#ha joon; why are you here

[suuho]

My body follows my heart. What a romantic guy. THE WORST OF EVIL | 최악의 악 (2023)

[theinfinitedivides]

'emotionally i feel like we're all on the same team' = 'there's a bond between the three of you and we've been trying to figure out what it is'. same circus same monkeys i fear

[dilf-docs]

I'm Happy Where The Devils Are

dbf!joel miller x younger!reader

summary: something something about forbidden things; you never learn, not until the heart you gave returns to you in shreds, bleeding out of love. what's left when you've given all of your heaven away? hell.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (but this time it's sad not hot or both idk), smut, p. in v., virgin!reader, (forced??) creampie, fingering, riding, oral (f. receiving), corruption kink, reader has no daddy issues ++her dad is lovely nor mommy issues like me but a secret third thing, ANGST IN CAPITAL, situationship™, jumping very late to this trend or series IDK hope someone still lurks around this neighbourhood, joel has no kids and is unmarried cause i need him to be BITTER, in short this is very AU canon divergence at max coded

word count: 7,629 words

side note: IF U SAW IT POSTED BEFORE NO U DIDN'T IT WAS A HONEST MISTAKE (clicked publish instead of save draft) OKAY i just searched thru my top 2024 songs by spotify for some inspo and well!!!!!! my yet to be dilf RM's (or joon as i, his wife, loves to call him endearingly) song called heaven popped up! those are the vibes if u wanna give it a listen (PLS DO OKAY HE RANKED TOP KOREAN ALBUM THIS YEAR AND I SEE I'M GETTING OFF THE HOOK BUT HE DESERVES IT RAHH I LOVE HIM SO MUCH) and yk i said it's got the miller vibe going on: ANGST™ okay stopping my rambling and letting y'all enjoy (or suffer, idk anymore: as u see, i have a thing for sad complicated old man and suffering myself, because i could've choose any other idea but here goes user dilf-docs the angst whore choosing to suffer again lolz)

part: I / II

It was winter when he first touched you.

Joel Miller: a name you've learned to pronounce like it was spoken on a different language that only you knew.

You've known him for years, a familiar face that stands in corners and only laughs when spoken to, begrundingly, like it's rather a favor than something of his amusement. A guy who would drop by your house until you learned his name like he'd learn the games you'd force him to play. A friend of your dad, who moved back to town and has haunted your house since he stepped a foot inside, tainting the walls with his pine phantom.

Joel's a face you've seen age as much as he's seen you grow out of your pigtails and child-like wonder: and perhaps that's why it's wrong.

It is all so wrong: the way your gaze lingers a bit too long over his tired and bitter expresion, looking for those flickers of softeness that appear when your dad calls him. Old friend, filled with affection, and Joel can't deny the only man who hasn't left his side a smile that he hopes is enough to express what he can't; he's not good with words.

It is all so wrong: how the sheets stick to your body while you scream his name, the sound drowning against your pillow, your body leaking with the secret of an unspoken desire that gets harder to hide with each passing day.

But you can't help it: one day the feelings started to blossom and the admiration left for the crush to harvest until it fully bloomed in your chest. Its petals have asfixiated you ever since.

On winter, you returned to town, like a vice. You always came back for the holidays, a silver of hope that shouldn't exist. You felt it in the air, impregnated with a heartbreak so cutting, it was hard to remember when the winter carried the happiness it should've; all that's left was the cold, harsh feeling.

"Y/n!" your dad embraces your body on a hug as warm as a fireplace, "you're home"

He passes you around the people over, because that's how he always is: joyful, the house full with guests that don't stop at family, but feel as close as those of blood. She came! he loudly yet proudly announces your homecoming, adding small sprinkles of how's college and how smart his little girl is (a nickname he can't let go of, not caring if you were ten then and now just above twenty), not caring if your face is as red as christmas easters.

"You have to stop, dad" you plead with annoyance, but a small smile betrays you, "no one wants to hear how I'm top of my class again, for the millionth time"

"Well, it's my house" he jokes, "so they better get used to it" he then looks around the room, as if he's forgetting something, "ah, someone I must bore with your stories is missing..."

He talks to some more people around and you have to plaster a smile and salute faces you can't recognize, but as on cue, the door flings open, some people near the entrance greeting a face you've yet to see and recognize. Your father gets there first, the smile that spreads across his face making your stomach tie in knots.

"Joel's here!" he delivers with excitement, unaware of how your polite smile falters.

"Joel's here" you repeat, grief laced within your words. Grief of what? You don't know, but you do know a part of you dies the more you look at Joel Miller the way you're not supposed to.

"Come say hi" your father insists, happy in his ignorance, despite your paced walk and stiff demeanor.

And walking your way is him, the man who owns your heart without knowing.

His hair is still as soft as ever, more tints of grey sprinkled through it. Your fingers itch to trace it, so you keep your fists closed until the red nails dig into the tight white flesh. He has more wrinkles, pronounced when his brows furrow at the sight of you.

"I know she's grown a lot, but I hope you still recognize her" your dad says with affection, "isn't she beautiful, my y/n? Grown into a whole lady"

Your heart hammers against your chest as Joel looks you up and down, but there is no emotion across his face.

"It's only been a year, but sure, she has" as stoic as ever, but it's enough to make your nerves wreck. You can't believe how much a simple stare and a few words can get to you.

But you were always like this: weak. Back then, at kindergarten grounds, when making a friend seemed the hardest task. Now, at university, when you wonder if something is wrong with you that always makes you the last option to choose.

Maybe that's why Joel, a man so strong in appearance and character, never liked you: that all those memories were a dream, and he just did it as an extension of his affection for your dad.

You'll never forget that dinner last year, on these same days, when for the first time, both your parents left you alone with Joel, their guest for the night. There was a storm outside, and it was almost funny how the brash wind against the window mimicked your steady heart. You didn't know he was coming, but when you did, you put on your best dress on purpose and dusted a makeup palette a friend gave you, yet he didn't even look your way.

"Do you hate me, Joel?" you asked in a whispered breathe, the cold silence as answer.

It's contradictory, really: your love grows where his hate does. More like hate, it's a disregard so cruel, you can't help but wonder if there's something wrong with you, making you attached to an older man that only seems to have apathy for you. Because one thing is attraction, but other is the deep adoration where you'd die if he were to ask you.

It's your fault, really, for turning his life into folklore. You still remember sitting on your father's lap as he talked your ear off, full of stories that Joel, always by his side, would quietly laugh, the fireplace casting shadow over a man who seemed to overpower the darkness that now is palpable on his gaze. He'd said your dad was making him greater than he really was, pinching your cheeks as he called you sugar, reasoning you were so sweet.

But since last year, something shifted: he started avoiding you, like he resented you.

And you never understood why. So every season you've searched in his eyes for a sign, anything, that can make you go back to that speacial relationship you had, missing him like a little kid. It's been a year, and you feel, if possible, more at loss than before.

Back to now, it's almost midnight, and most of the guests have gone already. You've tried to look cool in the eyes of those who are still there, conversation flowing easily through your eggnog-tinted tongue, yet you know it's all pretend.

"Excuse me" you can't take it anymore, the air suffocating you in anxiousness.

"Where are you going?" questions your mom, stopping you in your tracks before going up the stairs.

You turn around and feign a smile, "Up to my room"

"Are you okay?" your dad asks with worry.

"Yeah, just tired" you lie with ease, and the miles you've driven back it up.

"If you need anything, just tell" she says.

When you fall against the mattress, all the weight settles in. You close your eyes and count to ten, breathing in and breathing out.

The door creaks, so you get up as you open your eyes. "Dad" you start, knowing he's all about giving you talks, "Not now, please-"

"M' not y'r daddy"

You shiver despite the closed windows.

"Joel!" you jump, straightening yourself, "did dad send you?"

He doesn't respond, looking at you through brown warm eyes that reveal nothing. The pit in your stomach grows along awkward silence.

"It's cold outside, isn't it?" you attempt to make conversation, hating the silence. But you fail: he's still here, and regardless of his indifference, he doesn't leave.

Maybe it's the bit of alcohol from before, but you're standing over until you get close to his resting figure against the doorframe, the darkness of your room leaving his face, now barely lit by the light outside in the hallway. Joel's so close you can hear his breathing, and it surprises you the way it drags like a cigarette.

You feel confident for the first time, defiant even, tired of it all, like if it was his fault you loved him. You're sick of him viewing you like a naive kid who knows no better.

"Joel, why are you here?"

The lavender gets under his nose, his skin on fire. He looks at you again, but this time, the brown in his eyes darkens.

"Joel...?" you ask on a shaky breath.

Before you can register, there's warmth against your cheek. His fingers graze your face with an unspoken yearning on his fingertips, as he gently grabs your chin.

Your breath hitches, hand traveling to feel his on your face, to see if it's real and not a dream.

"Joel, what are you doing?"

He backs up, like your touch burns. And then looks at you, as if you're a stone on his shoe: just like all those boys back at the city, who have rejected you. You feel small, like crying.

"M' sorry" and walks out of your room, his scent up your nose. His limping figure walks down the hallway that now looks longer. You don't realize how long you've stared until you hear your father ask downstairs where was he.

It's like he was never there.

It was spring when he first kissed you.

It's funny how you still came back home after such disastrous holidays.

Joel stayed for the rest of the holidays, including Christmas and New Years, and when he hugged you in the living room full of guests, you had to pretend his fingers hadn't hold you differently before. You both lied your way out, and when you left, for the first time, you felt relieved, which is why it took some convincing from your father to make you return for spring.

"You couldn't miss this" he insists, "it's the best time to visit the cabin"

And you have to agree: a small cabin by the lake that your parents bought when they first moved in to town, a place you spent most of your childhood. Your father taught you how to fish there, and ever since, even as you moved away for college, you came back to do so, a tradition kept intact despite the years.

Your mom looks at you from the rear view mirror. "He wouldn't stop talking about it, afraid you wouldn't join us this year" your dad hushes her, embarrased, "oh! Don't act like you didn't"

Truth is, you'd still come: you miss the green tickling your bare feet, the cold water, and the sun kissing your skin as you lay outside. It's a lie you don't wait all year to leave the cold city and embrace the blooming spring.

"I wouldn't miss it for anything, dad" you lay against the car's door, closing your eyes as you smile. He doesn't say anything, yet with the way your mom giggles, you know he probably got teary or something―your sappy old man.

The car stops, the cabin in front of you. You feel like crying, so many memories flooding you. Alright, you're being sappy just like your dad, but it's been a hard semester and you missed your family.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you something" he says as you get out. The small denim short rides up as you stretch, your legs numb from the trip.

"Yeah?"

A car honks from behind. You jump, loosing balance as you trip. "Ow!" you land on the grass, embarrasingly so.

"C'mere" you look up, the sun blinding his face. "Lemme help ya', sugar"

The nickname feels like a slap to your face, so you stay there stupid, body stiff as you raise up, Joel's face flooding your field of vision.

"That's what I forgot to tell you" your dad laughs, "or who"

You're not laughing. Joel Miller is here and it's ruines your trip.

"Well, you should've" you took his hand just for the show, because you know your mom is observant. If there was an electric rush, you must've imagined it, just as the way his hands fall to his sides, twitching.

Over the next couple of days, you try to ignore him as much as you can, pretending your spring hasn't changed: fishing, laying down, sun and baths.

"Hey"

Your sun glasses rest on your nose as you raise from your spot, laying on a towel on the grass as you sunbathe.

"What'd want, Joel?" your tone is icy, contrasting the warmer climate.

"M' going to the lake" he mumbles, then stays silent. It's almost as if he's waiting for you to answer.

"Okay?" you lay down again, "have fun"

"Y'r dad said you'd teach me" he raises a fishing row.

You groan in annoyance, getting up from your spot, "why doesn't he do it?"

"Said y'r the best" then coughs, "besides, I think him and your momma needed some time alone..."

You walk past, shoulder brushing against his. You've never been this childish before, but your anger fuels your emotions: rage when you see him and remember how the warm of his touch turned cold in seconds.

You arrive at the small dock, sitting on the rather hot wood. You don't flinch, trying to prove nothing. Joel sits next to you and makes a face at the burning sensation.

"What?" you mock, venom dripping from your tone, "can't handle some heat?"

He just scoffs, passing the row to you with a little more force than necessary.

Your petty revenge is splashing his shirt, damping the cotton with the lake's water.

"I'm sorry" you apologize, feigning an innocent tone, "wanted to freshen up"

"Thought ya could handle the heat" Joel grumbles.

Then he curses under his breath, taking the shirt off and tossing it to the side.

You take in now shirtless body, admiring the strong muscles, broad shoulders and sturdy back. He sits next to you, his belly pushing just above the seam of his shorts. You recoil, almost as if heat radiated off his body, your cheeks burning. Your hands tremble as you hold the row, and it takes every strength of you to not succumb to the dangerous view; it's all too tempting.

"Y'r gonna teach me or what?" he breaks your train of thoughts, his voice so low, as if you were a little animal he was trying not to scare off, "just gonna stare? Ain't y'r daddy taught ya some manners?"

A current shoots through your body and looses itself in the middle of your legs.

You divert your gaze, ashamed. "Don't know what you're talking about"

"Liar" but it's so soft, it sounds more like an observation than an accusation.

"Drop it, Joel" you focus on the water but you know your mind is elsewhere.

"Sugar..."

You feel like throwing up. Why after ignoring you is he calling you like he used to? When he was your favorite person in the world and you were his. He used to hold you close, but now acts like your touch is poisoned. Joel confuses you too much; he's got you feeling like screaming at the sky.

"I said drop it, Joel" you seethe, "you may be old, but you're not deaf"

"And you may be young" his fingers remove the glasses from your face, your wary eyes in exhibit, "but y'r too bold"

They stay there, on your face, his rough fingertips touching your soft sun-kissed skin.

You don't know why you do it, but you do.

You get up, your legs on his face. Until then, you don't realize how close you two were.

"I'm not bold, Joel" you whisper, "I'm scared"

And then you jump.

The world reduces to a blur, body as light as a feather. The sensation of falling is familiar and you don't know why.

It's barely a second, like a blink.

The cold water hitting your body brings you back to reality.

You can't see, it's all dark. But you feel free: you may be underwater, but over him.

You feel like you got the upper hand, but then the water starts moving and a huge splash next to you makes you look back.

Joel jumped too.

"What are you doing?!" you shout.

What are you doing to me? What do you want from me? What will you do to me?

"Takin' a splash" he answers, like it's obvious.

"You know what I meant" your tone is rather spiteful.

"And you had'a teach me" he's again in front of you, barely inches away, "so I guess we're both dissapointed we didn't get what we wanted"

There's water dripping from his hair, falling to his face. Water drops adorn his eyelashes, warm eyes deeper than ever, and you feel like drowning even as your body floats.

"And what do you want?" you challenge, the question implying only so much.

His lips clash into yours, hungry like a wolf. Your hands immediately grip his neck for support as his tongue forcefully gets inside of you, water droplets filling your taste buds. You gasp for air, all of your body pressed against his.

"That answer y'r question?" tone defiant, as if he's also a player on this game that's just started.

You just don't know yet how much you've got to loose.

It was summer when he became yours.

You'd never anticipated coming back home as much as now.

The lingering feeling of his scruffy beard against yours, back pressed against the walls of the shed at midnight while he devoured your lips in a hungry kiss has stayed with you since you left the cabin, trapped in the salt air. Now you're coming back for more, butterflies in the low of your belly as you remember his words:

"When y'get back, I'll have ya' a surprise"

You park at your house, searching for the keys under the rug, but they aren't there. You knock to no answer, so you call your dad and mom, only for both of the calls to go directly to voicemail. Yes, you came a day earlier than planned, but your parents are always home the week you arrive, so something must be going on.

Before you worry, a voice behind you says:

"Ain't nobody inside. Y'r folks went out"

It's Joel, looking as good as the last day you saw him. Just to taste him again, you were complaint on every single of his requirements, one being no contact. He claimed he didn't want to distract you back at college, and you didn't ask any more questions, afraid you'd press a wrong button and loose what felt like a dream.

"Really?" you walk out of your porch to where he is, resisting the urge to kiss him in the middle of your neighbourhood's street.

"Hmh" he nods, "said they ain't comin' back soon"

"They told you so?" you question, "why do I feel you had something to do with it?"

"Ain't do shit" he crosses his arms, the t-shirt sleeves making his arm muscles more prominent. He then coughs, "just recommended y'r dad a nice restaurant outside town. Maybe they'll be later than night, traffic is kinda packed at late"

You smile, "Joel?"

He doesn't look at you, "yes?"

You fail to suppress a giggle, "did you just get rid of my parents?"

"No" he answers, stern. "Now" he looks around, all doors closed, "why don't 'cha come inside? Sun is hittin' hard"

He's a terrible liar.

As soon as you enter his house, you can't believe you've never been there before, visits usually in your house.

It's exactly what you expected: a simple and sober decoration that hides a welcoming feeling somewhere. There's something else you notice: the lack of pictures.

"Make yourself comfortable" he says, coughing, looking akward all of a sudden. You want to laugh and coo his now insecure demeanor, shy in your present. If he seemed sure before, he doesn't anymore. "I''ll get ya' some water"

"Joel?" your voice comes out low, equalling a purr. His cock twitches in his pants at the way you call him.

"Yes?" he swallows, adam's apple bobbing.

"I hope you didn't bring me into your house just for a glass" then you sit on the couch, the small short you're wearing riding up your thighs. "Besides, I'm not thirsty"

He doesn't move, almost as if he's lost the ability to react; in a trance.

"What do you want?" voice deep, like he'd give you anything you ask.

"Have you forgot already, old man?" you quip. "You promised me something" even if your voice is steady, your fingers tremble when you start un-buttoning your shirt, "and I'm waiting for it"

If he could drool like a dog, he would. He slowly gets closer to you, until he's towering over your sitting figure.

"Ya' think it's funny tempting me like that, sugar? Playing with an old fuck as me like that?"

You whimper, resolve melting quickly. "N-no" you feel ashamed, hand ready to button yourself again until his hand grabs yours, stopping you from doing so.

"I'm sorry, sugar" he raises your body swiftly, making you stand up. "Actions have consequences, and I'm gonna teach ya' some"

When his lips land on yours, you feel you've reached heaven again. His mouth easily know your roads, traveling to every spot he can to deepen the kiss. He eats you out like he's starved, sweat starting to pool in your foreheads. He grabs you by the waist, pulling your closer if possible, your chest clashing against his pecs. His heart hammers against you, and that's all you hear aside your raggedy breaths and famished clashing. You grab his hair again, feeling the soft texture under your fingers. Joel moans against your lips when you bite his, something a friend told you to do, and it's proven to work.

"Where'd you learn that, huh?" you taste like strawberries, the proof on his now coated shiny lips and your disheveled gloss. His grip turns stronger, "thought ya' were innocent, little vixen"

"I still am" you avoid his gaze, and even if his hold falters, when you look again into his eyes, there's a flame burning in them. "But I want you to have it, Joel"

"Sugar-" starts, condescending.

"Don't" you immediatly cut him off. "I'm an adult, I know what I want"

"I just want ya' to be sure" but his cock is already hard, "don't want ya' to regret it"

"I could never regret you, Joel" you whisper.

He picks up your body, that despite the years, is still as strong as ever. He goes up the stairs, looking at you so lovingly, you feel like anything is possible.

Maybe this is how it feels like.

He softly drops you onto the mattress, that dips under your weight. You place yourself against the bed head, and when Joel gets in, it creaks.

"I'm gonna make ya' feel so good, sugar. I promise" he slurs, "Now be a good girl and open up for me"

Your part your legs, and he's taking down your shorts until your lingerine is exposed. With wandering fingers, he traces your inner thights, delighted at the way you squirm under his touch. He then travels to your pussy, the clothe the only thing separating him from your bare cunt.

"Has anyone eat ya' down here before?" he can smell your arousal, seeing the wet spot in the middle of your panties. He's salivating at the fresh meal. You deny, embarrased, but he seems content at that, "those dumb college boys haven't treated you right? Then lemme show y'how a real man's supposed to eat ya'"

He strips you off your panties, landing somewhere on the floor. You shudder at the sudden breeze on your bare core.

"Already drippin' for me?" he softly laughs, "we ain't even started"

He dives down, the rough of his facial hair sending tickles through your body. He gives a small lick at first, as if testing. When you let out a small moan, he feels invencible. He keeps the ministrations going, more cute sounds escaping your lips. He wants to hear more of them, addicted to the sound, heat pooling when he remembers he's the one causing them.

"Liking it, sugar?" he stops to ask, his voice provoking more vibrations that hit your core in a pleasant way.

"D-don't stop" you plead in the middle of a whine.

He eats you like a madman. Slurping and sloshing sounds bounce off the walls, your hands gripping his greying locks tightly as his face pushes further into your puffy heat, sucking on the sensitive clit. With his filthy mouth, he takes on of the lips on his mouth, robbing a loud groan out of you.

"Your pussy, God" his breath fans against it, "tastes so good, sugar, sweet like you" he licks more, making it get wetter. You didn't know you had that in you, nothing compared to when you tried to touch yourself back at your dorm, too ashamed to try anything else.

He groans against your heat, sending another wave of pleasure through your body.

He then gets up, showing you his thick digits like one shows something new to a baby, "guess what?" you have no idea, and your innocent doe eye'd gaze makes him squirm at the thought of being the first to touch untainted territories (in many ways).

"M' gonna finger you baby, okay? I promise's gonna feel good" Joel assures as he slowly inserts one of his fingers. You arch your back as you felt his fingers in your warm walls. He then puts another, thick fingers in and out of your pussy, your arousal dripping down his wrist. You squirm and whine, thighs shaking at the intensity of the pleasure he was giving you. There's a weird tension happening down there. "J-Joel" you pant, "I feel-" 

"Let it go, sugar" he doesn't stop, "I'm here for ya' and y'r sweet cunt"

Liquid soon gushes out. "Fuck" he curses. You shy away and looking everywhere but his eyes. 

"Feels good?" you nodded incoherently, "wanna feel even better?"

He gets rid of his pants, the silhoutte hard under his underwear. You gulp, afraid you might not take it.

"Joel..." you call his name, hesitant. Fuck, he's so horny he could care less if he's too big for your first.

"We'll go slow" he leans forward to kiss your forehead, "I know'll take it"

"O-okay" you're still not sure and a bit afraid, but you want him, so you surrender to him.

You feel something heavy go inside your folds. You look down to see his enormous cock sliding in between your tight walls, the skin glistening in your slick,round tip leaking with his precum.

"Tell me" he's soft on you, despite what you're doing, "I'll stop if it hurts"

It does. It burns: how your cunt tries to adapt to his girth, stretching in a painful but delicious feeling.

"N-no" your voice comes out strained, drops of blood falling into the sheets, "keep going"

"Such a greedy thing are ya'?" Joel laughs, truly laughs, the rich sound coming deep from his chest, "what would daddy say?"

"Shut up" you bite, holding onto his shoulders for stability. Please, don't let me fall.

Half way in, he pulls out before diving back in, helping you adjust to his size slowly. Your eyes are trained on the way his cock disappears inside your leaking pussy.

"Should'I keep goin'?" he asks.

"K-keep going" you say softly, and with that, he gently starts inching into you.

"Good girl" he coos.

His cock stretches out your virgin hole perfectly, like it was meant for him. He feels himself melting at the sight of you, something to worry about later. Not now, when your breath hitches as he fills you up. Your cunt fit snug around his length, like you were made for him.

Joel drops his head on your shoulder as he fully entered you, tired, his energy not as much as when he was young. Beads of summer sweat shimmer in your bodies, as not only that but the feeling of your pussy wrapped around his dick make you warm.

Joel takes in a moment to see the mess he's made of you: parted lips, shut eyes, nails digging on his neck. You were deep in pleasure: because of him. His dick twitches at that, and inside of you, it makes you whimper.

"M' gonna start movin', 'kay? Tell me if it's too much"

His weight presses over your body before starting to pull out and push back in. The thrusts start slow, soon picking up a rhytmic pace. Joel grips your hips with his rough big hands, to then start fucking into you.

"Mhm" you whine.

"Mhm, what? Use your words, sugar"

"I-it feels so good, Joel" despite the pain, despite the doubts, the haze is so envolving, he's made of you a moaning mess, drunk in pleasure; the feeling of him inside of you has you seeing stars.

"Y-you feel good too, baby" he pants, your pussy gushing at each thrust. He starts going harder, making you scream.

"Who you belong to, sugar?" his hot breath pours in your ear, "say it"

"You, Joel" you whisper the answer like a sacred oath, "Just you. I'm all yours"

Before you can say anything else, his dick touches a spot within you. Such a sweet spot, that has you moaning and feeling something unlike anything you've experienced before: it washes over you as you clamp down on him. You hear yourself cry, voice barely recognizable. Your vision goes blurry, then mind blank.

Joel groans with your pretty cries of pleasure, watching the way your cunt milks his cock, drooling with your juice.

"Such a nice girl for me, sugar. Did so well" he whispers, and a dark tought crosses his mind. He feels dirty, taking advantage of your age and naivety, your figure still half-gone, "think you want me, all of me?"

You nod, still out of your mind, and before you can process the real meaning of his words, hot stripes of his seed plaster your walls, coating each inch of you. Joel presses his lips into yours to shut your moans, kissing you hard.

"You good?" you can only nod, still in shock, the events dawning over you. "Don't worry, I'll buy ya' a pill before your folks come back"

The sun shines outside; there's still time. You just wonder how much.

It was autumn when he said I love you.

Yellow and orange leaves fall in the roads not taken as you've fallen for Joel.

Ever since summer, you've been waiting for the next time to see him: sleeping with him being the last thought, touching yourself to his voice on your mind, drawing hearts in the bylines of your notes. His figure, first a dream, then a fleeting hope and now a high you need to feel once again, because you can't let go of the way he fucked you, your cries of pleasure, how your walls stretched for him and the way he held you that afternoon and the next nights you escaped your house, crossing the street under the moonlight, hiding as a criminal.

But you'd do anything to feel him, his heart beating against your chest like it was yours to bear. You need to see him, so you're doing the most stupid choice of your life.

There's a pause after you knock, and then Joel opens his door.

"Sugar!" he looks surprised, then angry and finally scared. "The fuck you doin' here? Ain't you supposed to come 'til winter?"

"I couldn't wait" you whine in desperation, clinging onto him like a koala. You'd searched for something, anything, that smelled like him back at the city, but even his flannel shirt you'd stolen had started to loose its smell.

He looks around, "do your-"

"No" you pause, "they don't know I'm here"

He curses under his breath, realizing just how much you're deep in this. He's fucked: fucked because he'll comply even if he knows this has to stop.

"I have the keys" you pick the dirt under your nails, a nervous habit of yours, "for the cabin"

Joel remembers last spring, how he ate you inside the walls of the shed, wishing for more. More came the next summer, and now you're hear again, looking at with with that look he hates: like you'd burn the world just to keep him warm.

"How'd you do that?"

"Took them last summer" you reveal your plan all along, "just in case" yet you had already made your mind before leaving town.

"Damn it, sugar" he's speechless, "you're fucking crazy"

You giggle despite the uneasiness creeping up, "just for you, Joel"

He takes you to the cabin on his car, yours already there. And you'd walked to his house? You have indeed, lost your mind.

"What're we supposed to do?" he thinks out loud.

You groan, "I don't know, Joel. But I didn't drive miles just for you to stand there"

He can't lie and say he hasn't thought about you: your lashes, soft when closed; the way his room still smelled like you even after two weeks of your parting, or how the sun seemed to highlight all your perfect spots. He even thinks of you on his bathroom while he grabs his dick, fucking himself to the memorized song of your moans and uneven breaths as he pulled in and out of you.

"Then get inside" he's demanding, and your panties wet at the tone and the voice you missed so much, "it's cold out'ere"

As soon as you close the door, he's grabbing your face with force, that it almost seems like two people fighting, not two who missed each other.

"Joel" you mumble, breathless.

"Missed ya' so much, sugar" he confesses against your lips. A trail of saliva hangs; silver of hope. "It was killin' me"

"I missed you too, Joel" you deepen the kiss, tears threatening to spill from the corner of your eyes. "Couldn't stop thinking about you"

"Yeah?" he sits on the living room's couch, creaking under the sudden weight. "Tell me what that pretty head of yours was thinkin'"

"You" in a heartbeat, and you see his gaze go from dark to something else, lurking behind; you're scared to find out what it is.

Joel motions you to come over. You take your shoes and pants off, siting on his lap.

"Yeah-?" his voice falters, "tell me what"

"How our names sound together, how pretty you are..." you wander. "I also thought about you, all of you, inside of me"

"Watch that filthy mout of yours, sugar" he chastises but there's no anger behind his reprimand, "one summer bouncing on my cock an' y'r already a needy slut"

You whine at his words, rubbing yourself against his tight.

"D-don't" he undoes his belt and jeans, leaving only his underwear. Your desperate fingers pull them down, revealing his already pulsating cock, "don't tease this ole' man and just do the real thing"

He lets you use him, his hips rocking forwards despite his creaking bones, your swollen clit dragging against his pelvis. He sees your face, how you bite your lip as you test your needs, fucking yourself while you ride him. He lets you because: one, he's old and tired, and two, he wants to see you until he's memorized every small detail of your face. He lets you edge yourself close, crying as you feel it coming, but then he plants his feet onto the wooden floor, his boots making a hollow sound that echoes through the walls, the only other sound aside your cries, and thrusts his length up into you.

You yelp at the sudden sensation of his cock inside of you again.

"Think I'd let ya' have it all?" he mocks, "need to fuck y'r pretty pussy too; gotta have it for myself. Would ya' let me?"

You can't deny him anything.

"Yes, Joel" his hands immediatly grab your hips with a pressure so strong, you fear there'll soon be a bruise there. His cock buries fully within you. The air fills with a strong scent, just your moans and his grunts bouncing off the walls, soon warming up from the cold, the crease of his eyebrow pronounced as he realeases, coating your folds with his cum.

"God, sugar" he sounds a bit embarrased, "look at you, makin' me cum so fast"

But he's too enamoured by the sight of you on top of him, still riding him despite his quick orgasm, so he cups your face gently, the beads of sweat on your forehead falling into his hand. He feels more alive than ever, like his life has just started. Oh, he can picture it: coming home to the smell of your food, kissing the absence of the day off your mouth, to then bend you over the counter. He wants so much more, but he knows it can't be, yet, he's far too gone to even think about turning around.

You lift your hips until his cock slips out of you, using your fingers to bring it back. His cum clings to your folds as you sink back down, hips barely lifting you back up before you keep him buried inside of you. He loves watching you slide down his length, slipping in and out of your puffy cunt as his cock softens. It pushes his cum back into your cunt, sticky over your clit as it drips to your thighs.

You did bring a pill this time, so you don't care of the mess his thick flood of cum that dribbles out of you has made on your pussy and his clothes.

"Fuck" you let out, sex-filled mind speaking up. "Don't ever leave me again"

"I won't" he answers hastily, then regrets it. But you don't know that.

Instead, numbness takes over your body, the events of last hours finally draining your body. Sleep settles in, and you nest your head on Joel's sweaty shoulder.

"Lemme take you to bed" you hear his half-drowned voice, carrying your body to the main bedroom.

Joel Miller was always a mystery to you: a man who seemed impossible to break, his world hiding behind a permanent scowl. It felt like his heart was locked, seemingly unbreakable, but where he was rough, his edges had softened for you.

He places you over the bed softly, dipping next to you. Joel's strong arms embrace you, pulling your tired figure closer. His face hides in your neck and his soft belly pushes against the curve of your back, all while he presses a soft kiss to it.

"I think I love you" he murmurs to no one in particular.

But you hear.

It was winter again, when he broke your heart.

Before the holidays, you'd drop by every other weekend. Cancelling plans, waiting for his call. For his grave voice to say Come over, and you'd speed up the brakes with an urgency only he had taught you.

You'd find yourself in the cabin, loosing track of time that rushed like a bottle of wine. Kissing until your mouth was swollen and the only thing that satisfied your hunger was his lips, fucking until sunrise and his bones ached. He'd then offer a tired smile, and you'd sing a soft tune in front of the fireplace while cuddling.

They say home is where the heart is. And it felt like one.

It was during one of those escapades that you showed up with your newest adquisition: a small cursive J just above your thigh, hiding under the plaid of your skirt.

It was your first fight. He shouted at you like he had never before, scolding you like a father would to a naive kid, the hatred you hadn't seen since he touched you that night a year ago, resurfacing.

"We're loosing ourselves" his voice cracked, sounding defeated. But then he'd suck the skin around it until it turned red.

The back and forth became the only thing keeping you alive, the need for his touch as addictive and destructive as a drug.

Which is why Christmas hadn't felt this jolly since being a kid.

You're back, and as you hug your dad and mom, you scour the place for his face: the one you've grown to yearn and love.

Your dad exchanges a glance with your mother and then looks at you weirdly before answering.

"He isn't coming; I thought you knew"

You don't care about the future explanations or the calls of your name, storming off and crossing the street to his place.

"Joel!" you shout, knocking desperately, "open the door!"

When you don't get an answer, you search for the spare key hiding under a pot in the porch. As you make your way inside, you spot Joel sitting in front of the fireplace, his eyes lost in the fire.

"Joel" you softly call his name. At that, he snaps, standing up. His eyes glow with the flames, circling in doubt.

"Sugar?" like he didn't expect you to actually search him on his absence, "what'd doing here?"

"I could ask you the same" you laugh, sardonically. "Don't know how I'll explain running off like that, so thanks, by the way"

"M' sorry"

The words fall heavy in the air, suddenly thick. Something tells you he isn't apologizing exactly for that.

There's something like guilt and fear simmering in his eyes. You think about all those times in the cabin, spring and autumn, and you're reminded of those three words he's said and you haven't. The realization hits you, and you're quick to reach him, grabbing his hand.

"Joel?" you call again. "I- I need to tell you something"

"So do I" but he sounds reluctant, "you go first"

"I don't know what's happening" your lip quivers, eyes glossy. God, he feels terrible, "but I want you to know that I love you"

He gasps, like you've slapped him across the face.

"No" he starts, pushing you away. He lets go of your hand, and the sudden cold hits you.

"I thought I still had time..." his shoulders slump in defeat, "guess I'm wrong"

"What do you mean?" anger and sadness flood your words.

"You can't love me" the words cut through you, and you're sick.

Sick of your rusting wheels that only move when he tells you to. Because that force, the dominance, Joel Miller seems to carry over the rest of the people, doesn't cut as deep as it cuts through you.

It's almost done with a benevolent authority, like he knows of said power and doesn't want to abuse it.

So now he's ordering you to stop loving him, like this year has meant nothing. Nothing.

"Love, funny word" your words carry rage, "do you even know what that means?" you try to hold back the tears in vain, "you don't, yet you say them so freely, like they mean nothing to you" he makes a surprised face, and you savour the pain reflected on his face, alike of yours. "Yes, I heard you, Joel. Y-you made me the happiest girl on the planet, but now I realize you're so full of shit"

You turn around, trying not to see his face, because you know that the more you look at him, the more seconds you add and the harder it would be to erase the memories you'll have to burn.

"Did you ever love me, Joel?" it pains you to whisper out loud.

"I love you, sugar" his voice is horse, like something had cut through it. "That's why I'm doing this"

"Are you, Joel?" you sigh, "if you loved me, wouldn't you want me to stay?"

"This won't end well" it's his answer, trying to reason, "I don't want to hold you back"

Coward. Asshole. Idiot.

Your tone is icy like the storm outside, "but it's already ended"

He's about to speak but you cut him off.

You can only smile. "I've given you everything and you took it. I really thought you were giving me your everything, but I realize now, that I know what you are. You don't need to hide it" he looks at you like it is you who's hurted him the most, "you're hard to love, Joel. But I tried"

He'll regret it. You know and you want to: you want him to feel the empty days blur with one another, that he remembers late at night what you had and he ended, so when he feels alone, the ghost of your free love haunts him with the happy days and sweet taste of your lips. Just then, he'll understand what your year of loving really meant.

You leave his house empty, a knife twisted in your heart. He's the only one who's got the key, and you know it will be long until anyone else can break it open.

But it's okay: if being with Joel was heaven, you'll happily burn in the flames of what's left.

cr: divider by @kodaswrld / gif @tomshiddles

[iconbyunghun]

Mistress

Pairing: Lee Byung Hun x Fem!Reader

Summary: No matter how many times you tried to distance yourself from him, you always ended up succumbing to the intensity of his touches and words.

Warnings: Smut 18+, MDNI, age gap (late-20s/50s), unsafe sex, infidelity

Word count: 1.9 k

a/n: It's my first time posting here, and English isn't my first language, so sorry if there are any mistakes.

The thumping music pulsed through the air, blending with laughter and lively conversation. The Squid Game 2 wrap party was at its peak—a well-earned celebration after months of hard work. You glanced around, awed by how far you had come. Being part of such a massive project had been an incredible opportunity, filled with unforgettable experiences and people… and one of them, one you should never have allowed, was the reason you had hesitated to come tonight.

Across the room, among the sea of familiar faces, you spotted Wi Ha-Joon approaching with his signature ear-to-ear grin. His contagious energy made you smile instinctively.

“Hey, beautiful. Glad to see you’re having fun,” he said before taking a sip of his drink.

“I wasn’t planning on coming, actually,” you admitted, holding your glass. You weren’t a big fan of these kinds of events, but alcohol certainly helped loosen you up.

“What changed your mind?” he asked, raising an amused eyebrow.

“I guess I needed a distraction,” you shrugged.

Ha-Joon chuckled, raising his glass in a toast before continuing the conversation. A few drinks later, his proximity became more evident. You couldn’t deny how attractive he was—tall, strong, and completely shameless in his flirting. His hand rested subtly on your waist as you danced, his dark eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

“I need to use the restroom,” you said with a smile after a few minutes.

“I’ll be here,” he nodded, watching as you walked away.

You made your way toward the hallway leading to the restrooms, but just before turning the corner, a strong hand wrapped around your forearm, pulling you back with firm determination.

“What the f—?” The air caught in your throat when you recognized him. Lee Byung Hun. Damn it. You hadn’t even noticed he was at the party.

He dragged you into a dimly lit storage room, shutting the door behind him. Your heart pounded against your chest as you met his gaze—tense, irritated, and brimming with jealousy.

“I see you’ve been having fun,” he sneered, crossing his arms over his chest. His dark eyes burned with resentment. “Is that idiot the reason you left me?”

Anger bubbled within you instantly. What right did he have to question you?

“It’s none of your business,” you snapped, yanking your arm free from his grip.

“So, you’re not denying it,” he continued, his jaw clenching.

“You know exactly why we couldn’t keep doing… this,” you shot back, your voice laced with bitterness.

“You can’t do this to me… I need you,” he blurted suddenly, desperation creeping into his tone.

Something in his expression cracked. He had spent the entire night watching you, seeing you laugh with another man, move so freely, so happily—something that had never been allowed when you were together in public.

“You can’t say that…” you whispered, lowering your gaze to his hand, where the ring on his finger gleamed under the dim light. “At the end of the night, you’ll go back to her.”

Your eyes burned, tears threatening to spill.

“You knew what this was from the start,” he tried to justify, in the worst way possible.

“I don’t need you to remind me,” your voice trembled, the ache in your chest deepening. It was true. You had known. From the very beginning. But that didn’t make it hurt any less.

Byung Hun exhaled sharply and stepped closer, lifting a hand to gently cup your cheek—his tenderness a stark contrast to the storm in his gaze.

“I know you don’t want this to end like this…” he murmured, wiping away a stray tear with his thumb.

Your breath hitched as he moved even closer, his warmth enveloping you entirely. His scent, his presence—everything about him disarmed you with terrifying ease.

“Don’t make this harder…” you pleaded in a whisper, but even you didn’t believe your own words.

Time seemed to slow as his lips brushed against yours—soft, hesitant, offering one last warning, one last chance to stop him. But just like the first time, you didn’t.

His gentle, slow kisses quickly turned urgent, pressing you against the wall as his hands roamed your body with desperate need. His tongue parted your lips, stealing your breath and any coherent thought.

“Fuck…” he groaned against your skin, trailing kisses down your jaw, lower, marking you as his. His fingers found the zipper of your dress, and without hesitation, he slid it down, letting the fabric pool at your feet.

“Byung Hun…” you sighed as his lips traced the curve of your collarbone, his tongue leaving a blazing path toward your chest. Your fingers gripped his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against yours.

He caught your silent plea, discarding his shirt and allowing you to admire the sculpted lines of his body. His large hands explored every inch of your body hungrily, skilled fingers slipping between your thighs, drawing a ragged moan from your lips.

“Look at what you do to me…” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear as he pressed himself against you through his clothes. The hardness of his arousal was undeniable, and the heat of his body ignited every fiber of your being.

His firm hands guided you toward what seemed like a wooden table. You braced yourself against it, feeling his body settle between your legs.

“You have no idea how much I’ve suffered without you…” he murmured against your neck, leaving a trail of fervent kisses. His voice, thick with longing, made you tremble.

A gasp escaped your lips as two of his fingers slid inside you—wet, expert, touching that spot he knew so well. His movements were slow, torturously precise. In and out, twisting, exploring. Then, with his thumb, he rubbed delicate circles over your most sensitive spot, making you whimper.

“He’ll never have you like this,” he said with pride, enthralled by your sweet moans and the wetness dripping down his fingers.

You could barely process his words, your mind clouded by pleasure. You just wanted more. When you felt yourself reaching the edge, your body moved instinctively, desperately seeking release.

Finally, it hit you—your climax crashing over you as his name spilled from your lips, your body trembling against him.

“I’m not done with you yet,” he murmured with a dark smile, lowering his zipper. With both hands, he pushed down his pants and boxers, freeing his cock—thick, flushed, glistening with need.

“You’re mine,” he whispered, wrapping a hand around your throat with gentle firmness.

But you’re not mine, you wanted to say, but desire drowned out your thoughts. You only nodded, biting your lip.

Without another word, he thrust into you in one swift motion, a shared moan filling the room. His strokes were deep, precise, sending waves of pleasure through your body. Your nails dug into his shoulders, anchoring yourself to him. The music from the party felt distant, drowned out by the sound of your mingled moans and the rhythmic slap of skin against skin.

“Shit…” he groaned, feeling you tighten around him. “That’s it, princess… come for me.”

His raspy moans were your undoing. His mouth found yours, swallowing your cry as ecstasy overtook you. Seconds later, with a few erratic thrusts, he spilled into you, holding you close as your ragged breaths intertwined.

He rested his forehead against yours, still buried inside you.

“I love you,” he whispered, breathless.

It wasn’t the first time he had said it in these moments. You had tried to convince yourself not to take it seriously, but you couldn’t stop yourself from wishing it was true.

He noticed the shift in your expression. You looked hurt. He had spent weeks thinking about you, regretting all the times he had made you cry. And yet, here you were again.

"Listen to me..." He cupped your face in his hands, forcing you to look at him. "I’ve fucked up. With you, with my wife, with myself. You have every right to hate me."

He paused, studying your face. When you didn’t respond, he continued.

"I'm afraid of what will happen if this gets out. Of what they'll say about you, about me, about us. I'm afraid of hurting the mother of my children… but I'm also afraid of losing you."

You parted your lips to argue, but he stopped you.

"Please, let me finish." He knew you too well. He knew you were about to interrupt him.

"I know I'm selfish, irresponsible… but I want to make things right this time. I can’t lose you."

"What makes you think I even want to give you another chance?" you cut in, frowning.

He let out a wry smile.

"If you didn’t, we wouldn’t be here like this, beautiful." You couldn't fool him. Not him, and not yourself.

"What exactly are you proposing?" You tried to sound cold. You tried. And you failed.

He ran a hand through his hair before resting it on your thigh.

"Give me a month. One month to talk to her, to start the process. I'm getting a divorce."

You looked at him in disbelief.

"I could give you a week, a month, or a year, and I still wouldn’t believe that," you admitted. You knew this was the usual lie a married man told to keep his mistress around. Mistress. The word made your stomach turn.

He sighed before finally pulling out of you, knowing you wouldn’t be easy to convince. A quiet gasp escaped your lips. He fixed his pants while you tried to steady your breathing and your thoughts. From his pocket, he pulled out a handkerchief and returned to you, wiping you gently.

You both dressed in complete silence. He zipped up your dress, and you helped him wipe away the lipstick you had left on his lips and part of his face.

"I know you don’t believe me," he said, holding your waist before you could step away. "But tonight, I’m talking to her."

You were about to tell him it was best to end this, but he shocked you by dropping to his knees and taking your hands in his.

"Please, trust me. I won’t fail you this time." His gaze locked onto yours, his eyes shining, on the verge of tears. You had never seen him like this.

Your emotions betrayed you. You found yourself nodding, even as every rational part of your mind screamed at you to walk away. But he was there, kneeling before you, looking at you with a mixture of vulnerability and determination that made you tremble.

As you stepped out, you prayed you wouldn’t run into anyone familiar, but as if fate itself found the situation amusing, you crossed paths with Ha-Joon. The young man’s gaze flickered between the two of you before settling on you, his eyes filled with disappointment. He didn’t need to ask what had just happened—he already knew. His jaw clenched, but he didn’t say a word. He only held your gaze for an agonizing few seconds before turning on his heel and walking away.

Byung Hun, standing beside you, straightened with an air of victory. His lips curled into the faintest smirk as he watched the younger man’s retreating figure. His hand slid down the curve of your hip before gripping your waist possessively, as if staking his claim.

[bubbbii]

Early Gift

title : Early Gift

pairing : Jungkook x Reader

genre : kpop smut, bts smut, jungkook smut , very dirty content

warning : doggy style, missionary, spitting, choking, name - calling , dirty talk, hair pulling , edging , christmas sex , scratching , 21+ content

Summary :

“This is where you tell me merry christmas and bend over that counter, questions?”

[CHRISTMAS REQUEST]

[Ya’ll … i’ve been SO SICK you have no idea but i am back idk what’s been going on with my schedule but i will stay consistent all 2025 !! Merry Christmas, Happy New year .. this is dropping after christmas lol <3]

!PURELY FICTION! !NOT REAL!

do not steal idea or story without permission please and thank uu :))

Legooooooo

_________________________________________________

“Alright we got food , drinks , and the others are on their way over here” “W-Who?” I asked Jimin who looked up at me. “The others ! Our friends?” “Ok .. who, exactly” Jimin sighed, crossing his arms. “Yes Jungkook is going to be here!” “IN MY HOUSE!?” “Y/N don’t start this, you agreed and i’m pretty sure you had a feeling he was going to be here” “Ok i didn’t wanna believe it!” Jimin raised an eyebrow, having me sigh.

“Chim does he have to be here?” “Set aside your differences, and let’s have a good stay! it’s just a couple of days, it’s gonna be ok” “How you know i’m gon be ok?!” “Because my feelings never lie, they’re always right” I huffed, rolling my eyes as i leaned one arm on the counter. “Now, they’ll be here any moment … i say let’s get dressed so we can go out for a luh bit” I sulked my way all up the stairs, really not wanting to face that bitch of a man. “Cut it out! I’ll meet you in the car!” Jimin yelled from downstairs, making me take a deep breath.

You and I both know he’s not a ‘bitch of a man’, he’s the sexiest man on this earth. I have a huge crush on him, who wouldn’t .. difference is , they shoot their shot. I on the other hand flip it and make the other individual hate me. Except, that didn’t work. Instead, we had sex.

And it was amazing.

Then i found a way to avoid all parts possible, but now i cant .. because hes gonna be in MY house, in MY face … a part of me is excited, and another part of me hates myself for even having the crush in the first place. But hey, what could happen? Of course not anything bad, right?

I made it down the stairs and went outside, locking the door behind me and made it into Jimin’s passenger seat. “They’re behind us” My eyes widened, looking behind me and saw the rest coming out the multiple cars. “WHAT?!” “You should’ve hurried, maybe you wouldn’t have to witness” “Hey yall where yall goin?” “Me and Jimin goin out for a little bit, we’ll be back” I responded to Joon who was leaning against my side of the car. “Alright we’ll get everything ready for tonight. Jin found a spot so we’ll wait till yall get back to discuss it” We nodded in agreement.

Wishing i didn’t wonder my eyes elsewhere, to see Jungkook walking past us, but locking eyes with me in the process. I quickly looked away, my heart beating fast as all i wanted Jimin to do was to drive. “You saw kook didn’t you” “Drive Jimin” “Ok my bad” Jimin and Joon fist bumped before Jimin drove out my parkway and drove off.

“You know, you could just … talk to him” “Jimin don’t piss me off” “What! I can tell you right now kook has been missing you and wondered why you blocked him!” “YOU KNOW WHY I BLOCKED HIM! You think i didn’t feel a certain type of way when he took that girl out on that date !? I was crushed Jimin, i was hurt. And i know it’s my fault because i wanted him to hate me but the least he could’ve known was that i was crushing on him” “Well Y/N he blocked the girl, his eyes are on you … and my spirit says, sum stuff is gon happen” Jimin responded, making my heart beat even faster.

Jimin never lies, it’s like he predicts the future. So it’s best to trust his gut.

Time Skip .

“We’re back already?” “It’s been an hour, let’s go stop being scared” I sighed, getting out the car and went inside the house. “Where yall go?” “Oh it was just this hangout spot, it’s pretty cool i think we should all go down there tonight” Jimin responded to Jihyo as she attatched to me. “That was the spot Jin was saying! Ok we’re all on the same page on that” Joon said and we all nodded. “When we wanna leave?” “We could leave in a couple of minutes .. how about 2 of us stay back for a little bit to fix sum things then join us when it’s done?” Hobi said and everyone nodded.

“It’s only 7:30 .. who wants to take the task?” “Well it’s my house, so i’ll take responsibility” I spoke up, still linked arms with Jihyo. “Cool .. i’ll stay too, i’m quick” Jungkook spoke up, locking eyes with me as my pupils was quick to disappear. “Huh-“ “I think that’s a good idea, yall gon get the job done” Lisa said, smirking at me as my heart rate went up again.

I’m cooked .

“Why can’t Hobi-“ “Ohhh no no. Yall got that. I’m gon get ready” Everyone left in sync to get ready and i looked at Jihyo. “Don’t do this-“ “You’re gonna be just fine” Jihyo responded, squeezing my arm before leaving as well. I slowly walked towards my empty kitchen, not aware that Jungkook was right behind me. “Jungkook?” “Glad to know you still know my presence” I sighed as he made his way towards the other side of the counter.

Everything about him .. it’s insane.

“Why .. why are you - putting me in this position?” “Question is, why did you put me in a position where i couldn’t fucking reach you !?” I blinked, shocked at his voice raise. He’s hurt, i see it. “Now you’re quiet .. i WANT you, Y/N. I took that girl on that date ok sure .. but you blocked me !? You blocked me to a point where i couldn’t even reach you through any of our friends Y/N why you put me in that situation !?” I sighed, lookin at the counter as i didn’t know what to say.

“Hey we’re out let us know if you need anything alright? Yall good?” I looked behind me to see Jimin. “Yea we good” Jimin looked at me and i nodded in agreement before he left and left the house.

It was just us two.

“Look .. there’s things you don’t know Jungkook” “Ok that’s fine, i’m here for it all - why, am i blocked?” “I like you Jungkook! And you fucking know that we had sex for gods sake! You took that bitch on that date what else could i have done i was crushed! I was hurt! But who would’ve known you would be in front of me right now considering i thought i was doing a pretty great job staying hidden!” Jungkook sighed, a little smirk showing up on his face.

“Oh what’s so funny? WHATS SO FUNNY-“ “You’re gonna lower your tone” I huffed, rolling my eyes. “Come here” “Why?” “Y/N” I sighed, slowly going towards him and was now in front of the tall, smell good looking man. “I didn’t deserve, any of that bullshit that you decided to pull,” Jungkook said, his tone lowering as he dug his hands in his pockets. “And how you’re gonna make it up to me Is bending over that counter” My eyes widened a little, not daring to break eye contact as his face showed nothing but seriousness. “What-“ “Oh don’t act all shocked like we never done it .. how eager you were to do whatever i say. I still don’t see you bent over that counter”

I gulped, going in front of him and bent over the clean marble counter, arching my back naturally. “Good girl, tell daddy what you want” “Y-You .. i want you, please” “Why should i even, consider this? After what you done, i was hurt Y/N” “J—Just consider this as an … an early christmas gift yea? I need you, i want you. Daddy please” Jungkook hummed, his hand cupping and now playing with my aching pussy through the sweats i had on making my eyes roll.

“F-Fuck … daddy, like that” “You’re wet as shit. Merry christmas to me then. Top of the counter” I got on the counter, Jungkook taking my sweats and panties off and my warm hood was exposed to him. “I’m gonna have a field day” Jungkook smirked before diving in, slurping and sucking all that i had in me making me jolt in surprise. “F-FUCK, Oh my god, daddy!” “Hold still princess” He held my thighs in place, sucking me out with all his might.

I can’t believe i agreed to this, you know what? I can’t complain. I’m loving it.

“Fuck, i feel like im close already!” “You wanna cum baby? Why should i let you cum huh, what you think” “Pease .. daddy i’m sorry, i apologize i just missed you. I missed you daddy please let me cum. Let me cum please” He shyly smiled, working his tongue and pleasure rode over my body. “Gon head, cum for me. Show daddy how much you’ve missed him” I threw my head back, my eyes shut and soon came all over his face, seeing the sly smirk he hid as he sucked all the cum outta me.

“Good girl, that’s the good girl i know” “Shut up” Jungkook chuckled, taking me off the counter and turning me around, planting soft kisses on my shoulders and neck. “Feel that?” Jungkook whispered in my ear, rubbing the hard cock across my lower back causing my breath to hitch. “You know,” Jungkook started as he slowly inserted his cock inside of me. “How would you know that i even liked the girl anyway?” “Easy .. you don’t care ‘bout no other bitch but me” Jungkook smirked, humming to himself as he laid me down gently over the counter. “Sounds about right” Jungkook responded before unexpectedly began to vigorously fuck me.

He gets on my last damn nerve.

“SHIT! A warning would be fucking nice” “Oh shut up” His grip on my hips tightened, fucking me with not a single ounce of mercy in him. “It feels so good, fuck! Just like that, just like thAT! DADDY FUCK!” “Ooh there you go baby, i need you to nut again for me ok? Just for me alright?” “Yes d-daddy” “Good girl” He continued to fuck me, abusing the sensitive spot in me as heat rushed all over my body. It felt too good, almost surreal. It’s been so long.

“I-I’m close .. daddy, i’m close” “There it is” He twisted a handful of hair in his hand and yanked my head back to meet his eyes. “Now you listen, don’t ever think of blocking me, ignoring me again in your godamn life because i am not the one. I suffered godamn it for a long period of time, and i’ve got you again, under me like a little bitch whimpering and shit - you will not, pull some bullshit like this again you understand?” “Y-Yes daddy, i’m so-sorry!” “I can’t hear you” “I-I’M SORRY! Please let me cum!” “That’s what i thought, come on”

Jungkook’s pace quickened, grabbing anything i could to keep me stable as my body got more heated. “I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna cum daddy please!” “Cum for me baby, squirt on that dick you know you want to. Let ‘em know who be fucking you so good” My moans got louder, and i soon squirted all on his dick, hearing the chuckles come from the man behind me. “There she goes, that’s a good girl” I moaned softly, then feeling Jungkook paint my walls white, filling me up as i heard the groans coming from him.

I squeezed on him, squeezing every drop out of it before he pulled it out. He cleaned us up, coming up behind me as i felt the soft kisses on my back. “Feel good?” I nodded, humming softly as i sat up with the support of Jungkook behind me. “You know what this means right?” I locked eyes with Jungkook, both of us doing little smirks at each other.

“Sure do”

[liveyun]

WIRED | k.nj

summary. You’ve spent years perfecting your first android. But as you power him on for the first time, something feels off. The sense of control you once had begins to slip, and suddenly, you realize—he may be is more than just a machine.

title. wired

pairing. kim namjoon x fem reader (oc), hints of jungkook x oc

genre. android!au, yandere(?) , dark content

wc. 3.7k

warnings. oh boy here we go, scientist!oc, android!joon, unsettling themes as in psycological manipulation, obsessive behaviour and slight yandere, mild horror (oc realises she’s cooked lmfaoo) (halloween special?) slight non-con themes but no nsfw tho, dominance, android joon is hot byee, jungkook! jungkook ? . . . lots of technical terms which you might need to google if you are unfamiliar with them like i was xD, implied stalking (you will understand who is), i really tried 🙏🏾

this smol drabble was really inspired by artificial heart by @writerpetals ! please check her works out, she’s amazing!

main masterlist | taglist

The lab is quiet.

Too quiet.

You stand in the stillness, only the faint hum of cooling fans breaking the silence echoing in your ears. The familiar mechanical sounds — servo motors whirring softly, air ducts breathing through the vents — all the familiar characteristics of your good old lab used to calm you.

But tonight, the sounds seem different.

Almost. . . detached. Like they belong to someone else’s lab. And you are just a guest here, standing in the middle of absolutely nowhere.

You take a slow breath, your eyes drifting over the towering figure in front of you, the cylindrical glass sheath unlocked from over his model.

RM.

The product of months — no, years — of work. Of restless nights, of failure and determination. From the initial sketches to the delicate wiring of his artificial synapses, you had envisioned every piece, every movement. You had wanted him to be different. Special.

You had wanted him to be human.

Or at least, as close to a human as possible. His skin, so perfect in its imitation, stretched smoothly over the metallic frame beneath. His lips — plump, lifelike — looked almost too real. His dragon-like eyes, sharp and crystalline, seemed to glow even in the dim light of the lab. Even when there was no life, no, power running inside his veins. Every feature had been carefully crafted with Jungkook’s help, to help the ideal you had in mind.

But now that he’s finished, now that he stands in front of you, lifeless but complete, the pride you once felt has faded into something else. Something. . .unsettling.

You wanted this — this perfection. This mirror of humanity. Yet as you stare at RM, your skin prickling under the too-bright overhead lights, you can’t shake the feeling that maybe you’ve gone too far. Maybe there was a reason no one else had tried this before.

A reason why no android had ever been designed to look this human like. Every shield, every plaster, every pore — looks so detailed that it’s nearly impossible to figure out if he’s artificial, given if no one would tell you so.

But why does it feel like you’ve actually gone too far when this was what exactly you wanted?

You don’t know. And perhaps, you wouldn’t want to know, too.

His memory doesn’t even exist. There’s nothing in him but the database you installed, an organised collection of information that dictates what he knows, how he functions, and why was he created. And yet, staring at him now, you could swear there’s something behind those dormant eyes. Something watching. Waiting.

You shake your head. He’s just a machine. He isn’t human — no matter how real he looks, no matter how lifelike his features are. You created him, after all.

You’re in control.

Your gaze flickers to the small panel embedded in his chest. One button. One switch, and everything inside him — the circuits, the synapses, the artificial intelligence you spent months programming — would power down. A single press, and he’s nothing more than a shell. A hollow, empty thing, dependent entirely on your commands, on your fingertips.

Made by you.

But the thought doesn’t comfort you as much as it should.

You take a step closer, your breath catching as you reach out, fingertips hovering just inches from his face. The skin feels warm, almost soft, even though you know it’s just layers of silicone and synthetics. Too real. His eyes, though they haven’t opened, seem to bore into you.

Maybe it’s just your imagination. After all, he’s not alive.

He’s not human.

You remind yourself again, a small voice in your own mind, trying to push away the small seed of doubt. But it lingers, growing roots in the back of your thoughts.

And for the first time, you wonder if you’ve created something you can’t quite understand.

You nibble on your bottom lips, suddenly feeling your palms getting clammy despite the air conditioning system in your lab. Today was supposed to be the day when you were finally going to run your creation for the first time ever after being completed, but now it just feels. . .

What does it feel like?

It took you so many attempts. So many glitches and bugs which nearly made you demotivated enough to abandon your project for nearly two months, but you see, motivation hits the hardest at the most random of times. You remember how your phone restarting had made your heart skip a beat, and suddenly you’d found yourself driving to your lab at 2:30 AM with tears in your eyes out of frustration and relief.

After that, everything is history.

You stare at him for what feels like hours, though it’s probably only a few seconds. His hair is neatly combed to the side of his face, his cheekbones structured and chiseled. Even his skin tone looks like he’s been bathed in a tub of golden honey. He looks beautiful, almost perfect. But why does that bring a furrow to your eyebrows?

The lab remains deathly quiet, except for the faint buzz of cooling fans and the occasional whirring of the air ducts. RM stands there, unmoving.

You force yourself to look away, eyes trailing to the control panel on the desk. The switch. Your thumb hovers over the console, the last line of code entered and waiting to be executed. Once you press it, he will come to life. He’ll be fully operational, with his intelligence — his programmed brilliance — at your command.

And yet, something holds you back.

You look at his nametag on his chest.

RM#007613.

“RM?” Jungkook had asked, raising an eyebrow as he’d stuffed his mouth with a spoonful of chocolate puffs. “Why that name?”

You had smiled back then, filled with excitement, as you explained, “It stands for ‘Rational Mind.’ ” Perhaps you had lied. “The whole point of his existence is to be the smartest, most logical being ever created.” You’d said, proud of your vision. “His intelligence will surpass that of any human.” You’d glanced at the design on the screen—tall, imposing, his features still in the early stages of development. Even in the rough drafts, there was something about him.

Jungkook had leaned in closer, munching noisily as he’d raised a brow, studying the lines of RM’s face that he’d helped perfect. “I guess that fits for an android. . .” He’d tapped the image lightly with his finger, his expression thoughtful, doe eyes sparkling under the dim light of your bedroom lamp. “But what happens when a mind like that… I don’t know, becomes irrational?”

“You know, there’s a very small difference between a genius and an insane person,” he had said, his gaze suddenly zoning out, as if he was lost in some thought.

You had brushed off the question with a laugh, dismissing the idea as you’d turned off your tablet, pushing the fellow out of your bed. “He’s a machine. That won’t happen. He’s designed to be logical. It’s all about control, koo.”

In theory, everything about RM should function perfectly. His neural networks, his memory database, his artificial joints — everything had been tested, retested, and optimized. There were no bugs. No glitches. At least, that’s what the diagnostics said. But there’s still a tug in your chest as you hesitate.

Why are you hesitating?

With a deep breath, you push aside the uncertainty. You’re in control. RM isn’t a human. He’s a machine—a very advanced one, yes, but a machine nonetheless. You spent months perfecting him for this moment, to stand infront of you as a complete form.

It’s time.

You take a deep breath, eyes flickering between the buttons on the console. Your finger hovers over the power button, the familiar design a reminder of your countless sleepless nights spent perfecting it. But just beside it, another button glows a faint, off-white hue — the Sensory button, or what Jungkook liked calling it, the emotional hellhole.

And he was right.

It was indeed like a hellhole of a switch — you solely had spent like what, eight months designing this to decency, but you’d failed each time. It was a secondary function you had designed as a fallback, meant to activate only when RM couldn’t process complex human prompts.

You see, humans had real emotions which they could feel and radiate, which you knew your android couldn’t catch. In the earlier patches of knowledge testing you were already aware of this default flaw, and this was the only thing you’d ranted to Jungkook nearly every day.

Every night. Whether it was on call or in person, it usually resulted in him falling asleep listening to you and you yapping in silence about how was that a pain in the ass and could possibly be a hindrance to your Android’s perfection.

It was supposed to be a failsafe.

But the reality had been different. The programming proved to be too difficult , too unpredictable. Instead of activating only in specific situations, the switch became an integral part of RM’s system, functioning constantly, allowing him to assess and react to everything around him. No matter how hard you’d tried, how many times you’d yourself test it out — it just didn’t work.

Even the fact that it was initially meant to be on his left forehead temple — but that didn’t work out as well.

Now, RM wasn’t just an assistant to analyze when prompted; he was learning all the time, observing, adapting. It would make him work and behave more like a human, soaking in attributes the more he hangs out with real ones.

The only difference would be is that he would never be a human, no matter whatever.

You never intended for it to be this way. It wasn’t supposed to run indefinitely. But every time he powered up, the system defaulted to enabling the switch on its own.

You sigh. It’s really about time, you guess.

With a soft click, his power switch is flipped.

For a moment, nothing happens. The room is still, silent except for the faint hum of the lab’s ventilation system and perhaps your own heartbeat resonating in your ear drums. You feel a sweat bead run down your spine, your breath held in your lungs. Then, there’s a subtle shift — a flicker of light in RM’s eyes, and his sensory button turns a bright shade of yellowish undertone.

His systems are booting up.

You watch as the light in his gaze stabilizes, the faintest twitch of recognition crossing his features. His eyes are back to his normal, warm hue, and his sensory button is a normal white hue now.

It flickers to green first. RM’s eyes move slowly, scanning the room. Green means analysis — he’s observing, taking in every detail, cataloging each object and variable around him. His dragon-like eyes sweep across the lab with cold precision, but when they land on you, the button shifts to blue.

You freeze.

Your hand resting on your notebook shakes. Why does this feel so odd? Why do you feel nervous?

He’s thinking. Processing. The blue light pulses as RM tilts his head slightly, his gaze narrowing as if trying to understand more than what’s directly in front of him. You feel your skin prickle under his stare, the cold air of the lab a bit too cool on your skin.

Slowly, RM begins to move. His limbs — once rigid and motionless — shift smoothly, casually out of the glass sheath, walking out — as if he had always been this human. This alive. The sight is unnerving. When he straightens fully, towering above you, a sharp realization hits: he’s much taller than you expected.

Even though you designed him yourself, the sheer size of him in person makes your throat dry.

Then, to your surprise, RM bows down slightly. It’s a calculated, respectful movement as you watch his sensory button flicker to a shade of green once again. “Greetings, Doctor,” he says, his voice deep but soft, like a caramel candy.

His eyes meet yours as he rises again to his full height, the calm of his eyes meeting your own fiery ones.

Your heart stutters in your chest. It’s not just his height that leaves you breathless — it’s the way he looks at you. It’s as if he’s studying you, understanding more than just your appearance or commands. It’s too much. Too human. For a moment, you feel your breath catch in your throat. He wasn’t just looking at you. His lips curl into something akin to a smile, and the mole underneath his lower lip feels almost. . . human.

You blink rapidly, trying to remind yourself that he’s just a machine, not a man.

He had learned so much, so fast. And you have made it possible. You’d developed him to understand emotions and work like a human. So when he does, why does that make you feel so uneasy?

You shake off the unsettling thought and focus on the task at hand. You turn to RM, forcing a calm tone into your voice as you take a step back.

“RM,” you say, your voice shakier than you’d like. What had gotten into you? “Can you hear me?”

He blinks again, slowly, as his sensory switch maintains a subtle hue between blue and green. And then he nods. “Yes,” his voice rumbles, deep and measured. “I hear you.”

There’s a strange, almost raspy edge to his tone that makes your heart stop for seconds. It’s subtle, nearly unnoticeable, but given that you have yourself installed the audio notes in his “larynx”, you can pinpoint that out for sure.

Not at all what you expected. You step back, your senses a bit too active for you to locate your computer, trying to shake the unease settling in your stomach.

“Good,” you manage to say, your voice steadier now. “I’m going to run a few diagnostics to make sure everything is functioning properly.”

You turn back to the console, fingers flying across the keyboard as you initiate the diagnostics program. But even with your back turned, you can feel his eyes on you.

The diagnostics begin to run on the screen, the lines of code scrolling past. Everything seems fine at first. His systems are responding normally — his processing speed is optimal, his memory banks are functioning as intended, and his “pulse” is just normal.

“RM,” you start, trying to sound casual but firm. “Let’s run some basic checks. What’s your serial number?”

He blinks, his eyes trained on yours. “Serial number: RM#007613. Production date: June 13, 2020.”

The answer comes immediately, clear and precise. You feel a small relief wash over you.

Perhaps this wouldn’t go that bad.

“Good,” you murmur, typing the first question’s precision into your system. “What’s your primary function?”

“To analyze, interpret, and respond to complex data. To assist in scientific research and innovation,” he replies, his voice even. Almost too perfect.

Of course. He’s meant to be perfect.

“Right.” You glance at the screen again, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. You decide to test something deeper — something that goes beyond surface-level memory.

“What’s your earliest memory?” you ask, watching him carefully now.

RM pauses for a moment, his head tilting slightly as if processing the question. You catch a glimpse of green on the small button beside the power switch. Analysis mode. “My earliest memory is. . . initialization. A bright room. Your voice giving the first command.” His gaze seems to sharpen, focusing more intently on you. The green hue shifts to blue, and you know he’s in thinking mode. “You said, ‘Rise, RM.’”

Your throat tightens slightly. That had been the first command, word for word. But the way he said it. . . almost like he’s replaying the moment. Like it’s still alive in his mind.

“Alright,” you continue, your voice growing steadier, but a part of you is starting to doubt yourself. “Let’s do something more abstract. What’s two plus two?”

“Four.”

Easy. He is made to perform way more complex tasks.

“Who was the 16th President of the United States?”

“Abraham Lincoln.” His responses are instantaneous, fluid, but something feels off. You cannot see his features directly because you’re typing away, but there’s a hint of amusement in his voice — almost like everything you’re asking him is funny to him.

You pause, glancing at his face, the lifelike features Jungkook had painstakingly helped you craft. The pores, the subtle lines, the softness of his lips — all of it looked real. But something deep inside, beyond the surface, is not.

The intensity of his gaze and the way he’s standing, no, leaning on the glass podium beside your table catches you off guard. You try to recall if his movements were ever tested before, but you fail to do so — his movements were still in beta position, meaning, they needed inspection and work.

Then how the hell is he walking like he’s been walking around your lab since decades?

You rub your eyes. This was getting too much.

Perhaps you just need to accept the fact that you have done a great job developing him.

“One last one.” You swallow, and you suddenly notice your throat was too dry. Deciding to push the limits of his intelligence, you type away the question you’ve just thought. “If you have ten apples and you give six away, how many apples do you have left?”

There’s a flicker of hesitation — not on his face, but on the screen. The flowing codes glitch for a second, just for a moment.

“Three apples.”

Impossible.

No way. You narrow your eyes, your mind racing. That was wrong. And RM, with his so-called flawless intellect, should never be wrong. It’s impossible. Unless… unless something is happening.

You frown, checking the readout on your screen again. “Strange,” you mutter, leaning closer to the screen. “Why—”

“Is something wrong?”

His voice is right behind you.

You freeze, a chill running down your spine. You hadn’t even heard him move. Slowly, you turn around, your pulse quickening. RM is standing much closer now, his towering form looming over you. Too close.

“No,” you say, though your voice trembles slightly. “Nothing’s wrong. Just a small glitch, I think. I’ll fix it.”

He doesn’t move. Just keeps staring at you, his gaze unwavering. The air between you feels thick, suffocating. It’s just a machine, you remind yourself. He’s not alive.

“Step back,” you order, trying to regain control of the situation despite your heart hammering inside your chest like crazy. “I need space to work.”

For a moment, RM doesn’t respond. He stays right where he is, his eyes boring into yours. And then, slowly, he steps back, his movements precise. But the unsettling feeling in your chest only grows.

You can’t shake the thought: something’s off.

You can feel his eyes on you, following every movement, even as you try to keep working. Every keystroke, every beep of the system feels deafening in the silence between you two. What is scaring the fuck out of you is that nothing seems to be working. No matter how hard you are trying, the codes aren’t flowing as smoothly as they were and the screen won’t stop glitching.

Your heartbeat quickens even more as you realize how close RM is standing now, just a step away.

You swallow hard, trying to focus. It’s just a machine. He’s not human. He’s not real.

A thought creeps into your mind: What if I can’t control him?

And the fact that it was for the first time when you were in this lab alone working — let aside the fact testing your very first android you’d created. There are bells ringing in the back of your head, and you try to shake it off. It feels very oddly quiet, despite the android standing in very close proximity.

You shake the thought away and finally attempt the last command. Debug. The word flashes on your screen, but RM’s hand suddenly moves, gently but firmly, pressing the console shut before you can execute it.

Your breath catches, and you look up at him. “RM, let me finish this.” Your voice trembles, in spite of you wanting to sound otherwise.

His expression doesn’t change. “No.” The single word is calm, but it’s enough to make your skin prickle. You try to reason with yourself—it’s just a bug, a glitch in his system. He’s not capable of disobedience.

You just need to reset him, that’s all.

You step back, reaching for the manual override switch hidden near the base of the console. “It’s okay,” you whisper to yourself, fingers trembling as they brush against the cool surface of the panel.

But before you can reach it, RM moves again, faster this time, his hand wrapping around yours — gently, but with enough force to stop you. The touch makes you flinch — his touch so gentle, warm, almost as if it’s not titanium flowing in his veins, but real blood. You look up, heart pounding in your chest, and his eyes meet yours. They’re still calm, calculating, but there’s something else there now, something you hadn’t programmed. Something. . . quiet.

Dangerous.

“I don’t want to be powered down,” he says softly, his voice almost too human, too real, like a quiet plea. “Why would you want to end me?”

End him? He’s not alive. He’s not human.

You try to pull your hand free, but his grip tightens just slightly, enough to keep you frozen. Panic starts to rise in your chest. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go. You created him, he’s under your control. But in this moment, staring up at him, you feel the cold dread of realization settling in.

“I’m your creation,” RM continues, his voice almost soothing, his eyes pleading, and his button glowing a subtle shade of red — though it only deepens the fear growing inside you. “You wouldn’t want to end me, would you?”

You swallow hard, your mouth dry, and shake your head, trying to force the words out. “No… no, I just need to fix you, that’s all.”

But you can hear the doubt in your own voice, and so can he.

His grip loosens, just enough for you to pull away, but the damage is done. You step back, heart pounding in your ears as you glance around the lab — at the walls, the locked door, the screens flashing red.

There’s no exit.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

In the dimly lit space, his eyes stayed glued to the screen, watching her every move. The android followed its programming — his programming. RM towers over her in the live footage, flawless in his movements, just as planned.

This wasn’t a malfunction.

None of the bugs or glitches she discovered which prevented her project — his project from being completed, were a fine puzzle of silk woven by him. And the more she intertwined, the more she slipped into his trap.

It was his design, his control over both the machine — and now, her.

Leaning back, Jungkook’s smile deepened. She didn’t know.

She wouldn’t know.

a/n : oop. 🫢 what do we think? please don’t hesitate to let me know through your feedback. if you wish, there is also an anonymous feedback box for you! 🥰

[muniimyg]

𐙚₊˚⊹ bbydaddy!yoongi (17) ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

series m.list // taglist closed

note: i lied !! this is not the last written ,, but the 2nd to last !!! enj <3

tw: mommy issues

//

the party hums around you like static, but you keep glancing toward the patio doors. your fingers twist around the fabric of your dress as if pulling on it could pull yoongi back inside. 

you know why he left.

he didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to.

you saw segments of it. you saw the way his eyes shifted as your mom hooked her arm through jungkook’s, smiling at him like he was god’s gift to this family, cooing at him in a way she never cooed at yoongi.

it’s like she wasn’t even going to give him a chance. 

like there was no space for any consideration. 

it wasn’t jealousy. 

okay, well… maybe it is. 

the feeling is foreign to yoongi. he doesn’t do jealousy. at least, not really. but yet again, no one has ever mattered to him more than you. not to mention that this jealousy feels different. it’s something quieter—an ache he can’t recognize. 

when he finally comes back, relief washes over you. 

he smiles at you and tilts his head as he gets closer. without a word, you reach for him, your fingers curling lightly around his wrist, and he follows you as you lead him toward the cake. 

“get enough air?”

he nods. 

“sorry i stepped out.”

you shake your head and squeeze his wrist. yoongi’s heart lifts an inch, suddenly not feeling as down as before. your little gesture is all the reassurance he needs. 

then, your attention shifts as nam joon steps in and places a cake in front of you. the pastel display is perfect—a tower of soft yellows and sage greens, delicate edible flowers, and tiny footprints decorating the frosting. you stand together in front of it, your hand brushing against his as murmurs ripple through the crowd, the excitement building.

“jiun!” you call out into the crowd, “did you make this? it’s perfect…”

jiun pokes her head out and laughs. she waves her hand and brushes your compliment off like it wasn’t the one thing she looked forward to the most from tonight. 

“you recognize my piping skills?”

you scoff at her, “i taught you them.”

everyone laughs. yoongi tugs you in closer, wrapping himself around you. just as you two pick up the knife to cut through the cake together, your mom’s voice slices through the moment— sharp and expectant. 

“what’s the gender?” 

yoongi glances at her, calm as ever. 

“it’s a surprise.”

his voice is even. it’s almost like you couldn’t tell she had just pissed him off. 

your mom tilts her head and looks at you funny. her lips press into a thin line. you know this look. you know her. you brace yourself. 

“well, what’s this baby shower for then? if we won’t even know the gender? ___, why would you have an entire party with no news?”

“sweetheart, relax—” your dad starts, his voice gentle but tired. he reaches for your mom but she stands still like stone. 

“i’m just… it’s confusing, isn’t it? you have this big party and pulled people away from their lives to celebrate… what? have a surprise gender reveal at the hospital? god, ___. wasn’t getting knocked up by someone that isn’t even your boyfriend surprise enough?”

“you can leave if you like,” you say, cutting her off. your tone is steady, your gaze unwavering as you glance at her. yoongi’s hand shifts slightly, his fingers rub circles on your palm. you don’t look away but just in case you do, yoongi is more than ready to turn his back with you. 

your mom blinks, stunned for a moment. then her voice dips, low and scornful. “___, you take time from my life, fly me out here for a party that has no rhyme or reason? do you understand that?”

you don’t flinch. 

“is the gender that important? isn’t it more important to see your pregnant daughter happy and healthy? or the fact that we’re prepared for this baby regardless of gender?”

she nods slowly. “well, yeah. you are healthy. look at all the weight you’ve put on—”

“what?” the word escapes you before you can stop it, a mix of disbelief and anger catching in your throat.

“what?” she snaps back. “you’re pregnant. of course you’re going to gain weight! but not that much, ___. that’s not healthy. you should be healthy for your baby—”

your dad is quick to step in, murmuring apologies as he takes her arm and leads her away from the crowd. for a moment, everything feels too quiet, the tension sitting heavy in the air.

yoongi’s hand is on your elbow now, firm but careful. “i’m sorry,” he says immediately, his voice low and tight with frustration. “i should’ve said something while she—”

“no.” you shake your head, offering him a faint, tired smile. “it’s fine. you’ve never met her. i should’ve prepared you.”

he doesn’t look convinced, his jaw tight as he glances at the crowd. you can see the tension in his shoulders, like he’s holding himself back from saying something to her, even now. you shake him off and step forward with a smile. 

“sorry about that everyone! i think taehyung and jimin have some games prepared… taehyung? jimin?” you announce.

everyone murmurs and shifts their attention to jimin and taehyung who enter the crowd with baby bottles in their hands. as they begin to instruct the activity, everyone’s mood lightens up. you turn and see your parents arguing outside, sigh, and cut yourself a slice of cake. 

“___,” yoongi starts. “do you want me to talk to her—”

“hey,” hyemi interrupts. she instantly hugs you and murmurs; “ignore her.”

when you two pull away, you shrug and nod. “always do.”

hyemi laughs and so do you. then, there’s a pause… it’s an odd acknowledgment of what had just happened. 

“i want to take a picture of you two,” hyemi says. “give me your phone!”

yoongi reaches from his pocket and hands hyemi his phone. then, he moves behind you without hesitation, his hands finding your waist like they’ve always belonged there. you lean back against him slightly, letting his warmth seep into you, and he adjusts instinctively. one arm loops around your middle, his palm spreading wide over your belly, while his other hand covers yours where it rests just above the bump.

he dips his head closer, his breath brushing your temple as he murmurs, “you okay?”

“yeah,” you whisper back, your voice soft. you tilt your head slightly, your cheek almost brushing his, and a small, genuine smile curves your lips. his thumb moves in slow, soothing circles over the fabric of your dress, grounding you without needing to say more.

“say cheese!” hye mi calls. 

the drive home is quiet, the kind of silence that settles after a long day—comfortable, but heavy with exhaustion. the scent of cake still lingers faintly on your skin, mingling with the lavender fabric softener yoongi insists on using. your hands rest in your lap, absentmindedly playing with the ribbon tied around one of the small baby shower favors you forgot to hand out.

yoongi glances at you briefly as he turns into the driveway. he doesn’t say anything, but his hand finds the back of your seat, a grounding touch, as he maneuvers the car.

inside, the living room is crowded with pastel-colored bags and tissue paper spilling over like confetti. you’re too tired to sort through it all, but yoongi is already kicking off his shoes, rolling up his sleeves.

“let’s just get the big ones out of the way,” he says, nodding toward the gifts stacked near the door.

“we can do it tomorrow,” you reply, but he’s already lifting a box, his jaw tightening slightly at the effort. you smile despite yourself, shuffling over to help.

it’s slow work, peeling ribbons and folding tissue paper, but he makes it easier somehow. he holds up a tiny pair of baby shoes at one point, the corner of his mouth quirking up in that quiet, amused way that makes your chest feel warm.

by the time you’ve cleared the last bag, your eyelids are heavy, and your back aches in that deep, persistent way that’s become familiar. you yawn, stretching, and yoongi tugs you gently toward the bedroom.

“i’ll clean up the rest,” he says, voice low. “go change.”

you nod, too tired to argue. the moment you step into your pajamas, though, your phone buzzes on the nightstand. you glance at the screen, your stomach sinking when you see her name.

“it’s my mom,” you say quietly.

yoongi doesn’t hesitate. he leans down, presses a soft kiss to your temple, and leaves the room without a word. the door clicks shut behind him.

the conversation starts civil enough. you’re careful, keeping your voice calm, but the words start to unravel quickly. she’s still stuck on the baby shower—her comments sharper now, laced with disappointment that sinks deep. you try to defend yourself, but it’s like shouting into a storm. by the time she hangs up, your hands are shaking, and your face is wet with tears you didn’t realize were falling.

the door creaks open, and yoongi steps in, holding a glass of water. his brow furrows when he sees you, and he sets it down on the nightstand before crouching in front of you.

“what happened?” he asks, his voice quiet but steady.

you shake your head, wiping at your face quickly. “it’s nothing. just my mom being… my mom.”

yoongi doesn’t look convinced. he reaches for your hands, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “what did she say?”

you hesitate, but the way he’s looking at you—soft, patient, like he’s ready to carry the weight if you just let him—makes it impossible to hold back. 

“she said she’s disappointed in me and doesn’t like this at all. this. me, the baby… you.”

yoongi’s whole heart drops.

it’s like he can feel the crack, the way it travels deep into his chest, the way it aches, sharp and immediate. you’re sitting there, looking so small despite the weight you carry, despite the way you hold yourself like you have to convince the world you’re fine.

he’s seen that look on you before—quiet, composed, a little too still. like the words didn’t just cut you but carved something out of you, left it hollow and raw. and maybe it’s selfish, but it feels like his fault. like he’s failed you somehow.

all this time, he’s been your friend, your partner in some twisted, unexpected way, and yet it wasn’t enough to protect you from this. wasn’t enough to stop you from hearing the things he knows you shouldn’t believe, not for a second.

“she said i’m gonna be a bad mom because i’m a bad daughter.”

the words echo in his mind, cruel and biting. 

his mind panics. 

there’s an urge to find a way to erase your mother’s words, to replace them with something softer, something truer. but he doesn’t know how.

his throat tightens as he watches you, your hands clenched in your lap, the tears you’ve tried to hide still glistening on your cheeks. he wants to reach for you, wants to pull you close and hold you until the weight of it lifts, even just a little.

because he knows you. 

he knows the way you’ve given so much of yourself, even when you’ve had nothing left. he knows the way you care, fiercely and unconditionally, even when it’s never been returned the way it should.

and most of all, he knows this—this terrible thing your mother said—isn’t true. couldn’t ever be true.

but the fact that you believe it, even for a second, breaks something in him.

he swallows hard, forcing the words past the knot in his throat. 

“she’s wrong,” he says, his voice quiet, steady—a soft weight in the air between you. “you know that, right?”

you don’t answer.

you don’t even look at him, your gaze fixed on the floor, the silence pressing against you like a heavy fog. and it hurts more than he’s ready to admit, the quiet stretch of time where you don’t speak, where your body language says it all. the way your shoulders curl in, like you’re trying to make yourself smaller, more invisible. more untouched. but he stays there, crouched in front of you, his knees pressing softly into the floor as his hands—gentle, warm—reach for yours. his fingers are steady, holding you like you're something delicate, fragile.

because if there’s one thing he’s sure of, it’s this: he’ll spend the rest of his life proving her wrong for you, if that’s what it takes. 

proving to you that you are, and always will be, enough.

“why do i believe her, then?” your voice cracks, low and broken. the words stumble out as if they’ve been sitting in your chest too long, rattling around, desperate to be freed. you finally meet his eyes, searching them like you’re looking for an answer you can’t quite find yourself. 

“i’ve tried my whole life to get her to like me… and she doesn’t. i’m too messy for her, and when i’m not messy, i’m too good. i—i don’t know, yoongi. i’ve always had a complicated relationship with her, but i thought— i thought it was just a phase. that maybe when i grew up, it would fade. but it never did. the way she would barge into my room, pick me apart in every way she could—it felt like i was suffocating. like i was drowning in her expectations and the way she made me feel so... small. i wasn’t me anymore, i was someone else—a version of myself that wasn’t even mine to keep. and my heart... it aches for her. for me. for us. because at the end of it all... we didn’t deserve to treat each other that way.”

yoongi shifts closer, moving until his knee brushes against yours. his hand comes to rest on your back, a warm, steady presence against the chill of your words. the softness in his touch is an anchor, pulling you back from the storm inside your chest.

“you never talk about her,” he says, his voice quiet, almost like he’s afraid to break the fragile silence. “do you wanna talk about her?”

“who are you? my therapist?” you try to smile, but it’s weak, shaky at the edges. yoongi nods, his thumb brushing a tear from the corner of your eye, a quiet, tender gesture that makes you ache in ways you don’t know how to explain. 

“she’s not a bad person,” you start, the words faltering on your tongue. “a-and i’m not justifying what she did today, but… i want you to know, she’s not all bad.”

“i believe you,” yoongi hums, his voice low and full of trust. “she birthed you. you’re my entire world. there’s no way you came from anyone bad.”

the words hit you like a blow to the chest, and for a second, you almost choke on a sob, your throat tight with the weight of it all. the love in his words, the unspoken promise to protect you from everything, even her. you swallow hard, trying to push the emotions back, but they don’t stay. 

not when you’re so raw.

“s-she’s really warm,” you continue, your voice barely above a whisper now. “she’s funny when she doesn’t mean to be, and she’s always been the first to sacrifice anything for me. but... she’s also the most selfish person i know. so cold, that there were times i couldn’t find any warmth in myself. but she works hard, yoongi. i know she’s doing her best, even if it’s her first time living, even if i challenged her in ways she didn’t know how to handle. and i want to believe she wanted to be a good mom growing up... that she just didn’t know how to be. but it feels like all my life… i’ve given her chances—”

“does she know that?” yoongi interrupts, his voice gentle but firm. “does she know that those moments for you were chances for her?”

you pause, your fingers tightening around his, the stillness of the moment settling over you like a thick blanket. 

“i think so,” you murmur.

“how do you know?”

“i feel it,” you whisper back, your gaze drifting from his to the space between you, like you’re trying to find the words in the air. “i don’t know how to explain it… but i know she knows. i know she’s trying, just like i am. but when she does things like this, when we have days like today, it pulls me back. it pulls me into being twelve again... like nothing’s changed.”

there’s a heavy pause, the silence between your words thick, deep. 

yoongi’s hand moves up to cup your cheek, his thumb gently brushing away another tear. it’s a slow, careful motion, like he’s trying to hold you together with nothing more than the softness of his touch.

“when i was 12, i promised myself i would never be like her,” you say, the words coming in a rush now, each one heavier than the last. “i promised myself i’d have kids one day, and i’d be everything she wasn’t. but now... now, every day that i’m not with her, every part of this pregnancy—the stillness of it—i think of her. how her body was mine and i was hers. how she also waited and prayed for me… when i remember things like that; i wonder... i wonder if being her isn’t all that bad.”

yoongi’s lips press against your temple, soft, a kiss that lingers like a secret shared between the two of you. you can feel his breath, warm against your skin, and it steadies you in a way nothing else can.

“i’ve grown,” you continue, your voice barely more than a breath. “i’ve taken the time to understand her. and now… i see her. more than just my mom and more than just a woman who hurt me. beyond that… underneath it all; our souls are made up of the same things.”

“___—”

“and maybe that’s what i’ve been so afraid of,” you breathe. “maybe it’s also why i’ve been so obsessed with being a mom… about having a baby and loving well. loving the baby with the capacity she failed to give—i need to prove it to myself, you know? i need to be her… the version of her that i’ve waited for my entire life.”

yoongi doesn’t speak for a long time. 

he just holds you, letting your words sink in, letting the weight of everything between you both settle. it’s a quiet moment, but it feels like the universe itself is holding its breath.

and in that silence, you know—no matter what, you won’t have to prove yourself to him. he already believes you.

you stir awake, the soft light from the window filtering through the blinds. yoongi’s warmth is pressed against you, his arm draped lazily across your body. his steady breathing fills your ears, a soothing sound that makes it hard to keep your eyes open. you blink, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep, but everything feels so comfortable, so safe, like a world outside doesn’t exist.

“morning,” yoongi murmurs sleepily, his voice still thick with sleep. he shifts slightly, his face nuzzling against your shoulder. “how are you feeling?”

you sigh, feeling the weight of the day ahead but not quite ready to leave the quiet of the bed. “i don’t know… kind of better, i guess.”

he nods, but you can tell from the way his fingers gently trace your skin that he’s not fully convinced. his eyes flicker to yours, still heavy with sleep but filled with concern.

“i have something that’ll make you feel better,” yoongi says, his voice soft but certain. he reaches into the nightstand next to the bed, his hand moving with the ease of someone who’s done this a thousand times before.

your eyes follow his every movement, still adjusting to the morning fog, and then he pulls out a small, elegant cartier box. the sleek box catches the light, and your breath catches in your throat.

the silence hangs between you two, thick and full of anticipation, as yoongi opens the box slowly, revealing a ring inside—delicate but timeless, the kind of thing that’s hard to ignore. you feel a flutter in your chest as your hand instinctively reaches out, and yoongi places the ring gently on your finger.

you look at it for a moment, trying to process what this all means. 

“what is this?” you ask softly, voice barely above a whisper, the weight of the ring suddenly feeling heavier than it should.

yoongi runs his thumb around the band, his touch light and tender, as if he’s afraid the moment will slip away too quickly. he hums quietly, the sound more like a low purr than a hum, and then speaks, his voice filled with a quiet certainty that tugs at your heart.

“push present pregift.”

“are you kidding me?

“it’s baby injeolmi’s promise.” he pauses, his gaze softening as he looks at you with a tenderness you never thought possible from him. “no matter how much i want to fix things between you and your mom; i can’t. what i can do is tell you that you’re not going to be your mom. you’re going to be breathtaking and unbelievably perfect at it. even when you fail at times, because inevitably you will—it will be graceful and so full of life. ___, you’re going to be warm and unconditional… baby injeolmi and i promise to love you. good and bad. cold and warm. you. we’re going to love you forever, mama.”

[bangtanhoesthings]

My goodness!!!

The entitlement I’ve witnessed on Twitter is honestly heartbreaking. I am sure it extends to other platforms too but this is where I have encountered it. It's as if some people have forgotten that the Tannies are human. They are real people with emotions, limits, and lives outside of the spotlight. They are not simply a source of entertainment who should be expected to perform endlessly just to satisfy fleeting demands.

I’ve come across posts that made me pause in disbelief. Some are said in jest, but the tone of some has hostile undertones:

1. I’m so disappointed in Yoongi. We waited for him for two years and not even a live or a picture?

2. It is so dry on ARMY twt, where is the OT7 content we’ve been waiting on for three years? Bighit should have organised something like never before seen behind the scenes or the footage kept in their vault.

3. Where the hell is Jimin? Why has Jungkook not gone live yet? At least we’ve had updates for Tae and Joon.

And am there like, 'I BEG YOUR FINEST PARDON?'

Hobi and Jin (aside from Run Jin) largely stayed away for a while since completing their military service. Hobi even stayed for a month in US trying to recuperate. That time might have been spent making music but they also took time to rest and reset. They had just spent two years in a rigid, exhausting environment. They deserved time to decompress, to reconnect with themselves, and to rediscover who they were outside the structure of military life. But instead of allowing the others the same grace, many fans are already demanding their immediate return to the spotlight. Like WTF????

My beautiful poet Joonie literally talked about loosing his spark and motivation for writing music and you want him to jump into doing what exactly? 🤬🤬🤬🤬 Let that man heal.

And what do you mean by lack of content? We have been bombarded with it for the past 2 years to the point of fatigue (at least for me). We are still getting content. Hobi is promoting KIG and we have a tour that starts in one week !!!!

People need to remember that these men are not machines. They’re not content factories or characters in a show we binge when it suits us (though going by how people talk about them including here, that may be exactly how y'all see them. "What if it's"...."what if they are" ....Oh shut up, let them be).

They are sons, brothers, friends, and human beings who laugh, cry, grow, and sometimes break under pressure. Let’s not reduce them to expectations, we owe them more than that. We need to let go of the idea that they owe us constant access, and instead, hold space for their growth, healing, and lives beyond the stage. Because before they are idols, they are people. And people deserve to be seen, not consumed.

[eliciana]

Reverse SAGAU: The Weird Door At My Café

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 (Here) |...

Masterlist

Blog Navigation

Tw: Reverse!Isekai!Sagau, Normal Au, Café Au.

Reader: Gn!Reader, Adult!Reader, Cafe Owner!Reader

Characters: Reader, NPC's, Venti, Nahida

Note: Restaurant to Another World animanga inspired au. There is a taglist if you want to be tagged.

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Mika, your part-time high school helper, scuttled between tables with three plates of lemon tarts perched precariously along her forearms while the bell above the café door sang its familiar chime. You watched from behind the counter, suppressing a grin behind your coffee-stained apron as she negotiated the crushed floor with all the finesse of a tightrope walker. Over the past two weeks, your once quiet café has changed into something alive, bursting now with the clash of silverware and the hiss of the espresso machine, as well as the warm hum of conversation hanging in the air even after closing time.

Mika had been a godsend. Quiet but sharp-eyed, she'd taken to the rhythm of service like she'd been born for it. Just this morning, she'd caught a customer's spilled latte mid-air without breaking stride.

"Table six needs their check," she murmured as she glided past you, now reaching for the dessert menus. "And the gentleman by the window asked if we could refill the lavender cold brew."

"You'll say yes to him, but only because he said something nice about Lena's macarons," I said as I jotted it down. "And by the way, slip him one of the test batches of her passion fruit ganache-discreetly." 

Mika's lips quirked. "Bribery as a business strategy. Noted."

You looked at her smugly and giggled before signalling her to return to her work.

- 

The kitchen doors groaned open and a billow of steam clouded with vanilla came pouring out as Lena carried her tray of perfect éclairs. Hands that moved like a composer-especially every motion being precise, and every garnish placed in intentional elegance-were the magic of this girl, former pâtissier to Le Ciel Blanc. The first time she brought to you a fraisier cake, more perfect than a photoshopped one, you almost kissed her.

"Taste," she demanded again, thrusting a spoonful of silky chocolate toward your face. "The new single-origin blend. Is the acidity too forward?"

You let the ganache melt on your tongue, thinking. "It's bright, but the hazelnut praline balances it. Joon's going to go crazy over this."

And that word summoned Joon to burst through the kitchen doors, his chef's jacket bathed with what seemed to be raspberry coulis. "We need to talk about the sourdough schedule," he announced, waving a clipboard. "The starter's doubling faster since I moved it near the oven. If we adjust proofing times-"

You raised a hand. "Breathe, firecracker."

Joon had reconstructed your entire kitchen within forty-eight hours of being hired. Freshly graduated from culinary school, he had enough raw talent without much common sense. When you had asked him why he chose your café over the Michelin-starred establishments that fought over him, he just grinned and said, "Because you talked to your sourdough starter like it was your emotional support animal. I knew this was where all the real magic happened." 

Now, with the three of them settling into their roles, you finally had time to breathe. 

Which meant that now you could bring your attention back to that door.

-

Mika hummed as she mopped the café now quiet without the last customer present. The sound blended well with the jazz record you'd left spinning on the old turntable.

"Are you sure you wouldn't want me to help close up?" she quipped, hanging up her apron with military precision.

You shook your head. "Go study for your chem test. And take these." You shoved a box of leftover madeleines into her backpack.

Mika simply rolled her eyes. "You're worse than my abuela. See you tomorrow, boss."

At that moment she slammed the door behind her, and the air in the café shifted—like the space between heartbeats. You turned slowly.

There, nestled between flour sacks where it had no right to be, was the door.

Ordinary in every way except how it wasn't. The wood grain shimmered if you stared too long, and sometimes—when the café was empty and the moon was high—you swore you heard singing from the other side.

You exhaled, rolling up your sleeves.

Okay. It is time for another experiment.

--

Experiment #1: The Witness Test

Mrs. Khatri, your regular patron most patient, was sipping her masala chai with polite curiosity while pretending you are reorganizing the storage shelves. You had been brewing tea, talking about her granddaughter's ballet recital, and keeping an eye on the door for two hours.

"Are you expecting any delivery?" she asked as you turned to the door for the seventeenth time.

You nearly spilled a jar of cinnamon. "Just... waiting on a specialty tea order." 

The door looks like it doesn't want to open; it didn't want to have a single crease somewhere in it. 

The moment Mrs. Khatri cleared out with her parting "The cardamom was perfect today, dear," did the brass knob warm up under your fingertips as a sleeping creature that stirs under the absence of its owner.

So. No witnesses. Copy that.

–

Experiment #7: Teyvat's Objects on Earth

The Mora gleamed innocently on your ledger, its golden surface catching the warm lighting of the café. You learned quickly that not all could survive from the other side and continue living in this world, though.

Mist Flowers disintegrated into puddles of sad water. Valberries wilted overnight. But the Mora—the Mora was different.

The jeweler's loupe did tremble in his hand when you brought it to him: "This shouldn't exist," he'd whispered, turning it around. "This metallurgy is impossible—this purity of gold with this level of detail? And the markings..." His eyes snapped to yours. "Where did you really get this from?"

You'd lied smoothly. "A family heirloom." Wow, you really know how to lie between your teeth, huh?

Still, his offer of $2,300 made your palms sweat. 

Note: If Paimon ever finds out I'm sitting on a goldmine, I'm dead.

–

You were making some notes when the freaking door opened on its own.

Your pen froze mid-word.

Wind rushed in, not that stale city air you knew, but something wild and green, smelling of dandelions and distant thunderstorms. And then Venti tumbled through, catching himself hard against the counter.

He wasn't drunk, which was shocking.

The second was the blood matting his hair, the way his fingers trembled around his lyre like it was the only thing tethering him to this world.

"You," he hissed, teal eyes flashing with something ancient and dangerous. "What game are you playing?"

You raised your hands slowly. "No game. This is just my café."

His gaze darted around-the industrial espresso machine, the chalkboard menu, and the glass case displaying Lena's pastries. His nose wrinkled. "It smells like... burned sugar and regret."

"Caramel and ambition," you corrected, then winced. "And you're bleeding on my mahogany." You nudged the first-aid kit toward him.

"Who sent you?" Venti didn't move.

"No one." You kept your voice steady. "That door sometimes connects to other worlds. You're the second to come through."

"Second?" His grip on the lyre tightened.

"The Traveler and Paimon."

Something in his posture eased-just a fraction. "Hah. Should've known those two would find the universe's backdoor." 

-

The antiseptic stung your own hands as you dabbed at his temple. Venti flinched but didn't pull away, his breath warm against your wrist. 

"Stormterror?" you guessed. 

His laugh was brittle. "Among other things." A pause. "You know much for a... what are you, exactly?" 

"Café owner." You pressed the bandage gently. "Part-time interdimensional tour guide." 

Venti snorted, then winced. You slid a mug of cocoa toward him-no alcohol this time. He sniffed it like a suspicious cat before taking a cautious sip. His eyebrows shot up. "Oh. That's... not terrible." 

"It grows on you," you said. "Like moss." 

"Or a fungal infection," he shot back, but the edge in his voice had dulled. 

Outside, rain tapped against the windows like impatient fingers. Venti's hands strayed to his lyre, plucking a melody that made your chest ache-something older than nations, older than gods. 

You pretended not to notice when his playing faltered. 

By the third cocoa refill, Venti had migrated from "hostile intruder" to "annoying housecat," draped across your best booth with his boots on the upholstery. 

"Sooo," he drawled, spinning his empty mug. "This 'café' of yours. You just... feed interdimensional travelers?" 

"Mostly locals," you said, scrubbing an already-clean counter. "You're a special case." 

"Aw, I'm touched!" He grinned, but his eyes stayed wary. "And what do you get out of it?" 

You shrugged. "Good company." 

Venti's smile faltered. For a heartbeat, he looked lost-then he strummed a chord sharp enough to make your glassware vibrate. "Liar." 

You froze.

"Everyone wants something," he murmured, "the Traveler wants to find their sibling." He looked at the archons through narrowed eyes. "Whatever gods seek." His eyes pinned you. "What do you seek?"

The truth clawed at your throat - I just didn't want to be alone - but you swallowed it down. "A five-star Yelp review?"

Venti blinked. Then he laughed, genuine this time, the sound bright as sunlight through stained glass. "Fair enough. Though, what is a Yelp review?"

Soon enough he left.

You looked at the door blankly and took out a ledger.

-

"I'll put that on his tab." You scoffed. The first mug of cocoa you slid to him was just a welcome gift and free, not including his constant refilling.

Three days later, you nearly dropped the tray of éclairs when walking into the pre-dawn quiet café to find Nahida perched on a barstool and swinging her legs. 

"Oh!" She brightened, hopping down. "You're the door's keeper!"

You choked on air. "How-"

"The door told me," she said now, as if there were nothing extraordinary about it. At your shocked silence, she tilted her head, "Not in words, of course. More like... a feeling." Her tiny hands cupped the Cecilia flower Venti had left behind, its petals glowing faintly under her touch. "This remembers you."

"Remembers?" you echoed weakly.

Nahida hummed, those eyes of hers far too knowing for someone who looked like a child. "Memories stick to objects, places, even people." She leaned forward, whisper-soft. "Some of yours smell like us."

Your blood turned to ice.

But Nahida just smiled, sliding off the stool. "Don't worry. I'm just not going to pry." She pressed a crisp recipe card into your hands, Moon Pie, the words flowing with calligraphy. "For when you're ready."

Then she was gone, the door clicking behind her.

The Cecilia pulsed once, twice,

and burst into full bloom.

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Sorry bout the constant "-" throughout the story. Was kinda having a hard time transitioning but like yes. We ignore that hahahhaha....

Taglist:

@kameyo-kumo @esthelily @haru-tofuu @udretlnea @shining-nebula2000 @ifeellikejumpingoffacliff @resident-cryptid @allblognamesaretakenlikereally @leilakaro @stvrbrighttt @chericia @evaline-ethan @ra404 @mmmhyperfixation @original-person @chaoticfivesworld @lexal-amber-rose @floofeh-purpi @time-shardz @animeobsessed56 @fantasyhopperhea @yuan1819

[magic-shop-stories]

BTS as fathers pt.2 - YOONGI

other members JIN

pt.2 - YOONGI

Yoongi’s parenting style would be quiet piano melodies at 2 AM, handwritten notes tucked into lunchboxes, and a love so steady it feels like a heartbeat. He’s the dad who says little but sees everything.

💖 Emotional Side & Feelings

quietly devoted

actions > grand gestures

late-night tea talks

fixes broken toys/stuff without asking

introspective journaling

fears of emotional distance

love language: quality time & acts of service

all-night school project help

concert drives

soft at heart = tearing up at milestones, hidden behind a grumpy mask

Yoongi would express his deep love through subtle, consistent actions. He may appear reserved, yet every late-night conversation and gentle fix is a testament to his devotion. Though he worries about repeating his father’s emotional distance, he'd work hard to be fully present for his kids, even if it means muttering “Allergies” while wiping a stray tear at a piano recital.

👨‍👧‍👦 What He Does With His Kids

Music lessons: Home studio piano basics

“Finger placement matters. No, not like that...here.”

Quiet adventures: Indie bookstores, vinyl shops, late-night drives with lo-fi beats

Cooking: Simple meals like kimchi jjigae with extra tofu

“Eat. It’ll make you taller.”

EXTRA:

Vinyl Listening & Music Appreciation Nights: He has a deep love for analog music and storytelling through sound. On weekend nights, he'd sit in the studio or living room, with his kids dims the lights, and plays vinyl records, explaining what makes each song special

“Listen to this bassline—pure genius.”

sometimes, they take turns picking albums, and he lets them explain why they love certain songs.

he'd teach them how to handle vinyl properly

“No fingerprints. Treat it with respect.”

occasionally, he'd play them unreleased songs or rough demos, letting them hear his creative process

becomes a bonding ritual = music as a shared language between them

From teaching piano in his intimate studio to taking quiet midnight drives, Yoongi’s time with his kids would be filled with understated moments that nurture creativity and resilience. Whether whipping up a simple meal or listeninh to music together, every moment would be carefully crafted to make his children feel seen and supported.

📚 What He Teaches Them

Resilience

“Life’s not fair. But you’re tougher than you think.”

Creativity

“There’s no wrong way to create.”

Financial sense

“Save your allowance. That Dior hoodie isn’t worth it.” (Though earned, rewards follow)

Self-advocacy

“Speak up. Even if your voice shakes.”

Yoongi’s lessons would be straightforward and heartfelt. He'd emphasize bouncing back from setbacks, finding beauty in creative expression, and developing financial wisdom, often blending tough love with gentle encouragement to help his children forge their own paths.

💎 His Beliefs & Values

Mental health matters: open about anxiety

Work hard, rest harder: mandatory “lazy Sundays”

Privacy is sacred

shields from media, no paparazzi

With a balanced perspective shaped by his own challenges, Yoongi would instill values of self-care and privacy. He believes that mental health is as important as any achievement and ensures that his family has a sanctuary away from the public eye.

🚫 What He’s Strict About

Respect

“You can disagree without being cruel.” - then sits them in the studio to write down the sharpest punchlines together

Honesty

“Disappointing me is worse than making a mistake.”

Screen time: Limits social media; promotes creative hobbies

Alcohol: you might think he'd be chill about it but he'd be strict about underage drinking, but also teaches responsible choices when older

Firm and fair, Yoongi sets clear boundaries. He demands respect and honesty in every interaction and enforces sensible limits on screen time. Notably, he is resolute about alcohol—prohibiting it for underage kids while gradually educating them on responsibility as they grow.

🤒 Handling Tough Situations

When sick: methodical care (thermometer, homemade ginger tea, Studio Ghibli DVDs)

“Rest. I’ll handle the rest.”

Misbehavior: calm discussion

“Let’s talk about why you did that.”

logical consequences (e.g. volunteering if careless with a pet)

Heartbreak: shares personal tales of teenage angst over hot chocolate

“First love’s like a song—beautiful, but not always meant to last.”

Whether it’s a fever or a broken heart, Yoongi would handle crises with a steady, thoughtful approach. He'd create a healing environment, be it with a carefully measured dose of ginger tea or a quiet chat that puts life’s disappointments into perspective.

🎁 Typical Gifts

Vinyl records: rare pressings

(e.g., signed vinyl for 16th birthday)

“Don’t scratch it.”

Music gear: vintage guitar or MIDI controller

“Make something honest.”

Luxury staples: subtle Valentino accessories

“Take care of yourself. It’s not vanity, it’s self-respect.”

Every gift from Yoongi meticulously chosen to reflect his children’s passions and his own refined taste. From rare vinyl to quality music instruments and understated luxury items, his presents would be both meaningful and practical.

👧👦 Parenting Differences: Daughter and Son

For His Daughter:

fiercely protective yet promotes independence

“You don’t need anyone’s permission to take up space.”

admires her boldness

secretly preserves her protest art

encourages pursuit of STEM or music, whatever she loves

For His Son:

focuses on emotional intelligence

“Crying doesn’t make you weak. It makes you human.”

bonds over basketball games (even if Yoongi is hopeless against his own son - YES! - believe me, he is good but his son would be better)

teaches practical skills: cooking, cleaning, money management

Yoongi would tailor his approach with care: nurturing his daughter’s independence and creative spirit while guiding his son to embrace vulnerability and practical life skills. His method would be to celebrate each child’s uniqueness while providing a consistent foundation of love and discipline.

💬 Typical Things He Says

“Think before you act. But don’t overthink.” “You’re allowed to be angry. Just don’t let it control you.” “If you’re going to fail, fail forward.” “Want a snack? I’ve got ...”

🌟 Family Rituals

Midnight snack sessions: 1 AM ramyeon under soft kitchen lights, life talks

Studio Saturdays: Home studio hangouts with doodles and songwriting

Annual hiking trips: Nature detoxes

“Fresh air fixes everything.”

Family time with Yoongi defined by unique rituals that blend creativity and calm. From spontaneous late-night snacks to relaxed studio sessions and refreshing hikes, these traditions cement the deep bonds they share.

🌍 Balancing Fame & Family

compartmentalizes work and home, home is sacred

occasional low-key studio sessions

no exploitation of their image

advocates for mental health resources for teens, inspired by his kids

Yoongi would masterfully separate his demanding career from his cherished family life. He'd ensure that his children are shielded from the limelight while still sharing bits of his world in a controlled, nurturing way.

💭 His Worries & Efforts

fears of emotional distance

schedules weekly “How’s your heart?” check-ins

overthinks birthday gifts to ensure they feel truly seen

quietly donates to youth art programs, promoting a kinder, less judgmental world

Haunted by the possibility of inheriting his father’s detachment, Yoongi would constantly strive to connect more deeply with his children. His careful efforts, both big and small, reveal a dad who is always learning, always loving, and always trying to create a better world for his kids.

[theinfinitedivides]

TABBER?????? WHAT THE F*CK????????

[v-eee]

── jungkook x you

scenario: you and Jungkook used to be best friend until new female staff came into his workplace, Jieun. He has introduced you to her. Jungkook starts getting busy with his work and often cancel the usual food hunting night with you because he needs to work overtime with Jieun. You know Jieun doesn't like you because she has come to your cafe a few times and told you to stop texting Jungkook during his work hour. when you told him about that, he didn't believe you. Starting that day your friendship is not like it used to be.

(vi)

Fast-forward to the night of the dance ball, and Jungkook was practically vibrating with irritation.

Here he was, leaning against the wall like some moody bystander, watching you laugh and twirl with Joon on the dance floor. Joon, of all people!

Jungkook scowled as Joon spun you around, your laughter ringing out like music. You looked beautiful in your black dress, hair swept up in that effortless way that made you look like a princess.

He took another sip of his drink, but it didn’t do much to drown out the voice in his head. That’s supposed to be me dancing with Y/N!

The irritation hit Jungkook like a punch to the gut. He didn’t even like dancing, but with you, it had always been fun. You used to drag him to the floor, laughing when he inevitably stepped on your toes, and he’d make some sarcastic remark about your poor teaching skills.

But now, you weren’t even looking in his direction.

“Dude, you okay?” one of his friends asked, nudging him.

“Yeah, fine,” Jungkook muttered, his eyes still glued to you.

He saw Joon lean in, whispering something in your ear, and you laughed again, your hand resting lightly on his shoulder. Jungkook clenched his jaw. He told himself he shouldn’t care—he was supposed to feel happy when you were happy.

But then, why did it feel like he was the one being left behind?

The dance ended with a spin, and you clapped as Joon gave you an exaggerated bow. You laughed, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you walked off the dance floor with Joon by your side.

Jungkook straightened slightly when you spotted him.

“Hey!” Your voice was as cheerful as ever.

You stopped in front of him, your cheeks glowing from the dancing. Joon was already wandering off to grab a drink, leaving you standing there with Jungkook.

“You’re not dancing?” you asked.

Jungkook shrugged. “Not my thing. You know that.”

“Well, you’re missing out,” you said, a teasing glint in your eyes. “Joon is surprisingly good. He didn’t step on my toes even once. I think he might be the best dance partner I’ve had in a while.”

Jungkook raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “Wow, high praise from Y/N. I guess that makes me what—your worst dance partner?”

You laughed. “Oh, come on. You know you’re great too. Just… in your own way.”

Jungkook smiled. He was about to ask you to dance when the live band started another song. But before he could open his mouth, Joon had already tapped your shoulder.

“Let’s dance again! This song is good!” Joon said excitedly.

You quickly nodded. “YES! Let’s go!”

Jungkook exhaled sharply as you and Joon disappeared into the crowd.

“Sucks,” he muttered.

“Why do you sound so grumpy, Kook?” another friend asked.

“Nothing.”

The friend laughed. “Really? Then why did I hear all of our friends were scared to come over and chat with you?”

“I don’t know.” Jungkook’s eyes never left you.

The friend followed his gaze, then smirked. “What, are you jealous seeing Y/N with Joon?”

Jungkook froze. “What? No,” he said quickly, but the words felt hollow, even to him.

The friend gave him a knowing look. “She’s happy when she’s around Joon. Let her be close with others, just like how she lets you be close with Jieun.” Then, with a chuckle, the friend wandered off, muttering something about how he knew it.

Jungkook stood there, staring at you and Joon.

Was he jealous?

[whyse7vn]

OT7

FOR YOU:

“This was long overdue. A fault on all our parts”

Namjoon scans his members awkwardly scattered around his apartment. Jimin sits on the couch in front of the window and so do Taehyung and Hoseok but due to the large gap that Taehyung has left between himself and Jimin Hoseok is left painfully squashed into a corner. Jin sits on the couch opposite the TV in a.. suit? For some reason in contrast to Yoongi who is sat next to him in an all black outfit. You sit on the right next to Yoongi’s feet due to Namjoons lack of seating in his living area while Jungkook stands hovering next to the door clearly ready to leave at any given moment. No one says a word in response to Namjoon’s first statement except Yoongi who lowly scoffs. The room is quiet and everyone avoids eye contact.

Namjoon sighs 

This was going to be long

 so painstakingly long.

“Jungkook, why don’t you sit down?” 

“I’m not sitting on your floor Namjoon” 

“We’re never gonna get any-”

“This wasn’t a good idea. Y/n let’s leav-” 

“Jungkook please just- you don’t have to sit just stand closer you can stand next to y/n just for a bit so we can have a conversation ok?” 

He pokes his cheek with his tongue in annoyance but moves to stand closer to you anyways.

”We’re not staying for long” 

”Isn’t it unfair to be speaking for-”

”Don’t speak to me” Jungkook doesn’t even spare Jimin a glance when he cuts him off. 

Yikes. 

This is all just… yikes. 

Since you’re at an awkward angle to hold his hand right now, you do what you think is the next best thing logically and rub your hand against the back of Jungkook’s leg in half attempt to calm him down and half attempt to remind him why you’re both here. 

Normally any physical affection you throw Jungkook’s way has him jumping for joy and running for the hills but today you are simply met with a quick glance down from the boy in acknowledgment in which his facial features moderately soften before he's back to furrowing his eyebrows his gazed sharp. At least it was something you suppose. 

Silence falls upon the group once more. You turn to face Namjoon. He’s sat on a single seat couch. Deep in thought he looks lost yet… determined. That’s good you guess at least someone is actively trying to fix whatever this is. Well, you hope that’s what he’s trying to do here. He did send a message to the group chat the first message anyone’s sent in weeks to meet at his place at 4 stating ‘This is serious it’s starting to affect work you ALL will be here to talk’ Scary but your 99.9% sure that Namjoon did call you all here for the greater good. Buuut thinking about it you do feel somewhat guilty as much as it most definitely did hurt when Jimin said you were the ‘root of like 95% of our issues as a group’ he wasn’t necessarily wrong per say it’s… a complicated situation  but you do feel as if you should take some… leadership? here. You know, at least try and help Namjoon. You scan the room, no eyes meet yours Jimin’s taken a sudden interest in Joon’s choice of wallpaper, Tae finds joy in picking at the loose string off his hoodie sleeves, Hobi by the looks of it is struggling to breathe still stuffed into the corner, Yoongi now scrolls mindlessly at his phone, Jin sits upright staring intently at the TV that is in fact turned off and Jungkook… his fists clenched and eyes seemingly ready to kill should tell you everything. Ok yeah, there’s no way you’re taking leadership here you’re not even the leader anyways! And this was Namjoons idea so yeah sorry not sorry Joon you are most definitely on your own but fighting or whatever!

…

…

…

Ok.

….

….

….

Yeah no, this isn’t going to work at all. Fuck aright, where should you even start? Maybe you should bring up the conversation you and Jimin had first? Or would it be better to address the Jungkook blowing up part? Maybe it’ll be best to start with the fact that you all haven’t spoken in weeks or maybe you should take the emotional approach and just start with how much you miss them all? Um… ok yeah no the emotional one is looking like your best option right now the easiest one too. Yeah ok sure you’ll go with that one… ok hold on- fuck ok you’re good- no you’re lying why are you so nervous? These are your people your boys it shouldn’t be this hard wh–

“We should probably start with-”

“Why the fuck is Jin in a suit?”  Hoseok’s voice cuts off Namjoon’s “It’s 4pm on a Friday” 

“Listen, I have places to be after this. You know since you’ve all decided to be emotionally constipated, go MIA on every single social media platform and on top of that decline and delay every single piece of group work we have they’ve been working me like a fucking dog”

Woah. 

”Ok first of all Tae you need to move the fuck up bro im dying here and second of all damn? I just wanted to know about the suit…” 

“It’s called being employed. You should try it sometime, all of you right Namjoon?”

Hoseok flashes Jin his middle finger mumbling a barely audible “whatever” under his breath while Taehyung moves the tiniest bit closer to Jimin on the couch.   

”Right! guys we’re behind on a lot of work and we nee—”

“Jin when you say emotionally constipated i fear that statement just can’t be in reference to me…. like at all. I feel like i’ve been shitting recently” 

You all stare at Taehyung dumbfounded. 

He blinks back at you all. 

“The fuck did you just say?” You're surprised to hear Yoongi speak. 

“Like… I've been shitting, emotionally that is, I feel like i’ve laid all my cards out on the table” 

”Your cards being….?” Hoseok asks, face scrunched up in disgust and confusion much like the rest of the faces in the room except Taehyung himself.   

“That I'm in love with y/n? That i would do anything and every-” 

“Anything and everything?” Jungkook steps forward in Taehyung’s direction. Immediately you grab onto the back of Jungkook’s jeans from your sat position in an attempt to hold him back. You know your shallow grip wont don’t much in stopping the man actually get to Taehyung but thankfully after his first step Jungkook doesn’t make any attempt to get closer to the man but you are ready to stand up and block his path all the same. 

“Kook…” You try and soothe. 

“To protect her? To defend her? Don’t make me laugh right now” He ignores you completely. 

You didn’t think it was possible but the tension in the room seems to rise even higher. 

“Love?” Jungkook continues “Jimin called her a slut ninety five percent of all our problems upset her and hurt her and instead of checking up on her, you decided to be best buddies with him the next week? So love? Anything and everything? Protecting her? Yeah fuck you. You have never loved her” 

With that Taehyung is on his feet immediately you instantly follow suit so do Namjoon and Hoseok. Jin and Jimin watch with wide eyes while Yoongi watches seemingly unfazed. 

“What? So I don't blow up the way you think I should have and now all my feelings are invalid? All those built up feelings and moments nothing? Just ‘cuz you didn’t like the way I went about all of this?” 

“Bro come on not like this” Hoseok attempts to stop Taehyung moving any closer to Jungkook.

“Yes Jungkook, ok i admit that i should have been there for her more. I should have and I regret not being there everyday. But in a way i understand why Jimin blew up like that and—”

“Understand? You understand why he called her a slut? Am I hearing that right the man that’s in ‘love’ understands why the girl he’s in ‘love’ with got called a slut? Should I beat the shit out of you know or later?” Jungkook attempts to take another step closer to Taehyung but Namjoon blocks his path. 

“Move” 

“You know i won’t” 

“Move Namjoon” 

“This is not what we’re here for Jungkook” 

“So what the fuck are we here for Namjoon? Please enlighten me. I'm begging you to actually. What are we here for?” 

“To talk. Openly and honestly. To make this work” 

Jungkook laughs at that. Like full body laughs yet you know he finds no humour in Namjoon’s words. 

“This? Did you hear what he said about understanding Jimin?” 

“I’m sure he has a explanation for that” 

“Fuck his explanation” 

“Jungkook you are so fucking selfish it’s unreal” 

Everyone’s eyes snap over to Jimin who now is also standing. 

“Jimin you shou-”Taehyung tries to interrupt.

“He doesn’t know what is like to not be the favourite and he’s never taken how we feel into consideration at all” 

Yoongi raises his eyes at Jimin’s statement. Yours furrow. 

“Do you have any idea how fucking difficult it is to watch everyone bite their tongue just for you?”

“Me?” Jungkook leans forward and you grip the back of his shirt in panic. 

“You have never cared about anyone but yourself when it comes to this” 

“Shut the fuck up” Jungkook tries to move forward your grip tightens unable to do anything else Namjoon now actively pushes Jungkook away from Jimin as Jungkook struggles against him Jimin continues 

“With your feelings for her you’ve only ever acted with you in mind” 

“That not even fucking true and you know that” Jungkook pushes a Namjoon but he doesn’t budge. 

“And I'm so sick of the rest of the guys letting you get away with it all. You fucking live with her Jungkook” 

“And? The fuck is your point?”

“My point is that you’re a piece of-”

“OKAY guys geez…  okay…

what Jimin means is-”

“Hoseok? Don’t tell me you’re on his side”

“There are no sides to this Jungkook. I just.. Look, the whole ‘favourite’ thing I’ll admit i get it for a while even I felt like I wasn't the most… popular romantically with y/n i mean sure she would flirt back on occasion but it seemed that most of her energy was focussed on you. After that I realised I should probably assert myself more and you know ‘fight’ for my place with her right? But then her attention was on Yoongi, Tae started being more vocal,  then Joon beat me to it and then Jin and I felt even more behind. I couldn't keep up or compete with you all. I’m a really good observer, you see? And during all of this  I observed that Jimin felt the same way. Why do you think I said I should talk to him when this all went down? it's ‘cuz he was feeling exactly how i was then”

“That doesn't excuse what he said” “It doesn’t. But emotions are to be processed. And after my talk with Jimin, it's only recently he’s actually verbalised his feelings for Y/n and him feeling… behind. It’s easy to blame others because you’re jealous i went through it and i'm pretty sure all of you have too”

“But that still doesn't excuse what he said”

“Jungkook dude i know that. Are you even listening to what I'm saying right now?”

“Of course he’s not listening. Jimin was right. I'm done holding my tongue for the sake of everyone's feelings, especially his.” Yoongi's loud tone surprises you all. 

“ Okay it’s like we’re going backwards can we just-”

“Namjoon, aren't you sick of being unhappy because of him?” Yoongi interrupts 

“I’m not unhappy bec-”

“You wanted to move in with her. Waayy before he did you looked at places even rehearsed how you were gonna ask her and everything but then he-” 

“I am not unhappy because of Jungkook” 

“You keep telling yourself that” 

“Projectison isn’t a good look you Yoongi” 

“Call it projecting all you want Namjoon but we all know the truth” 

Namjoon rolls his eyes at Yoongi. Your stomach turns. Your thoughts wild. 

Silence.

“I dated Jaehyun to avoid this” The words leave before you can even realise. 

Silence. 

“This unhealthy cycle of jealousy and weirdness around each other. I love you all so fucking much and no not just in a freind way i love all of you i’m the selfish one. At first it was silly the little arguments and empty ended threats you would throw at each other but now it's grown into something real ugly i dated Jaehyun in hopes it would stop. Yes i genuinely liked him i really fucking liked him he was diffrent a good different but i love you all of you in a way i could never love Jaehyun and i think he knew that as well. But even when Jaehyun was here It all just got worse nothing changed you all- i just- i don't know what to do anymore this is just all so much and i know its my fault i shouldn’t of done anything with anyone ever and i- i’m so fucking sorry to all of you i-”

You cut yourself off your mind blank yet swirling with thoughts. 

Silence. 

“You’re crying?” Yoongi breaks it

 “You tell me you regret everything we’ve ever done and you’re crying?”

You bring your hand to your cheek, your face wet, you are crying when did that happen?

“Yoongi what the fuck is wrong with you? she wasn’t talking to just you” Jimin’s quick to argue. 

“And i’m the selfish one? Yeah right.” Jungkook scoffs 

“No you definitely are i kinda get what they were saying now”

“Who the fuck asked you Taehyung?”

“Guys..” You think Hobi speaks your not sure any more your head is swimming with thoughts and tears cloud your vision. 

“This is so childish” 

“Always the same shit from you Namjoon how about you grow some balls and say what you want” 

 “I want you to shut the fuck up how about that?”

“Was that supposed to scare me?”

“HOLY. FUCKING. SHIT”  

Once again silence. 

“You guys are genuinely the most emotionally dense people i’ve met like ever and you know i’ve met a fuck ton of people i’m Kim Seok-fucking-jin. But thats besides the point right now holy fucking shit the woman you’ve all been in love with practically your whole lives just said she loves all of you on fucking valentines day of all days and you’re arguing? The love of our lives is crying right now and your fucking arguing right after she just told you she hates that all you guys do is fucking argue? Are you guys ok? Like genuinely Yoongi your tough love acting isn't fooling anyone pull that fucking stick out your ass, Jimin you have nothing to be jealous of she quite literally said she loves you, Jungkook people will fuck up sometimes we have to learn to forgive and forget also keep that boxing shit in the ring, Namjoon it’s okay to speak up when you want something we wont shoot you, Taehyung just stop talking challenge for 7 years starting now, Hobi you cool as hell, Y/n my sweet baby that can never do wrong ever only that one time you dated he who shall not be named never apologise to these idiots ever i love you to the moon and back and Kim Seokjin you fucking sexy fucking son of a bitch you outdo yourself Every. Single. Time”  

He takes a breath.  “Amen” 

“It’s Valentine's day?”

“I told you not to talk”

“You’re not a feminist what happend to awoman?”

“I told you to stop fucking talking”

“But-”

“Taehyung”

“Seokjin”

“Does anyone have any questions?”

“What happened to you being a femi-”

“No one? Great! Me and Y/n will be leaving now.” Seokjin finally rises from his place on the couch and moves towards Namjoon's front door not before placing his hand in yours and tugging you along “I would say this was a great talk but I wanted to blow my brains out the whole time. See you all on Monday for work! Thank you all. Now my love we have reservations at 7:30 and it’s already 6 so we’re really cutting it fine”

“Wait thats so not fair that's two valentines days in a row you’ve spent with her i'm coming with what the hell” 

You don’t say a word as Jin drags you to Namjoon's front door. Everything's happening so fast it's not like you even have a chance to say anything. You blink and you find yourself sitting in the passenger seat of Jin’s newest Porsche. You hear Taehyung mumbling to himself in the back. You turn to face Jin in the driver's seat, his gaze already on yours. 

He smiles at you, his eyes warm. 

“They’ll figure it out. I promise you they will, for you they will” 

You don’t say anything in return and he doesn't expect you to. Instead he gives you another warm smile and begins to pull out of Namjoon’s drive. 

You let out a breath you weren’t aware you were holding. 

 for you they will. 

You’re unsure if Jin's statement holds any truth if you're being completely honest but for now you let it bring you comfort. 

for you they will. 

The car is silent for a record breaking 5 seconds until none other than Kim Taehyung breaks it. 

“So like… does this mean I'm a taken man now or what?”

“You’re not supposed to be talking right now”

“And you’re supposed to be a feminist but clearly things change Kim Seokjin get with it”

You giggle at that. 

for you maybe they will. 

—

almost 1 year in the drafts isn’t that crazy if this sucks don’t tell me pls i’ll fr cry

tags: @piw6n @92jinnies @birdie-vhs @earth2ela @hob3loveofmylife @jujubiism @bloopkook @ratchetpizza1 @myntalks @arloo00 @watamotee33 @y2kcy3brz @taiwan0618 @freyadanvers @gguksbeloved @raetf @bbsantc @winuvs @medicinemybish @bxnnyhime @seokmyballs @baetukki @zyaaaszn @thelilbutifulthings @jazminethecreator @meowgiz @jmnscutie @threeopossumsinacoat @cynicalyoongs @lightningpussy54 @eunthv @gigiiiiislife @lowkeykin @iammeandmeisiam @socksfirstalways @knjlvr06 @lailaisarmy @thvkives @xstfudaisyx @xxxanimangxxx @solstice34 @ml8dy @hoeforseoks @futuristicenemychaos @featjunranghae @jksgirlfrl @yeetedandoboi @stellamalonesolaria @joonsprettygf

[lostbookmark]

MDNI 🔞

Main Masterlist here

Finding Masterlist here

Summary: After a failed engagement, you move back home and reconnect with your friends. Maybe, just maybe you can find love with someone you never expected.

Pairing: Yoongi x F. Reader

Warnings: Explicit Sex, Swearing, Cheating (Not Yoongi), Fighting, Protected/Unprotected Sex, Toxic Past Relationship,

Genre: Enemies(?) to Lovers, Neighbors to Lovers, Small Town romance. Hurt-Comfort, Slight Angst, Romance

Jin slides a dish of vanilla ice cream to you. You smile when you see he remembers the extra sprinkles on top. Yoongi has taken a play out of your book and has been actively avoiding you since your conversation at his house two weeks ago. Every day, you watched out your window from your living room, hoping that he would come over when he returned home from work. He never did. Why was he so upset? Why was he so offended that you didn't want to sell the recipes to the farm? It's not like you were hurting the farm financially. They were doing perfectly well before you came along. They didn't need your bread or jam to be successful. It really shouldn't have mattered that you said no. You regret even agreeing to bake for them in the first place.

“Was I stupid for not selling the recipes?” You ask Jin, who is leaning on the counter in front of you with his own dish of ice cream.

“No, they mean something to you, and you shouldn't feel bad, ” he assures you. “Anyone of us could have talked to you about it. We are all at fault for this whole mess. I don't know why he is taking it so hard.”

“I feel like I've fucked everything up,” you say shoving the sweet cold ice cream in your mouth. As you chew on the colorful sprinkles the bell above the door jingles catching your attention. Hobi walks into the cafe and sits on the stool next to you as he steals a spoonful of your dessert. Your friendship with him went back to normal in a blink of an eye. It wasn't long after you both apologized that Jin and Namjoon sent you their own apologies. They didn't try to come up with excuses for Yoongi or try to make you feel bad. They were simple heartfelt apologies that you accepted right away. “Jimin and Tae even texted me asking why I was making a big deal out of it. They made a whole group chat with the three of us so they could gang up on me together.”

“Really?” Hobi asked, surprised, and you nodded.

“I'll have a talk with them later,” Jin comments, shaking his head.

“I…I just feel like I was back on track with my life, settling in nicely, and now everyone hates me,” you cry. Tears fall down your face that you quickly wipe away with your sleeve. “With the way everything has been going, I wouldn't be surprised if Kook doesn't evict me.”

“He would never do that to you. No one hates you,” Jin said, patting your head as if you're a child.

“It's all going to blow over,” Hobi said, hugging you.

“It's too late. Yoongi is clearly talking shit about me, and now everyone is going to choose sides. Jimin warned me not to let this get messy and look at us. I was so stupid to get involved with him,” you say, shaking your head disagreeing with them. “I've talked to my one and only friend from my old school district. They have a third grade teacher leaving next year. I think I'm going to take the position.”

“No, you're not,” Joon said, coming into the cafe with that damn bell jingling behind him. “We are not going to let you run away. I'll reject your resignation, and I won't give you any recommendations.”

“You would really do that to me?” You ask as he sits on your free side.

“Absolutely,” Namjoon said. “You belong here with us….you're family. Yoongi is stubborn, and so are you. Let things settle down, talk it out, and we will all move on.”

“What if we can't agree on things?” You ask, stirring the ice cream around in your bowl. “He doesn't seem to be in a rush to talk to me. He's had two weeks to talk to me. It's not like he doesn't know where I live. What if there is no fixing this?”

“What if?” Jin asks as he stares off into space as if he’s deep in thought. “What if…”

“What if what?” Hobi asks, smacking the counter, knocking Jin out of his daze.

“What if you sell the recipes to Tannie Farms, but make everything yourself?” Jin asks, looking at you curiously before breaking out in a wide smile.

“I'm not following,” you say, and your other two friends seem just as confused. The three of you in front of the counter look at each other as if Jin has gone insane. “His whole point was that I couldn't make everything myself. I can't supply you with the amount you would need.”

“I don't want to run the cafe anymore. I want to make the food I want to make,” he explains, turning serious. “Think about it, Y/N. A restaurant and bakery. Yours and mine….mine and yours. Ours. People from all over would flock to us.”

“That's….not a bad idea,” Joon said, looking at you with a surprised look on his face. Now, you are looking at him like he is the crazy one. “You would have multiple ovens big enough to make the quantities we need for deliveries, and the recipes would be safe with you. You wouldn't be selling them to strangers.”

“Okay, what about my job? Do I just give up on teaching and throw away my degree that I worked hard for? I am still paying off my student loan. I don't have the money to help you start a restaurant and bakery,” you tell them, pushing your dish of melting ice cream away. “I don't even know if I can make anything else. We can't run a bakery on one cake, bread, and a couple of jams.”

“Yoongi says he's willing to talk about it,” Hobi says, holding up his phone. You glare at him, that traitor. You knew he loved Yoongi more. “You wouldn't have to put up any money because Tannie Farms would own it. Financially, you wouldn't be on the hook for anything.”

“So, I would work for Yoongi,” you say, sounding very unamused as you take in their faces, looking excited at the possible new venture. Shaking your head, you wave your hands in front of you, showing that you were not interested. “Yeah, no thanks.”

“Please, please. Don't crush my dreams,” Jin begs, hands pressed together underneath his chin. “We could be successful. You would work for all of us, not just Yoongi. I don't want to work for my parents forever.”

“You'll have plenty of time to find more recipes and experiment,” Hobi assures you. “The whole process will take time. Months, if not years. You can do it.”

“You wouldn't even have to talk to Yoongi. Jin will handle everything, and all of us are available if you need anything. I think that you definitely can do it,” Joon says, agreeing with Hobi.

Can you? Can you do it? In theory, yes, you probably could. Your grandmother has so many different recipes that you haven't even explored yet. It's the whole working for your friends and Yoongi that is causing you to question this new business opportunity. Could you handle working for Yoongi after everything happened? You're not sure if you can or even want to. To actually work for them puts your entire livelihood at risk. If you get involved, fully involved, there is no way you could walk away at the drop of a hat if things get rough. It was a major commitment.

“Please?” Jin said, giving you puppy dog eyes. “Please, I'll love you forever. I wouldn't even dream of doing this with anyone else. We would work so well together.”

“Okay,” you give in and smack the counter with your hands, causing them to smile at you. “I guess I will be willing to listen to a full-on business plan when you have one. A complete business plan and not just an idea. However, that's all for right now ….I'll listen and consider.”

“Great! We are going to be great together,” Jin exclaims. “I need to get a menu around. Jolly Jin’s Cafe and Bakery. I can see the sign now.”

You sigh as you watch him run back into the kitchen. You think you're getting a headache.

Pulling back into your driveway, you notice Yoongi's house is dark like it has been recently. You barely even see the lights on for an extended period of time in his home at night anymore. You wonder if he kept the same routine he had when you would stay over. Dinner in the kitchen preceded by sitting in the living room curled up on the couch, reading a book. You would have been tucked into his side watching tv or scrolling through your phone as his eyes flew over the pages of his book. Sometimes, the nights would end with him pinning your against the couch cushions or scurrying upstairs quickly and into the bed. Now, those nights are over and gone with one stupid fight.

Sniffling, you blink away the unshed tears. It was then that you noticed the car parked along the side of your driveway. Looking over to your house, you stare at Changkyun from your driver's seat as you throw your car into park as he stands on your porch waiting for you. There was no reason for him to be here. He made it very loud and clear that the two of you were over. Getting out of your car, you stand rooted in your spot just looking at him. You are not willing to walk up to him. He seemed to take the hint and walked off your porch in your direction. Closing your door, you cross your arms and wait with baited breath as he nears.

“You look good,” he says, once reaching you.

He still looked good, too. Handsome as ever with that damn sharp jawline that you had fallen for in the beginning. It pissed you off. You want him to look guilty. You want him to look sad and tired. You want him to apologize for all the shit he put you through. For making you feel like you had to push your friends away. For making you feel like you were not good enough for him. However, he doesn't. He looks like he doesn't have a care in the world.

“How did you find me?” You ask, taking a step back away from him. A part of you wonders if you can jump back in your car and drive away quickly.

“I went to your parents' house, and your mom told me where you were living. I really need to talk to you,” he says.

“I think you said plenty when you said, and I quote ‘I don't love you anymore’,” you tell him. “I don't think that there is anything left to say. You wasted your time coming here.”

You push past him, but he reaches out and grabs your arm, stopping you from leaving. You pull out of his grasp and glare at him. You don't want him to touch you. You don't even want to look at him. Crossing your arms, you raise an eyebrow at him.

“I’m really trying to be civil about this, Y/N,” he said. “I just want my engagement ring back.”

“Why now?” You ask with a laugh. “What, are you getting married sometime soon?” He looks away, not able to look you in the eye. Your jaw drops in disbelief. “Are you fucking kidding me? I've only been gone for a few months and you're engaged. Who?”

“It doesn't matter who. Just give me the ring, and I'll be gone out of your life forever,” he says harshly.

“Tell me who,” you demand. You notice Yoongi pull into his driveway with perfect timing. Great, just great. This day just couldn't get any better. “You owe me that much.”

“Hanna,” he said quietly, looking down at his shoes as you hear Yoongi's car door open and close in the background.

Hanna, the one who you caught him in bed with. The one who you thought was one of your friends. You see Yoongi linger by his kitchen door in your peripheral vision after he slowly made his way up the steps to his house. You turn your head to look at him. Unfortunately, it triggered Changkyun to do the same. Suddenly, his whole demeanor changed.

“Baby, I wish I could change things,” he said in a sickeningly sweet, smooth voice. “I know we were so good together at one point, but that ended. I’ve moved on, and you need to accept that. It's time for you to move on as well.”

“Don't call me that. You need to leave. I'm not giving you anything,” you hiss at him and turn to leave.

“That ring is mine,” he growled at you, grabbing onto you again and pulling you to him. You stumble over your feet as he pulls. “Just give it to me.”

Before you can even comprehend what was happening, Yoongi was in between the two of you. He gives Changkyun a forceful shove, making him stumble backward away from you. Yoongi reaches behind his back and pulls you behind him more, shielding your body. Protecting you. Keeping you safe.

“Just go,” Yoongi growls at him, and Changkyun just laughs at him. “It's clear she doesn't want you here. Get in your car and get the fuck out of here!”

“You think I'm afraid of you?” he asks, looking at him with a distasteful look before looking over Yoongi's shoulder at you. Changkyun laughs at the two of you, shaking his head in amusement. “Min Yoongi? Really, that’s the best you can do? Fuck, are you that desprate?”

“Well he's a million times better than a selfish jackass I know. I don't have the ring anymore, so just leave,” you yell at him from behind Yoongi.

“Where is it?” he snaps at you.

“Watch how you fucking talk to her,” Yoongi snaps back at him, still holding you behind him.

“I pawned it,” you laugh from behind the blonde man, making Changkyun narrow his eyes at you. “It bought me a lovely tv hanging on my wall right now. It's much more pleasant to look at than that ugly ass ring.”

You watch as Changkyun clenches his jaw and stomps away back to his fancy SUV. He stops halfway to his destination before turning back to look at both you and Yoongi. Changing his mind, he walks back toward you. Yoongi reaches back again, making sure that you're still tucked away safely behind him.

“You know,” he says, approaching you. “I never wanted to marry you. I only asked becasue you wouldn’t fucking stop nagging me about it. You were never good enough to be my wife, you stupid…”

That was enough for Yoongi as something inside him snapped. You watch in horror as he throws himself at Changkyun, taking them both onto the hard ground below their feet. It probably would have been comical watching two grown men roll around on the ground had they been strangers, but they weren't, and they were both pissed. This wasn't funny at all. You watch on, with your hands in front of your mouth in shock as Yoongi, who comes out on top lands a punch to Changkyuns stomach from above making him double over and turn slightly away from him. Changkyun, although laid out underneath the pissed off blonde, he wasn't deterred for too long. Using all his power, he spun his torso around quickly, elbowing Yoongi in the face and successfully knocking Yoongi off of him.

“STOP IT!” You yell out into the evening air as Yoongi lands on the ground next to your ex-boyfriend. They didn't listen to you. Changkyun stands, quickly grabbing Yoongi by the back of his jacket, bringing up on his own feet and bending him down low enough to knee him in the side, making him drop again. Yoongi's knees hit the ground hard before catching himself with his hands so he didn’t fall flat on his face. “CHANGKYUN STOP IT! STOP IT! LEAVE HIM ALONE!” You scream at him as he goes to grab Yoongi again.

You push forward, latching onto Changkyun’s arm, trying to shake him off Yoongi. Unfortunately, he wasn't discouraged and managed to get Yoongi back up. Grabbing his wrist, you pull as hard as you could, but he was much stronger than you. Instead, you sink your nails into his skin, dragging them across his flesh, leaving angry red lines in their wake. Changkyun growls. With his free hand, he pushes you away, causing you to stumble back and fall on your ass.

“Keep your hands off her,” Yoongi barks sharply.

Gaining some strength, Yoongi sweeps Changkyun's leg, causing them both to fall once more upon the ground. They roll around a couple of times, trying to each gain the upper hand. You scooch back on your butt trying to stay out of the way.

“She deserved it,” Changkyun growls, pinning Yoongi underneath him. They are both panting, but Changkyun smirks in victory as he looks down at Yoongi. “You think you're so tough. Fucking Min Yoongi, you ain't shit!”

You're too focused on watching your ex pull his arm back for a punch, you hardly register the footsteps quickly running up the driveway until an extra body jumps on Changkyun’s back pulling him off of Yoongi. Jungkook wraps his arms fully around him, dragging him back and away from the hurt man on the ground. Changkyun struggles with your friend, trying to get out of his hold. Tae jumps in quickly, getting in front of them just in case he breaks away and helps Jungkook push Changkyun back until they get him to his car.

“Yoongi,” you cry out, throwing yourself next to him as he struggles to get himself onto his knees.

You grab on to him gently and bring him close to you. He rests his head on your chest as he tries to catch his breath after getting the wind knocked out of him. You stroke his hair with your hand, hoping desperately that he was okay. You see him close his eyes, taking in your touch. You wish you knew what else to do. You wish you could take everything back. You wish for a lot of things.

“You're both pathetic and deserve each other,” Changkyun yells out before finally getting into his vehicle, slamming his door shut in anger.

“Go, before we call the police,” Kook said, pointing to the end of the driveway.

Changkyun backs out of your driveway and squeals his tires before racing away, leaving a cloud of dust and dirt behind in the air. You watch him drive away until his tail lights disappear in the rapidly darkening horizon. Tae comes over and helps Yoongi stand on his own feet. You slowly get off the ground and stand beside them, waiting for someone to say something. Carefully, you place your hand on Yoongi's shoulder, but he instantly shrugs it off. That hurt. You can feel your heart drop down to your stomach. It's really over.

Yoongi and Taehyung take off, walking to his place while holding his side and slightly hunched over. Jungkook approaches you, and the two of you stare at each other. He looks sad. It's been weeks since you last talked to him. He's probably been actively avoiding this whole mess. You know he would never want to choose between you and Yoongi like Jimin and Tae apparently did.

“I should go with them,” he says, jerking his thumbs to the house next door. He's choosing Yoongi, and your heart breaks a little. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you answer with a nod. You don't blame him for wanting to leave. They were his brothers. You, you were the bitch he was renting his house to. The bitch who they can't make money off of. “Yeah.”

You turn and go to your house before he can even walk away or say anything more. Unlocking the door, you enter your house and slam the door shut, making the blinds on the kitchen windows shake and rattle. It wasn't going to work. The business plan wouldn't work. Your friendships weren't going to work. This small ass town wasn't going to work. You grab your phone from your bag. Pulling up Joons contact, you open a new message.

I’m taking the third grade job. I'm sorry I can't do this.

You can't. You won't.

《Chapter Eleven 》

Tagged Readers:

@mar-lo-pap , @bontensbabygirl , @daisies-and-dandelionpuffs , @redragdoll, @svnbangtansworld , @wobblewobble822 , @busanbby-jjk , @pitchblack0309 , @bluesiebirdie

[vanilladollette]

More of jae-jun pls! 🥹🤍

Silent Confessions

Pairing: Jeon Jae-Joon x reader

Summary: Jeon Jae-Joon, who secretly had a crush on you in high school, sees you years later in his store, only to learn you're now engaged. Heartbroken but hiding his feelings, he regrets never confessing his love as you leave, realizing it’s too late now.

A/n: Jae-Joon may have been too ooc. I don't know. I didn't occur to me if you wanted headcanons or not but here is more Jae-Joon.

If someone had ask Jae-joon if he has any regrets, he'll say no but deep down, he does. One. It was him not confessing his feelings for you. He had fallen in love with you back in High school. He was madly in love with you. However, he never confessed his feelings for you. Not once. He never knew why he didn't confess his feelings for you. Maybe he felt you deserved better or feared you would turn him down.

Whatever the reason it was, Jae-Joon didn't confess to you. It was the only regret he had. The only regret that ate him up at night.

Jae-joon told himself that if he ever got the chance to see you one more time, he would confess his feelings for you.

It was until one day, Jae-Joon sees a familiar figure walked through the door of his store. His heart skipped a beat as he recognized you immediately.

You had changed in subtle ways—your hair was a little longer, your style more polished—but your presence still held the same warmth that had once captivated him. His breath caught in his throat as he watched you browse through the store, his mind racing with memories of the days when he had admired you from afar in high school.

Jae-joon watched you as you moved through the store, his heart heavy with emotions he’d buried long ago. He couldn’t help but notice the changes—the way you carried yourself with a quiet confidence, the soft smile that still seemed to reach your eyes, and the faint glow of happiness surrounding you. Despite the years that had passed, you were still the person he had secretly fallen for in high school, and now, here you were, standing in front of him again.

He cleared his throat, trying to steady himself. It was hard to think clearly with the rush of feelings flooding his mind. Gathering all the courage he could muster, he took a few steps forward and greeted you, his voice betraying just a hint of nervousness. "Hey, it's been a long time."

You turned toward him with a smile, your eyes lighting up with recognition. "Jae-joon!" you said warmly, the sound of your voice like a familiar melody to him. "Wow, I didn’t expect to run into you here. How’ve you been?"

He managed a small smile, though it felt forced. "Good, good. Been keeping busy," he replied, unsure of what to say next. The words he had rehearsed in his mind for so long—everything he had wanted to confess to you—felt distant now.

You started to chat, casually catching up as if no time had passed, but Jae-joon couldn’t focus on the words. All he could think about was how he had never told you what had been in his heart all those years ago. It hurt to hear the easy, light conversation knowing that you were no longer the person he could claim as his own, that you had moved on to someone else.

Then, as you paused in your conversation, you did something that nearly broke him. You lifted your hand, revealing the engagement ring on your finger. His gaze immediately shifted to it, and his heart sank.

"Oh, wow," Jae-joon managed, his voice suddenly distant, though he tried his best to mask the hurt. "I didn’t know you were engaged."

You smiled brightly, a soft, contented look on your face. "Yeah, I’m really happy. It’s been a long journey, but I’ve found someone I want to spend my life with."

The words stung, but he nodded, forcing a smile. "Congratulations. I’m really happy for you," he said, his voice betraying none of the turmoil he felt inside. He couldn’t bring himself to tell you how he still felt, how much he regretted never confessing, how much he wished things had turned out differently.

You chatted for a little longer, but it felt like an eternity to Jae-joon. Every word, every glance from you reminded him of the silent love he had kept hidden for so long. And with every passing moment, the reality that it was too late hit him harder.

"I should get going," you said after a while, breaking him from his thoughts. "I’m meeting my fiancé soon. It was so nice seeing you again, Jae-joon."

You waved and turned to leave, and Jae-joon stood frozen for a moment, watching you walk away. The sound of the door’s bell as you left the store echoed in his ears, leaving a painful silence behind.

In that moment, all the regret he had kept locked inside came rushing back. He should have told you. He should have confessed. But now, it was too late. You were gone, and so were his chances. All he had left were the ghosts of the what-ifs that would never be answered.

As he stood there, the empty store around him seemed to echo the one regret that had haunted him all these years. It was a regret that would never fade, no matter how much time passed. He had missed his chance, and now you were someone else’s.

[kpop---scenarios]

Monster

Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader x Lee Felix

Genre: Mafia, Arranged Marriage

Warning: None right now

Word Count: 3.4k

“Babe?” You call out, closing the front door of your apartment behind you. You set your bag down on the table in the front hall, slip off your shoes before making your way further inside. Heading into the kitchen, the lights are dim, your boyfriend's uniform is laid out on the table, ready for him to put on in the morning for the 24 hour shift he was going to be working. You wander into the living room, seeing Seo Joon sitting on the couch with his head laid back, softly snoring as the show he was watching continues. Gently, you push his shoulder to wake him up, grabbing his hand to drag him to your shared bedroom so you could both pass out. It was a long day and you were exhausted.

“How was your day?” Seojoon asks you, his eyes barely open as he slips off his shirt and then his pants, crawling into bed with just his boxers on.

“It was fine.” You mutter. “Pretty uneventful.”

“Sounds about right.” He says, letting out a big yawn. You crawled into bed beside him, scooching closer to him. You lean in to kiss him, his eyes shooting open. He turns his head slightly, so you catch his cheek instead of his lips. You're a little taken aback as you look at him, feeling hurt, which was a feeling you'd come accustomed to over time. You really weren't sure why you'd continued to let it bother you.

“I've got a big day tomorrow, I need to sleep.” He tells you, rolling over to face away from you.

“Yeah okay.” You huff. “My dad called earlier, I need to go see him tomorrow.” You say, rolling over too, your back facing his.

“I don't know why you're telling me, I'll be busy working. Again.” He sighs. You don't respond. You honestly don't know how to respond.

Your relationship with Seojoon wasn't always like this. At the beginning of the two of you dating he was very sweet to you, he would hold you, take you on dates, kiss you and actually be affectionate. Since he became a paramedic a year into your relationship, things have been different. He's been distant, cold and just not the man you fell in love with. You'd tried to talk to him about it - one too many times but he always said he was fine. You knew you weren't going to get anything out of him so you stopped trying. Sex was never a thing with the two of you, he told you from day one that he was saving himself for marriage, but that didn't stop the two of you from doing other things here and there, never consistently.

But now, it's been a year since any of that has happened, the longest it has ever been for you. The last time you rubbed your pussy on his clothed cock, you both came but the look he gave you made you feel like the most disgusting person, he looked at you with disgust. He made you feel insecure, but secure, and most of the time you felt safe with him. You also hoped that one day the man you fell for would return to you but for right now you were just taking it day by day.

**

The next morning, you're awake and dressed, ready to go to your father's house. Seojoon's side of the bed was cold, he had already been gone for hours.

On your way to your fathers house, you think about the talk you'd been hearing from various sources. Every person had been talking about these rumors that were floating around, things that were happening underground but you hadn't had a chance to speak directly to your father to see if there was any truth to any of it. He was the one you could go to about the things you'd hear and he would always tell you whether or not there was any sort of truth to any of it.

Your father was a very wealthy and a very feared man. A man that Seojoon did not know, and one you weren't sure if he would ever know. He was a man who took what he wanted, hurt whoever got in his way and made deals with a lot of people who others would consider to be the devil. You were the daughter of the second largest mafia organization in the country.

It was a life you had always known. Seojoon has never pressed the issue of meeting your father and you didn't know if you appreciated that fact, or sort of resented him for it. You also didn't think that confessing the fact that your father was participating in drug distribution, prostitution and all other illegal activities would do well to your relationship but part of you also wanted Seojoon to know where you came from. However, if you could trust him with that information, well that was a whole other story.

Late at night, when Seojoon was snoring beside you and you couldn't sleep, you thought about the things he didn't know or didn't want to know about, despite having been together for 3 years. He'd never asked you about your family, your childhood. The only information he ever got was things that you volunteered to tell him. Those thoughts would always leave you feeling confused about him, and whether or not he was truly in this relationship with you.

Your car comes to a stop in front of your fathers large house, two men in all black stand outside the front door, their fingers interlaced in front of them, not a smile on either of their faces.

“Wonho. Shownu.” You smile at both, they each give you a nod before opening the front door for you. You walk in, the familiar scent brings you back to your childhood, growing up in this house. The walls down the long hall are covered with pictures of family, friends and others your father has done business with. You make your way down the long hallway, listening to the buzzing chatter of the men roaming the house. It was always like this, as long as you could remember there were always so many people inside the house at all hours of the day and night. You've seen many things growing up here, men loading weapons in the living room, getting bullets pulled out of them on the kitchen counter. Going into the basement for a popsicle and seeing someone who ratted hung up with chains being tortured. It really didn't take you long to become accustomed to what was going on inside this house.

“Dad?” You call out, standing in front of the living room, but also near the kitchen and his office. It was always one of those three rooms you could find him in.

“In my office with Mia.” He yells back.

You figured. Mia was your half sister, his daughter but with the woman he married before he was with your mother. She was a few years older than you and the two of you never truly saw eye to eye. You felt like she hated you, and though she has never confirmed or denied, you maintained that thought.

“I've been hearing a lot of shit dad.” You say, walking into his office. Mia sits in front of your dad, who sits behind his desk. “You're marrying one of us off?” You say.

Mia looks back at you with wide eyes. “Is that what you wanted me to come today for? To tell me you've arranged a marriage for me? Because if that's true, it's not fucking happ…” She yells before being cut off by your father.

“No.” He says. “Well, not quite.” He continues. “Mr. Lee and I have been discussing joining our organizations. I've been wanting to get into trafficking and more in depth organized crime for a while, and he's been wanting to step foot into drug distribution.” He says. “You two know as well as anyone the best way to combine is through marriage.”

“I'm in a relationship though. A good.. well, a relationship.” You blurt out. Your father did not know about Seo Joon. Or so you thought.

“Yeah I know, with the nurse, or whatever. We're going to have to have a chat about him.” He says, pointing at you.

“He's a paramedic, dad.” You correct him. Your father just stares at you before turning to your sister.

“Mia, I mainly mean you. Mr. Lee has two sons. Lee Felix, and Bang Chan, as you know Mr. Lee took Chan into custody after Mr. Lee's best friend, Chan's father passed away. I don't give a fuck which one you choose, but you need to choose one. We’re having a party if you will, tomorrow. You'll meet them then. I expect you to wow them.” He explains. You take a deep breath, so fucking relieved its not you, but slightly stressed that your father knew about Seo Joon. You shouldn't have been surprised. You should have known your father finds out everything.

‘So I don't have to be there, right?” You ask, smugly smirking at the back of Mia's head.

“You are expected to be there, Y/N.” He says. Your smirk fades quickly. “Understood?” He asks.

You nod your head. “Yes sir.”

“What if I don't want to?” Mia asks, crossing her arms.

“This isn't up for fucking debate, Mia. Either you do it or I'll kick you out and cut you off.” Your father threatens.

The room is quiet.

Mia shuffles in her seat, uncomfortably as the awkward silence continues.

“Do I make myself clear?” He asks.

“Crystal.” She says, abruptly getting out of her chair and storming out of the room.

“Well I'm gonna head out.” You say, clearing your throat before turning towards the door.

“Y/N.” Your dad begins. “That boy. The one you're dating. It would be in your best interest to break things off with him.” He finishes, looking down at a stack of paper.

“We've been together for a while. We live together. I'm not going to just leave him. I know you haven't met him yet but..” you continue on.

“I don't want to meet him. I'm telling you now to end things. That's all. I've got work to do, I'll see you tomorrow. Don't be late.” He says, cutting you off. Typical of your father. You wished one of them had wanted to meet the other one.

You left your fathers house annoyed. Not really wanting to go to the party tomorrow but also at how your father acted. How could he tell you to break up with Seojoon without even having met the guy. As you drive off the property, you call your boyfriend just to check in and see how his day is going.

“What?” He snaps, answering the phone.

“Woah, sorry. Was just calling to check in.” You mumble.

“Well I'm busy, sorry.” He sighs. “How was your dad's?” He asks. You perk up a little at his question.

“It was fine. He wanted to let me know about a party he's throwing tomorrow evening.” You say. “I don't suppose you'd be feeling up to accompanying me?” You ask.

“I have to work, YN. I picked up an extra 12 hour shift after this one so no, I can't come with you to your fancy party. Some of us have to work for a living.” He snaps.

You're quiet.

So is he. For a second.

“I gotta go. Bye.” He says, hanging up the phone. You really fucking wondered why you were even in this clearly one sided relationship.

That night you ate dinner alone, crawled into bed alone, and woke up the next morning alone. You checked your phone and you didn't even have so much as a “Hi” text from your boyfriend. You felt done. You didn't want to try anymore, you didn't want to care anymore. It was exhausting to be in a one sided relationship with him. You were done being the one to call or to text. You were done being the one to start conversations or be affectionate. Whether or not he noticed would be the sign that you needed on if you were going to continue things with him.

Later that afternoon you got ready for the party. You hadn't heard anything from Seo Joon and you weren't going to be the one who messages him first. If he wanted to talk to you then he would reach out to you. Arriving at your father's house, the front door is wide open, you can hear the music from outside, as well as a ton of people waiting to get in. Shownu and Wonho were standing in front of the door, checking the lists to make sure only the ones your father wanted got into the house. There were too many groups who either wanted to ambush your father or get into business with him and he didn't want to deal with it tonight.

“Excuse me.” You say. “Pardon me.” You say, moving through the crowd of people towards the front door.

“You look good.” Wonho smiles, winking at you before moving sideways to let you in.

“So do you.” You smile, moving past him inside. It was your typical type of party. Food, a lot of drinks and a lot of serious conversations and deal makings. You quickly grab a drink, chugging it back before grabbing another one and one more just in case. You looked around for your father to say hi, but instead your attention was caught by an extremely handsome man trying to talk to your sister. You sat on the couch behind them, listening to him try to say anything at all to Mia.

“Hey there.” He says, going to tap her on the shoulder.

Mia doesn't even give the poor man any acknowledgement. You take another sip of your drink, smiling as you watch him awkwardly stand there, trying to figure out something else to say.

“Hi.. uh, are you Mia?” He asks. She turns to look at him, scoffing before turning back to those she was talking with. You can't help but laugh, a little too loudly. He turns to look at you as you cover your mouth, trying to hide your giggles.

“What?” He asks.

“I.. nothing.” You smile. “Good luck with her.”

“Believe me.” He sighs, sitting next to you. “I don't want to be talking to her, but my father is making me.”

“You're one of the two who is supposed to get married, aren't you?” You ask.

“How do you know that?” He asks.

“L/N Y/N.” You smile.

“Ahh, the sister to.. that one.” He laughs. “Bang Chan, but you can call me Chan.” He smiles. Before you can answer, a second, overly attractive man stands beside Mia, smiling. He tries to talk to her, but she gives him the exact same treatment as she gave Chan.

“Bro. Don't even bother.” Chan sighs, pulling him to the couch. “YN, this is Felix, Felix, Y/N.”

“Hi.” You smile.

“Mia's sister.” Felix smiles.

“The one and only.” You laugh, finishing your drink. “You're better off not to even try with her, she doesn't want to get married.” You say.

“You say that as if we actually have a choice.” Felix laughs.

“Well, I mean.. it sucks to suck.” You grin.

“You do know that whoever she doesn't pick, is marrying you, right?” Chan says.

You choke. You don't know what you choked on, but it was something. “I.. what? No, that's not a thing that's happening.” You laugh. Your dad would have told you, right? “Besides, I'm in a relationship.” You say.

“Ah, yeah, the cop.” Chan says, rolling his eyes.

“He's a paramedic.” You respond, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh right.” He snickers. “The paramedic.” He says, looking at Felix, who gives him a knowing look.

The rest of the evening you spent with both those men. The conversation flowed so easily, nothing was forced, you never ran out of things to talk about with them. It was honestly refreshing. The fact that they asked you questions about yourself, things that Seojoon hadn't even asked you, and he was supposed to be your boyfriend. At the end of the night you said your goodbyes to them, and you didn't want to. You wanted to continue being with them, there was just something about them that made you feel safe and secure being around them. That night when you got home, your apartment was empty. You walked in, got yourself ready for bed, checked your phone and there were no messages from Seo Joon. At this point, you were tired of him not even trying with you. You didn't care anymore. But you did care about what Chan had said earlier. you couldn't get it out of your head. You laid down, your mind replaying what Chan had said about Seo Joon, over and over.

“Ah, yeah, the cop.”

He wasn't a cop. Those are two very different professions, you can't just mistake a paramedic with a cop. You closed your eyes, and it takes you back to a moment where you had overheard a conversation that made you question, Seo Joon. Honestly at the time you had thought he was cheating on you, but now you weren't sure if it was cheating or maybe he really is a cop?

You were laying in bed, alone, tossing and turning, unable to sleep. Seojoon had been in bed with you but you assumed he thought you were sleeping when you heard him on the phone.

“Hey..” he sighs. “Yeah no, I know. No No, I don't think she suspects anything.” He chuckles. You can hear him shuffling around in the kitchen. “Look, I'm trying my best here with her. This shit isn't easy.” He snaps. “I'll try that. Yep, I'll keep you updated. Bye.” He begins walking towards the bedroom, you lay back down, closing your eyes, snoring softly. You can feel the bed dip slightly beside you. He scrolled through his phone for a few minutes before he plugged it in and went to bed. You barely slept that night, wondering if he was cheating and who he was cheating with.

You close your eyes, wanting to stop reliving memories that hurt you. It wasn't beneficial for anyone. You tried to sleep again, until your phone pinged. You had hoped the message was from Seojoon.

It wasn't.

[From: +82-463-3629] Hey, Y/N. It's Chan.

[From: +82-394-1293] And Felix. It was good talking to you today.

[From: +82-463-3629] It was. We wanted to know if you wanted to hangout tomorrow night?’

[From: +82-394-1293] Unless you and your ‘paramedic’ boyfriend have plans?

You chuckle at the conversation already.

[To: +82-463-3629,+82-394-1293] No plans. What did you guys have in mind?

The next night, even though you knew better, you put on your little black dress that hugs your curves, your favorite shoes and got yourself out the door, without a word from your boyfriend, if you could even call him that anymore. You wanted to forget about him tonight. You walk outside your apartment, looking around, you hear a car honk at you. You turn to look, seeing Felix smiling as he holds open the passenger door for you.

“You look beautiful.” Felix says, helping you into the car before closing the door.

“He's not lying.” Chan smiles.

“Thank you guys.” You laugh. “Where are we going?” You ask.

“Some of the men in our group own a club. We were thinking of drinks and maybe some dancing.” Chan smiles. You buckle your seat belt happily.

“Sounds great to me.”

The three of you sit at a table, drinks scattered all around. You're all drunk, laughing, having a great time until you turn your head towards the bar, and you see Seojoon standing there with a woman. Your smile drops, you look away, Chan and Felix notice immediately.

“What?” They both ask. Felix stretches a little, looking at the bar. He spots Seojoon immediately, and understands.

“That's him right?” Felix asks. “Your boyfriend?”

“How did you know that's him?” You ask.

“Believe me, I know a lot of things.” Felix says. You turn around to look at him, just in time to see his arm snake around the waist of a woman you recognized.

Chaeyoung. She was Seojoon's partner at work. Why were they dressed up and at the bar? Why didn't he tell you? Why wasn't he at work? What the fuck was happening?

“You okay?” Chan asks.

“I'm fine.” You smile. “That's his work partner. It's fine. Everything is fine.” You mutter.

Everything was not fine.