitive, and a little too embarrassed to look at the two of them.

"Get her cleaned up, I'll get water." Hoseok said, standing up and pulling his boxers on. Jungkook still looked a little high off his orgasm and the sight of his beloved girlfriend getting fucked, but he nodded, using his boxers to wipe the cum off his dick and your hand before leaning down to kiss your forehead.

"Feeling okay, pretty?" He asked, brushing your hair out of your face. You nodded, blinking up at him. "Good, you were so perfect for us. Gonna go grab a towel and get you cleaned up and then you can relax again."

With that promise he was off to the bathroom to wet a rag to clean you up, and you were content to melt into the couch with the two of them pampering you and thanking you for taking care of them. Even if it left you exhausted being the personal stress toy for all seven boys, you wouldn't have turned it down for the world.

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yoongleboonglepie · 2 months ago

Text

Pechsträhne Chapter 1

BTS x Reader

Series Masterlist

Chapter playlist-Youtube music

Chapter Playlist-Spotify

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A/N: I can't even describe how excited and proud of myself I am to finally get this out on paper. My brain has been riddled with this story ever since I had a dream that inspired it. I can't wait to share this with y'all! I'm going to be figuring out how to make a masterlist tonight that I will keep updated with the main story, along with any extra goodies like playlists or Pinterest boards if anyone would be interested in any of that stuff. Please enjoy. Lots of love ~ Delyn <3

word count: ~13k

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You have been invited to celebrate with us!

The Wörner Hotel and Estate is celebrating 150 years of providing excellent service to all of our guests, and we want you to be a part of it! Built in 1875 by German settlers Matthäus and Felizitas Wörner, it is a nature lover’s dream; nestled between the edge of Michaux State Forest and historic Gettysburg Pennsylvania. This luxury hotel is the perfect balance between historical and luxury. We have everything you may need from live entertainment, multi-room suites, a freshly updated swimming pool, 24-hour room service, daily activities or fitness classes, valet parking, onsite grocery, and more. And with over one hundred acres of gorgeous grounds to explore, you’ll never get bored! Well, what are you waiting for? There’s no greeting warmer than at The Wörner Hotel and Estate!

Y/n’s fingers fiddled with the gold embossed invitation absent-mindedly, her eyes finding it difficult to keep their attention on anything else other than the piece of paper that felt so heavy in her lap. She had fought herself incessantly about what to do with it since it had wedged itself haphazardly into her mail slot, a physical embodiment of what a thorn in her side it was. Its arrival shouldn't have caused as much emotional turmoil as it did. She should have expected it, she had told herself repeatedly in order to calm her nerves, which worked about as well as a sinner praying their way through a last-ditch effort to make it to heaven. And despite what this invitation may say, Wörner Hotel and Estate seemed like anything but heaven to her right now - Hell would be a more fitting name. Seeing the sketched out image of the hotel printed on the bottom shot her back into her childhood memories of sitting short and wide-eyed as she watched different guests all busy up the stairs to enjoy their vacation, or where the tours would disappear onto the different walking trails. Only turning her attention away when she realized they had not noticed her presence, to whatever toys she set up on the front veranda that day- usually animal figurines whose feet and faces had been gnawed off by the family dog, or severely mistreated Barbies.

She floated through all of her memories of growing up in the hotel with great resistance: Stampeding through the gardens with the staff children after cold elementary school days; Guests that just never seemed to leave; Her parents lavish parties in the ballroom; Phantom touches in the lobby; Swimming in the lake up at the state park on warm summer nights with her sisters and younger brother and pigging out on smores late into the evening.

Her younger sister’s death.

Ghostly figures in long hallways, reaching their hands out to grab her. Always watching.

Her friends. Her fight with her parents.

Everything she didn’t want to remember had been stamped with a wax seal and thrown back into her orbit against her will. She hasn’t spoken to her parents in four years as of this past Christmas, and her younger brother Roland has become increasingly difficult to keep on the phone for longer than 10 minutes before he loses interest in their conversations. Her elder sister Amelia, only three years older than y/n herself, has been radio silent since the night Y/N left the hotel and didn’t return. Their relationship was barely kept afloat by obligatory texts on holidays and birthdays.

All this makes Y/n wonder why they ever thought she would go back and why they even sent this invitation to her? Who still even worked there? And what in god's name took over her mind to have her bag packed with a rushed explanation to her two very confused roommates, and seated on the first Amtrak train from D.C back to Pennsylvania? Maybe it was the residual emptiness of missing her family from the past holiday season, or maybe it was a nagging feeling in her stomach that told her she needed to.

The train slowed down as it reached some small station outside the border of Pennsylvania state lines that Y/N can’t be bothered to hear the name of. She glanced out the window to watch a few stragglers shuffle on and off of the train car in front of her thoughtlessly, their impatient and rushed steps of no real interest to her.

With it being mid morning on a weekday, she had just missed rush hour and consequently the train wasn’t as busy. This gave her space and time to think about what to text to her driver-whoever that is-which she hasn’t done yet and probably should. She only had less than an hour before she arrived at the Philadelphia station, and the drive from the hotel was almost triple that. With a gentle jolt, the train begins to pick up momentum again, its grinding metal and loud engine squealing at her to hurry up.

Biting her lip, she pulls out her phone and looks at the messy pen scribble of her mother’s handwriting on the bottom of her invitation: a phone number she doesn’t recognize and a short “Call if you need a ride :)” message next to it. The friendliness of the smiley face seemingly contradictory of the basic impersonal invitation she was sure they sent to anyone and everyone.

Maybe they didn’t expect her to come and they just felt obligated to send it? Turning the thought over in her head, she shook it away with a shudder. It was too late to have these doubts now-the hum of the train beneath her seat and the “Welcome to Pennsylvania!” sign making that abundantly clear. Punching the number into her phone, she hit the call button before she could give herself time to second-guess it. It rings once. Twice. A third time. Only stopping when the receiver tells her the number can’t be reached and to try again later.

“Fuck.” Y/N curses under her breath, remembering that she is, in fact, in a metal tube speeding through tunnels and trees that really push the boundaries of her average cell phone line. She types the number in again and waits this time until the train pulls into another small stop right at the southernmost part of Pennsylvania. She had not maybe 30 minutes (if she was lucky) before her train ride would come to its dreaded end. Thumbing the call button, she waited. This time it rang only twice before an overly enthusiastic voice answered on the other line.

“A warm greeting from The Wörner Hotel and Estate! Front desk and lobby services, this is Seokjin speaking. How may I assist you today?” His voice was smooth and light on the ears, but it hit her as anything but light. The name made her entire form tense up, and a nervous sweat prick at her brow. The reality of what she was doing truly settling into her system as the voice of an old friend forced her to face the consequences of her actions head-on. It's fine, She told herself, he probably doesn't even care. It's been years...

“Hello? May I help you?” He quipped again, a bit less perky than the first time.

Realizing that she hadn’t responded she choked out “Yes! Yes, one moment please!” She mentally face-palmed herself for such a clumsy response. “This is Y/N. Y/N Wörner. Anslem and Mariah’s daughter.”

A moment of fuzzy silence met her ears causing her to shift anxiously in her seat. She was in the process of checking the phone screen to see if he had hung up when shuffling noises on the other end of the line jolted her phone back to her ear and his silver-tone voice cut through the static.

“Oh! Yes forgive me-Mrs. Wörner had mentioned you might reach out.” He let out a smooth chuckle before continuing on. “I assume you are calling for transportation services?” If he was surprised, his tone didn’t show it.

Y/N nodded, before catching that he could not see her with a “Yes, please!”

“Great! What’s the pick up address?” Y/N could hear the smile in his words and she flushed with embarrassment at how not put together she sounded. What a wonderful "first" impression she's giving him of her adult self.

“It’s going to be the Philadelphia Amtrak station.” Her eyes flitted to the trees dotted with new buds outside her window, finding their gentle sway in the wind soothing enough to qualm her racing heart.

“Awesome... And what time will your train be arriving at the station, Ms. Wörner?” She heard the click of a pen, and the scratch of its ink on the paper.

“Well, you see about that…” She trailed off as the train began to leave the small station, the pen scratching mimicking her pause. “Maybe 20 minutes or so?” She laughed nervously at her own obvious lack of foresight. If he had managed to scrounge up any good impression of her during their call, she had just metaphorically tossed it out of her train window.

Seokjin guffawed on the other end of the line and openly sputtered out a “20 minutes?! That's an almost 3 hour drive, miss. I will send someone out right away, but will you be alright waiting?” Y/n could tell he was trying his best to cover up his anxious outburst with concern, and the formality in his phrase feeling foreign and uncomfortable to her ears.

“I’ll be fine. I’ll grab something to eat and hunker down on a bench. It’s my fault for not calling sooner…” Y/N’s voice trickled out as she realized how this might make them look to her parents-making a guest wait for longer than they would approve of. She made a mental note to herself that she would just happen to forget to mention it during any conversations with them.

“Alright then Ms. Wörner. Your driver will reach out to you via text to share their information, location services, and a description of their vehicle. " She heard the unmistakable clicking of frantic computer keys as the previous anxiety in his tone faded and his customer service voice took over once again. "Please have your phone on hand with notifications on in case they need to reach you with any questions. Is there anything else I can help you with today?

“No, that is everything. Thank you, Jin.” The nickname spilled from her lips with a practiced ease that surprised her own self, but he carried on like he didn’t seem to notice.

“Wonderful! I will see you later in the evening.” She could hear him typing something into his computer before the clacking ceased and a moment of silence enveloped them again. This time the silence felt eerily wrong and awkward. She could almost hear the sharp exhale before his voice drifted through the phone at a volume so quiet she almost missed it.

"I'm sorry- I couldn't catch that." She laughed trying to lighten the sudden shift in atmosphere.

“It’s…” He paused, seemingly weighing the sound of his own words on his tongue. “It’s good to have you back, Y/n.”

The dial tone signaled that the line had ended, but she still found herself holding the speaker to her ear much longer than she needed to. The way he said her name with so much heaviness had her whole world spinning. It was both nerve-wracking and comforting that he remembered her. It meant she hadn’t been gone long enough for anyone to truly forget as easily as she had wished they could-for she should know better than to expect from them what she could never do within herself-and she couldn’t decide if that was a blessing or a curse.

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Hi there, Y/N! I am about 15 minutes out from the station. I will park out front in the pick up line- black Hyundai, license plate no. JHP-0613. See you soon!! :) - Hoseok J.

Y/n used a greasy finger to swipe the notification bar down to read the message. So Hoseok ended up staying to work at the hotel too? She tapped the straw of her empty soda cup to her lips in thought. She would’ve bet money that he would’ve at least been working in the live entertainment part of the hotel; destined to follow in his parents’ footsteps more so than one of their chauffeur drivers.

His father, Jeonghun Jung or Mr. Jung, had been an exceptional live swing and jazz singer in the evenings in the main restaurant on the property, the Adelaide, with his mother Misuk Jung performing duets with him on rare occasions. Hoseok had been his mother’s favorite dance partner during her weekly swing dancing classes, and he had done wonderful stage work even at a young age. He should’ve had a straight shot to take their place once they retired, and they couldn’t possibly still be performing these days at the rate they had with their age, Y/n mused. Unless things really had changed drastically while she had been away. It made her wonder if everyone had stayed at the hotel except for her.

She scoffed at the thought. Last she heard the Min’s boy applied to a college up in New York, and Jins cousin always was a smart kid-he must’ve left first chance he could. They had been more of her sister's crowd even though their age gap wasn't that drastic-having grown in distance from Y/n herself once high school made that small age gap seem wider than it was.

Shaking her thoughts away, she wiped the grease of her fast food meal on her pants and typed a simple “Great! See you then.”

She swung her bags onto her shoulders with a grunt, and leisurely strolled through the station, only pausing to toss her soda cup away in a nearby trash can. Y/n pushed through the exit and found a spot for herself near the pick-up line that wasn't too uncomfortably close to other passengers awaiting their rides.

Taking in her surroundings, she eyed the bridge leading up to the station and watched all the pedestrians walking their own beat into the cement. The thing about Pennsylvania is that anywhere in the ungodly large state feels familiar. Maybe it’s the constant stark contrast of natural beauty and old cement monstrosities, or perhaps it’s the feeling that every place in this humid state is haunted with its own age and existence. Being surrounded by the bustling nature of Philly’s atmosphere reminded her of taking trips here with her family, having walked the same sidewalk following the bridge to and from the train station many times.

A rhythmic vibration grew in volume and stole her attention away from her surroundings as a sleek black car pulled into the spot closest to her. The hip-hop song cut off as the driver's side door opened and a head of long wavy brown hair framing a wide heart shaped grin popped out from within.

“Y/n! Wow!” He let out a short whistle as he leaped onto the sidewalk with ease, and traipsed over to wrap her in a tight hug before she could protest. “It’s been waayyy too long.”

Her arms loosely wrapped themselves around his small waist, and all she could smell was orange blossom and pine-The latter being one of the signature smells surrounding the estate and the former being purely just how she remembered Hoseok. For a few moments the smell took her back to sitting shoulder to shoulder with him and his mother, a large mug of mulled orange tea, and their backs bent over a card game with crisp autumn air permeating the room from an open window. At that time it had been nearly impossible to keep him off his feet after he had suffered an injury from playing too roughly with the other boys. He had been practically melting from boredom, and had lost a lot of his usual shine from being sheltered in on himself. A shine that radiated off of him like a thousand suns at the present day.

“Ugh, not long enough." She lamented, and he released her from the hug with a dramatic roll of his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. Save that attitude for your folks, not me.” His eyes trailed from her and the backpack and overstuffed carry on bag digging into her shoulders, before his warm brown eyes found hers again with a click of his tongue. “Is that all you brought? I figured for such a long stay there would at least be a suitcase-hell even a second backpack.”

Y/n tilted her head at him, confused. “ Such a long stay?”

Hoseok raised a brow at her response and chuckled. “I mean, yeah. I assume you’re staying for the entire anniversary celebration schedule-are you not?” He gestured to the straps on her shoulder, and she immediately shrugged them off and into his waiting hands. The relief her shoulder blades felt was unmatched at the moment.

She hesitated in her response, choosing instead to watch him pop the trunk and place her bags in. She hadn’t actually thought about how long she’d be here, she realized. Weirdly enough, her mind felt too fuzzy to bother worrying about another thing today-so she waited for his eyes to glance up at her over the open trunk to give him a shrug.

“I didn’t think that far ahead, if I’m being honest.”

He let out a boisterous laugh and slammed the trunk shut. “Seriously, you must not have changed that much.” Continuing to chuckle, he rounded the side of the car to the passenger side, and swung the door open in a dramatic gesture and a flash of his blinding smile. “After you, Ms. Wörner.”

With a smile and a shake of her head, she settled into the front seat. He closed the door once certain she was fully in the car, and skipped to the driver side door and swung himself in and slammed the door in one swift move.

“Are you always this casual with all your passengers?” Y/n turned to face him with a teasing smile.

He snorted. “God, no-I like having my job.” He flicked the turn signal on for only a half second before swerving into the passing lane, immediately keeping pace with the other philly drivers. The hip hop song resumed at a lower volume than before, filling the car with a laid back atmosphere. “I have all my passengers sit in the back whenever possible. They can be really…” He paused trying to find the right word while switching lanes to take a westward exit. “Annoying.” he concluded.

“And I’m not 'annoying' to you?” Y/n laughed, thinking about the amount of times he had referred to her as such as a child.

“You?” He let his eyes flicker to her briefly, sliding a sly smile on his face before returning his gaze to the road. “Never.”

The drive went by quickly with such an engaging driver by her side. He was sure to ask all about her time in D.C., and she readily supplied him with answers. She told him all about her starting school, then in turn dropping out after her first year after feeling like no major fit her goals (if she even knew what those were anymore). A fact she was usually much too embarrassed to share, but he took it with no judgement. Instead taking the conversation elsewhere, like her current hobbies and interests, or prodding into her dislike for her roommates with exaggerated humor. She didn’t realize how much she had missed talking with him. Why didn’t she reach out to him? To any of them? She wondered.

As if her brain liked being cruel her to when she was finally able to slip into states of peace, it forcefully pulled one of her last prominent memories of him.

Her face was hot and wet as she stomped out of the private dining room. The gentle sway of Nat King Cole that used to be her favorite around this time of year had become her least favorite thing in the world at the moment, each note hitting her ears sharply. Her head pounding in retaliation to what was once a subtle volume now seeming like it bounced tauntingly in her skull, telling her to have a ‘Merry Christmas”. If she wasn’t so angry she would’ve laughed at the irony. She didn’t get far down the festively lit hall before she ran face first into Hoseok, his hands still damp from having just been washed bracing her shoulders, and his concerned voice muffled by her own blood rushing through her ears. She met his worried and imploring eyes, his wavy hair only just gracing his brows back then, and all she saw reflecting back in his eyes was her own swollen and disheveled reflection. Then his face fell into the same shape everyone else in the dining room had. Pity.

She hated it. It made her skin crawl, and her stomach bubble in self-defensive rage. He was looking at her the same way Mr. and Mrs. Min just had. Like the Jeon and Kim families had. Like Hoseok’s parents had. It made her sick.

“Did you know too?” She spat out.

He stuttered at her sudden intensity. “W-what? What are you-”

She pushed her finger into his chest sharply. “Don’t you lie to me, Hoseok Jung.”

A moment of stillness gripped them both in a heavy hand that's fingers were closing in on them, one at a time in a tight fist, trying to take its time suffocating them. His eyes flickered back and forth between both of hers and then she saw it-his chin crinkled just so-and it gave him away to her in an instant.

She let out a wet angry laugh that sounded closer to a sob. “So you too, huh?” She took a staggered step back, feeling like with every step the floor was pulling her deeper. Like it was trying to pull her through the floorboards so it could swallow her whole. At this moment she wanted it to. “Did everyone know?”

“Y/n, listen I-” His eyes were glassy, saying more to her than his words could.

“Save it.” She shoved past his outstretched hands and began the pathetic walk of shame back to her room. She hated crying in front of people, and it seems like everyone in the house had gotten a front row seat and an encore. She heard him call out for her, but it didn’t stop her. She didn’t have the strength to face any more betrayal than she already had.

“Y/n? You still with me?” Hoseok took one hand off the wheel to playfully wave it in front of her face.

She pushed his hand and her memories away in fake annoyance with a gentle ‘sorry’.

He shook it off with a laugh.

“So what about you? Your parent-are they still performing at the Adelaide?” Y/n snuck a sideways glance to judge his response.

He let out a heavy sigh. “Ah…no not really. My dad will sometimes sing some of his old classics on busy weekends, and my mom switched from swing classes to waltzing lessons. But otherwise they’re mostly retired from the entertainment industry and doting on my sister. Old age and achy bones and all that.”

Y/n nodded along, trying not to ask the burning question of why he hadn’t taken their spot. Before the question could sear it’s way off her tongue he spoke again, seeming to read her thoughts.

“You remember the Kims 2.0? Not Seokjin and Namjoon kinda Kims. The new Kims." He gave her befuddled expression a brief sideways glance and continued to clarify. "Thinking about it, I guess you probably didn’t get to spend as much time with them before you were sent off to all those different schools. And they were usually gone around the holidays as his parents don’t care too much for Christmas. They were only around for a couple months before they hired their son permanently.”

Y/n’s face scrunched in thought as she tried to remember their arrival. “The Kims 2.0?”

Hoseok hummed. “Yeah. They were hired after y-” He seemed to catch himself “After I broke my leg-sometime around there. They do stage planning and such. They travel a lot and work remotely from California most of the time though.”

When Y/n didn’t give him much of a reaction he clicked his tongue and moved on.

“Well, their son, Taehyung-he’s got this singing voice that’s undeniably born for big band and jazz-they would’ve been a fool not to give him the job the second he turned 21. It didn’t take much convincing for him to take my dad’s place.” There was tension in his tone that he seemed to be trying to cover with his usual nonchalance. But she could pick up on his discomfort-the a passage of time doing nothing to rust what had once been second nature-and decided to change the topic.

“Huh. I guess the name sounds familiar…but tell me,” she turned her body to face him and folded her hands in her lap. “Who else stayed behind?”

“Once a gossip, always a gossip.” He rolled his eyes, but another small genuine smile was breaking across his face.

When he didn’t start talking immediately, she gave him an expectant look.

“Alright, I’ll spoil the surprise, geez.” He turned the car onto an exit, signaling their time on major highways ending and the time of battlefield side roads and wooded winding paths etched into the scenery. Satisfied with that, she turned her head to look out her window- she could see the main town of Gettysburg in the distance, outlined by the setting sun.

“Seokjin works the desk and maintains the lobby, as you are aware. Usually I work as a valet or chauffeur. But sometimes I pick up random jobs around the place when I’m not busy: like working the pool or picking up shifts at the convenience store and gift shop. Pretty much anywhere they need me.” He turned off the main road that would’ve sent them straight through downtown Gettysburg, and veered onto the start of the long scenic back roads that led to the Hotel and Estate. “Sometimes even giving Yoongi a hand with electrical issues when he needs-”

“Yoongi? I thought he went to a university in New York?” Y/n couldn’t contain her disbelief.

“Oh, yeah. He did, but came back about 3 years in. Said something about needing to figure some things out before he went back to finish.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Anyways, our Jiminie is one of our tour guides and the historian” Hoseok cooed, “You should pop into one of his tours of the property in the morning! I don’t know if anyone has gotten around to telling him about you coming back yet.”

The way he said coming back with such finality settled heavily in her stomach-like he had expected her to come back-like he was expecting her to stay. She rolled her eyes at her own thoughts; that was definitely just her anxiety speaking.

“Jungkook works housekeeping right now-but he’s been weighing going into security training. I’m sure he's just ecstatic to hear about you. “ Hoseok wiggled his eyebrows aggressively and gave her a teasing smile.

“Oh shut up with that, he was always just my good friend.” Y/n flushed lightly, knowing full well Jungkook had not seen her as just a friend throughout their childhood. Always trailing after her like a puppy because for some reason her awkwardness, lack of social skills, and very strict way of organizing her animal figurines must have really drawn him in. He hadn’t ever actually said anything to her about it, choosing instead to be a good friend who was a great shoulder to lean on. But even with obliviousness being a top skill on her metaphorical resume, she had been able to tell.

“Uh huh. You tell yourself that, Mrs. Jeon~”

“Oh my god! We were FIVE. Playing house was serious business back then and you know it-we even got divorced twice. TWICE! Does the word divorce not mean anything to you?” Y/n couldn’t contain her laughter by the end of her defense, and neither could he.

“What was the first one about again?”

Y/n waved her hand dismissively “Oh-he wouldn’t let me name our pretend pet dolphin Shoeshine or something like that. Said the dolphin needed a more distinguished name.”

“Damn, that really does sound like very serious business.” He cackled.

“Don’t act like you’re innocent here!” She spun her entire body in her seat to face him “I also married YOU once. AND Yoongi.”

He gave a loud overdramatic gasp. “So you admit to cheating on me? All these years I wondered…what a shame.”

They dissolved into a fit of giggles before a comfortable silence settled in the vehicle. Glancing back over at him to quip another remark about their fake marriage, she paused. He seemed to want to say something else with the way his mouth tightened before opening momentarily-then snapping it shut with pursed lips. He must’ve decided to just say it, his voice breaking the silence.

“Your sister is still off in Europe, so we haven’t seen her since the last time you were both back for the holidays.” He flexed his fingers against the wheel to ease the budding tension from his body. She could tell he was avoiding bringing up what happened during that holiday visit that caused her sister to run to foreign college programs- and she couldn’t blame him. Their reluctance to speak of the topic made it easy for him to quickly move on.

“Roland goes to school nearby for now, but I don’t see him often enough to give you much more than that.” He offered with an apologetic shrug. “And last but not least-Namjoon has taken up landscaping maintenance and gardening. He does a great job with it too-It is what he went to school for after all.” Hoseok chuckled, trying to keep the mood light again.

“So he did make it to school?” Y/n quipped in.

“Yeah, he did some hybrid program that had him in and out of California to study Botany and Horticulture, with a minor in some sort of plant management….something. You can ask him about the specifics.”

“Huh.” Y/n fell back in her seat, her shoulders sagging against the seat.

“What?” He glanced over at her as he made a right turn onto the gradual hill that snaked it’s way to the front lawn gates.

“It’s just…” She saw the gates of the driveway in the distance and her heart tightened painfully in her chest. “Everyone stayed. I was so sure most of you would’ve banked the second they got the chance.” Everyone but me.

His grip tightened on the wheel.

“We tried, but it’s almost like this place-” He paused with a sharp exhale. “-you just feel like you never want to leave.”

His words were genuine, but his smile was not. It was the first smile she’d seen from him today that didn’t meet his eyes

Pulling into the gate she felt her heart somehow squeeze tighter, and she tried to shake away the unsettling feeling that found a home in her chest at his words. Instead turning her attention to the old metal gates that were always propped open to welcome its endless flow of guests. The long front lawn decorated in hardy shrubs dotted inbetween with budding nursery plants, the soil around them was still loose and fresh, probably new additions to welcome the coming of spring. Her eyes surveyed the clash of the familiar and unfamiliar. The plants looked different than the usual flora species she remembered them traditionally planting, it looked like someone was experimenting with a new layout-probably Namjoon- she concluded. Hoseok took the gravel road at a relaxed place, giving her time to take it all in. The outside of the hotel remained the same- A combination of colonial and old European romance. Boxy, yet elegant, and still unimaginably huge. Her eyes flitted from the front stairs and followed to the right around to the side veranda built onto the sloping hill, so you can gaze down into a heavy tree line and over the-

“What the fuck is that?” Y/n pointed at a rounded protrusion from the right side of the building towards a dome of glass panels where the outdoor pool used to rest.

“What? The pool?” He slowed the car to a stop so she could get a better look at it. “They built a greenhouse dome around the outside portion of it to extend its year round use. It’s really nice inside. Next shift I work at the pool, I'll come grab you and you can keep me company while I keep an eye out for drowning children.” After she had a few moments to take in the new addition, he put the car into motion, snaking his way through the roundabout and stopping at the base of the stone steps.

“Here we are!” He sang unbuckling both of their seatbelts. He hopped out of his seat the instant he put the car in park, and shut the door behind him without sparing her a glance. She heard the trunk open, and the shake of the car that made her sway in her seat as he pulled her stuff out of the trunk. In any other circumstance, she’d think he was trying to be annoying, a classic move on his part of avoiding her gaze and leaving her in the dust to see who could make it to the front doors first. But this time she could tell he was giving her space to take it in, and for that she was grateful.

She took a deep breath and gripped the door handle with three fingers. She watched through the window as Hoseok started carrying her bags up the stairs at aleisurelye pace, taking his own time in order to give her more. She felt the handle give under her hands, and the rush of chilly early spring air brushed against her skin, and the symphony of bugs and the sound of the tree branches dancing in the breeze met her ears.

The hair on her limbs stood up in succession, sending chills across her entire form. One of her feet met the ground, and the crunch of gravel felt so loud in her ears. It rattled her bones and made every muscle coil up, like an animal preparing to run from danger. She stood, putting both feet on the ground, an intense feeling getting stronger the closer she got to the stairs. Her heart thrummed in time with each one of her steps, and her ears began to ring. Hoseok had already made it to the doors, and was conversing with a luggage boy. Why did he feel so far away all of the sudden? The air suddenly felt as though it was closing in on her with each pace and the ringing in her ears was so loud, she thought they might bleed.

The bottom of her shoes met the first stone step with a thud, and suddenly all was quiet. She froze, unable to move any further. No more bugs, no sway of the tree branches in the wind. The ringing in her ears had ceased. Only the sound of her breathing and her heartbeat remained, which felt so small in comparison to this open ended silence. She couldn’t even hear Hoseok’s distant voice talking to the men standing at the doors; it was like they weren’t even there anymore. Glancing up, she found that they were in fact no longer there.

The space they had occupied showed no sign of life. The doors were still open, yet no light emitted from the windows or the threshold. She was alone. The door was still open, but was now occupied by a pulsing darkness that felt both overwhelmingly alive yet utterly empty. The silence became suffocating.

The dark blue of the spring night sky no longer felt peaceful-it felt dangerous. It was as though she had a thousand eyes on her from all directions, waiting with baited breath for her to fall right into their hungry, gaping mouths. From her right side, a cloud of cold air curled around her leg and weaved itself between her palm and fingers, coiling itself tighter around them like it was holding onto her and keeping her from turning back. The gravel road gave way with a crunch behind her, and then she heard it. A whisper so quiet it almost blended into the chill breeze.

“Welcome home.”

Suddenly the world snapped back into motion, nearly knocking her off her feet with its force. The bugs resumed their song, and the trees their swaying dance. Her chest was rising rapidly as her eyes searched frantically at the warmly lit windows, and the once dark and empty door now bursting with a warm inviting glow. In front of it her eyes landed on where Hoseok stood, giving directions to the luggage boy as he handed them her bags. Suddenly wanting nothing more than to be near him and the inviting light of the lobby, she sped up the stairs as fast as her legs could take her.

“-private estate. You can put them on the second-floor landing. Thank you.”

By the time she reached him, her heart was beating out of her chest and she had begun to sweat-from nerves or the speed at which she pushed herself up the stairs she couldn’t tell.

He turned his head to speak to her and did a double take.

“Woah- what happened to you? You look like you might be sick.” His hand gently brushed his hand across her forehead to check her temperature, and his other hand held her forearm to steady her. She was sure it must’ve come back damp but he didn’t comment on it, instead choosing to remain quiet with his mouth twisted in contemplation. His eyes flickered over her shoulder down to the car, and paused there for a moment before meeting hers. Abruptly, he turned and stepped through the front doors of the lobby.

The high white stone and gold ceiling outlined in ornate crown molding, brightly lit with a large chandelier hanging proud over the lobby seating was as grand as she remembered. Hoseok didn’t give her time to marvel over it, his shoes clacking loudly on the polished floor as he beelined for the check in desk located against the back wall, passing all of the seating and the barreled ceiling hallway to her left that led to the theater hall below them. The large wooden board behind the man behind the counter’s wide frame was dotted with golden keys hanging from their large metal rings- “it keeps the charm!” her father had insisted when they talked about changing to key cards. She watches the man behind the desk reach one and swipe the one hanging under the number 203, handing it to the family he was checking in. Her eyes’s mesmerized by the way the rest of the keys glittered in the yellow glow of the extravagant light fixtures mounted next to it.

Her father let her sit in during their meeting with staff and other executives during the discussion about what updates they’d like to see in the next 10 years. She had taken the opportunity very seriously- her favorite Clifford the Big Red Dog pencil with a frog shaped eraser gripped purposefully in her small hands, scribbling down notes she deemed worthy in a batman themed notebook. The moment Mr. Jeon had suggested a keycard system, and the room was divided between moving with modern technology, or keeping the surviving key system they’d had since the first guest stayed in the hotel. She remembered the way her father, after sitting with his brows creased deep in thought, turned his gaze to her and grinned. “What does the future inheritor of the Wörner estate say?”

“I can help the next person.” Seokjin’s clear tone brought her into the present, jolting her heart that had just barely managed to calm itself from whatever happened outside.

His warm brown almond shaped eyes and friendly smile made her heart feel warm with nostalgia-giving her a much needed distraction. He gave her a once over and his face immediately fell into a look of irritation as he turned to Hoseok, who sauntered up to the edge of the desk.

“Checking in a Ms. Wörn-”

“What did you do to her? I sent you because I thought you’d be a good fit to make her feel comfortable, not to torture her!” He reached his hand up and gently smacked Hoseok upside the head.

“Hey!”

“Hey what? I knew I should’ve sent Namjoon instead.” He turned to his left, muttering something along the lines of sending a clown to do the lord's work as he rummaged through what looked like a mini fridge tucked under the desk.

“Ugh Jin, pull it together.” He reached over the counter to poke Seokjin’s puffed out cheeks, and the latter immediately brought his hands up to swat him away. “And anyways, I’d give Namjoon five seconds into Philly before he would’ve gotten into an accident. He doesn’t know how to drive in cities.”

Seokjin stood back up, nudging the mini fridge door closed with his hip, a can of water in his hands and scowl on his face directed at Hoseok’s cheeky grin. Turning his attention back to y/n his face did a complete 180, lighting up in a friendly smile again. He held the aluminum can out for her to grab, and she reached for it with grateful shaky hands, cracking the top open to take a large swig of the cool liquid.

“Sorry about him Ms. Wörner, you know how he can get.”

“Please, call me Y/n-don't be a complete stranger.” and “I didn’t do anything to her!” were spoken over one another.

“Oh yeah? What happened then? Did some other fool talk her ear off for 3 hours?”

Y/n couldn’t stop herself from nearly choking on her water as she fought back a laugh at the two. The combination of their familiar banter and the refreshing water pulling her back into a more relaxed state.

“No.” Hoseok plucked a piece of invisible lint from Seokjin’s red jacket. “She tripped.” Seokjin slapped his hands away again, before eyeing him suspiciously.

“She tripped?” He straightened his coat off instinctually after he pried Hoseok’s fingers from fiddling with it.

“Yes. She tripped.”

They seemed to engage in some sort of silent conversation, their eyes following each other as they flickered back and forth to her and the front door behind her. Seokjin relented with a sigh, and turned to Y/n his smile on his lips yet again.

“Well, I’m sorry to hear about that. Be sure to watch your step in the future, we don’t need anything happening to you during your first time back.” He turned to his computer screen for a moment, before moving around to exit the lobby desk. “Let me show you to your room.”

“I can handle that-” Hoseoks smug smile was wiped off his face by a stern glare from Seokjin. He raised his hands up and surrendered the lead to Seokjin.

He led the three of them up one of the dual staircases that led to the second half of the lobby ecasing both sides of the front desk, each step feeling more familiar than the last. Once at the top, she saw the convenience store and gift shop to her right, and next to that their small cafe-The Edelweis-with its white floral logo lit up but the seats mostly empty. To her left was a barrelled ceiling hall identical to the one on the level below them, only this one had restrooms lining the left side wall, and a wide red carpeted hallway that led to the right and straight to the Adelaide. She could faintly hear the smooth floating trumpet of a Kitty Kallen song serenading its patrons, and the aroma of the extravagant and diverse menu making her stomach grumble in interest. She’d be sure to stop in tonight if she had time, her mouth practically watering at the thought of freshly made pasta, birria-inspired pot roast, and rustic French bread with their signature gochujang, honey, and herb butter. A melting pot of a restaurant that stands as a physical embodiment of all the different people whose hands helped maintain the hotel to what it is today.

Seokjin had his hands clasped comfortably behind him as he walking, keeping his back straight. Y/n took this time to inspect his new look: His dark hair not too short but not too long, kept neat and out of his eyes under his cap. His shoulders had widened, and his jaw grew into that which made his face look older and more mature- the last of his boyishness gone in everything except the jovial glow in his eyes. The three of them traversed in silence. Well-what was silence until Hoseok got fidgety.

“I can’t wait for you to see the estate’s new look. They updated the color so it’s no longer the old dingey red that's in the main hotel. It practically looks like a new building.”

Seokjin gave a weary look between the two of them, but didn’t comment. He just continued to lead them down one of the side halls on either side of the main elevator, and out into the open square courtyard that the two arms of the back of the hotel wrapped around. Y/n nearly tripped over her own feet to keep pace with how fast he seemed to walk across the cobblestone. Weaving expertly around the small flower garden and seating area where a few guests were lounging about, enjoying the gentle babble of the water fountain. He nodded politely to them and tipped his hat, which they returned. With swift steps they made it out of the courtyard and up the gravel path to the Estate house. Stopping at the navy blue and gold embellished doors, he pulled out a key from his pocket and slid it in the keyhole. If Y/n didn’t know any better, he seemed to be on edge- stuck in a conundrum of being in a rush yet somehow also reluctant to open the door. But as for why she couldn’t quite piece together.

The doors swung open and her breath caught in her throat. She had found her answer.

What used to be the old dated, red wallpaper, was now a soft sky blue- brightening up the white molding and making the golden details shine. The wooden floors had been repolished, and a dark blue antique patterned rug ran through the main hall and disappeared into the rest of the downstairs. Everything was fresh, bright, rich, and confronting. Just like she had drawn out when she was a teenager.

The thought made her both swell with pride, and awakened a dormant rage. Forcing those feelings away she followed their steps, past the large dining room to her left and the study to her right. With each doorway she passed, she could see snippets of the new designs-her designs-sticking to the blue tones and gold embellishments. A nod to the Wörner heritage, and to the tea set brought to the United States by Namjoon’s and Seokjin’s fourth great grandfather that had a permanent home in their dining room display cabinet. Its grayish blue accented cups and saucers are a symbol of the symbiotic relationship between the two families that had been going strong for nearly a century.

Making their way up the grand staircase to the landing, she saw her bags resting on one of two navy plush armchairs. The elegant blue from below continued up throughout the landing and down both halls on either side of her, perfectly complementing the oil-painted mural of wispy clouds and classically painted figures draped across the landing’s ceiling.

“So, what do you think? Nice right?” Hoseok did a small whistle and a turn. “Makes it feel so much brighter and less like The Haunted Mansion with all of those deep moody reds.”

Seokjin stood quietly, his head slightly down and his neck flushed. He probably knew that this had been her idea. Her design. With his parents being so involved in the affairs of the hotel and estate, they would know everything, and subsequently so would he. Hoseok remained oblivious to the awkward energy in the room, so Y/n plastered a smile on her face in order to save everyone from the lingering discomfort.

“It really does. Just makes it more inviting.” She managed to get the words out without sounding too forced, a feat she had to pat herself on the back for. Tearing her eyes away from the walls to look at the two of them, she could practically feel Seokjin’s shoulder’s relax as he bounced to pick up her bags with two hands.

“Your room has remained mostly untouched at your parent’s request. I’m sure you can change that though if you wanted to.” Seokjin smiled. Y/n realized as she watched him stand still, that he was probably waiting for her to lead the way to her room. Muscle memory led her there-down the hall on the right-hand side of the split landing to follow the bend to the left all the way to the back corner room.

She could hear their soft footsteps behind her, so she knew she didn’t have time to freeze up now. Gripping the bronze worn doorknob with vigor, she pushed open the door with a bit more force than she had meant to, causing the door to bounce off the door stopper before coming to a slow stop at an angle.

“Geez, what’d that door do to you?” Hoseok remarked, earning a stiff elbow in the ribs from Seokjin.

Ignoring the two of them, she stepped into her old room. It was exactly as she remembered it. The golden bed frame wound with battery operated lights from her highschool years, her comforter a natural forest green, complemented by an array of burnt orange and white leaf patterned pillows. The walls a sage green botanical wallpaper, peppered with photos from her childhood and highschool. Kicking a flipped corner of her patterned woven rug out, she took a slow lap around the room, stopping to run her hands over the calendar, 4 years out of date, still open to December. On the 25th box were a few doodles of trees and cookies she had done in a tipsy haze the night of Christmas eve. Seokjin cleared his throat, startling her.

“Where would you like me to set these?”

“Oh! You can just toss those on the bed. Thanks.” she gestured absent mildly in the direction of the bed.

He did as he was told, while Hoseok just leaned against the doorframe, glancing around the room seemingly lost in thought.

“Dinner in the estate is still served at 7:30, so you have a bit of time to get settled if you’d like to join us. You don’t have to eat here, you can always go to the Adelaide or wherever you’d like. But I’m sure your parents are looking forward to seeing you tonight.” Seokjin bowed gently, and began to retreat. Without thinking, Y/n walked over and put a hand on his arm.

“Thanks, Jin. I really appreciate everything today. I missed you all.” Y/n met his eyes, hoping to convey her sincerity.

“No problem Ms. Wör-”

Y/n cut him off with a playful groan. “ Enough of that- you’re still my friend, no need for fancy titles or anything like that.”

His ears twinged pink as he gave her a shy nod and smile. The customer service persona was gone, and in front of her stood the sweet and quiet Seokjin she remembered as a kid.

“Great! I’ll see you at dinner then. 7:30?”

He fixed his coat again, and the confident persona took over once again.

“Of course you’ll see me there. You know me, always on time.” He gave her a small salute and passed Hoseok (who had been silently watching the exchange) giving him a curt nod as he left the room. Hoseok watched him go until he was out of sight, and turned back to face Y/n.

“You doing okay with all of this?” He asked, gesturing to her with his chin.

“Yeah I am. I should probably wash the bedding though, don’t you think? Four years of sitting in a dusty room probably has them feeling pretty stale.” Y/n laughed dismissively. She unzipped her bag and began to pull stuff out onto the stiff comforter.

“I didn’t just mean your room, but that’s good to hear. I can let the laundry service know for you on the way out.” She met his gaze again for a good long minute-waiting for him to crack a joke of some kind- but he didn’t.

“Oh.” She paused, trying to wrack her brain for a good response. How was she doing with all this? Honestly she couldn’t tell, her day had been a complete whirlwind so far. It was like something had drawn the curtains on her anxiety and emotions so she couldn’t feel them at the moment. If she really thought about it, she couldn’t put her finger on why she had been so nervous in the first place. Right now, she felt good in the estate-like she was supposed to be here. “I’m really not sure. I feel fine, I think…” She trailed off with a shrug.

He hummed in agreement, but he didn’t seem to buy it.

“Well if you need anything, I’m down the hall on the left side of the landing now.”

“Awww. We aren’t neighbors anymore?”

His smile came back again, and he laughed. “Oh don’t you wish.” He pushed himself up from the door frame and stretched his arms above his head until she heard something pop. “But fortunately for you, I’m Jungkook’s problem now.”

“Shucks, what am I ever going to do with all this peace and quiet.” Y/n snapped her fingers in feigned disappointment.

“Oh I don’t know about that, your new neighbor is a night owl so I’ve heard.” He began to saunter back out of the room with a teasing smile.

“Oh yeah? And who is that?” She stuck her head out of her doorway to peer at him as he made his way down the hall.

“Yoongi. He insisted on moving to this hall when he came back so I traded with him.”

_________________________________________

Hoseok was true to his word, the cleaning service showing up not 10 minutes after he had made his leave. Once she had thanked them profusely and handed them her linens, she made sure to waste all the time she could by puttering about her room and giving it a gentle face lift, doing anything to keep her mind occupied and away from both her parents and whatever the fuck she had experienced out front. Removing the outdated calendar was first, then putting away all her belongings in color order (multiple times), before tucking her bags beneath the bed-which is where she was in the process of doing now- seated on the floor with her bags folded over her knees, and head tilted in confusion. She had lifted the bed skirt up to shove the bags under there to be forgotten indefinitely, when something being in her way stopped her in her tracks.

There, centered under her bed, was a small wooden box that was sure she hadn’t left in that spot. It was her old childhood jewelry box, one of which she purposefully avoided taking with her. With trembling hands, she pulled it out and unlatched the lid.

Laying inside the velvet lined side right where she had left them, were all of the pictures she owned that had anything to do with her younger sister. She picked up the first one and held it up to look at it more closely, even though she knew that she shouldn’t.

Three girls, close in age and wearing a set of matching dresses only differing in color, were lined up on the front porch of the hotel, the front lawn behind them was flourishing with flora and littered with toys. The photographer-she thinks it had been Mrs. Jung- had to have been standing in the open doors of the lobby when it was taken. Posing obediently on the right-hand side was Amelia, the eldest, wearing a large toothy grin and one arm tossed awkwardly over Y/n’s bent form. The 4-year-old Y/n in the photo had her arms wound tightly around the youngest in the photo, Matilda. Matilda’s small hands were clasped around a stuffed horse, and she was sporting the signature awkward and messy grin of a nearly 3-year-old toddler.

Y/n felt her throat tighten as she held up the next photo: the one of Matilda’s last Christmas. No one in the photo had known that at the time of course-so the photo did not reflect the mood it now elicited from most onlookers.

It was teeming with the unbridled joy of over a dozen children posed in front of that year’s lavishly decorated tree, all of them buzzing with impatience to open the overflowing pile of presents spilling into the bottom edge of the photo. She could recognize the faces of a few of both her own distant cousins that had joined in the festivities that year speckled in between her sisters, and the boys who lived in the house, and Hoseok's sister. She spied Hoseok's wild boyish grin standing next to herself, his eyes looking sideways instead of at the camera. Jimin was posed sweetly, sitting sandwiched in the front on the floor between young Jungkook and a boy she didn’t really recognize. One of Jin and Namjoon’s cousin’s who had come to visit for the holidays on occasion? Or perhaps Taehyung, the boy Hoseok mentioned earlier... She wasn’t entirely sure.

Her eyes slid to the Kim boys standing politely off to the right with Amelia. She only just caught Yoongi’s head poking up over Namjoon's shoulder, a small forced smile on his face the most he was able to do for a photo he had adamently detested being in.

Y/n traced Matilda’s small face with the tip of her finger, her arms spread out above her head as she mimicked the star on top of the tree. Clearing her throat of the ball that had formed there, she shoved both photos back in the box, her eyes just catching the photo of a newborn Matilda draped across her own small lap before she shut the lid and slid the clasp back in place.

She only had a few minutes before she had to make an appearance at dinner, and she wasn’t about to go in looking like a blubbering mess.

Shaking her shoulders out and pinching her cheeks, she shoved her folded bags beneath her bed and rose to her feet with the box in hand. Walking over to the large closet, she opened the door and popped the box on the top shelf, promptly shutting the door on both it and the feelings it had dug up. Closing her eyes, she took a few deep breaths before walking into the small ensuite bathroom to freshen her hair and splash cool water on her face. Looking at her own reflection, she tried to give herself a pep talk.

“It’s just dinner. You can do this. If all else fails, just eat in silence and leave early-but you have to go.” She moved to leave the room but paused, giving heself a stern pointed finger through the reflection. "And keep it together tonight. No matter what happens, don't flip the table."

Giving herself one more affirming nod, she stood up straight and left her bathroom. She grabbed her phone from where she had discarded it on the bare mattress and tucked it into her pocket while she slipped from her room.

Her path was illuminated by golden wall sconces, making it easy to retrace the steps she had taken earlier- not like she couldn’t walk through these halls blind folded if she had to. The distant chatter emitting from the dining room grew louder with each step, causing a nervous burn to bubble up into her throat at the impending reunion.

Stepping quietly up to the archway, she lingered outside the propped doors and peeking around the frame. Her parents weren’t in their seats yet, which made her release a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding at the brief respite the universe had given her.

The table was donned in a clean blue tablecloth and gold embellished napkins and plates, a glass of chilled white wine at each seat. Hoseok was seated on the opposite side of the table from the door, his glass pinched between a few fingers and leaning heavily onto Namjoon’s shoulder, laughing at something on his phone. Namjoon was also smiling, his dimples on display for all to see. He looked about the same as she remembered- cropped brown hair still damp from a shower, strong yet soft face, and taller than the rest of them. The only thing that seemed different was that his shoulders had almost doubled in width, probably from lugging around wheelbarrows and sacks of soil and compost all day.

To his left was who she had to assume was Jungkook, judging by his rounded eyes and nose. He had her doing a double-take: His hair was much longer than he had kept it when they were younger, and fell in waves down to his cheeks and down the back of his neck. He had also seemingly bulked up like Namjoon, and grown another 3 inches in height since they had last spoken.

The remaining seats were empty. No sight of the Seokjin or the rest of them anywhere.

Hoseok must’ve felt her nerves leaching from her form, as his eyes suddenly met hers from across the room causing his eyes to light up and a sly smile to break across his face.

“Oh Y/N! Come sit near me.” He flailed his hand wildly, attempting to beckon her over to join in on the fun.

Namjoon’s eyes shot up from his phone to connect with hers, and he put his phone into his pocket and came to a clumsy stand.

“Y/N.” His dimpled smile was overtaken by shock, as he came around the table to pull her into one of his signature bear hugs.

“H-hey.” Her response was muffled by his sweater as he crushed her to his chest. She could hear Hoseok giggling at her awkwardness and it made her cheeks flush with embarrassment.

Namjoon released her from the hug and ruffled her hair affectionately. “It’s good to see you again. I didn’t know you were coming back.”

Y/n laughed uncomfortably and fiddled with the edge of her sweater. “I mean, technically I didn’t either until this morning.”

He gave her a quizzical look but seemed to go with not asking any questions for now, instead moving to the side so she could wave in Jungkook’s direction.

“Hi, Jungkook.”

His eyes gave her a once over before flickering down to play with the frayed edges of his placemat. “Hi.”

“Oh Jungkook, don’t be shy! She’s just as weird and annoying as she always was.” Hoseok chirped from his seat.

Y/n let out a defiant sound. “I am not! You said yourself earlier today that I could never be annoying.”

Jungkook's eyes flickered between the two of them, and let a small smile grace his features.

“Who, me? I’d never say something so preposterous.” Hoseok held a hand to his chest in mock offense.

“Preposterous? That’s a big word for you.” Namjoon chimed in, scoffing while he plopped into his seat with a humored scrunch of his face.

Y/n laughed at Hoseoks sputtered defense, the way they fell back into a comfortable banter eased the ice settling over her skin at the impending arrival of her parents and reminded her of the things she had missed from home and hadn't let herself dwell on for years.

She took a seat across from Namjoon, and slid her chair into place even if it made Hoseok send her a pout at her act of betrayal for not sitting with him. She felt content listening to Namjoon and Hoseok jesting with each other, and let her eyes wander through the royal blue and gold dining room to examine every inch of detail in the room. It filled her with pride to see what she had envisioned come to life, even if she was still mulling over the details of how it came to be. During their journey around the room, her eyes found Jungkook’s, who had been stealing sideways glances at her from his seat since she’d sat down. He quickly averted his eyes, pretending he had been looking at something over her shoulder instead. Or at least, she had thought he was pretending.

“Do you like the updated design? I’m a bit bummed that I missed getting to show you myself.” Her mother’s voice sounded from behind her.

She whirled sharply to take her in-and it made her heart squeeze. People don’t talk about the hard parts of not talking to a family member. Everyone likes to talk about the part where they don’t miss them anymore, or when they couldn’t care less about a triumphant praise of their past self's decision making. But they don’t talk about the years you miss out on or the collateral damage of losing connections with those in shared circles- her mother's face carrying just a couple of new wrinkles that weren’t as prominent before a a glaring piece of evidence to the years missed between them. Four years of laughter that etched her laugh lines deeper into her cheeks, or smiles that left permanent crinkles in her eyes that she didn’t get to see.

Y/n clambered to her feet, and she felt her mother’s eyes following her every movement.

“I do. They look just as lovely as I’d have imagined.” Y/n managed to force the syllables off her tongue in what she assumed sounded genuine, but she couldn’t tell if her mother saw right through her or not like she used to.

“I’m glad.” She tilted her head to gaze around the room. “Your father spared no expense to match it to your descriptions as best he could.” She took a tentative step closer, and that’s when Y/n recognized something she didn’t expect: Her mother, Mariah Wörner-one of the most confident, intelligent and strongest women she had ever known-was just as nervous as she was. The way her fingers held onto her own elbows from where her forearms crossed in front of her like a lifeline gave it away. She had expected her to be angry. Hysterical. Enraged. Disappointed. Or even some combination of any of those to take hold of her and spit out insults in fiery waves into her skin or stare daggers into her spine. But instead, her mothers eyes were shaky and uncertain. Scared.

Y/n didn’t know how to answer her, and floundered for a moment in the sudden silence that enveloped the room. The men seemingly distracted by their own devices, trying hard to not look like they were paying attention.

“Your father is cooking tonight, he insisted that he make something for you on your first night back.” Her mother floated over to her usual seat towards the end of the table, and nervously shuffled into her seat.

“Oh that’s-” Y/n tried to reign in the sudden strong urge to cry, “That’s nice.” She melted back into her seat, feeling like her soul was floating outside of her body.

“Roland is at a friend's house until Monday. After this spring, we are looking at enrolling him in the same middle school you went to in Hershey. As such, he’s trying to soak up all the time he can with his friends.” Her mother let out a melodious laugh. “And you know me, I can’t ever say no to you guys.”

Her sentence hung heavily on Y/n’s consciousness. You didn’t have a problem with that the last time we spoke, Y/n thought to herself bitterly, but she held her tongue to keep it from slipping out.

Her mother occupied herself with unfolding her napkin and resting it on her lap. The silence lingered, the only sounds being the rustle of fabric as people shifted uncomfortably in their seat.

Y/n wanted nothing more than to both ask a million questions and reignite the argument where it left off, or to run into her mother’s arms and apologize for not giving them another chance to explain themselves. Her conflicting emotions felt overwhelming, feeding into her dissociation.

Her father burst through the doors separating the dining room from the kitchen, a handful of hot pads stacked in his hands. He looked tired, his brow furrowed as he scanned the room. He stopped looking around when he met Y/n’s eyes, and she saw his own harden in determination.

Here it comes. She thought to herself, bracing herself for him to start reprimanding her. He began to make his way towards her, tossing the hot pads on the table leaving Namjoon to frantically try to catch them before they slid into his chest.

Y/n began to stand up to greet him, but barely made it six inches off of her seat before her father wrapped his arms tightly around her shoulders. He smelt of butter, garlic, and spices as he held her tightly to his chest- it’s as if he thought the moment he let go she would run.

It took her a moment to realize that he was hugging her, not holding her hostage. Y/n let her arms robotically wind their way loosely around her father's back, not fully conscious of her own movements. For a moment she wondered if she had fallen asleep upstairs and that this was all a dream, or if she had actually tripped out front and hit her head. He surely should be yelling at her by now. After a few seconds of silence he let go of her, and gripped her shoulders tightly in his hands.

“Dad- what’s-”

“I don’t care.” His voice was warm and firm.

“I don’t understand what you mean?” Y/ns hands grabbed at her father's to try and remove them. She began to feel self-conscious of the way everyone was looking at this open display of vulnerability. She tried to take his hands off of her shoulders to stop herself from crying at the closeness that she had missed.

“All of this-” He gestured a finger wildly between Y/n, her mother, and himself, “-I don’t care about that right now. I missed you. Let’s move that aside for tonight and just enjoy dinner, yeah?”

She felt her eyes burning, and swallowed to keep herself in check. She nodded.

Her father broke into a giddy smile, and he released her. “Toll!” He spun around and quickly made his way through the swinging door, disappearing with a faint “Wunderbar!”. Only for his head to pop out again not more than a second later, a stack of cork hot pads in his hands that he tossed onto the table with a flying arc. “Can you guys spread those out? I’m going to bring everything out here.” With that, his head disappeared into the kitchen again.

Namjoon began to pass the hot pads around and Jungkook stood up to help him evenly distribute them. Not thirty seconds had passed before her dad came back out-a large tray of German potato dumplings, Kartoffelklöße, and placed them in the center. He winked at her and walked briskly back to the kitchen to carry out an array of what Y/n recognized as some of her old favorites.

Crispy roasted brussel sprouts, honey garlic carrots, buttered corn, and pan seared chicken to go with the dumplings. When he placed the last tray, he sat at the head of the table closest to the kitchen, practically glowing with pride at the feast he had prepared. Her dad didn’t waste his time beginning to fill up his own plate, stacking dumplings and chicken on top of each ether with haste. He looked up at her when he noticed she wasn’t moving.

“Bitte, iss!” He gestured exuberantly to the display, and picked up his fork to shovel the first bite in.

The rest of the table began to help themselves, and Y/n followed suit. A more comfortable silence fell over the table now that everyone had distracted themselves with curating their own plates. They had made it into a few minutes of clanking silverware and the occasional clear of someone's throat without so much as a word. But Y/n didn't mind-it gave her plenty of time to dissociate even further from the reality she had naively thrown herself into.

“Will Jin be joining us?” Her mother broke the silence, glancing from her plate to Hoseok as she pushed a carrot around her plate.

Hoseok looked up from cutting his chicken, the shake of the table cloth near his bouncing leg being the only sign of nerves he let himself show.

“He was supposed to be, but Jimin roped him into dinner at the Adelaide. He has been trying to find someone to sit with him tonight so he’s not by himself, and after being turned down by Yoongi for the dozenth time he moved onto his next victim.” He shoveled another bite into his mouth quickly, hoping to avoid being the only one speaking.

“What about the others?” Y/n didn’t realize it was her own voice until she felt her mother’s gaze on the side of her face.

“Last I heard Yoongi was called for an urgent maintenance call about an hour ago, so who knows when he’ll be back.” He shrugged, and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “His parent’s have been back in Korea since the Lunar New Year. They’ve only been coming back for maybe 6 months of the year-if that. One of his cousins had twins last year so, more of a reason to keep visiting.” He paused to take a sip from his glass of his wine. “My folks are down at the Adelaide. They usually eat there for dinner anymore, or they drive to my sister’s place. Something about finally getting to enjoy the environment and not having to be the environment.”

Y/n nodded, trying to stay engaged with anything other than her confused state of mind at the moment. This is not how she expected her first interaction with her parents to go.

“My aunt and unc-Jin’s parents-Have been traveling mostly.” Namjoon piped in letting Hoseok have a break, reaching over to grab another dumpling. “They all but retired this past January, and have been trying to make the most of it together. Though they haven't officialy gone through the process to finalize it, and I personally think they are hanging on until this year is over. Mr. Jeon has been off teaching a semester or two up at MIT. He has been trying to convince the architecture professor to bring some students down here to come visit the hotel and estate-he likes to bounce ideas off of fresh minds.”

Y/n hummed in response, turning her attention to the flavors bouncing off of her tongue. She took a risk and snuck glances at both parents. They were exchanging their own private looks; her mother’s was worried, and her father’s was nothing short of elated. Her father’s hand rested gently atop her mother’s, his thumb drawing soothing circles onto he skin. She caught her father’s gaze and he grinned, his eyes crinkling just like she used to remember, if not even brighter.

She took another bite of corn to keep herself from crying.

_________________________________________

The rest of dinner was surprisingly uneventful. Her father had been true to his word, and avoided making dinner awkward, while also not acting like he was forcing positivity down everyone’s throats. His laughter was loud and genuine, and he always left discussion open for Y/n to contribute if she wanted to, and didn’t bat an eye if she didn’t. He was, in every sense of the word, beaming. It was as if the idea of her just being at the table with him again made his day. And that realization is what led her to where she is now - huddled damp in her towel on her freshly washed and made bed, sniffling away the last of her emotional breakdown in the shower. They had missed her. They had wanted her here. And she chose not to come back. A new wave of fresh tears built up in her eyes before she could stop them again, as her spiral started its cycle all over again.

Guilt. Hope. Anger. Calm. Over and over again.

She left because of them-what they had done was unforgivable in her eyes. But here they were, wanting to sew back together a rip they made. Should she not give them the chance?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock so soft on her door that she just brushed it off as the house settling itself. She refused to let herself linger on anything that might make her heart race, trying to keep her feet planted in reality-One paranormal experience was more than enough for her today.

It did light a fire under her to move, taking it as her sign to pull herself together by tossing on an oversized t-shirt and sleep shorts so she could curl up under the covers for the rest of the night and ignore everything in favor of sleep. Stopping by the cracked closet door to give it a gentle shove closed, and finished the last steps over to her bed. But just as she was pulling the comforter's edges down, she heard the knock again, cementing the sound as definitely not the house settling. Padding softly over to the door, she opened it just a crack to see who was interrupting her self-pitying time.

Her mother was standing there, shifting from one foot to the other. Her hair was pulled up and away like she had always done before bed, like she had intended to do the same thing as Y/n before she had found herself outside of her door.

“Are you…alright?” Y/n opened the door a bit more to get a better look at her. Her eyes were rimmed red, her face was weary and sagged from fatigue. They really must’ve had the same plans.

“May I come in?” Her mother’s eyes swung from left to right, checking over her shoulder for anyone that may be listening in. Y/n wordlessly moved the side and opened the door just wide enough to let her slip through. Her mother quickly turned to shut the door behind herself, and slid the lock into place. Once she heard the click of the door close, she let out a breath of relief before turning to face Y/n.

“We need to talk.” Her mother folded her arms over herself.

Y/n snorted. “Understatement of the century.”

“I’m being serious, Y/n.” This is truly the most nervous she had ever seen her mother, causing Y/N to reign herself in again with a sigh.

“Look mom, I’m really tired right now. I just want to go to bed. Can we talk about this another time?” Y/n tried to keep her tone even. She was just getting out of the angry phase of her cycle, she didn’t need it reignited.

“No, we have to discuss it now. It’s crucial.”

Y/n sighed and plopped onto the foot of her bed with a huff. She looked up at mother expectantly, waving her hand for her to continue. “Well, say what you need to say then.”

Her mother pinched her nose between her fingers. “Y/n, I didn't come here to fight. I came here to….” Her mother paused, choosing her next words carefully. “I came here to give you some advice.”

“Advice?” Y/n's eyebrow rose in disbelief.

“Yes.” Her mother pulled her silk robe closer around her form.

“And this couldn’t wait for tomorrow because…?”

Y/n watched as she exhaled sharply through her nose, a telltale sign that she was growing impatient. “I’m sure that you’ve missed all of your friends -and rightfully so- but it’d be in your best interest that you keep some distance between a select few of them.”

Y/n recoiled at her mother’s words, her own coming out before she could stop them. “Excuse me? And who would the ‘select few of them’ be?”

Her mother’s eyes met Y/n’s with authority, and her response was short and stern. “Yoongi.”

“Are you serious?” Y/n gaped at her in disbelief.

“Jungkook too.”

“I can’t believe you’re being serious right now.” Y/n shook her head, her rage beginning to bubble to the surface.

“Y/n please listen to me-”

“Oh yes, please! Share with the class just as to why I can’t talk to my friends.” Y/n gestured to the empty room .

“I…” Her mother’s face fell, as did her voice. “I can’t.”

Y/n could’ve heard a pin drop from the front door it was so silent.

“Get out.”

“Please, you have to just trust me-” Her mother began to plead with her.

“No. I don’t have to do anything. You said you didn’t want to argue, yet here you are. Making decisions for everyone else and not bothering to give anyone else your reasoning.”

“Y/n-”

“God, I was so stupid to think that maybe you had changed based off of one dinner. Nope. Now you're in my room, giving me orders and being secretive just like always.” Y/n’s voice began to rise in volume, and her mother took a cautious step towards the door.

“That is not true. I care about you. I love you! I’m just trying to protect you,” Her mother tried to reach for her, but Y/n side-stepped out of her reach.

“Protect me?! Protect me from what?” Y/n was so enraged, that her eyes began to water again much to her own embarrassment.

Her mother stared into her eyes, opening and closing her mouth repeatedly.

Y/n let out a dry laugh. “Let me guess, you can’t tell me.”

“You wouldn’t understand-”

“Bullshit. I would. You just don’t want to tell me.” Y/ns shoulders began to deflate.

“That is not true.” Her mother pointed her finger at Y/n with venom.

“Then tell me.”

“Why can’t you just listen to me, why must you always make this so difficult.” Her mother threw her hands up into the air in exasperation.

“ME? I’m the one being difficult?”

“Yes!” Her mother hissed out from her clenched teeth.

“You’re the one that sent the invitation to me!”

“That was your father’s idea- I wanted to-” Her mother started but Y/n cut her off again.

“Oh so you don’t want me here then?”

Her mother’s eyes were alight with fury. “That is not what I said. If you’d let me finish-”

“No, actually I think I’ve heard enough. This is fucking ridicu-”

“That is enough.” Mariah’s tone was cutting, and final. She stomped towards Y/n and gripped her upper arms in her long hands. “You will listen to me.” Y/n had never seen such rage in her mother’s eyes, not once. “Do not think that for one second turning you away all those years ago doesn’t haunt me, or that a single day went by where I didn’t think of you. You will do as I say, and you will not ask questions. I will not-” Her voice cracked, forcing her to pause. “I can not lose you again. I will not lose another child.”

The way her mother’s eyes bore into her own, and the way her hands gripped onto Y/n's shoulders with such desperation knocked the air out of her lungs. She was still angry, yes, but she couldn’t find it in herself to yell at her mother-not when she looked so vulnerable and small in front of her. Two words she’d have never used to describe her mother. Her mother’s hands released themselves from her shoulders, and she walked herself with dragging feet towards the door and unlocked it with a trembling hand.

“I can’t tell you what to do, you’re right. But please at least try to listen to trust me, if not even just a little.” Her tired eyes looked at Y/n over her shoulder with so much defeat, that slowly morphed into one that was resolute. Distant and cold. “Keep your door locked at night. And if you think you hear your father walking around the house during the night…” Her mother paused within the threshold, debating her next words. “Don’t get out of bed, and don’t, under any circumstances, open the door.”

_________________________________________

Next Chapter

Toll- Great!

Wunderbar- Wonderful!

Bitte iss! -Please eat!

72 notes · View notes

melancholy-of-nadia · 1 month ago

Text

heart on the window FINALE (m) | ksj

title: heart on the window (m) pairing: ksj x reader(f) rating/genre: m (18+) ; smut ; roommates au / streamer/cam boy au / office worker au, childhood rivals to awkward roommates to lovers? au summary: You got the job! ... but at what cost. A long year living with Seokjin comes to an end, and so does camming with him and any contact with him as well. It's time to move on with your new job at Netflix, finally feeling like life is moving forward though something is missing. note: this is the end line!! i hope you enjoy the finale! happy jin echo day!! warnings: end of the house party drama mess, big fight drunk fight, sad move out from jin's place, breakup (they were never together) sex, shower sex, off cam, final cam stream, a lot of sad internal monologues from jin and reader, moving on??, distancing, namjoon x reader?, date, convos with yunjin and wendy, a year timeskip because they suck at feelings, final confessions, i don't want to spoil more etc. drop date: May 15th, 3:00pm pst word count: 12.8k crossposted on ao3 here <- chapter 6 | THE END | special chapter - -

“You… you got the job? Congrats…” Jin repeats, his voice uncertain, almost like he doesn’t believe his own words. Then, for a split second, doubt crosses his face—like he’s afraid he sounds anything but supportive.

But you barely register it. Your mind is spinning too fast, a relentless, pounding blur of everything that’s happened in the last fifteen minutes.

God, the alcohol is hitting way too hard now. Your head pounds. Your stomach churns.

“Uh, yeah… thanks,” you say, voice unsteady. The words feel foreign coming out of your mouth, like you’re speaking from underwater. “I just—”

A sudden wave of dizziness crashes over you.

“Agh,” you gasp, squeezing your eyes shut as the world tilts beneath your feet.

Jin steps forward immediately, hands hovering near your arms. “Whoa—hey, Y/N, are you okay?”

You’re not.

Your thoughts won’t stop—rapid, repetitive, overlapping in a frantic, endless loop:

Netflix job. You just got offered the job.

Seokjin just fucking kissed you with no explanation.

Moving away.

Seokjin’s place.

The party going on outside this room.

Seokjin’s unknown intentions.

Both of your friends sensing something off.

Seokjin and you camming and fucking.

Exes. Stress. Netflix job. You just got offered the job.

Seokjin just kissed you with no explanation.

Moving away. Seokjin’s place.

The party outside. Seokjin’s unknown intentions.

Both of your friends sensing something off.

Seokjin and you camming and fucking.

Exes. Stress.

Seokjin.

Your breath catches, stomach twisting violently. The room feels too small, like the walls are closing in, like everything is pressing down on you all at once.

You need to get out.

Now.

In a frantic blur, you push past Jin, making a beeline for the door. Your fingers barely brush the handle before—

Jin steps in front of you, blocking your exit.

“H-Hey, I’m sorry, I’m just— I’m not feeling well,” you blurt out, voice strained. You clutch your head, wincing. “Can you just go back to the party?”

Jin’s brows knit together, concern deepening in his gaze. “What? No—Y/N, you’re obviously not okay. What’s hurting? Just tell me what you need—”

“I need you to leave,” you cut in, more sharply than intended. “Please, Jin. I just… I just need a second.”

Jin doesn’t budge. His lips press into a tight line, eyes searching yours. “Why are you pushing me away?”

His voice isn’t angry. It isn’t teasing.

It’s something else. Something softer.

Something that makes your chest ache.

But you can’t deal with that right now.

“I just—” You suck in a shaky breath, forcing yourself to stay upright. “I need space, Jin.”

A long pause.

Then, slowly, Jin exhales through his nose. His expression shifts—just barely. His jaw tenses, but after a lingering second, he steps aside.

“…Fine,” he mutters.

He lingers for a moment, like he wants to say something else. But then he shakes his head, runs a hand through his hair, and turns toward the door.

“Just don’t pretend you’re fine when you’re not,” he says quietly.

And then, he’s gone.

The door clicks shut.

And finally, finally, you let out the breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

But it doesn’t help.

Because the second you’re alone, the weight of everything crashes down even harder.

Your legs give out beneath you, and you sink onto the edge of the wall next to the door, head in your hands.

Your pulse is erratic. Your hands tremble.

You don’t know if you want to scream, cry, or just close your eyes from the overwhelming pressure you’re feeling right now.

But you do know one thing.

Nothing is ever going to be the same after tonight.

You’re not the only one with too much on your mind.

Jin steps back into the party, the bass of the music thrumming through the floor, the warmth of bodies pressing in around him, yet all of it feels strangely distant. Like he's watching the scene unfold from behind glass.

His head is spinning—not from the alcohol, not entirely—but from the reality that just crashed into his lap.

You got the job.

The words replay over and over, each time sinking in a little deeper, a little heavier.

You’re leaving. Maybe not immediately, but soon.

That door you once saw as an escape hatch has finally opened, and for the first time, Jin realizes he never wanted you to walk through it.

The Netflix office isn’t far from his place, but logic tells him you’ll want to move closer. And why wouldn’t you? It makes sense.

But knowing that doesn’t make it easier to swallow.

His jaw tightens as he pushes through the crowd, forcing himself to look collected, normal, like nothing inside him is unraveling. He’s barely taken a step into the living room when Namjoon, Yoongi, and your friends spot him.

“Seokjin! How’s Y/N?” Namjoon asks, concern laced in his tone.

Jin tugs at the collar of his shirt, his throat suddenly dry. “She was feeling nauseous. Got a little overwhelmed.”

“Oh no! Is she okay? I can go check on her—” Yunjin starts, already turning toward the hall.

“No!” Jin’s voice is too sharp, too forceful. It startles everyone, including himself.

A beat of silence follows, and he quickly smooths his expression, schooling his tone into something more neutral. “I mean… she said she wanted some space. She looked exhausted, so I think she’s calling it a night.”

It’s half-true.

You’re overwhelmed. Probably still reeling from everything that happened in the last hour. The job offer. The kiss. The weight of an entire future shifting in real-time.

And Jin?

Jin is trying to pretend it doesn’t affect him.

But deep down, he knows he’s been bracing for this moment since you first showed up at his door. He’s watched you pour yourself into job applications, practice interview answers, take skill courses late into the night, anything to build the career you’ve been dreaming of.

He should be happy for you. And he is. He really is.

But there’s a small, selfish part of him—the one that still remembers every moment with you, every fleeting touch, every night spent tangled together under dim lights—that aches.

Because this is it.

Your exit ticket.

The chance to leave, to move forward, to disappear from his life once again.

You were never one to keep in touch. He knows that.

If it weren’t for your moms staying in contact all these years, he doubts you would’ve crossed paths again at all. The idea of it twists something deep in his chest.

He’s always been a little soft for you, even as kids. Even through the teasing, the bickering, the playful fights that turned into something else entirely.

And despite the years, despite the distance, time never really dulled his feelings.

He dated other women, of course. Wendy included.

He cared about her, respected her. Wendy is truly a great catch after all. Their breakup wasn’t achingly painful, not in the way losing you will be. It was sad and disappointing, for sure. He wasn’t blind to how he’d let things fall apart just because he put his gaming company job above all else. But the hurt he felt wasn’t about her leaving.

It was about himself.

Was he just… not enough?

If you had been in Wendy’s place, would you have left him too? Would you have grown bored of him, and realized he wasn’t what you wanted? Realizing that his desires and likes were too odd and unique for any girl for that matter.

That doubt festered for years, and then you came crashing back into his life.

And when you found out his secret—that he made money through camming—he thought for sure you’d be disgusted. Instead, you surprised him. You were intrigued, fascinated even. And eventually, you crossed the line.

And so did he.

And now?

Now, Jin has no idea where you stand.

His thoughts swirl, thick and heavy, as he sinks onto the couch. He can hear the guys around him, their conversation humming in the background, but the words blur together. His head tips back, eyes slipping shut for just a moment, the weight of alcohol and exhaustion pressing down on him. Yet, he decides to pick another drink. And another. And another.

By the time he blinks himself back into focus, the party has dwindled.

It’s nearing 2 a.m. now, and most of the guests have cleared out. Only Yoongi, Yunjin, and Wendy remain, standing near the door.

Yunjin crosses her arms, eyes sharp as she looks at Jin. “I don’t know what happened or what you did, but we have to head back to our hotel and rest because we have other plans in the morning,” she says, her voice leaving no room for argument. “I know how Y/N gets when she isolates herself, so please, Seokjin, check on her later and take care of her.”

She doesn’t wait for his response before turning on her heel and walking out.

But Wendy lingers.

She hesitates, biting her lip before finally taking a breath.

“Jin… I don’t know if I did anything to cause tension—between you and her—because of our past. But please let her know I mean no harm.” Her voice is soft, careful. “I feel like now’s not the best time to talk about this, but, reach out to me to catch up, alright?”

Jin meets her gaze.

For a long moment, he just watches her.

Then, finally, he nods. “…Yeah. I will.”

He still has her number, though in his old phone. He’ll reach out once he’s able to feel more comfortable doing so.

Wendy looks like she wants to say more. Maybe ask something, maybe clarify something. But instead, she just gives him a lingering look before stepping out the door, closing it in the process.

And then, silence.

The house, once buzzing with life, is eerily still.

Jin exhales, running a hand through his hair.

He should clean up. He should go to bed.

But instead, he just sits there.

Because for the first time in a long time, he feels like he’s already losing you.

Yoongi still there, hunched over his phone, tapping out a beat with practiced ease, but he’s only half-focused. He glances up at Jin slouched on the couch, eyes distant, fingers gripping the cushion like it's the only thing keeping him tethered. With a sigh, Yoongi locks his phone and sets it down.

“You look fucking pathetic.”

He pushes himself up and starts gathering the discarded cups and bottles littering the living room, tossing them into the overflowing trash can in the kitchen. The rhythmic clatter of plastic and glass fills the silence between them.

Jin exhales sharply, rubbing a hand down his face. “That’s because I am.”

Yoongi doesn’t bother sugarcoating it. “What happened? You brooding like this because you’re in your feelings, or did something actually go down in her room?”

Jin hesitates.

Does he even have the right to talk about this? About you? About the life-changing opportunity that just landed in your lap?

His gaze flickers toward the hallway. The door to your room is shut, silent. If he knows anything about you—and after these months of living together, he does—it’s that you’re probably passed out by now. Alcohol always hits you hard, and the weight of tonight must have drained you completely.

At least, he hopes you’re asleep. He hopes you didn’t cry yourself there.

He swallows, choosing his words carefully. “We fought. Then we made out. Then she got a call—Netflix offered her a job.”

Yoongi stills, eyebrows lifting.

Jin presses his lips together, jaw tight. “And then she had a panic attack and kicked me out of the room.”

A beat of silence.

“Oh.” Yoongi pauses mid-step, fingers tightening around the empty beer cans he’s holding before he exhales through his nose. “Well, shit.” He dumps the trash into the bin with a hollow clatter. “That’s a hell of a sequence of events.”

Jin huffs out a laugh, humorless and dry. “Yeah.” He leans forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “Tell me about it.”

Yoongi eyes him for a moment before heading back to the couch, sinking into the spot beside Jin. He doesn’t say anything right away, just pulls out his phone and taps at the screen, as if looking for the right words.

Jin doesn’t know what to say either. His mind is still a mess, tangled up in the events of the night, replaying over and over. Your lips on his, the way you clung to him like you needed him just as much as he needed you—then the sheer panic in your eyes when reality came crashing down.

And that fucking phone call.

A golden opportunity, the very thing you’ve been working toward, and it hit you like a freight train instead of a celebration.

Jin sighs, rubbing his face with both hands. “I don’t know what to do, man.”

Yoongi finally looks up from his phone, a brow arched. “About what?”

“About… all of it.” Jin gestures vaguely, as if that somehow explains the storm in his head. “She’s leaving.”

“She got a job, Seokjin. That’s a good thing.”

“I know that.” His voice comes out sharper than he intends, but Yoongi doesn’t flinch. Just waits. “I know that,” he repeats, quieter this time. “She deserves it. She worked her ass off for this.”

“But?”

Jin swallows.

“But I don’t want her to go.”

Yoongi sighs, leaning back against the couch. “Yeah. Thought so.”

Jin stays silent, staring at the floor.

“You gonna tell her that?” Yoongi asks after a beat.

Jin scoffs. “And say what? ‘Hey, I know this is your dream job and all, but could you maybe stay here and keep fucking me instead?’”

Yoongi snorts, shaking his head. “Jesus. Maybe not that wording.”

Jin exhales sharply, slumping against the couch.

Yoongi taps his fingers against his knee, considering something. “Look,” he finally says. “I don’t know what’s going on between you two, and honestly? I don’t think you do either.”

Jin opens his mouth to argue, but Yoongi cuts him off.

“I do know that you need to figure your shit out before it’s too late.” His voice is even, but firm. “Before she’s packed up and gone, and you’re stuck here wishing you had said something.”

Jin’s chest tightens.

Because that’s exactly what he’s afraid of.

Yoongi decides to crash on the couch, too tired to make the trip home at this hour. Before he dozes off, he mutters something about Jin needing to stop being a coward and say what he really feels. Jin doesn't respond, he just stares at the ceiling, drowning in his own thoughts before also falling asleep.

By the time the sun rises, Yoongi is already up and gone, leaving behind nothing but the faint scent of his Invictus cologne and a lazily folded blanket on the couch. Jin doesn’t dwell on it. Instead, he gets to work, cleaning up whatever remnants of the party are still scattered around the apartment. Empty bottles, forgotten jackets, a stray phone charger. It gives him something to focus on, something to do—because if he sits still for too long, his mind circles back to you.

To last night.

By the time he’s done tidying, he’s moving onto breakfast, stirring a pot of haejang-guk (hangover soup) on the stove when he hears the soft shuffle of footsteps behind him.

You.

Waddling into the kitchen, looking half-asleep and disheveled, dressed in a faded Sex Pistols t-shirt that hangs loose on your frame and a pair of soft, hot pink shorts that—fuck—leave way too much of your legs on display for him.

You move straight to the fridge, pulling out a cold bottle of water, cracking it open and taking a long sip. You don’t notice him right away, but when you finally glance up, your entire body stiffens.

Jin’s standing at the stove, stirring the pot, hair slightly messy from sleep, wearing sweats and a plain black t-shirt that clings to his broad shoulders.

Your heart does an embarrassing little flip.

Oh. Right. Last night.

The sheer panic that overtook you. The way you shoved him out. The fact that he kissed you before that—before your entire world was upended by one phone call.

You were too overwhelmed to process it all then, too drunk to even begin forming coherent thoughts. But now? Now you feel... clearer. Hungover, sure, but rational. Maybe now you can finally piece together what to say.

You need to ask him about that kiss, because what was all of that about?! Why did he do that?

You mentally repeat to yourself that you’re going to ask about this, but when Jin glances up, eyes locking onto yours, just like that, your carefully assembled train of thought derails entirely.

“I–Uh, good morning…” you mumble.

Fuck. "Morning. I made hangover soup for us."

For us.

Ah! Now, how the hell can you even bring this up? Your grip tightens around the bottle of water as you shift on your feet, suddenly hyper-aware of how quiet the apartment feels now. No music, no voices, no party—just the soft bubbling of the pot on the stove and the occasional scrape of Jin’s spoon against the metal.

You should say something. Acknowledge something. Last night. The job offer. The kiss.

But all you manage is a nod, stepping closer to peek into the pot.

Maybe you should just wait until he brings it up? Or just bring it up another time before you move. You need to eat something now.

The scent of rich broth and soft tofu fills your senses, warm and grounding. Jin ladles some into a bowl and sets it on the counter in front of you.

"Eat," he says simply, sliding a spoon your way.

You hesitate, but only for a second. The first sip is heaven—warm, salty, soothing against the dull ache in your head. You let out a quiet sigh, and Jin chuckles under his breath.

"That good, huh?"

"Shut up," you mutter, but there's no real bite to it.

Silence falls between you again, but this time, it’s not as suffocating.

Jin sits across from you on a stool, eating his own bowl, eyes flickering toward you every so often like he’s waiting for you to speak. Waiting for you to bring it up.

And maybe he’s right. Maybe it should be you. Maybe this is the moment to clear the air, to figure out where things stand between you now.

You set your spoon down. Take a breath.

"I—"

But before you can finish, Jin beats you to it.

"Are you really taking the job?"

Unexpected question, you’d thought he’d bring up the kiss first, out of all things.

"Huh? I mean, I gotta take the job. I haven't worked…professionally in months. Why wouldn't I take the job?"

Jin sets his spoon down, his fingers drumming against the countertop as he watches you. His expression is unreadable, but there’s a slight tension in his jaw, a flicker of something behind his eyes. Something he’s trying to suppress.

"I don’t know," he says finally, voice even. "You just seemed... overwhelmed last night."

You blink at him, then scoff lightly. "Of course I was overwhelmed. I was drunk, we were arguing, I got a job offer out of nowhere, and you—" You pause, heat creeping up your neck.

Jin raises an eyebrow. "I...?"

You swallow. He’s really going to make you say it, huh? "You kissed me."

Jin doesn’t flinch, doesn’t look away, but he doesn’t rush to explain himself either. Instead, he leans forward slightly, resting his forearms on the counter. "And you kissed me back."

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. Because—fuck. He’s not wrong.

But could he focus on that instead of making a fuss about your new job!? You want answers, but you’re also not going to push if he’s just not going to do that first.

Jin tilts his head, studying you, and then sighs. "Look, I’m happy for you. Really, I am. You worked your ass off for this." His fingers tap against the counter again. "But I just—I guess I didn’t expect it to happen so soon."

You frown. "It’s not like I planned it either."

"I know." He exhales sharply through his nose, ruffling his bangs. "And it’s not like I’m trying to hold you back, but…"

"But what?"

Jin hesitates. And for the first time since this conversation started, you see it—the crack in his composure, the barest flicker of something else.

He shakes his head. "Never mind."

"Jin." You push your bowl aside, heart pounding just a little faster. "Just say it."

He looks at you for a long moment, then rubs the back of his neck, glancing away. "It’s just—I guess I was getting used to having you around again."

Your breath catches.

"And now you’re gonna be gone," he adds quietly.

A lump forms in your throat. You grip the edge of the counter, staring down at your hands as a new kind of unease settles over you.

Because the worst part?

You were getting used to him too.

“...But maybe this is a good thing," you say, voice quieter now. "I feel like I need some space.” You keep your eyes on your hands, tracing an invisible pattern against the counter, afraid to meet his gaze.

“Space?” Jin repeats, like the word itself is foreign.

“To grow… to move forward. Life has felt kind of stagnant.”

Jin lets out a short, dry scoff. “Has it really? Has life felt stagnant here? The last few months…we—" He shakes his head. "Did none of this mean anything to you?"

It has meant something.

More than you ever expected. It’s given you back the confidence you didn’t even realize you lost. It’s helped you rediscover yourself and explore your desires in ways that felt safe and natural because it was with him.

"It did," you admit, forcing yourself to look up at him. "But like any job, when time starts running out, you start looking for the next thing. That’s just where I’m at now."

Jin’s lips press together, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then, finally, he nods. "I get it," he says, but there’s something heavy in his tone, something almost... resigned. "So... I guess that means we’re done camming, then?"

Something about hearing it put so plainly makes your stomach twist.

It started out as something so outrageous, just to take up the challenge.

But damn, you really did get used to this—to him.

"Yeah," you exhale, trying to ignore the ache in your chest. "That’s the next step. I’m back in my professional field now, and if I stay at Netflix long enough, I could actually be somebody there. So I’d rather not have the sexiest part of my quarter-life crisis come back to haunt me."

That finally earns a laugh from Jin, even if it’s brief. "That’s a shame," he sighs, rolling up his sleeves and heading toward the sink. "We never did figure out a way to stream shower sex on cam."

“Seokjin!” Your gasp is immediate, scandalized, but also, if you're being honest, just a little turned on.

He smirks, unbothered. "What? I’m just saying. Missed opportunity."

You roll your eyes, shaking your head. But then, before you can stop yourself, the words slip out—half joking, half serious.

"I mean… we could still do it."

Jin pauses mid-rinse, fingers still gripping the dish in his hands. Then, slowly, he turns his head, eyes narrowing with intrigue.

"One last hurrah," you add, teasing. But there’s an edge of challenge in your tone.

You haven’t had sex with him off camera since the first time he fucked you when he discovered you masturbating to his stream. All sexual activities have been restricted to the livestream to keep that emotional/mental barrier with each other up. This would be the second time you guys do this without others watching…if he decides to indulge in this.

And by the way Jin’s gaze darkens, he definitely hears it too.

He sets the dish down in the sink, shaking off the excess water from his hands as he turns to face you fully. His expression is unreadable at first—lips slightly parted, eyes flickering with something unreadable but intense. Then, his tongue swipes across his lower lip, and you know exactly where his mind has gone.

"You serious?" His voice is low, careful.

You hesitate for just a second. Not because you don’t want to, but because the reality of what you just suggested settles in, and it sends a ripple of anticipation down your spine.

"Why not?" you say, lifting one shoulder in a shrug, playing at nonchalance even as your body betrays you—the way your thighs squeeze together just a little, the way your breath hitches. "One last time. Just for fun."

Jin exhales a quiet laugh, shaking his head. But then he steps closer, bridging the space between you with deliberate slowness. His fingertips ghost over the hem of your shorts, barely there.

"You say ‘one last time,’ but we both know how that goes," he murmurs, eyes locked onto yours.

His hands slide to your hips, pulling you flush against him. He’s warm, solid, and already you can feel the way his body reacts to the proximity. You swallow hard, heart thudding against your ribs.

"Then let’s just not think about it too much," you whisper, tilting your chin up slightly. "Just... take me to the shower. I need to take a shower anyways."

Jin doesn’t need to be told twice.

In a blur, he grips the backs of your thighs, hoisting you up effortlessly, and your legs wrap around his waist as he strides toward his bathroom. It's big enough to fit the both of you unlike your own en-suite bathroom.

Your back presses against the cool tile wall, a contrast to the heat blooming between you, and Jin's mouth is on yours before you can take another breath—hot, demanding, hungry.

His fingers are already slipping beneath your shirt, teasing along your bare skin, and you gasp into the kiss, clutching at his shoulders as he grinds against you.

"Hope you weren’t actually planning to shower," he murmurs against your lips, his voice thick with amusement and arousal.

"Jin," you whimper, already half-lost in the sensation of his hands roaming your body.

"Yeah, yeah, I got you," he chuckles darkly, and then he’s reaching for the faucet, turning the water on full blast.

The warm spray hits your skin, but the heat between you burns hotter. And as Jin’s mouth trails down your neck, his hands already tugging at your soaked clothes, you know—this last hurrah is about to be anything but tame.

Steam rises in thick waves around you, curling against the glass shower door, but it’s nothing compared to the heat between you and Jin. His mouth moves against yours, hungry and insistent, hands already roaming under the hem of your soaked t-shirt, fingers grazing over your damp skin.

"I’m gonna make you never forget this last time,'" he mutters, lips brushing against yours, teasing.

You shiver—not from the water cascading down your back but from the way his fingers tighten around your hips.

"Jin—" you start, but he’s already lifting your shirt, peeling it off your body and tossing it out of the shower. The cool air hits your bare skin, but it doesn’t last long before his hands are on you again, palms gliding down your sides, his touch possessive.

His mouth trails down the column of your neck, hot and wet, as his fingers hook into the waistband of your shorts. He tugs them down slowly, teasing you with the friction of the fabric sliding against your thighs before they hit the wet tile with a dull thud. You kick them away blindly, more focused on the way Jin takes you in. His eyes dark, pupils blown with something raw and unfiltered.

"Fuck," he murmurs, hands dragging over your bare skin, gripping your waist, kneading the softness of your thighs.

"Your turn," you breathe, reaching for the hem of his drenched shirt. You yank it up and over his head, reveling in the way the water beads down his toned chest.

Jin grins, though it falters slightly when your fingers dip into the waistband of his sweats. You make quick work of them, shoving them down along with his boxers, and suddenly there’s nothing between you but heat and urgency.

Before you can even think, Jin’s hands are on your waist again, spinning you effortlessly and pressing you against the shower wall. The cool tile is a sharp contrast to the warmth of his body caging you in, chest flush against your back, one hand braced against the wall beside you while the other slides over your stomach, dipping lower.

"You sure about this?" he murmurs against your ear, voice thick with something dangerous.

You nod, breathless, your hands splayed against the tiles. "Yeah. No cameras, no audience. Just us getting out whatever final pleasures we have left in us."

Jin groans, his fingers digging into your hips as he lines himself up, teasing you for a moment before rolling his hips forward, sinking into you with one slow, deep thrust.

A strangled moan escapes your lips, your body arching against the wall as he fills you completely. The feeling is almost overwhelming—the heat of the water, the way he stretches you perfectly, the way his grip tightens on your hips as he starts to move.

"Fuck, you feel so good," Jin groans, pressing his mouth to your shoulder, his thrusts slow at first, deliberate, making you feel every inch of him.

The sound of the water hitting the tiles mixes with the slick sounds of your bodies moving together, the heat of the shower amplifying everything—the way his hands grip your thighs, the way his mouth drags along your spine, the way he groans your name like a prayer.

Your fingers press against the wall for support as his pace picks up, his thrusts hitting deeper, harder, pulling desperate gasps from your lips. The sensation builds rapidly, pleasure curling low in your stomach, threatening to spill over.

"Jin—I’m—"

"I know," he pants, his own breath ragged, his movements growing more erratic. "Me too—fuck—"

And then everything shatters.

Pleasure crashes over you in waves, your body trembling as you cry out, clenching around him. Jin follows right after, groaning into your neck as he stills, his body shuddering against yours.

For a long moment, neither of you move. The water beats down on your overheated skin, and Jin rests his forehead against your shoulder, breaths heavy, arms still locked tight around you.

The aftershocks still pulse through you, leaving you breathless and spent against the cool tiles. But he isn’t finished.

Before you can fully regain your senses, he shifts, strong hands gripping your waist as he pulls out, only to turn you toward him. Your back meets the slick glass of the shower door, the warmth of the steam making it fog up around you. Jin’s body is pressed flush against yours, the heat of his skin searing against the wetness of yours.

He leans in, lips capturing yours in a searing kiss, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that reignites the fire in your belly. One of his hands trails downward, skimming over the curve of your hip before gripping the back of your thigh. With ease, he lifts your leg, hooking it around his waist as he presses forward again, burying himself inside you in one deep thrust.

You gasp against his lips, hands flying up to grip his shoulders for support. The new angle sends pleasure sparking through your nerves, and when your eyes flutter open, they land on the large bathroom mirror just beyond the shower glass.

From this view, you can see everything—Jin’s body pressing into yours, the way your skin is slick and flushed from the heat, the way his muscles flex with every movement. His dark eyes meet yours in the reflection, filled with raw hunger, a smirk tugging at his lips when he notices where your attention has drifted.

"Like what you see?" he murmurs, voice rough with desire.

Your only response is a whimper as he thrusts deeper, his free hand sliding up your body to cup your breast, fingers rolling your nipple between them. The contrast of the warmth of his palm against the cool air makes you arch into his touch, your head falling back against the fogged-up glass.

Jin groans, his grip on your thigh tightening as he quickens his pace, his hips snapping against yours, the wet sounds of your bodies moving together echoing through the steamy bathroom. Each thrust pushes you harder against the glass, the coolness against your burning skin only amplifying the sensation.

Watching it unfold in the mirror only heightens the pleasure—the way his body moves, the way your own writhes beneath him, the way his hand greedily kneads your breast, thumb flicking over your hardened nipple as he fucks you relentlessly.

"Jin—fuck," you gasp, nails digging into his back, leaving half-moon indentations in his slick skin.

"Look at us," he commands, voice strained as he fights to hold himself back, to prolong the moment. "Look at how good we look together."

You do. And it’s almost too much—the sight of his body pressed so intimately against yours, the way his jaw clenches as he watches himself disappear into you over and over again.

His fingers tighten around your thigh as his thrusts grow erratic, each movement slamming you harder against the glass. The coil in your stomach tightens dangerously, your vision blurring with the overwhelming pleasure building deep inside you.

"Seokjin—I’m close—"

"Me too," he groans, his mouth dropping to your neck, biting and sucking until he’s sure he’s left his mark. "Come for me, Princess."

And with one final thrust, you do. Your body shattering around him, pleasure crashing over you in uncontrollable waves.

Jin is also nearing his end as well, which leads you to do one last crazy thing. You suddenly push against his chest, breaking the rhythm of his thrusts. His brows furrow in confusion, his lips parting to ask why, until you drop to your knees on the slick shower floor.

Jin’s breath catches, his body going rigid as you look up at him with heavy-lidded eyes, water streaming down your face. You lick your lips, your voice sultry and certain.

"Wait, I want you to finish in my mouth."

His reaction is immediate. His jaw clenches, his grip tightening where he’d been holding your waist. You can feel his cock twitch against your palm as you wrap your fingers around it, stroking him slowly.

"Fuck—" Jin groans, his head tipping back for a moment, overwhelmed.

It catches him completely off guard. Majority of the time, the pleasure is focused on you, which he loves. He gets off on making you unravel, watching you fall apart beneath him. On the rare occasions you do something for him, it’s never expected, always a surprise that leaves him completely undone.

And this…this is different.

Your lips wrap around the flushed head of his cock, and Jin sucks in a sharp breath. You take him in slowly, inch by inch, your tongue swirling around him, savoring the way his body shudders at your touch. His hands find your wet hair, threading through the strands as he watches you with hooded eyes, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

"Shit—just like that," he rasps, his voice strained as you take him deeper, your hands gripping his thighs for balance.

The warmth of your mouth, the way your tongue flicks against his sensitive spots—it’s almost too much. His restraint is slipping fast, and the sight of you kneeling before him, water cascading over your body, your lips stretched around his cock, has him throbbing with need.

You hollow your cheeks, your pace quickening, sucking him in with more fervor. His fingers tighten in your hair, hips stuttering forward as he fights not to lose control.

"You sure you want this?" he asks, voice rough, a last attempt at restraint.

Your only response is a low hum around him, the vibration sending a jolt of pleasure straight to his core. That’s all it takes.

"Fuck—" Jin groans, his head dropping forward as his grip in your hair tightens. His hips jerk as he finally lets go, spilling into your mouth, his entire body trembling with the force of his release.

You take it all, swallowing around him, your tongue teasing him until he’s completely spent. When you finally pull back, releasing him with a soft pop, he stares down at you, his expression dazed, still catching his breath.

"You're gonna be the death of me," he mutters, pulling you up and crashing his lips against yours, tasting himself on your tongue.

Jin pulls you close, his hands roaming over your slick skin as he deepens the kiss, the taste of himself lingering on your tongue. His heart is still hammering against his ribs, his body thrumming with the aftershocks of pleasure.

For a moment, neither of you speak. The sound of the shower fills the space, steam curling around your bodies, the warmth of the water cascading down your backs. His forehead rests against yours, his breath still uneven, but his hold on you is firm—like he doesn’t want to let go.

Eventually, he exhales a quiet laugh, his fingers tracing slow circles along your waist. "That was…unexpected," he murmurs, amusement flickering in his tired eyes.

You smirk, pressing a lingering kiss to his lips before pulling back. "Figured I’d give you a send-off worth remembering."

His grip tightens, a silent protest, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he presses one last kiss to your temple before reaching past you to shut off the water.

With a sigh, you both step out, Jin immediately grabbing a towel and wrapping it around you before drying himself off. The silence between you is thick—not uncomfortable, but heavy with the weight of what’s to come.

As you catch your reflection in the mirror, you can’t help but wonder—was this really just a send-off? Or was it something else entirely?

You glance at Jin, who’s already watching you through the mirror, his expression unreadable.

"Well, the water bill is going to be so damn high because of this," he says softly, handing you some clothes. “It was worth it, though.”

You giggle at his words as you exit the bathroom and go back to your room to change.

As your time with Jin dwindles to an end, the two of you decide to host one final stream for your Chaturbate audience, though, not as wild as your usual performances.

It’s still teasing enough to leave an impression, however!

This time, it's a mix of sensuality and humor, a slow-burn farewell.

Jin sits back against the headboard, shirtless, microphone in hand as he reads passages from Fifty Shades of Grey in his smooth, deep voice. His tone is velvety, deliberate, and teasing as he enunciates every sultry word, making even the most absurd lines sound seductive.

You, on the other hand, straddle him, taking as much of him as you can, moving slowly, carefully, trying to keep your reactions minimal. Your hands grip his shoulders for support, your lips occasionally pressing into his skin to stifle the little gasps that threaten to slip out.

The challenge is clear: stay quiet or suffer the consequences.

The chat erupts with excitement at the unusual setup:

“ASMR daddy Jin? What kind of blessed content is this?”“How the hell is she staying quiet? I’d be a goner.”“Omg, is this their last stream? SAY IT AIN’T SO.”“Pls don’t leave us. We just got used to this masterpiece of a channel.”

Every time a particularly breathy sound escapes you, Jin smirks, setting the book down momentarily to deliver a sharp smack to your thigh or breast.

You bite your lip, gripping onto him tighter, the thrill of the control he has over you mixing with the bittersweet realization that this is the last time you’ll be doing this together. Despite the playful tone of the stream, there’s an underlying sadness creeping in.

By the time the session ends, the chat is flooded with messages, not just of arousal but of disappointment and farewell.

“Our Princess Peach is really leaving us? After all this?”“This is the best cam duo we’ve ever had.”“Jin, are you at least keeping the channel? Even if it’s just continuing to do solo stuff?”“Thank you for everything. You two were insane together.”

Jin watches the comments roll in, his expression unreadable, but you can tell he’s taking it all in. His channel has exploded over the last several months due to the duo concept, catapulting into the top 20 cam accounts on the platform. It’s ironic, really.

Just when things were at their peak, it’s all coming to an end.

Jin logs off, shutting the laptop. Silence settles in the room, save for the hum of the city outside. You look at Jin, unsure of what to say.

He beats you to it. “Well… that was one hell of a ride.”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “Yeah… it was.”

But as much as you both try to keep things lighthearted, there’s a heaviness in the air that neither of you want to address.

And probably never will.

This heaviness continues to linger days after.

The following Monday, you meet with Gia, the director of the team you’ll be working with, to discuss your offer and finalize your start date. In two weeks, you’ll officially begin your role at Netflix. It still feels surreal. You’ve spent so much time chasing this kind of opportunity, and now that it’s here, there’s no turning back.

In the days that follow, you search for an apartment near the Netflix office, combing through listings, arranging viewings, and packing up your things at Jin’s place. The transition should be exciting, but a lingering emptiness gnaws at you.

Jin, who once felt like a constant presence in your life, eating meals together, going out to eat together, spending time with each other… starts becoming more and more absent.

He leaves early for work and returns late, barely sparing time for conversation.

You don’t push him for answers about his absence or anything else lingering about your relationship with him. You assume he’s caught up in some major project coincidentally as things are starting to ramp up again in your life.

And knowing Jin, he likes giving it his all in the work he does.

But the lack of his presence stings more than you want to admit.

And now, the absence in this place is much bigger. The weekend before your first day of your new job, Jin leaves town for work. He texted you an apology for not being able to help out with your move, but told you he’d send Namjoon to help you out and Yoongi would be picking up the spare keys from you. You’re glad that he didn’t let you handle the final move on your own and sent for one of his good friends to help you out.

Namjoon is someone you found yourself growing closer to since the party, bonding over a mutual love for romance novels. You discovered beneath his intellectual, slightly intimidating exterior, he was just as much of a hopeless romantic as you.

As you tape up another moving box, Namjoon sits nearby, flipping through one of your books. “You have a ridiculous amount of these,” he teases.

You roll your eyes. “And? Sue me for enjoying love stories.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “No judgment because I like them too. Just… it makes sense, considering your past shitty relationship.”

You pause, rolling your eyes at him. “Always dreaming of finding better partners in my love life like the books,”

The response makes him and Wendy giggle.

Wendy was luckily in town for a work conference, so she offered to help out too.

Since the night of the party, she’s has been overly apologetic about never telling you she dated Jin. Every time, you wave it off, telling her it doesn't matter. You don’t even blame her for not mentioning it. After all, you had no idea they even knew each other. You weren’t on social media to keep up with her life, too busy being wrapped up in your own.

Back when you were still with Mingi.

Sigh.

With the last of your belongings packed, your car and Wendy’s are stuffed to the brim with boxes. You slide into the passenger seat of Wendy’s car while Namjoon follows behind, driving yours. Slowly, Jin’s beautiful apartment complex fades from view, swallowed up by the cityscape. Little by little, it disappears in the distance, and from your life.

"Are you going to miss living with him?" Wendy glances at you as she stops at a red light.

You inhale deeply, weighing your answer.

"Not really," you lie. "It was nice having company, though." That’s the only piece of truth you allow to slip through.

Wendy studies your expression but doesn’t press. Instead, she says, "If you like him, you should go for him."

You shake your head. "Oh no, I’m not interested! Plus, he doesn’t like me like that."

Jin has always been impossible to read. His words, his actions, they blurred the lines between friendship, something deeper, and something entirely fleeting. Some days, he felt like a stranger. Others, he felt like someone you could have had forever with.

You’re too old to be pondering this like a teenage girl trying to connect the dots that a guy likes her back.

"If you’re worried about the fact that we dated, please don’t be," Wendy says, keeping her eyes on the road. "I admired him when we worked together, and that turned into dating. But honestly, our relationship always felt more like a deep friendship with bits of romance sprinkled in. Our hearts were always… elsewhere."

Elsewhere.

You chew on that word, wondering where Jin's heart really was if not with her.

"Thank you for letting me know, Wendy. But I think for now, no relationships!" You force a small laugh, trying to lighten the mood. "I just want to focus on my new job and what's to come."

Wendy nods in understanding, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. "That makes sense. A new chapter, a fresh start."

"Exactly." You lean back against the seat, watching the city blur past the window. It’s easier to say than to actually feel, but you want to believe it.

As the drive continues, Wendy chats about her upcoming projects, the books she's been reading, and her plans to visit her family soon. You listen, grateful for the distraction.

By the time you reach your new apartment, Namjoon is already out of the car, stretching before starting to unload the boxes.

You take a deep breath, looking up at the unfamiliar building. It’s a sleek, modern 3 story apartment building not too far from the main streets of the entertainment capital of the world. A stark contrast from Jin’s quiet, cozy apartment tucked away from the chaos of the city. Here, the hum of life never stops: cars honking, distant music drifting from other homes, and the constant murmur of people moving, working, living.

The lobby is just as polished as the exterior, with minimalist décor, warm lighting, and a concierge desk where a sharply dressed employee greets you with a polite nod. Floor-to-ceiling windows give a panoramic view of the city skyline, and the elevator ride up feels surreal—like stepping further into a new reality, leaving behind everything familiar.

Inside, your unit is just as modern. Open-concept, sleek hardwood floors, a kitchen with marble countertops, and floor-to-ceiling windows that let in the golden glow of the setting sun. It’s smaller than Jin’s place, but it feels fresh, new, like an empty canvas waiting for you to make it your own.

"Welcome home," Namjoon grins, patting the hood of your car as he stretches. "Ready for the next big thing?"

You let out a slow exhale, stepping onto the threshold of your new life.

"Yeah," you say, more to yourself than to him. "I think I am."

A home, that doesn’t feel like home yet, but you’ll eventually get there.

The apartment is too quiet.

Seokjin steps through the door and kicks off his shoes with less energy than usual. No warm lighting in the hallway. No lingering scent of the candles you used to light in the evenings. No soft laughter drifting from the living room. It’s dark—just the faint glow of the city outside bleeding through the windows.

He flicks on a lamp, and the room looks… untouched. Clean. Cold. Soulless.

You’re gone.

He exhales through his nose, the weight of the silence pressing into his chest like a familiar ache. The same kind of ache he felt years ago, when his family moved away and he disappeared from your life without warning. Back then, he was just a dumb kid who didn’t know how to say he liked you, didn’t know how to say that teasing you wasn’t because he disliked you—it was the only way he knew how to get your attention.

But now? He’s an adult, and still he didn’t say anything.

He told himself it wasn’t the right time. That you had too much going on. That you were only here for a little while and what you two had was just comfort, release, boredom, exploration. That’s what he told himself. That’s what he told himself when you smiled at Namjoon a little longer than you ever smiled at him. He didn’t think Namjoon was as handsome or charismatic as him, but maybe you preferred that anyways.

He unbuttons his dress shirt slowly, absently. Shrugs it off and tosses it aside, then sinks into the couch in just his undershirt and slacks.

The ceiling stares back at him.

He thinks about texting you. Maybe something casual—

"How was your first day, corporate baddie?" Or something stupid and sweet—

"Rate your new apartment on a scale of 1 to missing me terribly."

He even types them out halfway in his head. But his fingers don’t move. His phone stays face-down on the coffee table.

You have your own life now. A real job. A new place. People to meet. Maybe someone else to love. Maybe someone like Namjoon. Maybe someone he doesn’t know.

And he’s just Seokjin. The guy who let you slip away again. The guy who made you laugh, who made you come undone under soft lights and steady hands, but never said what he really felt.

Maybe this is just how it’s meant to be. Some people pass through your life like seasons—warm, intense, fleeting.

He rests his head back, eyes fluttering shut, lips parting in a slow sigh. “I miss you already,” he murmurs to the ceiling.

But no one’s there to hear it.

And still, he doesn’t send the text.

Leaving these words left unsaid.

Three months pass. It’s a rainy afternoon as you drive home, stuck in traffic, the gray skyline blurring into streaks against your windshield. The light drizzle taps a restless beat on the roof of your car, a soft soundtrack to the ache that’s been gnawing at you all day. You could’ve blasted music to drown it out. You could’ve called anyone else. But somehow, your fingers drift to Yunjin’s contact.

You’re tired. So tired. And not just from work. But from thoughts constantly looming in your head of what you should’ve and could’ve done in the past.

The phone rings once. Twice.

“Hello?” Yunjin’s voice comes through immediately, warm and concerned, like she’s been waiting for you to reach out first for once.

You hesitate for a second, then sigh, forehead leaning against the steering wheel. “Hey. You busy?”

“No, no, not at all…are you okay?” she asks, voice tightening a little. You know she’s been worried. She’s your best friend after all. She’s been checking in more ever since the night of the party. Ever since you moved out of Jin’s place. You kept brushing her off with that stupid excuse: alcohol plus stress from all that damn job hunting plus the sudden job offer out of nowhere. A bad combination of good and bad stuff. Nothing more.

But Yunjin’s always seen through you. She just never pushed.

Today, though, something inside you gives.

“I just…” you start, the words sticking to your throat. “I didn’t want to be alone with my thoughts tonight.”

There’s a pause. She lets you set the pace.

You grip the steering wheel tighter, the rain smearing lights into watercolor blurs around you. “Remember that party at Jin’s? It wasn’t just a breakdown that night. I lied.”

“I know,” she says softly.

You laugh—bitter, shaky. “Of course you do.” She’s always been good at reading through you, and the people around her.

Another silence stretches out between you, but it isn’t heavy. It’s patient.

“I got...close to Seokjin,” you say slowly, voice fragile, like if you speak too loud the memories will shatter. “Closer than I ever was… and ever meant to. And I didn’t even realize it was happening until it was too late.”

You swallow hard, fighting the sting in your eyes.

“Living with Jin was supposed to be a temporary thing, you know?” you murmur. “But it felt...safe. Like for the first time in a long time, I didn’t have to hold my breath around someone. He just—he made it easy to exist. I didn’t have to be ashamed of not having a job, or being in a quarter-life crisis, or being cheated on...”

You hear Yunjin breathe in, steady and soft. She’s listening. She always does.

“And I think I...I fell for him,” you admit in a whisper, as if the confession itself might break you. “Slowly. Stupidly. Without even realizing it.” you bite your lip, pulse quickening, careful not to spill too much on your camming secret life with him. “I had a negative opinion of him growing up, but that didn’t reflect into who he grew into now. The way he looked out for me. The way he made me laugh when I thought I couldn’t anymore.”

Your chest tightens unbearably, and you blink rapidly at the windshield.

“But it’s whatever now,” you add quickly, the words a shield, a desperate, crumbling wall. “I’m moving on. It was just...temporary. A phase. He probably didn’t even think twice about it. I’m being stupid. I’m not even sure it was real.”

You try to laugh again, but it comes out cracked and hollow.

“God, Mingi would laugh at me if he saw me like this. Hung up over someone I never even officially dated. Acting desperate for love or whatever. I must look pathetic.”

Yunjin’s voice is warm, a balm to the raw ache inside you. “You’re not pathetic!”

You exhale a shaky breath, the traffic crawling forward a few inches.

“Maybe not. But I feel it.”

Outside, the rain keeps falling, a steady murmur against the world. And for the first time in a while, you don’t feel as alone with it. For a while, you both just sit in the silence, the rain filling the space where your broken words can’t.

Then Yunjin speaks, her voice careful, gentle. “You know…” she starts, trailing off thoughtfully. “I think maybe you should talk to him.”

Your heart skips in your chest.

You shift uncomfortably in your seat. “Talk to Jin?”

“Yeah…” she says, trying to sound casual but you can hear the note of something careful in her tone. “I mean...you lived together for months. Got close. Maybe it’s not as one-sided as you think.”

You scoff lightly, looking away from the windshield. “I doubt it. ”

But Yunjin presses on, choosing her words delicately. “You’re both stubborn. Maybe he’s just...waiting for you to make the first move. Or at least to clear the air.”

You frown. It sounds too hopeful. Too dangerous to believe. You don’t want to entertain this idea on the pretense of a “maybe”.

And Yunjin must sense your hesitation because she adds quickly, “Or, you know...maybe it’s time for you to start fresh. Meet someone new. Go out with some girls from work, hit a club, get drinks. Or like, take a yoga class. Focus on you again.”

You let out a small, exhausted laugh. “Yeah. Maybe.”

“I’m serious,” she says warmly. “You’ve been carrying too much by yourself. You deserve to breathe a little. To live a little. And if you ever need a plus one for any of that? I’m there. I’ll try to visit more often, okay?”

A lump forms in your throat, but this time it’s a little easier to swallow.

“Thanks, Yunjin.”

“Always.”

You can’t see her, but you know she’s smiling that soft, stubborn smile of hers.

Outside, the rain eases into a gentle mist. Somewhere deep inside you, you feel the tiniest, stubbornest spark flicker to life again. Tiny, but alive. Having a full on convo with Seokjin feels like too much, but maybe you’ll send some greetings when you can. Maybe for now, you can continue to give it your all to your new job, and find new ways to cope and forget about all of this. Bury these feelings from within.

No one really says anything—not you or him. And despite the silence, time keeps moving forward, uncaring, unbothered.

It’s been a year since you moved out of Seokjin’s apartment. A full year since you packed up your things and closed the door on a strange, intoxicating chapter of your life. You’ve rebuilt since then. Slowly, carefully. Your new job became your anchor, the thing you threw yourself into fully. You’ve climbed your way back into a stable routine—morning coffees, back-to-back meetings, long work trips to film sets in Seoul and Tokyo, wine nights with your new team.

You helped coordinate the launch of the newest Black Mirror season. You got flown out to Jeju to help with on-set logistics for When Life Gives You Tangerines, a K-drama that’s now getting rave reviews online. You’ve attended wrap parties, panel events, rooftop mixers. Your calendar stays full. Your mind stays busier.

Past memories blur like fog in the distance. The pain from your breakup with Mingi? Obsolete now. The shame and exhaustion from your previous job? Gone. Even those sweet, stolen nights in Seokjin’s kitchen, the intimacy of your shared glances, your whispered jokes, the hot silence between cam sessions—those too are starting to fade.

But not completely.

Sometimes, on nights when your apartment feels a little too cold, you catch yourself wishing he were there. Not to do anything special. Just… to be there. To sit beside you on the couch, to play something dumb on the TV and make sarcastic commentary, to cook something absurd at midnight just because. You didn’t think you’d miss him this much. But the truth is, Jin had a way of making space feel like home just by being in it. And now that he’s gone, that kind of warmth is hard to come by.

He hasn’t contacted you much over the past year—just the basics. Birthday greetings. “Merry Christmas.” “Happy New Year.” You always replied in kind, but nothing deeper ever came from it. No check-ins. No “how are you’s.” Just little digital waves in the distance.

You haven’t seen him in person either. Fate, it seems, prefers irony—like running into Mingi at a shopping plaza looking happy and carefree while you stood there trying not to unravel. But Seokjin? He’s stayed away. Not maliciously. Just… vanished into his world.

Sometimes, you check his cam room. Not out of obsession, just out of habit. Curiosity. Human nature. You tell yourself it’s harmless—just peeking. You notice that he hasn’t streamed in months. The last one was over half a year ago, and even that was a short, quiet stream. His gaming content? Almost nonexistent now. His socials have slowed too. A few posts here and there—group shots with the guys, a couple of work-related updates. There’s the occasional woman in the background of those pictures, which makes you wonder. Maybe he’s dating again. Maybe he never stopped.

And maybe you should start too.

You remember you still owe Namjoon a hangout. He’s been patient and sweet and always texts you about books he thinks you’d like. You two get along almost too well—sharing playlists, talking about art, texting late into the night about some line in a poem that made you ache in a good way. Maybe… maybe it’s time to see where that could lead.

You’re not trying to replace Jin. But you can’t keep orbiting a ghost of something that never fully bloomed. Something he never really reached for.

So maybe it’s time to open that door. Even just a crack. To see if something else is waiting for you on the other side.

After getting home from work, you toss your bag onto the couch, kick off your heels, and sink into the soft cushions of your apartment. It’s been a long day—back-to-back meetings, a creative pitch that went surprisingly well, and now… just stillness. Your place is beautiful, sleek and modern, tucked right in the vibrant heart of Hollywood. City lights spill through your windows, reflecting off your glass coffee table and polished floors. It’s a stark contrast to Seokjin’s cozy apartment tucked outside the chaos—a bit quieter, a bit softer. You try not to think about that too much.

You unlock your phone and open your messages. Your finger hovers for a second, then taps on Namjoon’s contact photo. You start typing.

"i don’t know if you recall, but i owe you a hangout mister"

He replies almost immediately, the little typing dots barely making an appearance before his message lands.

"surprised you remember haha"

Then another follows a few seconds later.

"didn’t want to be weird and bring it up before in case you weren’t down for it, but i’d be delighted to still hang out with you."

You smile softly. You always liked the way he typed—careful, a little poetic, like he thought about his words.

"sounds like a plan, what did you want to do?"

You wait a few seconds before his reply comes in, a thoughtful pause between each message:

"mmm well"

Another pause.

"i saw there’s a wine & film screening event at the Getty on friday night—screening Pretty Woman on the lawn. it’s free, 21+ only, and we can bring in our own snacks."

You picture it: the grassy hill overlooking the city, art lovers and couples lounging on blankets under the stars, the glow of a classic film playing on an outdoor screen. You’ve been craving something peaceful lately. Something warm.

"that sounds perfect actually. i’m in!" you type back.

"should i bring wine for us to enjoy the night ? ;) 🍷" he adds with a winking emoji.

"of course! you know me too well."

"haha friday it is then." he says. "can’t wait."

You lock your phone after hearting the message and set it aside, eyes drifting to the ceiling. A strange warmth settles in your chest—equal parts comfort and nervous excitement. It feels like the beginning of something soft. Something kind.

And for the first time in a long while, you feel okay leaning into it.

Friday arrives with a golden warmth that clings to the breeze. The sun hangs lazily above the horizon, casting long orange shadows across the Getty’s gleaming white stone walls. The soft glow of late afternoon is the perfect backdrop for your outfit—a golden yellow Beverly and Beck Ruby Ruffle Bow Mini Dress, cinched just right to show your figure without trying too hard. A delicate lace bandana in a matching yellow hue ties your hair back, fluttering gently as you walk toward the lawn entrance. You feel good. Fresh. Ready.

You glance at your phone again.

No messages. No Namjoon.

You try not to overthink it—he’s usually good with time. Maybe it’s just traffic. But five minutes before the movie starts, you’re still standing outside and still no sign of him? The anxiety builds in your chest.

You pull out your phone and call him. It rings once. Twice. Three times.

Then he picks up.

“Namjoon! Where are you? I’m here—”

“Hey…” he cuts in, his voice calm but strained. “I… got into an accident about twenty minutes ago.”

“What!? Holy shit, are you okay?”

“I’m okay now, just some scrapes and bruises. A car hit me while I was biking back from Trader Joe’s with snacks. They brought me to the ER to get checked out, but… I don’t think I’ll make it to the Getty in time.”

Your stomach drops. “Oh my god. Forget the movie—I’ll come to the hospital. I can stay with you, make sure you’re alright—”

“No!” he says quickly. Too quickly.

You blink. “No?”

“I mean… you don’t have to. Yoongi and Hoseok are here with me, so I’m fine. I—uh—actually sent someone in my place.”

“Someone?” you echo, confused.

And then, as you look up, you see him.

Seokjin.

He’s standing a few feet away, his gaze already fixed on you. His hair’s grown longer, a little messier, soft waves framing his face. He wears a clean white shirt beneath a gray blazer, his stance easy, yet charged with something... unspoken.

“Seokjin?” you whisper into the phone.

“I’ll let you go now,” Namjoon says on the other end before hanging up.

Jin walks toward you, a familiar boyish smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“It’s been a while, Peach.”

Your heart flips.

“I… What are you doing here?”

“Someone said a princess needed saving,” he says with a wink. “So they sent the best person to do it.”

You raise a brow, arms crossing with a playful smirk. “Mario?”

“No. Me,” he says with exaggerated pride. “Though… yeah, I guess I am Mario in a way.”

You laugh—genuinely, loudly, in a way you haven’t in weeks.

“You sure haven’t changed,” you tease. “Still full of yourself.”

His smile falters for half a second as his eyes sweep over you, lingering just a bit too long, just a bit too thoughtfully.

“That’s not the only thing that hasn’t changed,” he says softly.

Your breath stills for a beat. The movie starts to roll on the lawn behind you, but you barely notice. Because Jin’s still looking at you like no time has passed at all. Like the space between now and a year ago never existed.

“…What do you mean?” you ask, your voice nearly a whisper.

He takes a small step closer. Then another.

He stands there for a moment, the soft glow of the museum lights painting his profile in gold and shadows. His voice drops a little, quieter, more unsure.

“I’m good at expressing my thoughts about things, but for some reason… this is the one thing I haven’t been able to bring myself to say.” He pauses, brows furrowed slightly as he searches for the words. “Maybe out of fear. Or maybe because I convinced myself it wasn’t the right time.”

You don’t say anything—your breath held, your body still, your eyes locked on his.

“I talked to a few people since you left…like Namjoon, Yoongi, Wendy, even Yunjin,” he goes on. “But all of it… it only made me realize something. I should’ve really told you this sooner.”

Your heart stutters. Then starts beating faster. Loud enough you wonder if he can hear it too.

A sensation you haven’t felt in so long spreads through your chest. A warmth. A pull. The kind that’s equal parts terrifying and magnetic.

Jin exhales shakily, his hands slipping into his blazer pockets like he’s trying to ground himself. “I missed you,” he finally says. “Not just your company. I missed you. Your laugh in the mornings. The way you dance around while brushing your teeth. The way you'd tease me when I lost on stream. I missed you so much, my Princess Peach, it made everything else feel… dimmer.”

Your breath catches, tears suddenly threatening to well.

“I thought I was just someone you passed time with,” he adds, voice softer. “But for me… those were some of the brightest days I’ve had in a long time.”

The movie flickers behind you—Julia Roberts’ voice carrying faintly over the lawn—but you’re somewhere else entirely. Caught in this moment with him.

“What are you trying to say, Jin?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

He finally steps in close, closer than before, and gently brushes a strand of hair from your face, the touch so careful it nearly undoes you.

“I’m trying to say… I’ve been in love with you for a lot longer than you’ve ever realized.”

You stare at him, stunned. Your throat tightens with something you can’t name.

“And if there’s still even the smallest part of you that feels the same,” he says, voice husky, “then maybe—just maybe—we can try again. But not as roommates. Not as cam partners. Just… us.”

Your eyes brim, lips parting. You don’t know what to say at first—your thoughts tumbling into each other, your heart pounding wildly.

But then your fingers reach for his. And that’s answer enough.

He smiles, wide and boyish, like the Seokjin from years ago and the one standing in front of you now have finally become one.

You let out a shaky breath, fingers tightening slightly around his.

“I feel the same,” you say, your voice soft but steady.

His eyes widen just a little, like he wasn’t expecting you to say it so soon, so plainly.

“I might not have loved you for as long as you’ve loved me… or maybe I never realized a part of me has been in love with you all along,” you continue, “but your feelings… they never went unnoticed, Jin.”

He looks at you then like he’s been holding his breath this whole time—waiting for something, anything, to tell him he wasn’t alone in this.

“There were moments,” you go on, your voice catching slightly, “tiny ones, quiet ones, when I’d catch you looking at me or saying something that felt deeper than the surface. And I’d wonder… ‘Could he be feeling the same thing I am?’ But I was scared. Mingi really left a big fucking wound and I just didn’t want to fall for you and somehow end up hurt again in the future.”

The tension in his shoulders finally softens, relief washing over him like a warm tide that crashes gently on the shore. He doesn’t speak yet—just watches you with eyes that shimmer in the low light as he wants to fully hear you out.

“I tried to move on. I tried to pretend it was just a phase, that it was just… comfort. But I kept missing you, Jin. Not just the apartment or the routine, you. The dumb jokes. The thoughtful silences. The way you made things feel lighter even when everything was falling apart.”

You smile a little, tears finally gathering in the corners of your eyes.

“And now that you’re here, saying all this… I don’t want to wonder late at night about the ‘maybes’ anymore.”

Jin exhales, a sound filled with emotion, and pulls you into him—his arms wrapping around your waist as you fall against his chest. You rest there for a moment, feeling his heartbeat thrum against your cheek, steady and real.

And when he pulls back, just enough to look at you again, his smile is full of something soft. Something new, but also… always there.

“I’ll never leave you hanging ever again.”

He just looks at you—really looks at you—with an expression so open, so vulnerable, you feel it in your chest.

And then he leans in.

His hand gently lifts to cradle the side of your face, thumb brushing softly over your cheekbone as his eyes search yours one last time, as if asking are you sure? And when you lean in too—when you don’t pull away—he closes the distance.

The kiss is slow, tender, but full of all the feelings neither of you could say until now. His lips press against yours like he’s memorizing the shape of them, like he’s been dreaming of this moment and wants to make it last. You melt into him, your fingers curling into the front of his blazer as your mouths move in sync, soft and yearning. It’s not rushed or clumsy—it’s full of quiet reverence, like the kind of kiss you only give someone when the feelings have been sitting in your heart far too long.

When he pulls back, just barely, his forehead rests against yours, his breath a soft tremble between your lips.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he whispers.

You smile, eyes still closed, heart beating wildly. “Me too.”

And above you, the stars begin to come out one by one, while Pretty Woman flickers quietly in the distance.

But neither of you are watching.

Because for once, there’s nothing better than simply being here, in this moment—finally together.

Epilogue

You and Seokjin left the Getty hand in hand that night, hearts lighter and warmer than they’d felt in a long time. When you got back to your place, it didn’t take long for the soft kisses to grow into something deeper—needier.

But this time, it felt different. This time, you took the lead.

You guided him to your bed, eyes locked on his, and undressed him slowly, worshipping every inch of him not just with touch but with emotion. You rode him with purpose, with tenderness, with the weight of everything unsaid over the last year pouring into each movement. He let you consume him, surrender to you, just as he'd once held you through your hardest moments. It wasn’t just sex. it was a quiet promise. A healing. A homecoming.

Later, you fell asleep curled in his arms, your head resting against his chest, listening to the soft rhythm of his heartbeat.

The morning sunlight filtered in lazily, spilling gold across your sheets as you stirred next to him. He was still half-asleep, hair tousled, lips slightly parted.

"So," you said, voice soft, teasing, "you haven’t been doing camming content for a while."

His eyes shot open, brows rising. “H–How did you know? Have you been checking?!”

“Perhaps... out of curiosity,” you smirked. “But answer the question!”

He sighed, but there was a smile tugging at his lips. “Nope. I honestly didn’t feel like doing it because you weren’t around for it.”

Your breath caught. “You’re so blunt.”

He grinned, eyes sparkling. “Why are you asking? Did you want to do it again? Another 'bed scene' together?”

“Huh!? N–No...” you stammered, cheeks heating.

“That doesn’t sound too sure,” he said, flashing that familiar playful smirk. “But if you figure out a way to keep it a secret and keep our actual jobs... I might consider going back to it. With you.”

You laughed, burying your face in the pillow. “We’ll see.”

Jin slipped out of bed, walking over to the large window beside it. You watched as he blew a light breath onto the glass, fogging it up slightly. Then, with his finger, he drew something.

“A heart?” you asked.

“Yep.”

“Why?”

“I’m leaving this heart on the window so you don’t miss me too much.”

You blinked. “Miss you?”

“I’ll see you again tomorrow,” he said casually.

“Huh!?”

“I’m taking you to Locanda Veneta for dinner. Heard it’s got some solid Italian food. Then maybe we can discuss... moving in together.”

You sat up, stunned. “W-Wait, Jin!?”

“Don’t worry,” he waved off, pulling on his blazer. “I’m moving into a new place soon—it’s halfway between your job and mine. So it’ll work out.”

You let out a disbelieving laugh. “God, you’re still always plotting things ahead.” You pause and look at him, “Always unbelievable…I love you.”

He turned to look at you, eyes widening, then relaxing as the softest smile grows on his face.

“I love you too. Haha, I can’t miss any moment now that I’ve got you.”

And once again, you were happy and content with this being your life. Not just as someone tagging along, not just as a passing moment in someone else’s life, but as someone chosen, someone wanted. All the heartbreak, all the waiting, all the wondering had led to this: waking up beside someone who looked at you like you were the beginning and the end of everything. And as Seokjin smiled at you with that mischievous glint in his eyes and a future already forming in his head, you realized there was no plan better than the one you were building together—one kiss, one laugh, one fogged-up heart on a window at a time.

a/n: thats the END!! how did you like it? did you expect this ending? or did you have other theories?! any questions you're curious about ;)) please let me know! for now, all i got to say is PLEASE! give jin's new album so much love when it gets released this week! and maybe... reread this fic again as i feel the vibe of the album will definitely reflect a lot of the thoughts hotw! jin had throughout this fic. i think me and jin connected to 7G haha but for now! i must disappear. please look forward to my future works or go check out some of my other works!! also 5/17 EDIT: here is a special chapter to celebrate jin's new album and "don't say you love me" mv

➸ let me know what you think OR join the taglist for future works! ➸ check out my masterlist for other fics I have made

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