#jimin fluff one shots

[wherethefireliliesgrow]

Already Yours (Part 1)

Yoo Jimin (Karina) x Reader

GENRE: angst, fluff, arranged marriage

TYPE: Two Shot

Inspired by: urs-NIKI

A/N: i received several arranged marriage request for the past two years, but it felt too different to what i usually wrote. since it's the start of a new year and the best time to try something new...here you gooooo! a special thank you to @neoplatinum! i re-read several of her works to gain some inspiration for this one. highly recommend everyone checking out her posts :)

The heavy doors swung open, slamming against the wall with a resounding crash that echoed through the room. A tall, willowy figure dressed in a professional tan suit strode toward you, the sharp click of her heels punctuating the silence as she crossed the pristine marble floors. Behind her, two broad-shouldered bodyguards trailed in silence, their faces impassive. In contrast, her long black hair flowed behind her, each step full of purpose and anger. Scratch that. Lady Jimin was seething, her usually soft features now hard with barely contained anger.

“What is this, father?” Jimin addressed the old duke beside you, completely ignoring your presence.

Duke Yoo coughed, a nervous, helpless sound that filled the room. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he fidgeted, clearly at a loss for words.

Before he could find his voice, his son stepped forward, his demeanor calm and predatory.

“Pleasant surprise seeing you here, Jimin.” Heesung’s smile was too smooth, his voice disgustingly sweet.

“Not much of a surprise, since this is the signing of my marriage certificate.” Jimin snapped, her eyes burning with a fire so intense it felt like she could burn the entire Y/LN enterprise building to the ground.

Your father, ever the one to involve himself in drama, couldn’t resist. “Ah, Lady Jimin. It's nice to finally meet my my future daughter-in-law.”

He moved toward her, arms wide, offering a false sense of warmth.

“There’s no way I’m getting tangled in your slimy business ventures, Y/LN.” Jimin spat, laced with pure contempt.

The room fell silent, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. The Duke shot a quick, nervous glance at your father’s impassive expression, sweat dripping down his chin now.

“I’m so sorry, Y/LN-nim.” The Duke hurriedly walked over to your father’s side.

“We didn’t have time to explain the agreement to Jimin. Let us talk to her first.”

“It seems she’s lacking in manners.” your father’s voice dropped several octaves, low and dangerous. “Perhaps we should address this before we finalize anything.”

Jimin’s anger flared, but it was quickly replaced by something darker—fear. As she caught sight of the cruel smile spreading across your father’s face, a cold shiver ran down her spine. The man was notorious for his ruthlessness, a cold, calculating figure who had controlled the country’s economy for decades. His power wasn’t just in his wealth, it was in his ability to make people tremble.

Even her bodyguards hesitated, inching closer to her but unsure whether to act.

That’s when you stepped forward, your silence broken at last.

You moved in front of your father, your hand gripping his arm and pulling him toward the desk. The weight of the room seemed to shift as your presence took control.

“Enough, father.” Your voice was soft, but unwavering, cutting through the tension like a knife. “Let’s just finish this.”

Without another word, you reached for the inkstand, pressing your thumb into the dark ink and leaving a red fingerprint on the flimsy paper.

You lifted your gaze, locking eyes with Jimin, expressionless.

Jimin let out a frustrated sigh, her fingers threading through her hair as she surrendered herself to the inevitable. She walked over and pressed her own delicate fingers to the paper, leaving a red mark beside yours. The blood-red ink seemed to mock her, a symbol of fate she could neither escape nor control.

“Good.” Heesung’s voice sliced through the silence, “Let’s let the lovebirds go and we can start talking business.”

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The banquet buzzed with noise, of laughter, chatter, and clinking glasses. Friends, business partners, and classmates gathered, their faces painted with polite smiles and hidden agendas. Even the royal family was here to watch you and Jimin repeat the fake vows, marking as the wedding of the year.

The media waited outside, hoping to catch a glimpse of the wedding, to catch a glimpse of you and Jimin. After all, neither of you came from unknown backgrounds. Both of you were heirs to two of the most powerful families in the country. The cameras, the whispers...it was impossible to escape the spotlight, even if the marriage was nothing more than a strategic alliance disguised as a union.

Jimin, the eldest daughter from House Yoo of Luthraine, stood at the center of it all. Her family ruled the country’s banking, their influence far-reaching. The duke, her father, was weak and easily swayed. His wife, however, had made up for it with her sharp mind—until her untimely death left House Yoo in shambles, and its future in the hands of Heesung, her son. A reckless choice that led to disaster. Jimin had stepped up to manage the family’s failing finances as soon as she turned 18. Clever, soft-hearted, and breathtakingly beautiful, Yoo Jimin was someone everyone admired.

Then there was you.

The sole heir to Y/LN Enterprise, the largest multinational conglomerate in investment banking and real estate. You were known for your reserved demeanor, your sharp mind, and your ability to observe everything with calculating precision. Unlike your father, who was feared for his temper and ruthless business tactics, you operated quietly, out of the spotlight. Most people found you distant, cold even, but you never played the villain. You simply didn't care for the politics of the game.

Despite growing up in the same world, you and Jimin had never really connected.

You’d gone to the same prestigious, ridiculously overpriced private schools, but Jimin had always been surrounded by a crowd, adored by everyone. You, however, had preferred to keep to yourself, always in the background, never truly seen, yet always watching.

“What’s the bride doing here drinking alone?” A warm voice interrupted your thoughts, bringing a grin to your face.

“You should be celebrating with your wife for a happy marriage.”

“If that’s what you expect from an arranged marriage,” you laughed, sloshing the champagne in your glass, “then you’ve got it all wrong, Hwang.”

Yeji, your best friend and business partner, flopped down beside you. She smoothed out her lavender dress and white wool jacket with practiced grace. It was strange to see her in a dress, usually preferring professional suits for work.

“You look hot. Very lady-like,” you teased, earning a middle finger from her.

“Shut up, Y/LN.” She sniffed, then waved over a server to order a beer, an odd contrast to how she was dressed. “Besides, you’re the one who chose these stupid lavender dresses for the bridesmaids.”

“Jimin, not me.” You shrugged, your head spinning from the alcohol. “I didn’t attend any of the marriage meetings.”

Your gaze drifted across the room, landing on the raven-haired girl as she danced with her friends, smiling effortlessly, her usual scowl replaced with something more relaxed.

“Seriously?” Yeji’s voice was laced with disappointment.

“I didn’t expect you to let your partner do all the work. What happened to chivalry?”

“Honestly, Jimin looks like she’ll bite my head off every time I try to talk to her. So I thought I’d just let her decide.” You drained your glass, the words slipping out.

“I kind of ruined her chance for love, so the least I can do is let her have this.”

“You didn’t ruin anything.” Yeji’s tone softened. “You were trying to help her. I think you should just give this marriage a chance.”

You shook your head stubbornly, ordering another drink. Yeji’s concerned gaze bore into you, but you ignored it. This was your pity party, and you were the guest of honor.

“I’m planning on keeping my distance,” you said, wobbling off the stool and grabbing your fresh glass.

“And finding a way to get her out of this mess.”

Yeji rushed to steady you, wrapping her arms around you in a warm embrace. Her heart ached for you, but this was beyond anyone’s control.

“Just try, Y/N,” she said gently, before muttering, “Jesus, you’re drunk.”

She managed to straighten you up, her hands resting on your shoulders as she faced you.

“Besides, didn’t you have a crush on her in high school?” Yeji added, her voice thoughtful as she stood before you.

“Shut up, Yeji,” you hissed, suddenly sober, your eyes flicking to something—or rather, someone—behind her.

“I mean, you liked her for, like, three years? Four?” Yeji rambled on, oblivious to the fear flashing in your eyes.

“Yeji. Yeji. Yeji.”

“What?” Yeji followed your gaze, then stumbled back in shock.

Jimin stood with another girl, her face twisted in something you couldn’t quite comprehend, while the girl beside her shot Yeji a playful grin.

“Ah… Lady Jimin,” Yeji quickly bowed, her face burning with embarrassment. “It’s nice to finally meet you. I’m Yeji. Hwang Yeji.”

Jimin gave a curt nod, waving her off dismissively. “Just Jimin is fine. This is Ryujin, from the House of Shin.”

Jimin’s voice softened as she turned to you. “Y/N? Can I talk to you?”

You barely had time to compose yourself before you answered, “Yes.”

Without another word, Jimin walked off, expecting you to follow.

As you passed, you heard Ryujin's voice, teasing, “So… beer for the pretty lady? That’s special. I like special.”

The back door of the banquet hall creaked open as Jimin led you down a deserted hallway, pulling you into an empty room. You glanced over her, taking in the sight of her ivory lace wedding gown—still pristine, despite everything.

Yoo Jimin was undeniably beautiful, with soft brown eyes full of emotion, a delicate nose, and full pink lips. A cute mole on the corner of her mouth that would lift whenever she smiled. But ever since that fateful event two months ago, her face was set in a permanent frown, her brows furrowed in frustration. You wanted to reach out, smooth away the crease between them, but you stopped yourself.

“You’re drunk.” Jimin said, her voice a little softer as she surveyed your ruffled state.

“A bit.” you admitted, running a hand down your dress to smooth the creases.

She sighed, her expression softening. Then, she moved closer, adjusting the straps of your dress. The touch of her fingers against your skin sent a jolt of electricity through you. Your heart hammered in your chest.

You froze, then pulled away, putting more distance between you. Hurt flickered in her eyes, but she quickly masked it with annoyance.

“What did you want to talk about, Jimin?” you asked, trying to sound composed.

Jimin’s frown deepened as she met your gaze.

“I wanted to clarify a few things.” she said, her voice more subdued than before.

“I’ve been thinking about this marriage.”

You remained silent, waiting for her to continue.

“I never wanted this,” she continued, her words slow and deliberate. “I never wanted to marry you. I had no choice. I loathe your family—I know what your father’s been doing all these years—but my hands are tied. I just wanted you to know that before you get any wrong ideas.”

Her words hit harder than you expected, each one a jagged knife twisting in your chest. You knew how she felt, but that didn’t make it any easier to hear.

You forced a calm expression, masking the ache inside. “If I had a choice, I wouldn’t choose this either,” you said, your voice cool.

“Don’t worry, I’ll find a way to end this marriage soon.”

Jimin nodded, her expression softening for a second. “Good. Now let’s play the part of a happy newlywed.”

She grabbed your arm, pulling you back toward the banquet hall, both of you walking side by side, smiles on your faces. Neither one of them reached your eyes.

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Living with you was unexpectedly easy.

You were quiet, meticulous to the point of being a neat freak, and even more of a workaholic than she was, rarely coming home before midnight. In the three months since your marriage, you hadn’t spent much time together. Yet, Jimin found herself looking forward to mornings. Brief moments where you prepared breakfast for both of you and shared a table. Most of the conversation came from her, while you listened quietly. You made it clear her words mattered, even if you rarely offered anything in return.

But she couldn’t shake the sense that she was speaking into a void. You were polite and attentive, yet you remained distant, never letting her glimpse beyond the surface.

She often snuck in a few glances at you while you drove her to work, admiring your side profile. She liked the sharpness of your cat-like eyes, always attentive to what she was saying, and the slight curve of your full lips whenever she said something funny. You were beautiful in an understated way, the kind of beauty that lingered in her mind.

Maybe marriage with you wasn’t as bad as she’d expected. But that didn’t stop her from craving something more.

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Work had been unusually slow lately. Ever since her marriage to you, the problems plaguing the bank branches under House Yoo of Luthraine had mysteriously disappeared. Gone were the endless debt, trade misconduct, and countless scandals she’d spent months trying to resolve. Her brother was off doing God knows what, leaving her to manage everything else on her own. She could only hope he wasn’t causing more trouble...the kind that had landed her in this marriage in the first place.

Sighing, Jimin took off her thin-framed silver glasses and rubbed her eyes, signaling the rest of the board that the morning meeting was over. The meeting room gradually emptied, leaving the young royalty in solitude, save for Ryujin, casually leaning in the leather chair next to her with a sly grin.

“Yoo Jimin, tired of work? I can’t believe it.” The young duchess teased, “Did you and Y/N stay up too late doing the dirty?”

Jimin choked on her coffee, nearly spilling the dark liquid on her crisp blouse.

“What? No,” she sputtered, her face reddening at the thought. “I’ve just been having trouble sleeping.”

Ryujin raised a brow, clearly unconvinced. “Still hate her?”

“I don’t hate her,” Jimin muttered, her voice quieter now. “I never hated her. Just her family.”

“Well, you’re stuck with her now. Might as well make it work. Maybe you should try acutally talking to her.”

“We do talk,” Jimin countered defensively. “It’s just... one-sided. I’m the one doing all the sharing. She never talks about herself. It’s like trying to have a conversation with an AI.”

Ryujin held back a laugh, “well to be fair, you do talk a lot, Jimin.”

Jimin shot her a sharp glare. “I do not.”

Ryujin’s grin only widened. “Sure. And she’s always working late because she just loves the office, right? Has nothing to do with cleaning up your brother’s mess?”

“What mess?”

“Wait, she didn’t tell you?” Ryujin frowned. “Yeji mentioned they’ve been working overtime to cover up some of the debt Heesung left from one of your family branches. That was part of the marriage deal.”

Jimin slumped back in her seat, stunned. She knew her brother had contributed to the downfall of her family-led banks, but he’d kept the full scope of it hidden. She had assumed the marriage proposal was purely for your family’s access to her network and land holdings, not their debt.

You were the reason why her family debts were gone.

Ryujin’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “C’mon, let’s visit Y/LN Enterprise after work. I’ll drive.”

Jimin frowned, confused. “Why?”

“The way to the heart is through the stomach,” Ryujin said with a grin. “And I also want to see my girl.”

“Your girl?”

“Well, not yet. But I’m getting there,” Ryujin laughed, her confidence unwavering.

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“What kind of food does she like?” Ryujin asked, backing her car out of the parking lot.

“I have no idea,” Jimin admitted reluctantly.

“Seriously?” Ryujin shot her an exasperated look, sighing in defeat. “Let me ask Yeji.”

This marriage was proving to be a tough case to crack.

Twenty minutes later, Jimin found herself standing in front of your office door, a box of jjajangmyeon in her hands. Ryujin had dropped her off with a giggle before driving away, Yeji seated beside her, cheeks dusted pink.

Jimin’s heart twisted with a pang of envy as she watched her friend. She wanted that kind of love, as much as she hated admitting it to herself.

Before she could muster the courage to knock, the door swung open, and you nearly bumped into her, face-first.

“What the f—” You stopped mid-sentence, eyes widening in surprise. “Jimin?”

“Hi.” Her voice was timid, suddenly laced with awkwardness.

“Is everything okay?” you asked, your concern obvious in your tone. “Did something happen?”

“No!” She cleared her throat hastily, then raised the box in her hands.

“I brought you dinner. Thought you might be hungry.”

“Oh, I—” Her gesture caught you off guard, your carefully constructed walls crumbling. You were already finding it hard to maintain your distance, and now this small act of care threatened to shatter your resolve completely.

“Thank you,” you said, regaining some composure. “Please, come in.”

You stepped aside, and she walked in, her gaze sweeping across the room.

Jimin took her time studying your office while you dug into the noodles, only now realizing just how hungry you were.

She paused at a photo on your desk, one of you and Yeji at senior prom. In it, Yeji was having the time of her life, while you looked like a drenched cat reluctantly dancing with your friend.

“You look so miserable,” Jimin giggled, her voice teasing as she turned to you.

Your mouth was full of noodles, and you hastily swallowed in an attempt to respond.

“Dancing isn’t exactly my forte,” you admitted, your tone calm, though the tips of your ears betrayed your embarrassment. “But you’re good at that, right? I remember you won prom queen that year.”

Her heart fluttered at your words. So you had been paying attention, even back then—even when Yeji had mentioned you had a crush on someone else in high school.

As she continued her inspection of your office, Jimin noted how bare it was. Aside from the photo with Yeji and a few scattered pens on your desk, there wasn’t much personality in the room. She made a mental note to change that.

When you finally finished eating, an awkward silence settled between the two of you.

“Thank you for the food,” you said again, your voice soft. “It was really good.”

Jimin hummed in acknowledgment, her honey-brown eyes piercing into yours. The intensity of her gaze made you fidget slightly, but you held it nonetheless.

“I know about the debt,” she said finally.

Your eyes widened briefly, but you masked your reaction quickly, choosing your words carefully.

“Sorry for not telling you,” you said, your tone steady, though your fingers twitched nervously against the desk. "I didn't know how."

She shook her head and reached over, her warm, soft hands covering yours. The simple touch sent your heart racing.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice gentle. Her lips curved into a smile, one that you weren’t used to seeing on her usually stoic face.

Your cheeks flushed scarlet, and you cleared your throat in embarrassment. “It’s nothing.”

At your feigned nonchalance, Jimin couldn’t resist teasing you. Maybe you weren’t as robotic as she’d initially thought.

With a mischievous grin, she intertwined her fingers with yours, her thumb drawing slow circles on your palm.

“Can you drive me home?” she asked innocently. “Ryujin drove me here.”

You quickly composed yourself, pulling your hand away and shaking your head as if to dispel the spell she had cast. Something about Yoo Jimin made resisting her nearly impossible, and maintaining your distance was proving to be an uphill battle.

“I can, but I have one more meeting tonight. Can you wait?”

She nodded, her soft smile making it hard to focus.

Just then, the speaker on your desk crackled to life.

“Ms. Y/LN, Ms. Kim is here.”

You pressed the button to respond. “Let her up.”

“There’s a meeting room next to my office,” you told Jimin. “You can wait for me there.”

She nodded again, her smile lingering as she moved toward the door. You couldn’t help but mirror the expression, the corners of your mouth lifting involuntarily.

“I’ll see you in a bit. Good luck with your meeting,” she said warmly, opening the door.

What she didn’t expect, however, was to come face-to-face with one of her flings from the past: Kim Minjeong of Legacy Capital Enterprise.

Jimin froze in the doorway, her breath hitching as recognition struck. Minjeong’s sharp gaze softened, her lips curling into a slow, confident smirk that Jimin had once thought charming but now found unbearably loaded with unspoken memories.

“Jimin.” Minjeong drawled, her voice dripping with smug familiarity. “It’s been a while.”

“Minjeong.” Jimin replied stiffly, her voice strained. Her fingers gripped the doorframe tightly, grounding herself as the weight of the past surged back, enveloping her in the awkwardness of their shared history.

Minjeong’s eyes flicked to the now-empty box of jjajangmyeon in Jimin’s hands, then trailed back up, her smirk deepening. “Didn’t expect to see you here. Late-night visits? How... intimate.”

Jimin’s heart skipped a beat. The insinuation in Minjeong’s tone made her skin crawl, her shoulders stiffening.

“I could say the same about you,” she retorted, her voice sharp but betraying a hint of nervousness.

Minjeong opened her mouth to reply, but before she could, you appeared behind Jimin, your steady presence immediately commanding the room.

“Ms. Kim,” you greeted coolly, your professional demeanor slipping into place. “Shall we?”

Minjeong’s gaze flicked to you briefly, her expression unreadable, before sliding back to Jimin. The smirk didn’t falter, but her eyes sparkled with something almost predatory.

 “Of course.” she said smoothly, stepping into the office.

Jimin stepped aside hastily, her shoulders tight, feeling the weight of Minjeong’s gaze lingering on her as she passed. She silently prayed that Minjeong wouldn’t say anything more, wouldn’t twist the knife any further.

“I’ll see you after the meeting,” you said softly to Jimin, your voice warm despite the neutral expression on your face.

Jimin gave a quick nod, her stomach twisting as you closed the door behind you, sealing her alone with her thoughts.

Inside your office, Minjeong wasted no time in testing your patience.

“You have a lovely wife.” Minjeong remarked, leaning back in her chair as if she owned the room. “You must be very... proud.”

Your eyes narrowed slightly, though your tone remained calm. “Jimin’s her own person. I don’t take pride in people like they’re possessions.”

Minjeong’s smirk didn’t waver. “Interesting choice of words.”

The meeting dragged on, but your focus remained sharp, despite the growing frustration bubbling beneath the surface. You didn’t have the luxury of cutting ties with Minjeong, not when your efforts to rebuild Jimin’s family’s branches relied on securing this partnership.

But with Minjeong’s intentions becoming increasingly transparent. She found opportunities to steer the conversation back to Jimin, her admiration thinly veiled beneath casual comments.

“She’s matured a lot.” Minjeong said at one point, her voice almost wistful. “There’s something about her...strong, yet so beautifully delicate.”

Your jaw tightened, but you forced yourself to respond evenly. “She’s always been remarkable.”

Minjeong’s smirk widened, as if she took your words as a challenge.

When the meeting ended, you walked Minjeong out, your tone polite but measured.

“Thank you for your time, Ms. Kim.”

She gave you a sly smile before glancing once more at the closed door to the meeting room where Jimin was waiting.

“I’ll be seeing you both soon, I’m sure.”

Her words hung in the air like a warning before she turned on her heel and left.

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You found Jimin in the meeting room, perched on the couch with her phone in hand. She glanced up as you entered, her expression betraying unease, embarrassment, and something else, something she couldn’t quite mask.

“Is she gone?” she asked, her tone wavering, as if she was hiding something.

“She is,” you replied, sitting down across from her. “Who is she?”

Jimin hesitated, her fingers toying with the hem of her sleeve. “Someone I used to... see.” she admitted reluctantly.

Your brow raised slightly. “See, as in date?”

The young royalty nodded, her gaze dropping to her lap. “If you can call it that. It wasn’t serious, and it didn’t end well.”

You hummed thoughtfully, leaning back in your seat. “Well, for what it’s worth, she made it pretty clear she’s still interested in you.”

Jimin’s head shot up, her eyes wide. “She—what?”

You chuckled dryly, trying to cover your jealousy.

“She practically spent the whole meeting weaving you into the conversation. Subtlety isn’t her strong suit.”

Jimin groaned, covering her face with her hands. “I can’t believe her.”

A silence settled between you before you spoke again, your tone softer this time. “You know, about the whole marriage thing...”

Jimin lowered her hands slowly, looking at you with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.

“It’s just for appearances,” you said, your voice calm but firm. “If you want to see someone else—Minjeong or anyone else—I’m not going to stop you.”

Her lips parted in surprise, and you continued.

“This arrangement isn’t about controlling you or your choices. You’re free to live your life however you want.”

Jimin stared at you for a moment, her honey-brown eyes searching yours. Then, a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

“Thank you,” she murmured, her voice tinged with something you couldn’t quite place

She hesitated before adding, “The same goes for you, you know. You didn’t exactly choose this either.”

Your chest tightened, but you quickly masked it with a nonchalant shrug. “Something like that,” you said, lying through your teeth.

You stood, offering her a hand. “Ready to head home?”

Jimin slipped her hand into yours, and as you led her out of the office, the warmth of her touch lingered far longer than it should have.

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Your relationship with Jimin had changed in ways that felt both comforting and unsettling. The walls between you gradually fell, replaced by the kind of easy flow you hadn’t expected. She’d drop by your office for coffee, and linger during breaks, and suddenly it wasn’t just about the arranged situation anymore. It was about two people learning to be around each other, to talk, to laugh, to share moments that made you forget about the circumstances.

She’d visit you at work often, showing up unannounced just to grab coffee or chat. At first, it seemed like a random visit, but the more it happened, the more it became clear that she enjoyed spending time with you. You’d even look forward to her visits, finding comfort in the quiet moments you shared away from the chaos of your daily lives.

Social events became less of a hassle, too. Instead of sitting off to the side or making small talk with people you didn’t care about, Jimin would be there, and the two of you would engage in casual conversations, the kind that made you forget about everything else happening around you.

You were friends, you thought. Genuine friends.

But even in those easy moments, there were signs, small, subtle things that made you pause. You noticed Jimin staring at her phone more often, her thumb flicking over the screen in a way that was hard to miss.

You had a good idea of who it was. Minjeong. It wasn’t like you hadn’t expected this. After all, you’d given Jimin the freedom to see other people. You had told her—no, insisted—that this arrangement wasn’t about control, that she could live her life however she saw fit.

And yet, watching her respond to Minjeong’s texts, the way her face lit up when she’d see a new message, it grated on you in ways you didn’t want to admit.

You weren’t supposed to care.

But you did.

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On your birthday, you could feel the familiar mix of emotions swirling inside you as Jimin walked into the office, dressed in a beautiful flowy dress that hugged her curves in all the right places. The soft fabric of the dress seemed to move with her effortlessly, its delicate hue catching the light in a way that made her seem almost ethereal. The way it draped around her waist and flared out just enough to hint at her figure was both graceful and captivating. Her hair, styled in loose waves, framed her face perfectly, soft strands falling gently over her shoulders and glowing under the office lights.

She had this quiet elegance about her, something so effortlessly beautiful that it made your heart ache just by looking at her.

Her eyes, always warm, had this soft, shimmering glow when they met yours, like everything around her faded a little, just so she stood out more. You couldn’t really explain it, but in that moment, it felt like she was the only thing in focus. She wasn’t trying to look perfect—she never had to—but the way she moved, how that dress just clung to her in the right places, it made your head spin.

You couldn’t take your eyes off her. It wasn’t like you wanted to stare, but she made it impossible to do anything else. She wasn’t trying, yet there she was, making everything else blur and all you could think about was how damn beautiful she was.

And in that moment, you thought she came to surprise you for your birthday.

But how silly it was to think that when you never told her your birthday.

Your eyes caught hers, but her smile was different. It was more forced, as though she was conflicted. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but it felt like she was already pulling away.

You tried to brush it off, but the question tumbled out before you could stop it.

“You look beautfiul,” you said, your voice casual but your stomach knotting with a strange feeling.

“Going somewhere?”

Jimin hesitated for a split second, a flicker of something passing across her face before she answered. “Yeah, I’m meeting Minjeong for dinner.”

The words hit you like a cold splash of water. You had known it was coming. You had prepared yourself for it. But hearing it out loud, so casually, felt different.

“Oh, Minjeong...” you said, trying hard to keep on the mask of calmness that seemed to be slipping the longer you were married to Jimin.

“Have fun.” You couldn’t keep the edge out of your tone, even though you tried to mask it with a smile. “I’ll be out drinking with Yeji later. Should be good.”

Jimin nodded, a slight unease in her expression, but she didn’t press the issue. She just smiled, a little too tightly, and turned to leave.

“I’ll see you later,” she said softly. “I just wanted to check on you first.”

As she walked away, the weight of your own words hit you like a slap. You had told her she could see whoever she wanted. You had given her the space to do so. Yet, the jealousy that twisted in your chest, like you were the one breaking the rules you had set.

Maybe you didn’t have the right to feel this way. Maybe you didn’t even have the right to feel hurt. You had told Jimin she was free to make her own choices, to be with whomever she wanted. And yet, the jealousy remained, simmering under the surface. You wanted to ignore it, to push it away, but it lingered, sharp and insistent.

You had given her the freedom to choose. But you had never thought about how hard it would be to watch her choose someone else.

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It was well past midnight, and you were still at the pub with Yeji, both of you tipsy and getting progressively more sloppy. The karaoke was horrendous, your voices completely out of tune, but neither of you seemed to care. Shots kept coming, and you were taking them like it was a contest, each one making your thoughts blur a little more.

“I don’t get why you don’t just tell her you like her,” Yeji slurred, her voice thick with alcohol as she tried to keep herself upright.

“Tell her you like her, and you wouldn’t be here like this.”

You hiccupped, eyes half-lidded, and tried to focus on her. “You—” you muttered, “you know it’s not that simple.”

“How is it not?” Yeji pointed a finger at you, wobbly, but firm in her opinion.

“You’re married to her. Married. What’s the problem?”

You took another drink, feeling the burn in your throat, and shrugged. “I promised her… promised I’d work on getting a divorce. Promised her on our wedding day.”

Yeji made a face, clearly too drunk to hide her disbelief. “That’s fucking stupid,” she mumbled, staring at you like you were an idiot. “Your father would kill you.”

You sighed, glancing away, the alcohol making it easier to pretend it didn’t bother you. “Yeah, I know. But I’m worried about what happens to her after the divorce.”

“Is that why you’ve been making me do all this overtime with you?” Yeji waved her hand dismissively, clearly trying to piece things together. “Doing global stocks and all that shit?”

“I just want her to be okay,” you muttered, the words slurring slightly. “I want her to have someone who can protect her. Make sure her family ties stay strong.”

“And that person is Minjeong?” Yeji gasped, eyes widening with realization. You didn’t even look up, staring into your glass as you mumbled a response.

“She could be,” you said, taking another shot.

Yeji shook her head, still processing everything through her alcohol fog.

“Have you even asked Jimin if she still wants the damn divorce?”

You shook your head, a little too slowly. “No. She doesn’t know what happens if it does either.”

Yeji slapped you on the head, the impact startling you more than it should’ve.

“Ow,” you groaned, rubbing your forehead and glaring at her.

“You’re so fucking stupid,” Yeji muttered, slurring even more now. “Just tell her you like her and don’t get divorced.”

You sighed heavily, shaking your head. “I told you. She doesn’t like me like that.”

Giving up, Yeji signaled for another tray of shots, her face set in determination.

“Fine, fine. You’ll get it someday, I guess.”

You downed the next shot, feeling the warmth spread through you, and tried to shake off the uncomfortable tension. At this point, the only thing you could focus on was the next drink, the blur of the night, and the gnawing feeling in your chest that no amount of alcohol would fix.

.

.

.

.

Jimin was worried.

You hadn’t picked up your phone ever since she left your office that night, and it was nearly four in the morning. The unease in her chest only deepened as the minutes passed without a word from you.

Her date with Minjeong had ended up being a disaster. The evening had been an attempt to forget you, a futile one at that. Minjeong had asked Jimin out, and despite her hesitation, Jimin agreed, thinking it might help push her feelings for you out of her mind. But it didn’t work.

Every moment of the date was filled with thoughts of you, how you looked when she mentioned Minjeong’s name, that small flicker of hurt Jimin had seen in your eyes, and how much she wished you had been the one to ask her out instead.

Jimin had gone to dinner with Minjeong in a forlorn attempt to move past her emotions, but all it did was make her feel further from you. As the night went on, she couldn't shake the feeling of regret. She realized, with each passing second, that she didn’t want to be with Minjeong.

She wanted you.

She wanted you to be the one asking her out, to be the one sharing the moment with her. Instead, there she was, pretending to enjoy a night she didn’t want, with someone she didn’t feel for.

And then there was your birthday.

Jimin hadn’t even realized it until she saw Ryujin’s message. Your birthday. How could she have not known? She had been so wrapped up in her own conflicted feelings, and now she had missed it. She hadn’t even called you to wish you well. Instead, she had gone on a date with Minjeong, leaving you alone when you should have been her priority. The guilt gnawed at her. She should have been celebrating with you, but instead, she abandoned you for an old fling.

Jimin couldn’t stop thinking about how she must have hurt you, how selfish she had been.

Finally, the sound of the door opening broke her thoughts. One of your drivers had you slung over his back, and Ryujin was close behind, carrying Yeji in her arms.

You groaned as the driver gently set you down on the couch, before grimly walking out of the door.

Ryujin’s eyes met Jimin’s, and she simply shook her head in disappointment before carrying her half-asleep girlfriend away.

The young royalty stood there for a moment, feeling lost. You lay on the couch, flat on your back, murmuring incoherently, your arms covering your face. She couldn't stand seeing you like this—vulnerable and clearly intoxicated. It made her feel even worse for not being there for you earlier.

Jimin walked to your room and picked out your night clothes, the weight of her guilt growing heavier with each step. As she returned to you, she could feel her heart pounding in her chest, her emotions tangled. She knew she should have been there with you. She should have been the one to care for you on your birthday, not someone else. She couldn’t keep running from how she felt about you anymore.

She gently walked over to you and sat down next to you, her hands shaking as she reached for your arm. She didn’t know what to say or how even to start, but she had to do something.

“Y/N?” she gently shook your arm. “Let’s get you changed.”

When she reached over to remove your blazer, your eyes immediately flew open. The intensity of your gaze caught her off guard, and she froze for a moment, her breath catching.

Your hazy brown eyes met hers, and you frowned, your voice slow and slurred.

“You are a very pretty lady, but I am married.”You tried to pull your blazer closer to your chest. “My wife is very beautiful, and she won’t like it if you touch me.”

Jimin’s heart fluttered despite herself.

She couldn’t help but smile at how cute you were, drunk and a little delirious. Despite the alcohol, there was a vulnerability to you, a sincerity that made her chest tighten. You were a different version of yourself, and she couldn’t help but feel drawn to this side of you.

Exasperated but finding you incredibly endearing, Jimin giggled softly, her worries momentarily fading.

“I am your wife, pabo,” she said with a teasing smile, her fingers brushing your cheek as she gently cupped your face.

“Really?” Your eyes widened, your voice full of wonder.

“Yes,” she said, finally managing to remove your blazer and start pulling off your dress shirt.

You whistled, “Damn I got lucky.”

Jimin rolled her eyes, her face flushing pink as she avoided looking at your body, quickly pulling the nightshirt over your frame. It wasn’t easy, seeing you like this, vulnerable, messy, and it felt like everything that was left unsaid between you both was now laid bare in the silence.

After a while of wheedling and convincing, she managed to drag you into her bathroom. She gently lowered you onto the edge of the tub, sitting down behind you as she reached for the makeup remover.

You were a mess, leaning heavily into her as she wiped your face, the gentle motion soothing in the quiet. As she cleaned your face, her thoughts turned inward again, the guilt over the earlier part of the night resurfacing. She needed to say something, but she didn’t know how to start. She wanted to take it all back, to be honest with you about how she felt, about how much she wished you’d been the one there with her instead of Minjeong.

“I’m sorry,” Jimin whispered, her voice barely audible.

“Mhmm.” You slurred, still dazed, her mind a bit foggy. “For what?”

“For going on the date with Minjeong… and for not spending your birthday with you,” Jimin admitted, her words tinged with regret.

“S'not your fault.” Your voice was slow but comforting, the warmth in her tone meant to ease the guilt. “It’s okay.”

“But I hurt you,” Jimin pressed, her eyes searching for any sign of forgiveness.

“Maybe, but I had a crush on you since high school, so you get a free card.” your voice wavered with a small giggle, still distant, as though you words were floating in and out of consciousness.

What?

Jimin’s heart skipped a beat, a warmth spreading through her chest as the truth washed over her. The crush Yeji had mentioned on their wedding night...was Jimin all along?

Her heart fluttered at the thought, and in an unexpected twist, a wave of embarrassment rolled over her. She realized, with a soft flush, that she was jealous of the past version of herself.

She finished drying your face with a clean towel, but her mind was elsewhere. She needed to tell you. She couldn’t keep holding it back, even if she was scared, even if everything felt so uncertain.

“During the date, I kept thinking how much I wished it was you who asked me to go on a date,” she admitted, her words barely above a whisper.

You paused, looking at her with slow, heavy eyes, as if processing her words.

Jimin’s heart thudded in her chest as she waited for a response.

Was she too late? Had she ruined everything?

But then you looked at her, your eyes suddenly sharp and focused, and her heart stuttered in her chest.

“Do you still want a divorce?” you asked, your voice soft but carrying an emotion she couldn’t place.

Jimin hesitated.

Her emotions were swirling, you were the one she wanted, and had always wanted. But the doubt lingered, and she needed to hear you say it, needed to know if there was something real between you both.

“I…” She shook her head slowly, her voice almost trembling. “I don’t think so.”

Your face broke into a grin, that rare, beautiful smile that Jimin had longed to see, and her heart melted in response.

“Then would you like to go on a date with me tomorrow, Lady Jimin?”

She laughed, the nervous tension breaking. “Will you still remember this tomorrow?”

You quickly nodded, your voice steady, “Yes.”

“Then yes,” she replied, her heart soaring. “I would love to go on a date with you.”

You punched the air in excitement, nearly toppling over. Jimin couldn't help but laugh at your dorkiness. She had liked this side of you, so carefree, so you.

She couldn’t hide her adoration for you any longer. She leaned closer and whispered, “Close your eyes.”

You did without hesitation, trusting her with a vulnerability that mirrored her own.

And before you could even process it, her soft, full lips were pressed against yours. The kiss was gentle, lingering just a little longer than you expected. The touch of her lips, soft and sweet, sent a shiver down your spine, your heart pounding as the world around you seemed to stop.

It was more than just a kiss. It was everything that had been left unsaid, everything you both had been too scared to express. And as Jimin pulled back, your eyes still closed, a smile spread across your face.

It has always been her.

lots of angst in the next chapter! giving you guys a warning here first 😬 be prepared

[bluelavendre]

Title: "Suga's Home"

Myg x Reader

The gentle hum of a camera rolling and the subtle murmurs of the production crew signaled the start of another episode of "Suga’s Home." The cozy atmosphere of Min Yoongi and his family’s home was captured in warm lighting, the sound of soft piano notes lingering in the background. Today’s episode was a special one—one that ARMY had been eagerly waiting for.

The camera panned to Yoongi, clad in comfortable loungewear, seated on the couch with a warm cup of tea in hand. He glanced at the clock, then at the baby monitor resting on the coffee table, his lips curving into a small, affectionate smile. "Ah… he should be waking up soon," he murmured, rubbing his eyes as he turned towards the camera. "You guys get to see my morning routine today."

The next scene showed you stepping into the frame, dressed in a soft knit sweater, carrying your son, Min Haneul, who was still rubbing sleep from his tiny fists. Yoongi instantly reached out, gently brushing a stray strand of hair from your face before placing a kiss on Haneul’s forehead.

"Good morning, Haneul-ah," he whispered, his voice soft as he rocked the baby in his arms. "Did you sleep well?"

The scene then cut to the dining table, where Yoongi helped prepare breakfast while you fed Haneul. As you laughed at one of his corny jokes, the camera captured Yoongi’s gaze lingering on you—full of unspoken love.

Just then, a notification chimed on Yoongi’s phone. "Ah, the members are watching this live," he chuckled, tapping on the group chat. The show then cut to a split-screen of the BTS members, gathered in their dorm’s living room, watching the episode unfold.

"WOAH!" Taehyung gasped. "Haneul looks just like hyung!"

"Yoongi-hyung, you’re such a soft dad," Jungkook teased, grinning at the screen. Jimin laughed beside him, nodding in agreement. "I never thought we’d see this side of him."

Namjoon adjusted his glasses, shaking his head with a fond smile. "I think we all knew Yoongi would be a great dad. He just never showed it this openly before."

The show cut back to Yoongi, who smirked at the comments. "They’re probably saying I’m soft, right?" he guessed, glancing at the camera. "Let them talk. Haneul’s got me wrapped around his little finger."

The episode continued with heartwarming snippets of Yoongi playing lullabies for Haneul, changing diapers with a comically confused expression, and even falling asleep on the couch with his son curled up on his chest. Throughout it all, the BTS members reacted with endless laughter, teasing, and genuine admiration for their beloved hyung.

Later, the camera focused on you sitting in a cozy chair, Haneul nestled in your arms as you gently nursed him. Yoongi sat beside you, rubbing small circles on Haneul’s back while looking at you with quiet admiration. "She’s amazing, isn’t she?" he murmured to the camera, his voice full of pride.

The split-screen returned to the BTS members, who were watching the scene unfold.

"Wow," Jin breathed, his expression soft. "She’s such a great mom."

"That’s really beautiful," Hoseok added, a warm smile on his face. "She’s taking such good care of both Yoongi-hyung and Haneul."

Jimin nodded. "Honestly, respect. It’s not easy, but she makes it look effortless."

Yoongi chuckled at their comments, glancing at you. "She does everything for us, and I don’t think I say it enough… but I’m grateful every day."

A new scene opened with Yoongi at HYBE’s studio, surrounded by the BTS members as they worked on their music. The familiar buzz of creativity filled the room as Yoongi tinkered with beats while the others rehearsed lyrics. Jungkook hummed a melody, Namjoon nodded along to the rhythm, and Hoseok playfully freestyled a few lines.

Just then, the studio door creaked open, and you stepped inside, carrying Haneul in your arms. "Surprise!" you called softly, grinning at the group. Yoongi’s face instantly lit up as he turned in his chair.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, walking over to take Haneul from you.

"We wanted to visit you and the guys," you said, adjusting the baby bag on your shoulder.

The BTS members immediately erupted in excitement.

"Haneul-ah!" Taehyung practically sprinted over, his hands reaching out. "Come to Uncle Tae!"

Jungkook followed closely, bouncing on his feet. "Let me hold him next! Hyung, you can’t hog him!"

Jin placed a hand over his heart, dramatically sighing. "I think I just got hit with baby fever. Look at those cheeks!"

Hoseok laughed, already making playful faces at Haneul, who giggled in response. "Oh, I’m done for. I need a baby now."

Namjoon gently patted Haneul’s tiny hand. "Yoongi, he’s really growing so fast. He looks just like you."

The camera captured Yoongi’s proud smile as he held his son close. "He’s got a bit of his mom in him too," he said, glancing at you with warmth.

The members took turns holding Haneul, each reacting with exaggerated adoration. Jungkook, in particular, refused to let go, swaying the baby in his arms as he cooed softly. "Hyung, he’s so soft! How do you ever put him down?"

"It’s hard," Yoongi admitted with a chuckle. "But it helps that he loves music. He falls asleep to my beats."

"No way!" Jimin gasped. "We need to test this. Play something."

Yoongi smirked, walking back to his setup and pressing play. A soft, melodic beat filled the room, and within minutes, Haneul’s eyes fluttered shut against Jungkook’s chest.

"Unbelievable!" Jin whispered. "It’s like magic."

Hoseok shook his head in amazement. "Min Yoongi, producer, rapper… and baby whisperer."

The studio filled with quiet laughter as the members continued doting over the baby. Eventually, Yoongi reached for Haneul, cradling him gently. "I think it’s time to take him home," he murmured, pressing a kiss to his son’s forehead.

As the camera panned out, the BTS members waved goodbye, still fawning over the little one. The final shot captured Yoongi holding Haneul in one arm and slipping his other hand into yours.

"This," he said softly, looking into the camera, "is the best life I could ever ask for."

As the credits rolled, the screen cut back to the BTS members sitting in their dorm.

"I need a baby, too," Jungkook sighed dramatically.

Jimin laughed, shaking his head. "Me first!"

And as the episode came to a close, one thing was clear—Haneul had stolen not just his parents’ hearts, but the entire BTS family’s as well.

[bubblyi3]

Masterlist

a/n & disclaimer: hi! i'm selena. born and raised in aotearoa (nz), the land of the long white cloud. thanks so much for the likes, reblogs, and follows. i truly appreciate the support. i’m always open to feedback and requests, so don’t be shy. let’s be internet friends! feel free to ask me anything :)

— images credit to the original artists/owners.

Min Yoongi

Eventually, Summer -  coming of age, grumpy x sunshine trope. (completed)

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6 || Finale

Kim Taehyung

Between Us, Before Us - slice of life, major angst, fluff. (completed)

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6 || Part 7 || Part 8 || Part 9 || Part 10 || Part 11 || Finale

Jeon Jungkook

Residuals - childhood best friends, lovers to enemies to strangers, fratboy!jungkook, heartbreak, uni!au. (12 part series — ongoing)

Prologue || Part 1 || Part 2

Cigarettes and Clementines - heartbreak, slow-burn, second chance at love. (6 part series — in the works/coming soon) *CURRENTLY ON HOLD

Preview

Park Jimin

Through the Veil - detective!jimin, mystery, thriller, romance, angst. (6 parts series — ongoing) *CURRENTLY ON HOLD

Part 1

[namfinessed]

and...cut! - p.jm.

genre: fluff, very mild angst (13.6k)

summary: the last time you saw jimin, you were pathetically deep in a one-sided love while he wasn't even at the shallow edge, that was when you were on the stage, dancing and acting together for hundreds to see. now, you are grown, you like to think you're cool but when jimin comes back to your life, you are just as pathetically deep, once again, in a one-sided love.

masterlist masterpost

you were breathless when the lights cut out, the crowd immediately broke into loud applause and your teammates gathered around you to congratulate you but as good as all of it felt, your eyes searched for him, desperately, more desperately than you would ever admit to anyone else.

and when you finally caught him, he was leaving the stage, he didn’t turn back like you hoped he would, he didn’t congratulate you like you hoped he would and you swallowed your tears.

but it was okay.

it was going to be okay.

you would see him in class in a few days and everything would fall into place.

for now, you grab the friends around you and squeeze them, hoping everyone mistakes your tears for happy ones.

-

you like to think that you’re cool.

you didn’t cry when you broke up with your first boyfriend, you didn’t crawl back to him and never begged anyone for a second chance. you set a ten-minute timer to cry for your second boyfriend and when he called you right after breaking up with you to ask how you were feeling, you told him you were reading a book and cut the call.

so, yes, you are cool.

maybe a little too cool because now, you’ve been single for two years and your friends take more offense to that fact than you do.

“we are just worried babe, you don’t seem to like anyone,” mia whispered with her hands in her boyfriend’s hands, as if it was some big secret.

“you don’t have to be,” you gulp down your drink, ignoring all the looks your friends and their boyfriends give you.

they didn’t have to be, you were perfectly fine the way you were.

you were totally okay with sitting at the end of the table with an empty seat next to you, you were okay with listening to your friends be all romantic with their boyfriends, you were okay with everyone.

sure, sometimes you wish you had someone to call at night and talk nonsense with, and yes, it would be nice to have someone you can call yours and someone who would sit next to you as if any other place was unacceptable.

but those were all things you could adjust with, all things you have grown to get used to.

“but seriously, you don’t like a single person we set you up with, i know you have commitment issues but i don’t think you’re even trying,” megan, who you could always count on to give you a reality check, spoke up with you guessed it, her boyfriend’s arms around her.

next to her, faye pursed her lips and turned away from the conversation to say something to her boyfriend, you were at least grateful that she didn’t add to the advice.

“you were single till two months ago, don’t act like you’re some love guru,” you bite back and the whole table falls silent and you hate it.

you hate that you have to sit here and listen to them advising you as they’ve figured it all out.

you hate that you look bitter as fuck right now.

you hate that, just because you don’t have a partner, everyone thinks you’re miserable and lonely.

you hate that you probably are miserable and lonely.

“okay, let’s look at the menu, what does everyone want?” mia chimes in, the mom of the group, the problem fixer where glaringly you are the problem at this table, and everyone is gracious enough to follow suit, and check the menus.

except you.

“i think i’m going to leave actually, i feel pretty tired,” you pick up your bag and immediately everyone starts protesting, “you know i didn’t mean it in that way,” megan grabs your hand with softer eyes and you nod, “i didn’t either, i’ll meet you guys another time.”

and just like that, you’re not mad at her anymore.

“please stay, it’s been so long since we’ve met like this,” faye whispers next and you want to scream that it could’ve been just you and the girls, that you hated their boyfriends coming as extended versions of themselves but she did stay quiet, she didn’t encourage your friends shitting on you so you sit back down.

“sorry, i’m late,” your ears pick up on a new voice and you instinctively look up.

you almost kill yourself on the spot.

“hey guys, this is jimin, my friend, i hope it’s okay if he joins us,” noah, megan’s boyfriend gets up and hugs his friend who very gladly returns the hug and nods at everyone at the table as they introduce themselves.

but you already, unfortunately, know jimin.

just not from here, or from any recent period in your life but from a buried piece of school history.

and when he gets to you, you mumble your name and immediately look back at the menu.

what was he doing here?

did he recognize you?

you hope the fuck not because there wouldn’t be a bigger embarrassment than him remembering that he rejected you even before you could ever ask him out.

but when he sits next to you, you stiffen up, mutter out some dish’s name, and pretend to be very interested in the shape of your plate.

why did he smell so good?

“oh yeah, i think she went to the same school,” you hear faye’s voice and immediately, your hands clench on your lap.

“really?” and his voice isn’t familiar or unfamiliar, you know it’s been years, and voices, sounds, and faces change but jimin’s voice always had a certain warmth that no one else seemed to have.

and he still had it.

he carried that warmth everywhere.

especially in his eyes, which were looking right at you when you lifted your head up.

“i’m sorry?” you clear your throat and faye answers, “he’s from your school,” and you make a ‘is that so?’ face and quietly nod along.

“which year did you graduate in?” jimin speaks from your left, you swear he’s recognized you already when he leans into your figure, and god, if that didn’t make you want to shoot yourself.

“2015,” you say and then grab your wine glass, keeping it close to your mouth so that you don’t have to speak.

“oh same!”

you fucking know!

he is delighted of course and the smile on his face still makes your face red.

and that knowledge only twists your guts further.

“that’s great,” you dare to glance briefly to nod at him and then turn back to everyone else.

“okay.” he purses his lips and looks away.

fuck.

you were being rude.

it didn’t seem like anyone really minded cause they continued with their conversations but you and jimin were now deathly silent.

you had to fix this.

you can’t have him hate you in the present too.

“i know you,” is apparently the best you can do and you want to smack yourself when he raises his eyebrows at you because, from a supposed stranger, that was creepy and mildly horrifying to hear.

“oh?”

“yeah, you were in the cinderella play in school, the prince,” and it was out.

now you have to hold your breath and see if he laughs in your face.

“i was,” and then he cranes his neck to look at you.

really look at you.

you wait.

you know he’s going to hate you when he figures it out, you know that you’re going to kill yourself at this table.

but he keeps looking, eyebrows narrowing and dropping, eyes scanning your every feature, and you know he’s putting his earlier pieces together, that it’s finally clicking for him.

his smile disappears.

his eyes lose all warmth.

you can tell the second that it clicks for him.

“you were cinderella.”

you can’t hide, you can’t look away, you can’t run, all you can do is meet his cold and sharp gaze.

and nod.

he looks away, puts his head down, and lets out the heaviest sigh.

you try not to reach for the knife on the table.

-

the rest of the dinner was…awkward.

so painfully awkward.

once in a while, the conversation would turn to you both and you would force yourself to say a few words before going mute whereas jimin enjoyed the conversations only to fall mute whenever you spoke.

it was embarrassing, the hot kind of embarrassment that paralyzed your entire body, every movement you made felt unnatural and forced, every time your hand moved, jimin would jerk away and towards the end, you just folded your hands on your lap and refused to be mobile.

if anyone noticed anything, they didn’t say a word.

“we should still get a few more drinks,” megan insists outside the restaurant and you twist your entire face at her, “what?” she shrugs her shoulders and you look away, panic rising in your throat.

two hours beside jimin was torture enough.

any more and you would probably combust.

“actually, i agree,” jimin steps away from his conversation with noah and for a split second, you catch him looking at you but you turn away, though the split second still leaves your knees shaking.

“i would love to host you guys at my place if everyone is comfortable,” he offers graciously, a smile reaching his eyes, warmth so bright and inviting on his face but you know that the invitation didn’t extend to you.

and the same way you fell head over heels for him, you see everyone around you falling for him, their eyes soften, they all nod at him and start cheering at the long night ahead of them and you, well, you just want to go home, knock a few teeth out and escape from the country with a fake passport.

but everyone turns to you, your silence is a bit too loud in their chaos and you stammer as all of their faces pick up in anticipation.

“i’m gonna turn in for the night, you guys go ahead, have fun!” you raise your fists in cheer, cringe internally at yourself, swallow that shame, and start waving goodbye and turning around to leave.

and you were truly so close.

so, so close.

your cab was booked, the night was done and you exhaled in relief.

until you hear steps coming towards you, “come, it will be fun,” jimin’s voice was still new, a sound that almost knocked you over and you shifted on your feet, “you don’t want me there.”

“did i tell you that?”

“you don’t need to, jimin,” you hate how breathless you sound when you say his name.

jimin tilts his head at you, eyebrows furrowing again and you want to duck and crawl away from his sight, “i would lov-“

and your cab pulls up.

you clear your throat, “thanks for inviting me, but i have to go, goodnight,” and you step away towards your cab, not waiting for his response.

as your cab pulls away, you avert your eyes away from the pavement where he stands, eyebrows furrowed still, and eyes following the tires of the cab.

you take a deep breath in.

you would never see your first crush again.

and that was probably for the best.

-

sixth grade was life-changing for you.

it was the first time you realized you could feel so much for one person, even if you never intended it to happen that way.

you didn’t even know someone called jimin existed in school until he walked into your practice room, with a head full of thick, soft hair, with this smile that had you frowning, with this walk so confident which was uncommon in guys your age.

everyone was busy being cool, everyone was busy being something they were not but jimin was always just him.

when your drama teacher announced him as the prince in your drama, you nodded and looked away, passing him the script later and walking away.

liking jimin was never part of the plan, liking jimin wasn’t something you ever saw as a possibility, you always thought his personality was too much, too loud, and that he was a little too naïve and a little too bubbly.

but soon, he became your prince, as if every terrible cliché in the world had to come true, he became everything you would ever want in someone.

-

days passed, you watched the photos on your friend’s instagram from the night that you never ended up staying for, and you felt a jolt of joy every time jimin was in their pictures.

he still looked fucking gorgeous, he still smiled with his entire face, and he was still tall and moved with a confidence that guys, even at your age now, usually lacked.

it was a shame that he hated you.

you sighed, put your phone down, and waited for your nephew to burst out of his preschool class. as an aunt, you were constantly on babysitter duties, those duties included picking and dropping him places, taking him out to the park, attending parent-teacher meetings if your sister was too busy like she was today.

it was exhausting at times but your nephew was your baby too.

speaking of your baby, sunoo runs out the door full-speed, eyes darting everywhere before they land on you, you’ll always remember his smile as he heads straight towards you, your heart always picks up and immediately your arms are open to him.

“hey baby,” you mumble into his hair and he giggles, holding onto you tightly and you stand up, with him still koala wrapped around you.

when you look down again, a little girl is staring up at both of you with large eyes and you are immediately concerned.

where are her parents?

why is she alone?

“bubba, do you know your friend here?” you ask sunoo, who, to your relief, nods aggressively and signals to be put down.

and as soon as his feet are on the ground, he hands you his bag to hold her hand and your eyebrows jump up your forehead. sunoo was a very shy kid, he didn’t talk much to kids in the class, and his world was only your family.

so, when they both smile at each other with half their teeth still growing, your heart warms and you bend down to their height, “hello sunoo’s friend, can i know your name?” you hold out your hand and the girl shyly reaches out to take it, “arin,” she whispers before putting her hand back in sunoo’s and you giggle at the sight.

they were adorable.

“is it your first day here, arin?” you don’t remember seeing her and she nods, “this is my new school.”

“ah okay, sunoo, do you want to head inside for the meeting? arin can come in as well, yeah?” you look at them and hold out your hands to each of them which they happily take and you almost collapse when you turn around.

“you’ve got to be kidding me.”

jimin stood, a few feet away from you, with a pink backpack held loosely in his hands and your face immediately dropped.

this can’t be real.

this cannot be your tuesday morning.

this cannot be your life at all.

“what are you doing here?”

“what are you doing here?” you stare at him pointedly with your arms across your chest and he rolls his eyes, “that’s my niece next to you, she started here today,” and at that, you bend a little to see arin’s face and surely, the resemblance was there.

full cheeks.

and warm eyes.

god loved to punish you.

“oh.” and arin smiles at you, you smile back a little hesitantly and turn to see jimin who’s eyebrows have furrowed deeper than ever.

“yeah,” he looks exasperated at your presence and you try not to get hurt over it, “this is my nephew, by the way,” you point to sunoo, not knowing what else to do or say, and he waves at jimin with a toothy smile and like magic, jimin’s entire face melts into the most beautiful smile.

oh, fuck him.

he starts walking over and you clutch sunoo’s bag tightly, watching as his feet fall one after the other, watching as he completely avoids looking at you when he bends down to ruffle sunoo’s hair and press a kiss to arin’s head.

you hate when men are nice to kids, it makes it so much harder to despise them.

“oh, sunoo’s aunt! i didn’t know you came with your boyfriend,” you freeze at the sound of sunoo’s teacher coming from the hallway and jimin freezes too as she starts quickly walking over to you.

marjorie was an older woman who loved sunoo and you, she was the only teacher you trusted completely and she was also a bit chatty.

this was a live nightmare.

“he’s so handsome, good for you,” she slaps her hand on your arm while gushing at jimin and you, once again, wish to change your identity and immigrate to some unknown island.

“we’re not-“

“that’s not-“

and you both pause to glare at each other with pure venom in your eyes.

he may have been your first crush but he was insufferable and you didn’t need someone else to think that you were together with him and his horrid personality.

jimin probably thought you were enjoying this, people mistaking you to be a couple, just like in school, but he was so wrong, he wasn’t nearly as cute as he was in school.

marjorie clears her throat and stares at you with anticipation, you hate to break her bubble but, “i don’t know who he is marjorie, i think he’s related to your new student here,” you point to arin and she starts looking between the both of you in confusion and jimin extends his hand to her, “i’m arin’s uncle, i’m here for her parent-teacher meeting.”

she nods with a smile, taking his hand graciously, “oh that’s lovely, arin’s mom did say her uncle was coming today, come in, come in, you too, sunoo’s aunt,” and starts walking ahead of the both of you into the classrooms.

you and jimin follow her in, you watch as he takes in the school and the classrooms and smiles at the artwork made by the children all over the walls, you look away with an irritated scowl.

why did he pretend to be some children-loving, kind jesus when he was absolutely vile to you?

“by the way, you two look so good together, it’s a shame you’re not a couple,” marjorie smiles at the two of you and you both nod stiffly at her which seems to delight her as she walks into a room.

you and jimin glare at each other one last time before following her in.

-

sunoo is still holding arin’s hand as you and jimin awkwardly follow the two of them outside the school, the parent-teacher meeting was done, thankfully, only two other teachers assumed you were a couple but was that really a win?

“okay sunoo, why don’t you say bye to your friend and we can go home?” you step forward from the slow, uncomfortable pace set by you and jimin, sunoo pouts and tightens his hand around arin’s which makes you frown, and look at jimin who was also observing the scene in front of them.

“but arin,” he starts tearing up, his face scrunching up and your panic rises, “it’s okay baby, you’ll see her in class tomorrow and every day after,” you try to calm him down, “it’s saturday tomorrow,” he whimpers and you wince, “well, it’s only two days bub, i’m sure arin wants to go home too,” and arin starts pouting too, “no.”

wow, she looked even more like jimin when she pouted.

you look at jimin again helplessly and he also seems to be panicking, at least you weren’t alone.

“sunoo, arin,” he bent down, “you two are in the same class, you will see each other again soon, for now, everyone should go home after class,” jimin’s tone was strict but still soft enough not to trigger any tears but just when you think he’s a better guardian than you, arin huffs and throws her bag on the floor, “no!”

you almost join the bag to laugh on the floor at the shock in jimin’s face.

“she never does this,” jimin says with his mouth still wide open as he gets up and you raise your eyebrows, “i think she gets it from you, the drama of it all, it’s cute, don’t worry,” and he glares at you.

“kids, for today, we have to go home, another day, i’m sure we can do something,” you try to appease them and jimin scoffs next to you, making you narrow your eyes.

“wouldn’t you love that?” your mouth falls open as his eyes roll back in irritation.

the fucking gall this man has.

“shut the fu-“

your colorful words are interrupted by sunoo and arin, who are so in sync already, that they begin their sniffing and subsequent loud cries together.

you immediately shut up to meet jimin’s eyes in horror as both of you see the kids melt into a puddle of tears before you.

“okay, okay! what do you want?” jimin is the first to give in and you want to smack him on the head, you should never give in to kids, that was the rule, you should always wait for their meltdown to finish and then bribe them with something less than what they want.

“seriously?” you give him a dirty look.

“i hate to see her cry,” he whispers to you and if it were anyone else, you would gush, to be honest, you were gushing, but you were also hiding it really well.

“playdate!” it’s like they never cried at all, children were truly magical.

you stare at jimin, waiting for him to respond because if you guys agreed to the playdate, you were also agreeing to spend the next few hours together.

and you didn’t want to be the one to agree to that, it was bad enough that he thought you were getting a kick out of meeting him like this.

he finally lifts his head to look at you, you shrug at him with your heart beating thunderously against your chest, you almost place your hand on it to calm it down but it only gets louder when jimin smiles at you, “sure, that would be fun.”

-

“yay!” sunoo and arin burst into jimin’s house, throwing their shoes and bags at the doorstep to wander off into the house and you are left with jimin, who just like you, would rather be anywhere else.

“thanks for hosting, we’ll do it next time,” you mumble while shrugging your coat off and he smirks, “if you want to see me again, you can just say that.”

you throw your coat on his face and stomp into the house, letting go of any politeness or manners that you would usually have and his giggles float into the air around you, making you scowl.

if he wanted to behave like a pig, he would be treated like one.

“i meant it though, sunoo doesn’t talk to anyone so it was nice to see him bond with arin, but i won’t be the one hosting it, it would be my sister, so no one’s dying to see you, settle down,” you sit down on the sofa, keeping your back straight and legs neatly crossed over the other, and scanned the house that you’ve only seen on instagram till now.

it was a nice house, cosy and bright and definitely expensive.

“arin doesn’t usually talk to anyone either so works for both of us.”

“but what if i wanted to see you?” he joins you on the couch and you roll your eyes, “can you stop with that nonsense?”

“it’s not nonsense, just a question,” jimin shrugs, “tea or coffee?” and you’re appalled at his skills of diverting a conversation, “green tea, if you have it, thanks,” and he laughs, walking into the kitchen, “you know, you don’t have to be so formal with me, we know each other,” and you squirm in your seat.

“i know you’d prefer it if we didn’t,” and jimin pops his head out of the kitchen, “what makes you think that?”

“seriously?”

was he dumb or were you overthinking this?

you get up and walk over to the kitchen where jimin stands, in the simple t-shirt and jeans under his coat, and he looks unjustly attractive in that bland outfit.

“did you forget school or something?” you ask again and he shakes his head, handing you a mug of steaming green tea, “i haven’t forgotten anything, i’m very sharp in case you didn’t notice already,” and you have to let out a groan at his tone.

“i know you hate me, jimin, you don’t have to sugarcoat anything just because we’re older now,” you take a sip, appreciating the light sweetness in the green tea, “did you add honey?”

“nope, cinnamon and i don’t hate you, where the fuck did you get that?” he looks at you as if you’re insane, as if you’ve imagined the times he ignored you in school, as if you’ve imagined him smiling at everyone but you during drama practice, as if you’ve imagined him leaving the stage without even looking at you.

was this what people called ‘gaslighting’?

“um you were an asshole to me and an absolute angel to everyone else,” you try to sound cool and casual about the whole thing but you were dying a little inside about having to have this conversation.

“when?”

“always.”

“no, but when exactly?”

“are you really going to make me say it?” you raise your eyebrows at him, there was absolutely no way that he didn’t know that he was your first crush and that he hated being liked by you.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about.” and you force yourself to smile because if you didn’t, you might just throw the mug in your hands, onto his face.

“you look weird,” he frowns at you and you purse your lips, trying to keep your calm, “i really have no idea why you think i hate you, then or now.”

and you were done.

“during play practice! you smiled at everyone, talked to everyone, played along with everyone, talked to them even after the play finished but never to me! are you happy now that i’ve said it?” you push the mug away from you on the counter and fold your arms across your chest, looking away to some corner in the kitchen.

if there was a feeling more dreadful than shame, you were feeling it right now.

how embarrassing that you still remember every single detail about him, how your adolescent mind never really let him go, how your crush on him was so clear, so true that it never left you.

“y/n,” he calls out and your heart is in your throat.

his voice, even as a kid, was so soft, he always spoke so well, he always spoke as if the opposite person was the most interesting person in the world but somehow, that tone never came when he talked to you.

“can you look at me?”

“no.”

“no?” he laughs out, palms coming up to cover his smiling face and for a moment, you’re starstruck again, you can only stare at his smile that held the world’s love and warmth, from your periphery though.

“okay, don’t look at me but i never hated you-“ and just as you’re leaning into listen to jimin, loud stomps break the moment and you’re both turning to see who’s coming.

it’s sunoo.

and he’s crying.

“baby, what happened?” you get up from your seat to sit on your knees in front of sunoo, “home!” is all he says and you frown, “that’s no way to talk in a home that has invited us, sunoo,” you weren’t as strict as his mom but kids needed to be disciplined from time to time.

“it’s okay,” jimin sits beside you, “what happened, big guy?” he coos at sunoo who instantly falls into jimin’s arms and you’re left baffled, this wasn’t like sunoo at all, he never touched anyone until he liked them.

this was dangerous.

“arin’s not giving me her toys, i want to play too,” sunoo says between hiccups and whines and you straighten beside jimin, “those are arin’s toys sunoo, you should ask someone before you use their stuff, you know this,” and he falls silent.

“but arin should also share, right? she should know that too,” jimin rubs his palms on sunoo’s back who nods furiously, “i asked!”

“okay, let’s call arin and we can sort this out?” jimin suggests but sunoo shakes his head, “home,” he says again but with exhaustion instead of anger.

oh, the trials and tribulations of a 5-year-old.

and you know that once he’s tired, he won’t listen to a word, “i think we’ll head home, he’s tired so,” you scoop sunoo up in your arms and he immediately curls into your shoulder.

“i’m sorry,” jimin sighs and you let out a laugh, “they’re 5-year-olds’s jimin, it’s no one’s fault, and we’ll arrange something for them at mine or my sister’s, okay?” you don’t know why you’re trying to console him but it came automatically.

at the door, jimin casually wraps your coat around you, being careful to not disturb sunoo who was already dozing off, and you walk to your car with your hands and heart full.

“let’s talk sometime, yeah?” jimin says from next to you and you narrow your eyes, “why?”

“god,” he throws his head back with a delighted look on his face, “i just want to talk, jeez,” and you nod reluctantly.

“here,” he opens the door for you to put sunoo in carefully, you could’ve done it yourself but you didn’t mind the help.

“thanks…for today, it was nice of you,” you look at jimin and he nods with a teasing smile, “i can be very nice,” and you roll your eyes, closing the door and effectively creating a barrier between you two.

and you can finally breathe.

while you pull away, you feel your heart thud and thud and thud again.

seeing him with sunoo and spending so much time alone with him did a number on you, you’ll have to write down why you hate him to make sure that no lingering feelings surface but as you leave, he smiles at you through your side view mirror and you’re not sure you ever stood a chance.

-

it only took you a few seconds to understand what you felt, that it was against everything you had believed until then.

it was the first time you were so close to a guy, his hands were a little above your waist, your hands were on his shoulders, and his face was (so) close to yours.

you were practicing for the ballroom scene and when you looked at his eyelashes brushing against his cheeks, you felt your stomach drop with the realization that you liked him, this guy that seemed so ordinary some minutes ago, became something magical, something beyond you and your heart.

“come closer, you two,” your drama teacher shouted over the music and you mindlessly shuffled forward and jimin moved with you, hands tightening on you by instinct and your breath hitched.

you danced weakly, still reeling with the consciousness of liking him and he looked like he did any other day.

later that day, everyone left the practice room except you and jimin, you waited for him to look at you at least once, say anything, you would’ve hung onto any word but he scurried out of the room just as you opened your mouth to tell him what you felt.

“jimin, can we talk? i think i lik-” and he was out of the door.

as if he could sense what was coming next and wanted to avoid it.

and since then, you never brought back the courage to tell him anything.

you had to make peace with that, your buried feelings in your heart had to stay buried.

and you coped with that until the day of the actual play, until he looked like he wanted to say something too, right when the ballroom scene started.

but then, he didn’t turn back on the stage, and you were left warm from his touch, cold from his absence, hurt from his steps away from you, and hopeful from how he looked at you in the eye while you danced.

-

“are you sure that it’s the same guy?” your sister’s voice came from your phone’s speaker and you sighed, “unfortunately, yes, he is,” and she laughed an evil laugh that told you how much she loved this situation.

“this is golden, you used to be so obsessed with him,” she gasped, you were sure her mind was playing the whole reel of you gushing about jimin, “that was a long time ago, give it up.” you groaned and scrolled mindlessly through your instagram.

jimin had sent you a follow request after you left his house a couple of days ago, you almost fell from the bed when you saw it pop up on your screen but what was more embarrassing was the speed with which you accepted the request and sent one back.

“oh my god, i just remembered how you would go for that weekly school exercise thing just to see him! you used to bend forward, backward, to see him a few lines away, this is amazing, this is amazing!” she sang from your phone and you winced at that memory.

it was true, you only went to the weekly drill to see jimin, a quick glance of his face used to make you unexplainably happy.

but with your fingers scrolling through his posts now, you guessed that some things just don’t change.

jimin would probably be doing the same thing, no one sends an instagram request without the intent to stalk that person’s profile, right?

but maybe he has a life and you don’t.

sigh.

“can you send me a picture of what he looks like right now? also, what is sunoo doing?” she asks and you frown, “sunoo is sleeping and why do you need his picture?”

“i just want to see,” and she starts rambling about how she deserves it as your sister, you tune it out, getting up to answer the door when the bell rings.

“it’s just so crazy to me that he’s back in your life, like imagine meeting your first crush in your nephew’s school? i bet it’s only yo-“ but you’re not listening to her at all anymore because at the other side of the door, are jimin with arin, who have both now heard your embarrassing older sister.

“anyway, send me a picture after you’re finished stalki-“ and you cut the call.

“hello.” you clear your throat, and he waves his hand while arin beams at you.

“oh wait, please come in,” you open your door wider, watching with wide eyes as they both step in and take in your home, you are suddenly too conscious about your pajamas and hair.

you weren’t expecting visitors.

what is he even doing here?

just as you’re about to ask jimin, he turns to you with a guilty look which consists of sad, puppy eyes and a slight pout.

arin truly gets it from her uncle.

how is that look not turning you off?

you know for a fact that the same exact look on another man would have just pissed you off.

“sorry to come so suddenly, you mentioned where you lived in one of our messages and arin was killing me all morning about wanting to see sunoo, and i tried to calm her down, i really did but you know how it gets,” jimin rambles on and on, and you nod along, only half distracted by his long coat and ruffled hair.

he must have come in a rush too.

and yes, you were texting each other and no, it’s very casual and friendly talk only.

“i thought they were fighting?” you ask and signal jimin to follow you into the kitchen where you put on a pot of water to boil.

how did he look like he belonged in your space when he was in it for all of two minutes?

“i thought so too,” jimin laughs and you smile at the sound of his laughter, you loved it then, and you love it now, someone should shoot you to snap you out of whatever magic spell jimin has cast on you.

“arin baby, what do you like?” you turn to her and she shakes her head, “you’re not going to ask me?” jimin raises his arms up in question and you hum, “you take what i give you, park jimin,” and he’s laughing again.

wow, you must be some extraordinary comedian.

“sunoo is sleeping right now but i’m sure he would love to see you guys, i’ll just be right back with him,” you place a cup of green tea in front of jimin and start heading out of the room.

“honey?” you hear as you’re leaving, “nope, cinnamon,” you reply, ignoring the shiver up your spine from how he called out honey.

after a lot of struggle with sunoo’s blanket and begging him, he was finally out of the room and standing in front of arin with his arms crossed, you and jimin watched with interest as they stared at each other.

“what do you think they will do?”

“fight?” you offer and jimin rolls his eyes at you, “they’re kids,” and you shrug, “kids are very good at fighting.”

and your eyes snap back to them when arin hugs sunoo over his crossed arms, you and jimin look at each other with your hearts melting as sunoo tries to resist but soon, gives up and wraps his arms around her.

“they’re so cute,” he whispers, and you nod with your hand over your heart.

sunoo and arin then take off to the living room where his toys are laid out and they’re lost in their own world within the next five minutes.

you and jimin sit in the kitchen, sipping your tea and looking at each other, only to return to sipping your tea, words lost in your tongues and throats.

“was that your sister on the phone?” and you ignore it, staring at the cup of tea with much focus and interest, “hey, she was, wasn’t she?” his voice gets more teasing, more light, more carefree and you hate that it makes you smile, you hate that your cheeks still flush in his presence.

“i won’t tell anyone or will i?” he winks at you when you finally look up and you groan, slamming your face into the table and he giggles next to you, uncontrollably.

“i’m going to kill myself,” you mumble into the table and he brings his hand forward to push your face away from the table and…towards him, his face and you almost fall off a chair once again because of him.

“don’t worry, i stalked you too.”

-

it was scary, how quickly you could come to terms with the fact that you liked jimin again, how quickly your heart accepted him even if ages passed and even if you’ve both changed.

“why do you even like him?” this was a question that your friends had asked you then, a question that your sister asked you then, and a question you often asked yourself.

it was simple to you.

jimin was different.

softer than other men but stronger too.

more delicate but also more protective.

he could make you blush and burst into laughter, in all of two seconds.

he was always like that, even when kids back then were trying to be cool and tough, jimin carried a bright, easy smile with care for the people around him. even if it didn’t always extend to you, it was still there.

but you think that might have changed.

“and you’re sure you are free to pick sunoo up?” your sister asks and you nod happily, “absolutely, don’t worry, i got him,” and she thanks you before cutting the call.

and now, you’re standing in front of his school in a better outfit than you normally would wear, you’re giddy with sweaty palms and flushed cheeks, but you don’t hate this.

“looks like someone’s all dressed up,” you don’t stop yourself from grinning at jimin’s voice from a few feet away.

fine, maybe you’ve been picking sunoo up a lot more these days but that’s just you being the best aunt in the world.

“unlike you, people like putting an effort into their outfits and personal style,” but you’re lying straight out of your teeth, jimin had a very good sense of style but he didn’t need to know that and besides, when he laughs and bumps your shoulder with his, your heart lights up.

so, this is what park jimin is to everyone else.

this is what everyone else felt when they were next to him.

how did all of them not fall in love with him?

you couldn’t have been the only one.

you don’t think you’ve ever felt this sure of something in your life.

you like chocolates, but not in milkshakes or when they are dark.

you like reading books, but sometimes you get into a slump.

you like romantic comedies, but sometimes, you find them cringeworthy and unrealistic.

you like jimin.

but….nothing, you just liked him.

“should we go get ice cream after this?” you turn to see him and he raises his eyebrows so, you quickly backtrack, “sunoo keeps asking for it and arin would like it too,” and he nods at it, you nod fiercely with him.

what your nephew wants, he gets, of course.

“i didn’t ask for ice cream,” is the first thing that flies out of sunoo’s mouth when you tell him about it, you are frozen with your knees bent as jimin stifles a burst of laughter behind his palms and you know if you turn around, you might as well bury yourself six feet under.

“sunoo,” you warn-whisper and he just tilts his head at you, you drop your head, there is no point in blaming your nephew for this, you’ve done this to yourself.

you grab sunoo’s hand and speed-walk to your car without looking back, with red cheeks and shaky palms.

the universe seems to be hell-bent on making sure that you embarrass yourself in front of park jimin for the rest of your life.

“hey hey, where are you going?” jimin pulls you back with his hand around your elbow and you purse your lips, “did you not hear my nephew out me?”

he throws his head back in laughter, “i did but don’t be silly, let’s go,” and you frown, “go where?”

“for ice cream,” and you’re lost again, he’s tutting at you, “if you want ice cream, we’re getting ice cream,” and looks down at you with a grin that has you holding your smile back, “okay.”

at the ice cream store, jimin hovers around you, asks you your favorites, asks you if you like desserts, asks if you like movies or tv shows, and you answer each question with increasing fondness towards him.

god, you must love attention.

“you were so intimidating in school,” and your jaw dropped, “no, i wasn’t! if anything, you were intimidating,” and jimin shook his head, “no way, how was i intimidating? i talked to everyone.”

you wipe ice cream from the corners of sunoo’s mouth as you speak, “that was intimidating to me because i didn’t talk to too many people,” and jimin nods, “and for me, you were intimidating, i could talk to literally anyone and everyone but you.”

“but why?”

“why?” he looks up in question and you pause for a second, not knowing if you should continue the sentence, “but why was i intimidating? why couldn’t you talk to me?”

because i would’ve given everything to talk to you, stays deep in your throat.

jimin sits back in his seat, pondering for a few seconds and you almost take it back, you almost tell him to forget it but then he opens his mouth, “you were intimidating because you were always good at what you did,” and your eyes widen by their own accord, you had never heard that from anyone except your drama teacher.

“i don’t know if you remember but i was so lost in the beginning, i didn’t know anything about acting but you set this example that i could follow and it was easier for me, you were constantly checking on me too,” he laughs amusedly, as if that time was playing behind his eyes and you crack a smile too, though your heart just got warmer and warmer until it felt like it was catching on fire.

“you were good at it too, jimin, especially the dance,” he was taken for his dance skills first and he was bloody good at it, “i know, i was amazing,” and you’re throwing a tissue paper at him.

“but i wanted to talk to you,” he nods as he speaks and you can’t help it, “because you knew that i liked you?”

he stops himself from grinning, “that was the biggest shock of my teenage life, y/n,” and you roll your eyes, “i know, it’s hard for me to believe too,” he groans and slides into his seat, making you giggle.

“did you…really like me?” his voice is soft, unguarded, and he throws one arm over his eyes, you notice his cheeks are red too and you shift in your seat, the mood was shifting, you didn’t want to giggle and deny it like you probably would have if he asked that even some ten seconds ago.

“i did,” and he removes his arm, and stares at you unsuredly, as if he doesn’t believe you and you clench your hands on your lap to hold back from saying anything else.

“home!” a chorus from the kids you’ve forgotten about brings you back to life, a life where it wasn’t just you and jimin in it.

jimin smiles, “how about a refill?” and as they cheer out loud, he looks at you, and you know that look.

he had something to say.

-

you both got scolded by your respective siblings for giving their kids extra ice creams but it also meant that the kids loved you more, you and jimin had giggled about it on text.

it was a win-win for you.

but what was even more of a win-win was that jimin purposefully got them extra ice cream to spend more time with you, you are about 90% sure that’s the reason.

you spent about half the day in that ice cream parlour, and jimin asked you questions that no one else ever has and you asked him all those things you never got to when you were in school.

it was terrifying, to talk to him like that, to give him parts of what made you, you, and it was especially terrifying when you gave all of it away so easily.

“so, you’re coming to pick him up, right? like this isn’t an extra task for you?” jimin’s voice through a phone was different, lower, more serious, you loved it.

“definitely, don’t even worry about it, i’ll pick her up and bring her over,” you didn’t know what it said that he trusted you with his niece but it had to be something good, it made you feel fantastic.

“thank you so much, seriously, i owe you one,” and you can sense the relief in his tone, “you do owe me one, yes,” he laughs at your tone, “you get here, i’ll make it up to you very well.”

on the whole way there, you are so giddy that you can’t stop smiling.

you never understood why people got so excited over phone calls but if it was up to you, you would’ve never even cut the call with jimin.

when you get to the school, sunoo and arin are holding each other’s hands and standing obediently next to margaret.

“hi kids, today auntie is going to take you both home, are we excited?” sunoo and arin raise their hands up in joy and you resist the urge to pick them both up and give them one nice hug.

“her uncle called and said you would be picking her up,” margaret smiles at you knowingly and you roll your eyes, “it’s nothing like that margaret, we’re good friends,” and she scoffs at you but it only makes you giddier.

it felt good that someone, besides you, liked the idea of you two together.

you: picked them up, on my way over!

jimin: thanks again, see you soon <3

you almost throw your phone out of the window in happiness but for the sake of the kids, for them to think you’re not some insane person, you just grin and put your phone aside.

“okay arin, let’s go to your uncle’s place,” after checking them, you fasten your seatbelt and they both cheer again.

oh, you love these kids.

as you pull away, they instantly start rambling about their day, which picture they were made to draw, which teacher annoyed them, which toy was stolen, which color pencil they lost and you nod intently, offering dramatic reactions wherever you could.

“and then mummy told me that i had to throw away some toys but can you talk to mummy? i like my toys,” sunoo whines to you and you sigh, “you got it buddy, i’ll deal with your mother.”

“so arin, what have you been upto? anything exciting?” and she lights up, “i drew a castle today, do you want to see?”

“of course baby, as soon as we’re home, i absolutely have to see it,” your agreement only makes her happier, “our new home is nice, i like it, mummy and daddy made my room pink, and i even have a close friend!”

“is that so? who’s this lucky person?”

“it’s miss ana, uncle jimi’s girlfriend! she’s always over at uncle’s home and she likes me, i like her too.” and she goes back to swinging her legs and poking at sunoo until he laughs.

in the front seat, you are frozen and confused.

“your uncle has a girlfriend?” you try to sound casual and you hate that you’re asking a kid about this but you couldn’t help it.

“yeah.” she shrugs and goes back to sunoo.

you felt your stomach turn.

of course, he has a girlfriend.

of course, you had read it all wrong.

of course, you are the idiot again.

you kept your eyes steady on the road as the feeling of nothingness settled into you.

you would get over this, you got over jimin once, you could do it again and next time, you wouldn’t make the stupid mistake of thinking that anyone could ever like you for anything more than what you present them. you’ve gotten over first boyfriends, situationships, and dates which felt like they would lead somewhere and you would get over this too.

it was weird that you could still feel the same embarrassment of liking jimin, the same pathetic feeling you get when you overestimate yourself and what people feel about you, rises and falls in your chest.

but it was okay.

you’ll get over this.

-

“oh jimin! jimin!” you turned your face away from classmates who yelled his name.

somehow, the cat was out of the bag and everyone knew about your crush on him, your bets were on one of your play’s cast members but you couldn’t point a finger at anyone. your school was small and boring enough for this kind of stuff to spread quickly.

it was true, you did like him, a lot but you never wanted anyone to know, you only wanted him to know.

you were hoping to catch him alone, tell him that you liked him, and accept whichever response he gave you, he didn’t have to like you back but now, he knew, you knew that he knew, it was just not in the way you ever wanted him to know.

and then one day it happened.

the quiet rejection.

the annoyance of being liked by someone you don’t like back.

“look, look! they’re together” you were in the hallway, talking to your friends and jimin was just a few feet away, your friends were subtly pushing you toward him while you pushed back and his friends were pushing him.

that itself was embarrassing enough.

then, your back hit his back and you froze, skin tingling already but he immediately pushed away, and you heard him yell at his friends.

“how many times have i told you guys not to bring her up? how many?” jimin was a gentle guy, that was the first time he had yelled at someone and it was because of you.

and since then, whenever you were in the same room, he would look away with an irritated sigh, he would leave the room or he would glare at his friends until they shut up.

you took it all in, you really did, you just reasoned to yourself that you too, would be very annoyed if your friends acted like that.

but one day, you were alone in your art classroom, arranging some portraits and he walked in, your eyes met his and you were both too aware of how empty your surroundings were, for the first time in a really long time.

he immediately stepped back, his footsteps landed heavily as he walked away.

no one was there.

no one to make fun of him, no one to see or hear.

but he still pretended that you didn’t exist.

your feelings were more tender then.

your heart was a bit too soft and you had taken that as his reply, his response, his rejection and you buried your crush.

your chest was tight the entire day, you couldn’t speak without choking up because as much as you accepted his rejection, it didn’t make it hurt any less.

he never uttered a word to you since then.

you vowed to yourself never to like anyone too much again.

-

“how was school, guys? i missed you,” jimin hugged arin and sunoo as soon as they entered his home and you stood near the door frame with your heart in your throat.

today wouldn’t have been so hard if you didn’t have to see him.

they leave his arms and run into the house, their bags and socks left behind and you quickly collect sunoo’s stuff to put them aside.

“hey,” he appears beside you and you nod, keeping your eyes away from his face.

“i missed you too,” and you wish that you didn’t give in to seeing his face because as soon as you turn to face him, you are in front of his warm eyes and smile, the ones you were so jealous others could see.

but whatever feeling tried to creep on you, you shoved it away.

you nod again, swallowing and the warm scene fades and it’s replaced with a stiff awkwardness that both of you feel in a flash.

you see it go away, the warmth, the smile, the eyes, all of it drops and you hate that you feel terrible even if you didn’t do anything.

“arin made a castle drawing, it’s in her bag,” you say and jimin frowns before shaking his head, “of course, i’ll see it later.”

and your head bobs once again, the only response you could produce at the moment and when jimin steps forward, you step back.

“hey, is everything okay?” he asks, fingers reaching to scratch the nape of his neck confusedly, “yeah, everything’s fine.”

this time, he’s the one nodding and pushing his hands into his pockets, “i’ll make you tea, come on,” you have no choice but to follow him in, though you stay at least five steps behind him.

any touch from him would break your resolve, you couldn’t afford that, not anymore.

“honey or cinnamon?”

“honey.”

“alright,” jimin frowns once again, turning away to boil some water.

and you sit there, wondering if this is all you could ever be with him, wondering if both of you were always destined to be close and far, you feel scalded by the fact that he had never mentioned a girlfriend, you hadn’t asked but he shouldn’t have been texting you the way he was.

“you know, i owe you one,” he turns with a mug of steaming green tea and you stiffen in your seat when he hands it to you with a small, unsure smile, “would you accept dinner as me making it up to you?”

twenty minutes ago, you would’ve jumped up, spilling hot tea everywhere, and closed around him, your arms and heart giving even more way for him, but that was twenty minutes ago, now your arms and heart were closing in on themselves.

him rejecting you in school, you could handle.

him hating your presence, you could handle.

but this, you could only handle for about five minutes before you crumbled.

you should’ve never let your young feelings grow and stay.

“don’t worry about it, you don’t have to do anything, it was just one pickup,” you shrug, playing with the handle of your mug and you see jimin visibly deflate.

“okay, i don’t know what’s going on, is everything okay? did i do something?” the pleading in his tone was there, the sincerity in his face was there but you couldn’t believe any of it.

“nothing happened, jimin, it’s just that you don’t have to make up for anything,” you couldn’t bring yourself to confront his betrayal, to ask him about his girlfriend, you know that any answer would just hurt you more.

“fine, i don’t want to make up for anything, i want to take you out on a date, a proper date without anyone else around, because,” and he pauses, you release the breath caught in your chest, grateful and disappointed that he didn’t finish his sentence.

“i don’t think that’s a good idea,” you give a weak smile, feeling your bones tighten in your body, you would snap like a bowstring if this continued.

jimin looks away, chest rising and falling slowly, he squeezes his eyes shut and you see his hands shake as he whispers, “why?”

“sunoo is sleep!” arin’s yell makes you get up immediately, the distraction was welcome and needed, “also, see this!” she shoves her drawing into your hands and you smile at the messy green castle.

“it’s beautiful, arin, just like you,” you tap her nose and she giggles, you are all too aware of jimin’s stare on your back so, you pat her head and rush to take sunoo out of her bed and into your arms.

you held your nephew tighter to you, his sleeping form was the only thing keeping you stable, you never realized before how much you needed him the way he needed you but today, you needed him most even if he was just sleeping in your arms.

you don’t say bye to jimin on your way out, you only hug arin, ask her to take care, and leave his home with your mind so heavy that you feel like you could tip and fall over.

but as you pull away, you catch jimin in your side mirrors, he stands as if he’s lost everything, you almost turn back, break down in his arms, and ask him why he was so cruel to you, but you drive away instead.

-

“and you’re sure that he won’t be there?” you ask megan for the third time over the phone and she sighs, “listen, it’s his friend, i can’t tell him not to invite his friend but i did tell him that something happened, the rest is truly up to him,” and you bite your lip in annoyance.

it’s been two weeks, you’ve successfully avoided jimin at sunoo’s school, you’ve ignored his calls and deleted his texts without reading them, and you were only one more week away from mentally cutting him off completely.

but again, the universe hated you and noah’s birthday came up right as you were starting to forget that a person named jimin existed.

“you’re right, i’m sorry for being difficult and i’ll be there, noah is sort of my friend too,” you give in, you couldn’t be a bitch to your friends just because you were going through something, and megan hums, “but just know that i won’t judge you at all for not showing up, it’s totally your call.”

you thank her and close your eyes as the call goes dead on the other end.

what a fucking mess.

-

“happy birthday to you!” you sing with everyone else as noah shyly stands in the center with the birthday candles lighting up his face.

it was nice to see your friends again, you melted into every hug they gave you as you walked into noah’s home, you almost teared up at how much you needed them, you were annoyed with all of them just weeks ago but now, you saw clearly that you needed people who cared about you in your life.

“how are you feeling now?” faye put her head on your shoulder as you sat on the couch and you hum, “i’ve been better babe but i’ll be fine soon, i promise,” you squeeze her hand and she purses her lips, “i don’t think he will come, you know, it’s already been a while since the party started, everyone will leave in an hour or so,” and you know that she’s trying to make you feel better.

“thank you for saying that but even if he does come, it’s okay, it’s not like i’ll see him after this,” you shrug and she nods unsurely, “but it’s also okay if you feel shitty that he’s here, you know? you don’t have to pretend that you’re fine with all of it, it’s not a great situation, he lied to you and you’re hurt, you’re allowed to be hurt.”

you blink back tears as you try to rush some air into your lungs that tighten with each word from her.

“i love you, faye.” you whisper, “i love you more,” she smiles and pats you on the back before getting up, “now i’m going to get us some drinks so you stay there in that emotional mood,” you laugh at her and shoo her away.

maybe you weren’t fine now, you won’t need to be for a while but you’ll be okay at some point.

you sigh, you don’t want to be here anymore and pretty much everyone’s given you the green light to leave, you can always have drinks with faye another time so, you get up, surer than ever that you don’t want to be okay anymore, you kiss your friend’s goodbye, you thank noah for inviting you and you step out to the cold night.

right near your car, just as you feel relieved and light, you hear it.

“y/n?” and then quick footsteps.

a presence behind you.

his voice in your ears and bones.

and you freeze.

you hold the key to your car and your legs feel so heavy, they might as well be dead, and you blink, you do nothing but blink until he’s in front of you.

you almost cry at the sight of his face.

“you’re leaving?” jimin huffs out, his breath leaving white clouds in the night and you just stare.

how could someone so beautiful lie to you?

you only come back to earth when you feel him scanning your face and body, as if he was re-remembering what you looked like, as if he was savoring you in front of him but you knew it was all deceitful.

and you lose it.

“don’t you feel ashamed?” you breathe out, feeling every nerve in you tighten impossibly, your body was once again a bowstring being pulled, in front of him.

tight and so breakable.

jimin’s entire face falls, “about what, y/n? why haven’t you been answering my texts and calls? why are you suddenly ignoring me? what is going on? i tried to come up with so many reasons but none of them made sense, i thought we were heading towards something good?” and his face looks so pained, so sad that you almost break.

almost.

“i should’ve never fucking liked you in school, i should’ve never given you that ego boost, i should’ve seen you for who you are,” you angrily spit out as you fumble with your keys and open your car.

without looking at him even once, you climb in, leaning back once you are in.

but immediately, as you begin to start the engine, another door opens and jimin is in your car.

jimin is in your car.

“what the fuck are you doing? get out!” you yell at him, and he shakes his head, “i’m not going anywhere until you explain to me what is going on.”

“i don’t have to explain shit to you, get out jimin, or i swear to god,” you huff out, feeling your hands shake from the rage you felt, he doesn’t move an inch, “or what?”

“seriously?”

“yeah, if i don’t get out, what will you do?”

“i’ll fucking crash this car.” you level your glare on him and he sits back, “do it.”

“what?”

“do it, crash it, i’ll pay for the repairs, but i’m not getting out until you tell me why you hate me right now.” the calmness he had at that moment, the level in his tone never wavering, pissed you off even more.

“fine, we can sit here all night,” you shrug, desperate to match his cool, you switch off the engine, “fine by me,” jimin shrugs back and you clench your teeth to not groan at him.

minutes pass, you tap your foot against the floor of the car, he looks out the window, and both of you sit stubbornly without making a move.

you should be furious.

you should be still trying to kick him out.

but you slowly start to deflate, your anger fades bit by bit as the feeling of missing him, liking him even now, begins blooming in you again.

“who is ana?” you whisper, not trying to hide how sad just mentioning her name made you.

whatever his answer was, you would move on.

you never liked him for him to like you back, not then and not now, but it felt good to believe that somewhere, he felt the same desperate, pathetic love that you did, that somewhere, he was different with you the way you were different with him, that he too lost his cool and common sense when it came to you.

“what?” he frowns and you sigh, “please don’t lie to me jimin, just tell me who she is and why you never told me that she was your girlfriend.” you choke back the sobs building in your throat, and jimin immediately leans towards you, “hey, hey, what girlfriend are you talking about? i don’t have a girlfriend.”

you laugh bitterly through your tears, “so, you’re calling your baby niece a liar?”

“arin? what did she say?” he continues to frown, seemingly growing more confused by every passing second, which only makes you more confused, “that ana is your girlfriend? she’s always at your place?”

“ana? oh!” and jimin throws his head back on the seat, eyes closing in what you thought was relief, “ana is her new babysitter, y/n,” you huff out in annoyance, “believe it or not jimin but i’m not as stupid as you think i am, how fucking convenient is it that a woman your niece calls your girlfriend, turns out to be her sitter.”

and he gapes at you before throwing his arms up, “i’m sorry that the truth is convenient and fits with the situation!” he yells back at you and you glare at him, “oh really? then why is she over when you’re there with arin already? why does arin think she’s your girlfriend? do you have an explanation for any of that?”

“i do, but only if you’re willing to at least hear me out,” and jimin is back to calm, back to zen, and you want to push him out of the car, “see, i know it sounds bad if she just mentioned the girlfriend part but i’ve told you, arin is shy, she never talks to anyone, she doesn’t like sitters, she takes a lot of time to get used to strangers so i’m a buffer until she gets used to ana so, that ana can just babysit her at my brother’s place instead of mine.”

you narrow your eyes at him as you process his words. unfortunately, it made a lot of sense, sunoo was the same, that is why you always babysat him.

“okay, then why call her your girlfriend?”

“because she thinks friends if they’re girls are girlfriends,” he sighs out and you purse your lips, that also made sense, especially with kids as young as sunoo and arin.

“i see.” you whisper back, not knowing how to feel about all this, it made sense, you should be over the moon, falling into his arms, telling him that you feel everything again, that you like him again but you freeze instead.

you were so ready to move on.

you were so ready to never see him again.

and you were so ready to never know his response, to never know what he felt.

but you are here, in front of him, as he waited for you to speak with anxious eyes and you only felt overwhelmed.

“okay.”

“okay?”

“thanks for explaining, if you get off, i will go now,” you keep your eyes on the road ahead of you, refusing to look at him even through your periphery.

“seriously? do you need time or is something else wrong?” you hear the pleading in his tone, the desperation, you wonder if you ever sounded like that to him.

“nothing’s wrong, i’m glad you explained, and now, i’d like to go home,” this always happened, whenever your emotions got too much, whenever it seemed like everything would fall on your head and crush you, you slipped into robot mode, where you refused to feel anything, where you refused to be human, where your feelings were nothing but dust in the air.

it’s how you never went back to a boyfriend, how you never begged anyone for anything and it kept you protected.

“why are you doing this?” but god, the crack in his voice might just break your resolve.

“doing what, jimin? i just want to go home,” you try to reason and he huffs in annoyance, “that’s not what this is, you aren’t even looking at me.”

and you pause.

take a deep breath.

look at him.

and the warmth you missed for all your teenage life, lights you up, beyond his frown, his gathering tears, his clear sadness, his warmth peeked through and stared straight at you.

you knew you had to go, leave before you couldn’t but where will you go?

how many times will you turn your back on yourself?

how many chances do you have left with jimin?

and will he ever take those chances the way you will?

“you’ll never like me, jimin,” you start, unwilling but forcing yourself to pull through, he opens his mouth to protest and you cut him off, “you’ll never like me as much as i like you.”

and his mouth falls shut.

“and i’ll always know that, i’ll always know that you like me less than i like you, that you hated me at a time when i would’ve done anything for you, and by some miracle, it’s changed now, you might like me but never as much as i like you, my past of loving you as a kid, will always haunt me, and your rejection then will always hurt me,” you have tears dripping down your chin by the time you’ve finished and you know it will only pain you more if you look at him so, you stare at your lap.

you wait for him to get off, to go away, to finally understand why you two would never work out.

“so, please let’s leave this be, i’ll continue to bring sunoo around for arin, we can be civil for them but whatever this is, i can’t do it, not with you,” you whisper, hoping that it was loud enough for him to hear but he stays eerily still, staring into nothing and you wonder if he didn’t hear you.

“jimin, can you-“

“what about me?”

“now you’re just being childish,” your anger rises again.

“no, i never got the chance to explain my side at all, what if i like you more? what if i liked you way before you did?” your heart stops in your throat at his words but you shake it off, “this isn’t a competition, jimin!”

“fine, then this should just be a casual question, when did you start liking me? in school, when did it start?”

“seriously? what are you trying to prove here?” you turn to fully face him with a scowl.

“just tell me.” he sits just as rigid, just as fed up, and it only irritates you even more but your face goes red nonetheless at the memory, “ball room scene, dance practice.”

“i liked you when you gave me the script,” and you want to look away, ignore all of what he says but you only lean in further and he leans in too as if letting you in on a secret that no one else knows,  “i remember exactly how stomach-bottoming it felt, how scared i was because i thought you would never like me back.”

“really?” you’re leaning in even closer, so much more desperate to every other secret of his.

“really, and i’m not saying this because it’s a competition, i’m saying this because i couldn’t then, i didn’t have the courage, i liked you so much that the thought of you rejecting me, it would’ve killed me,” he laughs, both amused and horrified at the truth spilling out from his lips, but you see the fear too, the restrain in his breath, and it makes your own shoulders fall.

“then why did you act so annoyed whenever someone teased you?” you whisper again, embarrassed to ask the question because it made you feel like a kid again, the same kid who hid her feelings to make sure that he wasn’t inconvenienced by your heart.

he drops his head in quiet laughter, “imagine you like this person so much that your whole body fails you, and there’s some idiots making it even harder for me to look you in the eye,” he looks up at you as he says it and your spine weakens to fall on the seat behind you, every word of his puncturing itself into your heart.

jimin copied your movements and fell back too, sighing out, “i also knew how annoying it could be for you so i thought if i acted like that for a while, they would forget but fuck, they were persistent. honestly, i thought you would figure it out because of them.”

“figure out what?” you are breathless by the time the question escapes you.

“your crush was never one-sided, y/n, but mine was, at least for a little while.” you blush, not knowing what to do with your face anymore, you didn’t know if you were smiling or frozen or frowning but the numbness, the blind excitement left you gasping.

and jimin purses his lips, “i might’ve been this bright kid who talked to everyone then, but none of that helped me when it came to you, it was like every bit of confidence i had fell from me when i was around you and it was alarming, you know, it was so fucking scary to feel so different because of one person.”

and there it was.

the confirmation.

that he was different with you, that he too lost his head with you.

“what about later? when we met again?”

“oh that, i was trying to be cool, it didn’t work, right?” he winced and you couldn’t help the laugh bubbling out of you, “nope, not at all.” and jimin bangs his head against the headrest and you sit there, smiling.

it was strange, the elation and frustration you felt, it was strange to sit next to jimin and hear the words from him that you’ve waited for forever.

but you won’t hold that over him anymore and you were done burying your heart.

“i like you,” you say, twisting to face him and he smiles, not bothering to hide it, “a lot, jimin, i liked you then, i like you now, a lot and i’m scared.”

he leans forward to take one of your hands into his palms, you melt your fingers into his skin, and he speaks with a smile and with the world’s confidence and fear, “i like you, i’m sure that like is love too, it’s always been there and i’m scared too.”

“but i like you and i’ll continue to do that while i’m scared.” and any worry you had, flies out the window.

you feel brave.

you feel like you could fly and never see the ground again.

you stare at him for a minute or two, until his face is in your head like it’s your own face and you cross the barrier, in this case, the handbrake in your car to climb into his lap and you shiver when he buries his face into your neck.

you loved him when you didn’t know what it meant, and jimin loved you before he ever knew his heart could feel so much.

and that was enough for you to smile into his hair and wrap your arms tighter around his neck.

“i’ll do the same, jimin.”

-

jimin felt heavy with the love in his heart, with his arms on your waist, with his fingertips touching your skin, he felt overwhelmed, a bit crazy, and definitely scared out of his mind.

this was it.

the performance.

after today, you probably wouldn’t even look at him again, he’ll probably be just another guy who sees you walk down the hallway.

he knows when this funny feeling in his heart started, you had passed him the script and walked right past him to teach someone else how to do their scenes, and instantly he saw you, he saw nothing but you.

being the loser he was, he messed up any scene he could so that you could walk over, glare at him, and then, help him endlessly, help him until he was perfect (which he already was).

and he was alone in that pathetic-ness, alone in that feeling until one day, you looked at him as if he hung the stars in the sky and he didn’t know what to do with himself since that day.

but he had you in his arms, he had you in front of him, he had you in every moment of being on the stage and he knows he can’t just get off.

“and…cut!” jimin deflates, his arms that were so sure of holding you, weaken and fall from you.

then, the lights die and his confidence dies, and he feels ashamed of himself, so much so that he leaves the stage immediately.

he hears the cheers, the screams, the applause but none of that matters when the words he’s wanted to say die inside of him.

but he stops below the stage, looks up to see you hugging everyone on the stage, and hates himself a little but charges forward.

he would love you from afar.

but he would continue to love you.

[hoseoksluna]

THE END OF THE WORLD | pjm

pairing: best friend!jimin x f. reader

genre: fluff

rating: 13+

summary: when you thought your period cramps would bring in the end of the world, you didn't realize your feelings for jimin would get reciprocated in the middle of it all.

word count: 3.8k

warnings: reader is on her period; brief mention of period blood, jimin has a cute (non-sexual) fixation on reader's feet, kissing, anxiety, the problematics of heavy thoughts, insecurities and feeling not worthy of good things.

luna's note: this little thing literally came out of nowhere. i started writing this at work on friday when i had severe cramps and i felt soft enough to write a little fluff. where my jimin girls at? i've been heavily fixated on jimin lately, seeking comfort in him, buying pcs from muse photoshoot bc it's my favorite. the jimin i wrote about is an older, buffier jimin with blond hair bc that's my weakness. i hope you like this figment of my imagination and that it makes you as soft as it made me. i love you all, sending kisses mwah.

𓂃 ౨ৎ

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@mar-lo-pap, @perfectiondazesworld @blackswanpt2 @rpwprpwprpwprw

The pain that coursed across your lower tummy felt like the world ending, and your boy friend carried more beauty than a mere mortal could ever achieve. Too bad there was that doomful space between those two words that speak of his role in your life, even though his current position suggests such closeness that those letters could easily melt together. 

Jimin rests the side plane of his face on the middle of your thigh. You repose on the left side of your bed, seemingly bloodless while you exude liters upon liters of the carmine liquid, which makes you wonder how you’re still alive. The wings of your ovaries constrict and constrict, right under his face, reflecting the membrane of his own pair that you’ve watched grow into those of an archangel throughout the trajectory of your life with him. You try to ignore the pain, even as your features twist in helplessness, and instead imagine the colors that could swift through those feathers. 

Pistachio green. Brown that fades into a soft pink. Maybe a little subdued yellow. 

You’ve always thought he was an angel by the way his presence in your day simply made it better. More joyful, more loving, more gentle. But the more you blossomed into adulthood with him, and your frontal lobe developed as well as your unconditional feelings for him, the more you comprehended he was your angel. And not just an ordinary one. 

He was your archangel. 

He would protect you from people that had no space in your life, no luck or love to pepper your nose with. On the packed public transport, he would cover your knees with his hand so no male strangers would touch you with the back of their legs. If a guy came to make a mess out of your life, he would deal with him in a way that would force him to apologize to you and never bother you again. If someone, no matter their gender, caused you sadness in any small or big form, he made sure they regretted it. And, more often than not, your archangel bought you boba. 

You must’ve tried all the flavors from your favorite bubble bar by now. And by all means, crème brûlée was your favorite—only because when you drank it for the first time, you realized that you irrevocably loved the boy with the faux blond hair, pillowy lips, kind heart and confidential tattoos. And when this dawned upon you, it seemed as though Jimin knew—because he blushed and didn’t say anything for a while. The unspoken information, kept safely in the cores of yours and his being, not born into this world. That’s why it’s your favorite. 

It’s the one that is set on your nightstand right now, unopened, with the straw still captive in the translucent foil. It took only one response to his daily how are you text for him to drive to your usual bubble bar on his way to you, and upon seeing the beige peek through the cup, along with the brown sugar syrup, it’s a miracle your knees didn’t give out on you. The fact he chose this drink over all the other ones you love fed your heart the delusions that maybe, just maybe he loved you back. 

That he wasn’t just a kind boy, whose love language was physical touch, and that’s why he’s laying in your lap. 

Maybe, if you did any good in your life, Jimin gazes at you from this lower position while fondling your aching tummy because he feels something deeper than a sympathy for you. 

The pain almost forces you to ask that life-altering question for clarification. Almost. It is on the tip of your tongue, perfect and fluid, breathless and fearless, but you hold it back because Jimin extends one finger and traces patterns on your bloated belly. 

And not just any patterns.

He’s drawing wings. 

His own flutter in the air. Green, brown, pink and yellow. As if he’s giving life to them by drawing a miniature version of them on your clothed skin. And as they flutter, they open and close, open and close. They lift him, leave him hovering above you for a mere second while his hands find a good spot on the mattress outside of the lines of your body, until he settles. His body plops down onto yours, bringing in such heat that you softly gasp and close your eyes at the impact, and you don’t know what to feel, what your hands are doing as they lift, too, and interlock behind his neck, and you don’t know what this is. 

Is this what friends normally do? 

You wouldn’t know. Jimin has been your only boy friend since… forever. And you can’t think properly because the heat penetrating you mingles with your cramps and his body weight messes with your brain, emptying it out until there’s only two sentences that linger. 

One: I love you, Jimin.

Two: We are connected beyond the laws of this world, through strings which are transparent. 

The second sentence only expands, in metaphorical terms, on the first one.

Jimin’s cheek is reddened by his former position in your lap. A circle of soft and wrinkly skin that must be as warm as the rest of him. His blond hair is a bird’s nest, which an entire league of lesser angels must take care of. And his mellow smile gives off such snug light that it reaches his eyes, dissolving there like sparks of a dying fire. 

You love him, and you fail to understand how it has come to be—him laying on top of you. Did you smiling at the cashier in the grocery stop while you paid for your pads earlier get you this blessing? If the world ended in the next minute, you’d be happy, you wouldn’t mind at all because this, this is everything to you. You’re afraid to speak, to break the spell of the moment, and you feign an absolute calmness, not daring to move an inch, despite the fact your internal organs are colored by fireworks that burst and burst as soon as his breathing syncs with yours. 

It’s not that your lungs copied his—his lungs copied yours, and there’s something terribly intimate about that. 

You can’t halt the scarlet tinge rushing through your cheeks, one of the flower-shaped fireworks flung through you. Jimin’s tender eyes fall to them, one by one, and his mouth cracks the tiniest of smiles, as if he, too, held himself back from ruining the moment. The room is saturated with rosiness that feels light, and you wonder how long has it actually been since you’ve put on these rose-colored glasses. 

How strange it is in reality, to love someone without them knowing. 

You’re a slave to things hitting you all of a sudden. You tend to live in a dreamy headspace, walking through life seeking the arts, the poems, the book lines that cut through your heart without any ounce of pity, and when reality infiltrates that fog like the winter’s sun, the rosiness loses its hue. 

Just like right now. 

What are you doing? What is Jimin doing and why is he doing it? It’s not right, it shouldn’t be like this, you haven’t done anything to deserve this. You don’t think smiling at a cashier would make you deserve—

“Is the pain any better?” 

His tender voice percolates into your anxious thoughts like a pyrotechnic with colors inside its throat, the very fireworks inside you, and they meet in the middle of your sternum, connecting, clicking, never to be torn apart—at least not for a while. Their bond erases your fear, making space for a clean frame of mind, and your brain cells focus on your aching lower belly. The pain has lessened due to the heat radiating off Jimin’s body and seeping into yours, you let out a long breath that caresses the shorter pieces of his hair, and your muscles loosen, your senses returning to you. 

You can smell Jimin.

Apple shampoo, the sweet vanilla of his fragrance, laced most delectably with the manly spice of his aftershave. And the savoriness of his natural scent. 

A moment of physical serenity. 

Your fingers twitch behind the nape of his neck, pining to play with his hair. You take a lungful of the whole essence of him, your pining dilating as your instinct begs you to fist the downy material of his cashmere sweater, drag him up and bury your nose in his neck. 

You do none of those things, however. Your fingers keep on twitching, and so you close them into a fist, holding your thumb for comfort, willing the blackness of your thoughts away. 

You nod your head and suddenly, your body does as it pleases. For a reason unknown to you, your free finger taps the center of the back of his neck, and you’re not sure if it was that brief touch that cast such light in his eyes, or whether it was the fact that he’s helping your cramps. 

You wish you’d stop thinking at all. It’s exhausting, fighting and analyzing all the fucking time. You wish you could just live in the moment, experiencing the beauty of your senses quietly without any intrusions of your thoughts, and as Jimin sizes you up with all that light glossing over his irises, it seems as though he knows the ins and outs of your daily struggles. 

You don’t know that he’s been paying attention all this time. A very close one, at that. 

“What are you thinking about?” he asks, throwing you off balance enough that your eyes widen and the blood in your veins turns cold. The pain in your belly stops at once as all your concentration is fixed on the call-out. “You haven’t touched your favorite boba. You haven’t said a full sentence since I came over and you keep frowning. What’s wrong?” 

His chest lifts and he reaches over to your bedside table, grabbing the drink he spoke of and placing it on your swollen tummy. His teeth rip off the plastic foil over the straw and he plunges it with utmost expertise inside the large cup, setting off the fireworks inside you all over again as if it was New Year’s eve. And maybe it is—maybe Jimin has fast-forwarded the time and given you a chance to make a change in your life, a new year resolution that could make everything better. 

If only you weren’t such a coward—a wolf of bravery in a foolish, timid sheep’s skin. 

But the tears that rush through when Jimin tilts the cup and the straw to your lips while holding it steady, they have the power to clean you off the old and the ostensibly innate structure of your insecurities. And when they roll down your cheeks and Jimin’s mouth parts in abrupt shock molded by compassion, you sense that their power is bigger than you. 

Your lips wrap around the thick straw and suck in the saccharine, creamy delight. It suffuses all of your senses, and once the black, squishy tapioca plops into your mouth, a soothing tendril of joy overwhelms every inch of your being. To such an extent that you begin to bawl. 

And splutter out the contents of your mind. 

“My mind is always running and I’m so tired of it, like I can’t catch up anymore,” you sob, chewing the boba while your tears freely fall. Jimin continues holding the cup and when your hand wraps around his, the other one encloses around your wrist—the gesture propelling you to spill out more. “I’m always analyzing, always thinking if I’m worthy of this and that. If it’s okay, if I should stop, if I should do something or not, if I—” You sigh, not able to find the words to describe what you’re experiencing. Frustration latches onto you, inciting your anger that begins to ooze out of your every pore. “When you were laying down on my lap, all I could think about was—” You stop yourself, slapping your mouth, realizing that you nearly said too much. 

But Jimin knits his brows, and the hand that held your wrist tugs away the limb that halted the flow of your words. “Keep going.” 

Your heart pounds, violently. The moment feels too severe, and yet your mind is oddly… silent. As if the anger that washed over you scrubbed it completely clean—clean enough that you perceive this to be an interruption rather than a saving. Your mouth wants to continue to speak and your heart… it pushes the words up your throat. 

You feel like puking your guts up, although there’s a strange determination prickling the ends of your fingertips. 

You swallow and in the middle of the interlude, Jimin sits up. Sets your boba on the hard surface of your closed laptop nearby. The sudden distance pulls you, as if by a string, to a sitting position as well, and both of you simultaneously criss-cross your legs while your heart threatens to leap out of your esophagus. You’re stomaching the feeling that you’ve done something wrong, which caused him to exit the closeness you were in, and you tense up and nearly tremble with the need to fix it. 

Jimin opens his mouth, about to say something, but you’re quicker. You’re going to give him what he asked you, just so you can have him close again. 

“When you were in my lap, I couldn’t believe it,” you start softly, graced with the attention of his eyes as they flick up to you in surprise. Your nerve endings sizzle, giving you the words to continue, no matter how devastatingly acute this situation is. “I tried to think of all the things I did that made me deserve having you this close, but I came up short every time. I didn’t understand how our closeness happened to begin with and I didn’t think I was worthy of it. Still do. That’s all.” 

You exhale loudly, detecting no heaviness on your chest, but absolute freedom, out of which blades of grass grow, a perfect home for wildflowers. But a cloud extends over it and it begins to rain as you watch Jimin’s natural expression break into a vivid canvas of dolefulness. The eye contact breaks along with it. The faux-blond boy hangs his head low, his long eyelashes flitting, and you think the world is ending right now as you’re taking small, careful breaths, knowing they’re the last ones. 

But Jimin’s forefinger finds your big toe, and he plays with it. Moves it back and forth, fondles it, squeezes it. Makes the last seconds of this life a little more bearable before it collapses over your head. Ponders something unknown, seemingly prolonging this end. And when he’s had enough and he fists all of your toes and looks up at you, it’s not that he stops this finale. 

He snatches you and takes you to the other world.

“I have something to tell you as well,” he says, his voice coated by that sadness and regret his whole energy is permeated with. He blinks rapidly, running his tongue over his bottom lip inside his mouth, gathering courage or perhaps waiting for your full attention because you’re dipping your gaze in and out of the intimacy of the way he’s holding your foot and the nipping graveness of this moment. 

Everything is too much at once.

“I’ve been a fool,” he starts, similarly like you did, biting the bottom lip he moistened as if to punish himself while busying his eyes on your pink toenail. He strokes the lacquer, shaking his head slowly. “I’ve done all of those things and I still do them without telling you the truth, without confessing.” He flicks his eyes up at you from his downward position, elbows propped on his knees, his stature hunched and buffy. Stops the beat of your heart with that brief look as you anticipate his next words. Sighs, the sound loud and heavy, bearing the kind of guilt and affliction that gnaws at the flesh he owns. Your brain turns off and every morsel of your feelings desires to help him, to make him feel better, but the following words that come out his mouth are the last stop to the other world, and everything is born anew. “I’ve loved you since the moment I first saw you. Soaked like a puppy in the rain, waiting all alone for your friends to finish flirting with the guys outside of the club in Hongdae. I’ve loved you since that moment because you were just like me. You weren’t in the mood, you didn’t want anyone to talk to you. I’m still surprised you smiled your beautiful smile at me when I waved at you, that you let me talk to you.”

The memory sails before your eyes like a murky cloud. All of your friends standing under the roof, smoking and talking to guys, not leaving any space for you to hide yourself from the rain. Jimin finding you in that crowd, waving at you, perceptibly softening when you waved back and smiled because you felt lonely, overlooked and profoundly depressed and he was the only one who saw you. The memory ends at the scene when Jimin walks towards you, takes off his jacket and holds it over your head while getting soaked himself.

Your cheeks were dry from your tears, but they get stained all over again as new tears begin to pour, your heart tender, beating hard but quietly from his confession. Jimin moves your foot over to his lap, drifting his fingers over it, and the tickling sensation prevents your anxious thoughts from reappearing. You breathe in his words, letting them in, letting the change in, all while you squirm and hushedly giggle from his tickles. 

Strange, strange emotions, towering over you, but they feel right—they feel like heaven, and you think that’s where your archangel has taken you.

He loves you. 

You love him and he loves you back.

He loves you.

“I’m sorry that I confused you. I should’ve told you sooner, but I was… afraid,” he says, boring his eyes into yours, sending out the authenticity, with which he covered his words, and the regret he deeply feels. “I was afraid you were comfortable with us being just friends, but still I couldn’t physically keep my distance. It was a mistake on my part, so again I’m sorry I made you feel this way.” 

Your heart grows and your body is too small to cage it inside, ferocious and wild with all the love it feels for the faux-blond boy. You feel constricted and you rid yourself of the iffy sensation by inching a little closer and enveloping your arms around his shoulders. And this time, you have the freedom to sink your fingers into his chamomile-colored hair. You have the freedom to feel the softness, to hear his quiet, confidential purr of pleasure from your touch, which essentially spurs you on to move a little further upon this trail of freedom. 

“I’ve loved you for a long time, too,” you confess, and it’s the easiest thing your mouth ever emitted. No dark thoughts ruin it, but instead you understand that everything Jimin has done for you was through the strings of love that connect you to him. Your delusions weren’t delusions; they were all true conceptions and they were broiling, begging to be let out. “I fell in love with you because of your actions, because of the way you took care of me, because of the way you treated me. No one has ever treated me like you did. You’re a beautiful person with a kind heart—”

Jimin interrupts you with a cry of your name. He yanks you fully into his lap, wrapping your legs around him to make you comfortable, and he embraces you. Tightly, heartfully. You fit into him like petals to disc florets, and you never want to leave. An ardent awareness of safety swallows you whole, especially when he scrunches up your hair and nuzzles his face in your neck, breathing against you so heavily that your entire world spins. 

And then he pulls you away, and asks you the kind of question that deprives you of everything you ever knew, romantically. 

“Can I kiss you? Please, let me kiss you. Jebal.” 

The smile that stretches over your face aches as you vehemently nod and Jimin doesn’t waste a singular second. 

He smashes his mouth against yours, igniting hundreds, if not thousands, of butterflies with a loving fire that they spread across every inch of you. The kiss is deep, and unlike any kiss depicted in any kind of art that you ever longed for. Your mind is gone as soon as Jimin breaks the kiss for a millisecond and goes for another one, seizing your lips, owning them, doing to them whatever he wants. The past world is gone, heaven is in full bloom, with a legion of lesser angels celebrating the kiss of the ending century. The time is gone, too, as both of you kiss until your lips get numb, and the look you give to each other makes those innocent winged creatures cover their eyes in shyness. 

The kissing doesn’t stop there. 

With every turn of the head, with every peck and with every brush of the tongue, it fulfills everything you ever lacked. You forget every poem you learned. The colors of the paintings you liked pale in comparison. And every book scene you envisioned before you went to bed is filled with emptiness. Jimin becomes the center of your new life that stands above the fictional one you so earnestly wanted, and you tell him of it with every kiss you reciprocate.

With words, too, later when you’ve caught your breath and Jimin is spooning you with his hand on your lower belly, occasionally stretching his neck over your shoulder to take a sip of your delicious boba. And you tell him again in your dreams, where the comprehension that you no longer have to live in your headspace in order to be happy and fulfilled unfolds. You make friends with the angels and tell them as well, watching what they do as they run their fingers through his hair, making mental notes, folding them into your heart. 

You do what you learned in the bathroom the following morning, even through the excruciating pain of your cramps. Jimin kisses your feet for it, orders you to rest as he massages them, having brought you some painkillers. And when they take effect and you can function like a normal human being, you note down your first life full of art with him.

And title the first page—“THE END OF THE WORLD, THE BEGINNING OF MINE”.

© 2025 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved

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[jeongguksu]

arranged (pt.1)

pairing: rich!jungkook x rich!reader

genre: arranged au

warnings: none

word count: 0.4k

author’s note: i wanted to make a drabble series of arranged jk x reader, inspired by this gojo drabble haha. this is more like a setup?

Jungkook was not used to sharing his space. 

For as long as he could remember, he knew that he and you would be arranged to wed each other someday—something his and your parents had decided long before you two were even born. Even with the five year age gap, it was a long ingrained habit for them to witter about how adorable of a couple you would make every time the two of you met.

So he knew. He should have expected it all. The extra pair of shoes at the door. The extra toothbrush at the bathroom sink. Long hair that clogged the shower drain.

But now that you were actually in the picture, he’s flustered. Jungkook didn’t mean it in a bad way, but it was just… unfamiliar. The penthouse that was once his sanctuary, a place to hide away from work, was now occupied, invaded, by you. 

The scent of your shampoo lingered in the air, floral and sweet, a stark contrast to the crisp, sterile environment he had carefully maintained over the years. Jungkook was now paying attention to every sign of you in the house; opened books stacked on the usually vacant coffee table, empty mugs of tea on the kitchen counter, a sweater draped over the bed you shared. He found himself slowing down to see you at the stove whenever he came back from work, finishing up whatever meal you had prepared for that evening. Sometimes, if you finished cooking earlier, he would find you curled up on the chesterfield, reading one of the novels he bought for you recently.

And you’d always greet him fondly, going to him, taking his briefcase away, helping him take off his suit jacket while he’d loosen his tie. You’d tell him that dinner is ready, then proceed to ask about his day.

You were polite in the way you addressed him, but not overly so. You never tried to pry in the details of his stories, but you’d comment or laugh if something funny came up. Sometimes, he’d receive a text message from you, either reminding him to buy eggs or milk on his way back home, or sending an absurd news article you had come across that day, in which every time would make him crack a smile in disbelief. 

It was strange, the way you wove yourself into his space without demanding it, the way you turned his solitude into a quiet companionship.

[byuljoonie]

Give me possessive koo smut 😇

pairing: dom!jk x fem!reader

genre: smut, drabble, request, unedited

word count: 2k

warnings: smut, drinking, lots of swearing, oral 4f, overstimulation, mocking, couch sëx, rough missionary, unsafe sëx, degradation, biting, slapping, squirting, bruising, hair pulling, dom!jk, sub!reader, a little toxicity, idk Sunday fun day ig

note: hope it’s to your liking♡ -dubu

“Unlock your phone.” Jungkook’s eyes pour into yours as he waits for your compliance.

“What?” you question, aggravated by his unnecessary interest in your coworkers.

“Open it, Y/N.” he insists, leaning back onto the sofa cushion, pressing the cold rectangle into your palm.

“Babe, seriously?” you whine, searching his eyes for a hint of playfulness, finding nothing but an ocean of severity.

You were having a conversation about work, letting your boyfriend know of your upcoming schedule and activities. You accidentally let the name of your project partner slip through your wine-coated lips.

Jungkook’s ears perked up at the ring of a masculine sounding name. You stare at him in defeat, taking the phone from his hand with a pitiful sigh.

“I haven’t even texted him yet, for Christ sakes Jungkook!” you say exasperated.

“Yet.” he replied matter-of-factually.

“It’s not like I chose to work with him, Koo.” you exclaimed dramatically, unlocking your phone and going to his saved contact.

You felt this antagonizing creature clawing at your tender insides for momentary satisfaction. Why did you let the wine talk before your instincts? Jungkook isn’t exactly the kindest when it comes to other men around you.

He wasn’t controlling, but his possessiveness was like an amplified speaker to anyone who even thought of sparing you a second glance.

You hated to admit it, but it was hot. The veins on his tattoo covered arms bulged with a vengeance. Each intricate pattern defining his Herculean figure.

The white T-shirt not leaving much to the imagination, your eyes lingered on his pierced lips as you passed the phone over. Earning a hum of approval from him, he tapped away on your phone.

“Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. You already follow him on Instagram?” he rhetorically asked, a mound of annoyance behind his darkening pupils.

“I follow all of my coworkers, Kookie.” you complained hesitantly, downing the rest of the red liquid that swirled in your large Burgundy glass.

“Listen, I don’t want you working with him. Simple.” he admitted, pressing the unfollow button on Hoseok’s profile.

You were beyond infuriated, you snatched your phone back pressing the follow button in an instant. Not thinking about the consequences that follow your instinctual actions. Jungkook chuckled at your sudden burst of anger.

“Have you lost your fucking mind, Y/N?” he grabbed the phone from your hand, tossing it to the plush rug, letting it slide beneath your glass coffee table.

The wine made you drunk with rage, the other part of you craving a deeper need from your hellish boyfriend. Jungkook rose from his spot on the sofa, grabbing your neck and pinning you below him. He enjoyed the feeling of your palpitating heartbeat on his fingertips.

“Baby—“ you struggled to speak, legs clasping around his knee that rest atop your unclothed hips. Bad day to only wear his shirt, you thought to yourself.

“Shut up.” he glared down at you, putting pressure between your legs.

“Since you want to act like a pathetic slut —“ he pressed his knee down harder, rubbing your clothed pussy agonizingly slow.

“I’ll treat you accordingly.” he let your neck go finally, being met with a few strained coughs from you. You had no time to react, his shirt was being pulled from your body. Your head swimming with anticipation and thoughts of Jungkook’s defilement.

You felt dizzy and exposed to the harsh temperatures of your once comfortable living room. Jungkook watched you writhing under him, a predatory smile lingering on his soft face.

“You think it’s okay to let him spend time alone with you?” he grabbed your face, pinching your cheeks between his large hand.

“Looking at you, speaking to you, touching you.” he peered over your naked body once more, eyes lingering on your bare chest, his free hand stopping above your panty line.

“All this —“ he began lustfully, “ is mine.”

He ripped your panties from your lower half, causing you to scream in frustration, fighting against his muscular arm. He let your face go, delivering 3 small slaps to your cheek. Putting you in check before he had to let whatever caged animalistic intentions loose.

“I’ve had enough of your resistance, Princess.” he whispered hotly in your ear, biting your earlobe before moving to the next ear.

“I can smell how wet you are from here, Y/N.” he bit down again, sending you into a frenzy of pathetic whimpers.

“Your cunt is crying for my attention, but you want to play with some loser?” he questioned cockily, rubbing his bare palm over your soaking pussy.

You moaned his name in retaliation, hips rutting upwards against his calloused hand. He laughed at your feeble attempts at gaining friction, pulling his hand away.

“I’m going to ruin you right here, baby.” A smirk tugged at his lips, he leaned back on the couch. Grabbing his glass from the table and downing what once was at half full capacity.

He sucked in a small breath, biting his bottom lip before turning back to you. Pulling his shirt over his head and revealing everything your eyes have been waiting for.

“I want to leave a trace of me on every inch of your body.” He stood up from his seated position, stalking over you like this was his last chance to consume you.

He yanked your ankles towards him, turning your body to face him like you were praying beneath him. Your legs hung carelessly over the edge of the couch, too dizzy to hold them up for your waiting beast. He smiled down at you in admiration, loving how ruined you already looked beneath him. Pussy leaking onto the sofa cushion, legs sprawled open for him.

“Look at you — so fucking gorgeous” he gleamed, kneeling in front of your body. He ran a hand over your stomach, letting his inquisitive fingers explore your skin.

“Fucking love your tits, Princess.” he leaned down beginning his assault on your chest, licking and sucking at your nipple like a love drunken mad man.

“More — please Kookie,” you begged, arms resting on his back, nails scratching in intricate motions. He hummed against your nipple, tongue circling the bud feverishly.

He pulled away with a lewd pop, spit dribbling down his chin. “No one’s mouth will ever feel as good as mine.”

He started kissing down the center of your chest, occasionally leaving love marks on your memorized sensitive spots. He stopped just above your panty line, loving the way your breath hitched in your throat.

He went in with a wink, tongue lapping at your exposed sensitive skin. His tongue searched your core for unanswered questions, gripping at your hips with every moan you released. He slurped against your clit letting lewd noises drown out the sound of the crackling fireplace. He released one of your hips, bringing his hand down to open your lips. Exposing your clit to the invading muscle, he latched his lips around the bundle of nerves. You screamed in pleasure clasping your shaking legs around his head.

He removed his lips from your pussy, mouth shining with your essence. He worked two fingers over your clit, sliding them down until they hovered over your entrance. He grinned down at you before he inserted them, fingering you fiercely.

“Aww, who makes you feel this good? Hmm Y/N?” He cooed happily, “Who’s pussy is this?” He mewled, setting his fingers into a come hither motion.

“Y-yours—“ you cried out desperately, feeling the knot in your stomach tighten.

He used his free hand to slap your clit repeatedly, sending you into a crying mess. Your legs closed around his arm, body writhing against his unmoving fingers. He pulled you closer and closer to your orgasm, biting his lip in concentration, relishing in the sounds you were making for him.

“Cum, baby. I want to feel you cum on my fingers before I fuck the soul out of you.” he confessed sweetly, sickeningly sweet. You groaned at his words, letting the knot in your stomach burst. You felt stars cloud your vision as his fingers continued their actions.

He used his free hand to slap your pussy again, smiling at the way you cried out for him to stop. He kept going, moaning at your cunt clenching repeatedly around his fingers.

“Koo, please” you implored weakly, hiccuping along with a string of moans.

“Please what? Stop?” he questioned teasingly, “No.”

You felt another knot forming in your lower stomach, his fingers edging you closer to a stronger orgasm. Your stomach felt funny, it felt different, like a new sensation of pleasure was pushing through.

His urged you to cum, his fingers hitting your g-spot with ease. With a few last pumps, you felt yourself release on his fingers, screaming his name in shock. You stomach twitched continuously, opening your eyes to see the aftermath of what just happened.

You opened your eyes to see Jungkook’s lower face glistening with your mess, his pupils dilated and hungry for more. You felt your cheeks grow warm, not knowing what to say next, you’ve never done that before.

“Naughty girl, why’ve you never squirted like that before? Guess I should do better, huh?” He rose from his position on the floor, giving you a second to catch your breath while he removed his shorts.

His cock sprung free from its restraints, mushroom head aggressively leaking with pre-cum. “I want you to take this dick like the slut that you are,” he pumped his hand around his length, moaning at the way you lasciviously looked at him.

He lowered himself down until he was level with your center, rubbing the tip against your sticky folds. You granted him a pitiful whine, biting the corner of your swollen lip as you watched him rub against you.

“Use your words, Y/N. I won’t hold back unless you say it,” he probed, restraining himself from slamming his hips forward. You lay quietly looking him in his eyes, daring him to take you.

“Fuck —“ he pushed into you gradually, “squeeze my dick just like that,” he groans fingers pressing heavily into your hips.

“So big, just want you,” you moaned at him, pussy clenching around his cock again. He pulled away slowly, ramming back into your hips with brute force. His balls lewdly slapping against your skin as he fucked you into the sofa. He picked up his pace, rhythmically filling the room with grunts. He reached forward taking a hold of your hair and yanked your head back, biting your exposed neck. A light sheen a sweat coated your hot skin, beads of sweat running down your cheeks as he fucked you. The living room rang with filthy words of mocking betrayal and faux empathy for your overstimulated figure.

He pressed a hand down on your lower stomach, eyes nearly bulging from his head at the feeling of his cock invading your insides. His actions made your breathing increase, hiccuping over his name. His face contorting in immense pleasure as he demanded you repeat after him.

“Say it. Tell me you love me while you take this dick, Y/N.” you felt your hips aching, knowing marks already began forming on your body.

“I love you Jungkook—“ you cried out obediently, pussy convulsing around his stilled cock. Your orgasms rushing through your bodies. You shivered at the empty feeling you felt when he removed himself. He leaned down pressing a kiss on your neck, wiping some of the sweat from your foreheads.

“I love you too.” he smiled boyishly, breathing heavy and warm on your neck. “I’m taking you to work all next week, babe.”

[7ndipity]

Good Morning

Jimin x Reader

Summary: Just a little thing about cozy mornings with a very sweet, attentive Jimin who loves to take care of you.

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: +18 mdni, Very suggestive, implied smut, mentions of marking, swearing, not proofread

A/N: Thanks to @squid-princess-teach-swallow for requesting this! I hope you like it!

Masterlist

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‘It should be illegal to look this good asleep’ You thought as you stared at your sleeping boyfriend, his face pressed against the pillows, causing his lips to part in a soft pout, his slow breaths just barely stirring the messy strands of hair that hung across his face.

Under normal circumstances, you would’ve tried to sneakily snap a picture to tease him with later, but you were far too comfortable in your current position to look for your phone, preferring to stay curled up on your side under the covers with him, letting your fingers dance along his arm, admiring the way the morning sunlight looked on his bare skin.

The sensation of your fingers slowly stroking up and down his arm proved to be enough to pull him from sleep, slowly blinking his eyes open, a faint smiling spreading across his face as you came into focus in front of him.

“Good morning.” He whispered, scooching over enough to wrap his arms around you, pressing a kiss to your waiting lips.

“Morning.” You hummed contentedly, rolling onto your back to let him rest his head against your shoulder. “I like this.”

“What?” He asked sleepily.

“Waking up with you.”

“Yeah? Is this something you could get used to?” Your eyes were closed, but you could hear the smile in his voice.

“Definitely.”

You’d thought you would feel more awkward about staying over at Jimin’s place for the first time, but almost as soon as you stepped through the door, all your nerves had vanished. Everything with Jimin always felt so natural, from arguing over what show to watch after dinner to brushing your teeth together to falling asleep in his arms. Even waking up next to him just felt so so right.

“Do you want breakfast?” He asked.

Not yet.” You said, snuggling closer. “I want to stay here for a while.”

“I have no problem with that.” He chuckled, hands drifting along the strip of exposed skin where your shirt had ridden up in your sleep, slowly trailing kisses up the side of your neck, earning a quiet laugh from you.

“Aren't you tired?” You chuckled.

“Of you? Never.” He replied, grinding his semi-hard length against your thigh.

The two of you had agreed you were going to ‘just sleep’ the night before, but what he hadn’t anticipated was just how much it would affect him to see you curled up in his bed, looking so cute in one of his t-shirts.

What had started out as a few teasing touches had quickly escalated to kissing and grinding, and then him between your legs, and then you clinging to him for dear life as he’d pounded you into the mattress.

Pulling you closer, Jimin continued to pepper your neck and shoulder with kisses, lightly kneading your hip as his hands ghosted closer to your core.

You flinched slightly, squirming away from his touch, letting out a small hiss of sensitivity.

As soon as the sound left your lips, he immediately froze, ceasing all of his menstrations as he pulled back to look up at you wide eyed.

“Is something wrong?” He asked, concerned.

“No, I’m just a little sensitive.” You said.

He frowned at that, his plush lips drooping into a tiny pout.

“My poor baby.” He cooed, reaching up to gently caress your face. “I’m sorry, honey, I didn't mean to hurt you.”

“You didn’t hurt me, my legs just aren’t used to getting the pretzel treatment.” You responded with a smirk, causing a faint dusting of pink to cover his cheeks, biting his lip to try and fight back a shy grin at your words.

It was always so funny to see how suddenly sheepish you could make him with just a few words, in contrast to his usual cool, confident aura that he held in bed. It almost made it hard to believe that he was the same person that had nearly folded you in half the night before.

He suddenly sat up, gently moving to sit between them.

“What are you doing?” You asked, confused.

“Taking care of you.” He explained, gently lifting one of your legs and beginning to massage your thigh, trying to help ease some of the lingering soreness and tension in the muscles.

“Chim, I’m fine, it’s not that bad.” You said.

“Shh, just let me look after you.” He said, pressing a light kiss to the inside of your knee.

“Alright then.” You sighed dramatically, letting your fall closed again, earning a chuckle from Jimin.

You couldn’t deny, it felt amazing, Jimin’s careful fingers working along the tops of your thighs, kneading your muscles and turning you into a relaxed puddle on the bed. There were no sounds other than his occasional quiet apologies whenever you twitched or whined at a particularly tender spot.

You had almost fallen back to sleep when his sudden soft laughter pulled you from your trance, cracking your eyes open to see him staring down at you with an amused expression.

“What?” You giggled.

“You look like you've been through it.” He chuckled, taking in your mussed hair and sleep dazed expression.

“You’re one to talk, you look like you lost a fight with an octopus.” You giggled, taking note of the numerous pink and purple marks that decorated his neck and chest.

“Oh no, I definitely won.” He smirked, staring down at you with eyes that made your face flush with heat. “The poor octopus can’t even walk now.”

“Fuck you.” You laughed, trying to kick him but missing.

“Maybe later.” He replied, trailing a few more kisses along your inner thighs, ghosting over a few of the lingering marks from the night before, making a mental note to himself to replace them when they started to fade.

You squirmed lightly on his hold, feeling slightly sensitive in a different way now as you felt him smile against your skin.

“I love you.” You whispered.

He looked back up at you, his expression so tender it made your heart ache.

“I love you too.” He let your leg down, climbing back up to kiss you gently.

“Now, you mentioned something about breakfast?” You asked, making him laugh again.

“Yes, I did.” He nodded. “What would you like?”

“I don’t care, so long as there’s coffee.” You shrugged, giving him another soft peck.

“Anything for you.”

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @feminympho @a-gayish-unicorn @dfqcsqueen @mother2monsters

[katnisspeetaprim]

Broad Day Light

Min Yoongi/Reader

Im so sorry if this is bad. i haven't had time to properly edit this. I've been sick again recently, but I wanted to get at least something out for you guys!

Warnings: Injury, crowds, anxiety, established relationship, idol!au

Word Count: 1203 M.list

Walking down a busy street in the middle of the day shouldn’t have been an anxiety inducing task, but here you are. That’s all it’s felt like these days.

You and Yoongi went public a few years ago and paparazzi and sasaeng’s had mostly started to leave you alone after a few months, just the odd personal space invader here and there, but you learnt to live with the new found attention.

Fast forwards to 2023 and Yoongi’s solo tour was well under way. With a world tour came massive media attention, and with media attention, came paparazzi.

You weren’t famous, so having people run up to you with cameras was a surreal experience.

You tried your best to shield your face, but it was to no avail as the group of photographers bolted towards you from across the road.

‘Y/N! Over here!’

‘Are you going to any of the shows!?’

The group of men had effectively blocked your path, not allowing you to leave.

‘Please let me through. I have somewhere to be...’ You mumbled and wrapped your arms round yourself as you kept your head down and away from the cameras. You started forcing your way forwards.

‘Y/N! Yoongi and Halsey have been acting close! Did something happen between them!? Is that why you aren’t on tour with him?’ You know you shouldn’t dignify these people with a response, but the gall of implying that Yoongi would cheat on you with someone that had become a good friend to the both of you... It was enough to make you rage.

‘Of course not! They are good friends, now let me through- Ah!’ As you forcefully pushed your way through the crowd, you didn’t realise how close you were to the curb.  Your ankle rolled, causing you to topple over into the road.

Your hands, arms and knees were all scratched up, along with a twisted ankle. At least no cars were coming so you wouldn’t get run over. Though that seemed like a more preferable situation than the one you were currently in.

‘AH!’ You shakily sat up and grabbed your ankle, causing you to hiss out in pain.

‘Please just leave me alone!’ You screamed out and swiped out at the paparazzi circling round you.

‘Hey that’s assault! She just tried to hit me!’ One of the men shouted out, trying to garner sympathy with his fellow low lives.

You were all but breaking down into a full blown panic attack, when all of a sudden you felt a wave of hope flow through you when you heard the shouts of police officers approaching the scene.

‘Hey! What’s going on here? Out of the way!’ They pushed through the crowd and one knelt next to you, whilst the other two pushed back the group, ultimately threatening arrests if they didn’t dispurse.

‘Miss? Are you ok? Are you hurt?’

‘My ankle- I think it’s twisted!’ You whimpered, trying to hold back your tears.

‘Don’t worry. We’ll get you to the hospital.’

Hours later and you were finally able to go home. With a lot of help from your best friend, you were now sat in your living room, feeling sorry for yourself with your poor ankle all wrapped up.

The scraped that littered your limbs weren’t too bad, just a little sore. Stories had hit the web pretty much immediately, along with plenty of videos of the incident, filmed by multiple people.

With any luck, Yoongi would be too busy to even think about going online...

-Incoming video call from Yoongles-

Ah well. There goes that idea.

After a slight hesitation, you pushed the green answer button.

Yoongi suddenly appeared on screen. He’d clearly changed out of his concert gear and was now clad in comfy sweat pants and a jumper.

And he looked pissed.

‘Hey Yoongi...’ You trailed off, trying to sound normal.

‘Seriously? You going to pretend nothing happened?’ He stared at you in disbelief.

‘You should have called me when it happened!’ He continued on, raising his voice ever slightly.

You looked away from the screen, feeling guilty that you tried to keep it from him. Of course he would see the articles, so it was pointless to even try.

‘I’m sorry...’

Yoongi  took in your defeated appearance and groaned internally for adding more upset to your already stressful day.

‘No, I’m sorry for shouting. When I saw what happened, I just got so angry.’ He paused for a moment before shaking his head. ‘You got hurt because of me...’

‘Yoongi no!’ You sat up straighter, trying to reassure him. ‘This isn’t your fault. At all!’

He nodded slowly, but you could tell by the look in his eyes that he didn’t believe you.

‘I’m going to send you the number for one of our bodyguards. If you need to go somewhere, get him to drive you.

Yoongi suddenly moved the phone in his hands. He was clearly texting you.

You couldn’t help but smile at your boyfriend.

‘Yoongi! I’m sure they have better things to do than look after me!’ His message however, had already pinged on your phone.

‘You got attacked in broad daylight Y/N. Seems pretty serious to me.’ Yoongi deadpanned as he stared you right in the eyes.

The smile fell from your face. You couldn’t argue with the fact that you would feel a lot safer with someone escorting you...

‘I won’t be going anywhere for a while. My ankle is all screwed up.’ You joked, trying to lighten the mood a little.

You didn’t get to see Yoongi often these days, given how in demand he was. The last thing you wanted to do with your precious time together was be miserable.

Yoongi smirked mischievously.

‘Maybe you’ll stay out of trouble then.’ You drew back in mock offense.

‘Excuse me!?’ Where has the compassion gone to?’

‘I’m sure you’ll survive.’ He said, trying to hold back his smirk.

You couldn’t hold back and began to laugh for the first time that day.

‘I wish I could be there for you’ Yoongi suddenly spoke over your laughter. You immediately went quiet, knowing that Yoongi was still upset by the days events.

‘It’s ok. This is enough, for now.’ You smiled gently and gestured towards the phone screen separating the two of you.

‘Remind me again why you couldn’t come with me?’ Yoongi groaned and slumped back in his chair.

‘You know why. I couldn’t get off work.’ You giggled as you also snuggled down into your chair.

He frowned before once again beginning to type on his phone.

‘What’s wrong?’ You enquired curiously.

‘I’m not there, but Tae will be close by tomorrow. I’m sending him to check on you.’

‘Oh my god!’ You exclaimed with a laugh. ‘I can’t convince you I’m fine can I?’

‘Definitely not.’

You and Yoongi spent a long time on call together that night, making the most of every moment.

It was only after ending the call for the night, did you notice Taehyung had sent you a message.

Hey noona! Hope you are ready for a home spa day tomorrow!

P.S, Please tell Yoongi-hyung I made you happy... He’ll kill me if I fail!

[rpwprpwprpwprw]

life is indeed beautiful and amazing and love exist and i live so i love 💗

cc: Purplewithtae_

[wherethefireliliesgrow]

Make You Remember

Yoo Jimin (Karina) x Reader

GENRE: angst, fluff

TYPE: One Shot

Inspired by: Make You Remember - Lazy Weekends

A/N: i’ve been in a writing slump this year, but every now and then, i’d come here to read. recently, a few pieces caught my attention and reignited my urge to write. so, here we are! while revisiting my 2018 spotify playlists for a dose of nostalgia, i stumbled upon one of my favorite songs from back then—it felt like the perfect way to ease back into writing. (a little shoutout to @2cool-2die, her stories were what got me back into writing). anyway, hope you all enjoy the story!

“Stop staring at her like a creep,” Minjeong whispered, her large eyes narrowing in a protective glare.

Jimin couldn’t help herself. She had been watching you for the past hour—watching the way you threw your head back in laughter at something your friends said or carefully picked the tomatoes off your sandwich to hand them off to someone else. Her fists clenched at the sight.

You used to pluck off tomatoes and feed them to her, letting her play your knight in shining armor against your sworn enemy: tomatoes. It should’ve been her.

Oh, how she missed that smile you used to reserve just for her.

“Dude, I’m serious,” Minjeong hissed again, this time throwing a balled-up tissue at Jimin’s face. “This is getting out of hand.”

Jimin grunted in annoyance, lazily stretching her long arms overhead before sprawling out on the metal bench. Her head landed on Aeri’s lap as if she didn’t have a care in the world.

“I can’t help it. I miss her,” she admitted quietly, closing her eyes as Aeri absentmindedly began combing through her soft raven-black hair with her fingers.

“Well, you should’ve done better,” NingNing said flatly, taking a deep drag from her Juul. “She really loved you, you know.”

The girls expected Jimin to snap back, as she always did. Instead, they watched her deflate entirely, burrowing her face into Aeri’s stomach for solace.

“I know.”

.

.

.

.

Jimin had always been sure of herself. She was proud of her decisions, every one of them. After all, she had transferred from one of the top universities in the UK to pursue her passion for dance in Korea—a choice that went against her parents’ wishes. They had warned her about the instability of a dance career, but she’d proved them wrong.

She had met Minjeong, Aeri, and NingNing shortly after her return, and together, they formed a dance group. Now in her third year of university, Jimin was part of AESPA, a group that had skyrocketed to fame after winning first place in a national competition.

With a growing fanbase, a promising future, and an upcoming performance in front of the president at the annual ceremony, Jimin had every reason to be proud of her choices.

Every reason—except for letting you go.

She had met you during her first year back in Korea. You were the university’s student ambassador, tasked with introducing new students to campus life. Since she was the only mid-semester transfer at the time, Jimin had the luck of spending the entire day with you, just the two of you.

You captivated her immediately. Your soft, angelic voice, dry sense of humor, and those big brown eyes that lit up with excitement over the smallest things…like the library. Jimin had thought you were the lamest, cutest little thing she’d ever met. And from that moment, she was hooked.

Jimin made it her mission to sweep you off your feet. Surprised but not surprised, you had plenty of admirers. You were popular, down-to-earth, and undeniably beautiful, the kind of person who effortlessly drew others in. That only made Jimin's task harder, pushing her to work tirelessly to win your heart.

To everyone else, you were the classy student ambassador, smart, athletic, and poised. But Jimin knew the truth: beneath all that polish, you were a total nerd. 

So, she went out of her way to prove how much she cared. She’d pick you up from class with your favorite snacks, even when her schedule was packed.

She once secretly drove across state lines to attend an anime expo, just to get you those rare Pokémon cards you’d been obsessing over…though she swore she lost at least a million cool points doing it. But every second was worth it when she saw your face light up. Jimin even sat through every Avengers movie, biting back sarcastic remarks just to see you smile. 

Before long, you were hers and she was yours. You found yourself snuggled into her arms during late-night movie marathons, or cheering from backstage as she started entering dance competitions.

You were her there to support when she doubted herself after losing a dance battle, always ready with a hug and soft kisses. You were AESPA's unofficial fifth member, helping them set up for street performances and cheering louder than anyone else when they won.

And when AESPA skyrocketed to fame, you stood faithfully by her side, despite the growing distance you felt creeping in. 

But fame did something to Jimin. Slowly, the girl who once drove hours for Pokémon cards began to lose sight of the things that mattered. You were the first to notice the changes. Jimin started craving the spotlight more than anything else, and you quietly faded into the shadows.

You stopped bringing up your hobbies after a fan on her livestream mocked you for being childish. You stopped asking her for late-night drives when her excuses became more frequent. And you stopped waiting for her to notice how tired you looked, how empty you felt. 

She didn’t notice when you began packing up your prized Pokémon collection, throwing it all away as if erasing a piece of yourself. She didn’t notice when you started leaving events early, hiding the hurt behind a polite smile. Jimin was so caught up in her world of adoration, flashing lights, and applause that she failed to see you slipping through her fingers. 

She didn’t notice until it was far too late. By the time she turned around, desperate to hold onto what was left, you were already gone. She had lost you. And in losing you, she lost the part of herself that had once felt complete.

.

.

.

.

“C’mon, Jimin. Get out of your head.” Jimin slapped her forehead in frustration as she stumbled through the routine once again.

The sound of sneakers squeaking on the polished floor was followed by a collective groan from the rest of the girls, who collapsed onto the studio floor in exhaustion. AESPA was under pressure. They were supposed to perfect a dance routine for a massive ad collaboration, a career-defining moment. But with finals looming and the team juggling school and practice, their patience was wearing thin. 

“I’m really sorry, guys,” Jimin said quietly, glancing at her exhausted teammates sprawled on the floor.

Aeri’s pink hair stuck to her damp face, and Minjeong lay flat on her back, staring blankly at the ceiling like she’d lost her will to live. 

“It’s been three months, Jimin.” NingNing sighed, rubbing her temples. “When are you going to get over her? This isn’t like you.” 

“I’m trying,” Jimin muttered, her gaze locked on her scuffed sneakers, her throat tight with unshed tears. “But at the same time…I don’t want to.” 

“Well, what do you want, then?” Aeri asked, sitting up with a tired glare.

She was drained. She was tired of practice, of exams, and most of all, of watching her leader spiral into a deep abyss of self-hatred and regret in front of her. 

Jimin hesitated, her dark brows knitting together as if weighing the weight of her answer.

“I want her back,” she finally admitted. “I want Y/N back.” 

“Absolutely not,” Minjeong snapped, suddenly sitting up and joining the conversation. Her arms crossed, and her expression was livid. “You broke her, Jimin. You fucking broke her heart.” 

Jimin lowered her head, guilt weighing heavy on her shoulders, but her she had already made this decision days ago. After finding one of your old LEGO pieces buried under her bed, a reminder of simpler, happier times, she had cradled it in her hands and cried like a baby.

That night, she spiraled into a social media stalking session, scrolling through your photos, searching for any trace of the love she had destroyed. That was when she decided she’d do whatever it took to make things right. 

“I’ll treat her right this time,” Jimin whispered, her voice trembling.

“I’ll do anything to make her happy.” 

Minjeong stood abruptly, storming over to Jimin, her smaller frame radiating fiery anger. Despite the height difference, Jimin instinctively cowered under Minjeong’s glare. 

“Do you know how many times she came to me crying in the middle of the night because you couldn’t even show up for a date? How insecure you made her feel? How your stupid fangirls tore her apart?” Minjeong jabbed a finger into Jimin’s chest with every accusation.

“She’s my best friend, Jimin. I won’t let you hurt her again. She gave you everything. She gave you so many chances, and you let her down every single time.” 

The room crackled with tension as Jimin’s lips parted to respond, but no words came out. Sensing a fight about to break out, NingNing and Aeri hurriedly stepped between the two girls. 

“Hey, now’s not the time to fight,” NingNing said gently, wrapping her arms around Minjeong’s shoulders to pull her back. “We all care about Y/N, okay? Let’s take a second.” 

“Please,” Jimin pleaded, her voice barely above a whisper. Tears rimmed her eyes, but there was an earnestness in her tone that softened her hardened edges.

“Just give me a chance. I swear I’ll never hurt her again.” 

“No. No fucking way,” Minjeong snapped, her voice firm. 

“How about we let Y/N decide herself?” Aeri suggested cautiously, flinching slightly under Minjeong’s searing glare.

“Jimin can talk to her. If she says no…then that’s it. Jimin walks away and never bothers her again.” 

The blonde hesitated. She knew how deeply you had loved Jimin and how much it had cost you when things fell apart. Letting Jimin reach out could undo all the progress you’d made. But at the same time…if she stopped this, would you resent her for it? 

With a heavy sigh, Minjeong finally relented. “Fine. Just one sentence. If she reacts badly to whatever you say, you stay the hell away from her. For good.” 

Jimin’s lips curved into a genuine smile for the first time in months, a smile full of hope, the kind that crinkled the corners of her eyes.

“One sentence is more than enough to make her remember.”

.

.

.

.

They say the easiest way to someone's heart is through their stomach, so Jimin threw herself into her first mission with relentless determination. The five-hour drive to Busan and back didn’t faze her—this was for you. She needed to remind you of the small things, the little joys you used to share.

The memory of your trips together flooded her mind: your hand in hers, your voice belting off tune to whichever K-pop song was stuck in your head, and your infectious laughter filling the car. She prayed to the gods to hear that laugh again. 

By the time she returned to Seoul, the darkness of the night had already cloaked the streets. Armed with the pink box of macarons from your hometown bakery, Jimin’s heart raced with anticipation and dread. Aeri had passed along a tip (reluctantly overheard from Minjeong, who would never willingly disclose your whereabouts to Jimin) that you were working a shift at the local bistro. 

When Jimin walked into the cozy bistro, the soft chime of the bell drew attention from other patrons. Murmurs rippled through the room as people recognized her, AESPA’s leader, a rising star. But Jimin’s focus was on you. Only you. 

You stood behind the counter, your hair tied up in a messy bun, concentrated on preparing a tray of drinks. You weren’t as put-together as you are in school, with your crisp white shirt bearing faint creases, but to Jimin, you were as breathtaking as ever. 

She made her way to the counter, sitting directly in front of you. She waited, patient and quiet, as you prepared another Long Island, your tongue sticking out in concentration. 

“Hi, sorry for the wait. What can I—” You froze mid-sentence as your eyes met hers.

Recognition flickered across your face, followed by a flash of pain. Your expression changed into something cold, guarded. 

“No.” Your tone was flat, final. “Please leave.” 

Jimin didn’t flinch. Her gaze softened, a melancholic smile tugging at her lips. She didn’t respond, she couldn’t. Not yet, she only had one chance. All she knew was that seeing you here within an arms length, was enough to momentarily soothe the ache in her chest. 

As much as you tried to suppress it, your heart betrayed you, fluttering at the sight of her. Jimin looked effortlessly stunning, her leather jacket rolled up to reveal familiar tattoos snaking down her forearm. She was exactly how you remembered and yet entirely different. 

She stared at you for another moment, her silence unnerving. Her eyes brimmed with emotions you couldn’t understand. Finally, Jimin rose to her feet, placed the pink box on the counter, and lightly squeezed your arm before turning to leave. 

You stared at the box, stunned, your mind reeling. It was from your favorite bakery in Busan, the one she had driven hours to visit countless times when you were together. Your chest tightened as you realized the lengths she must’ve gone to for this gesture. 

But you couldn’t let yourself fall for her again. Not this time. 

“I’ll be right back!” you yelled to your coworker, grabbing the box as you stormed out of the bistro.

The cold November air bit at your skin as you scanned the street for her. 

You found her leaning against a lamppost, a cigarette dangling from her lips. The sight stopped you in your tracks. When had she started smoking again? Fury flared in your chest. You strode toward her, plucking the cigarette from her fingers and tossing it to the ground. 

“What the hell, Jimin?” you snapped, glaring at her. “I thought you quit.” 

She continued to stay silent, her dark eyes fixed on you as if trying to engrave your face in her memories.

Your anger wavered. You shouldn’t care. You couldn’t care. Not after everything. Shoving the pink box back into her hands, you hissed, “Don’t ever come to this bistro again.” 

The words tasted bitter, and regret coiled in your stomach the moment they left your lips. But you couldn’t take them back. Not now. 

Jimin nodded wordlessly, her lips curling into a soft, bittersweet smile—one that inexplicably cut deeper than any argument could. With that, she turned and walked away, disappearing into the cold night. 

.

.

.

.

It seemed after that night, Jimin had made it her mission to claw her way back into your life, whether you wanted her to or not. She didn’t speak, didn’t push, but her presence was always there, an unspoken reminder of everything you’d once shared.

You could feel her eyes on you during lunch, lingering from across the cafeteria as if she thought she could will you to look back. Even on your way to work, you swore you’d catch her silhouette in the distance, leaning against a lamppost or sitting on a nearby bench, always careful not to cross any boundaries but still there.

The weekends were no escape either. When AESPA was invited to perform at the school fair you unfortunately was in charge of organizing, it felt like fate, or perhaps Jimin, was mocking you. She stood front and center, capturing attention with her effortless charm, but every so often her eyes would search for yours in the crowd, a desperate glance that left you feeling raw and exposed.

What annoyed you most, though, was her silence. She never spoke to you, never tried to bridge the impossible gap between you. And yet, as much as it infuriated you, you hated to admit how much you missed her voice.

The way it would rasp slightly in the mornings when she whispered sweet nothings into your ear, or the confident drawl she carried when talking to others.

This Jimin, silent and unsure, almost timid, felt like a stranger. It was disarming, and you weren’t sure if you hated her for it or if it broke your heart just a little more.

As much as you tried to build walls around yourself, Jimin had a way of chipping at them, bit by bit, with gestures that felt achingly familiar.

One evening when you finally left the library, you found a gift on the hood of your car, neatly wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine, was a book you had mentioned loving once, years ago before you got together with her, a rare edition of poetry that you never got the chance to buy.

Tucked inside was a small card with her unmistakable handwriting:

For when you need an escape.– J

Your heart twisted painfully, remembering how she used to surprise you with little things like this, whether it was a book, a drink she knew you loved, or a random trinket that reminded her of you.

Another day, on your way home from a long shift, you found her waiting by the campus fountain. She didn’t approach, didn’t say anything, just held out a single stem of a sunflower, your favorite flower, the kind she used to bring to your dorm every time you aced an exam.

You wanted to yell at her, to demand why she was doing this now, but instead, you took the flower silently, clutching it tightly all the way home.

The memories came rushing back. The way she used to sit with you for hours in the library, pretending to study but really just stealing glances at you over the top of her books. How she’d wake up early to walk you to class, even if it meant cutting her own sleep short. The nights she stayed up late with you on the phone, talking about nothing and everything until you both fell asleep to the sound of each other's breathing.

Jimin knew exactly how to unravel you, and she was relentless in her quiet persistence.

Another day, after a particularly stressful day, you find yourself staring at a box left outside your apartment. Inside was a Slowpoke doll (you used to call her your SlowPoke because she was always running late and had a knack for falling asleep in random places) and a note: 

I know how these made you feel like you weren’t good enough, but these are the things I love about you. All your interests, your little habits…don’t stop.

You shoved the box under your bed in a haze of shame and anger. You’d given up your obsession with Pokémon long ago, sacrificing that part of yourself just to appease her fans and their cruel remarks. But as the days stretched on, your resolve wavered. You caught yourself glancing at the box more often than you cared to admit, the memories flooding into your mind. 

Eventually, you couldn’t help yourself. With a reluctant sigh, you pulled the Slowpoke doll from the box and placed it on your bed. That night, you held it close as you drifted off to sleep, comforted by a piece of the past you thought you’d lost. 

Each gesture tugged at the guarded heart. You hated her for how easily she slipped back into your life, even as you found yourself clutching the flower she’d given you, rereading her notes late into the night, and biting your lip to suppress the warmth spreading in your chest.

You hated her, and yet, you couldn’t deny your feelings for her. You never could.

.

.

.

.

You wrapped your scarf tightly around your neck, shielding yourself from the brisk evening wind as you waited for Minjeong outside the movie theater.

The newest Marvel movie had finally been released, and although you’d downplayed your excitement, your heart raced. Your lame obsession with Avengers had always been a sore spot, especially since Jimin’s fangirls used it to mock you mercilessly.

Over time, you tried to bury that part of yourself, to hide how much you still adored superheroes. It was easier than facing the ridicule—or the memories tied to it. 

When Minjeong, your best friend since elementary school, asked if you wanted to see the movie, you hesitated at first. But her easy acceptance of your quirks had always been earnest, so you agreed.

The sound of tires crunching gravel pulled you from your thoughts, and you looked up to see a sleek black Mercedes pulling into the parking lot. Minjeong stepped out, her face drawn in a disgruntled scowl. She spotted you and quickly brightened, crossing the space in a few brisk strides before pulling you into a warm hug. 

“Hey, Y/N-nie. Have you been waiting long?” she asked, her voice light, though her body was stiff against yours. 

You shook your head, but something about her demeanor made you pause. Your gaze drifted back to the car, the sleek black exterior gleaming under the parking lot lights. A pit formed in your stomach as realization hit. 

“Was that… Jimin?” you asked cautiously. 

Minjeong froze. Her jaw tightened, her grip on your arms faltering slightly before she let out a resigned sigh. She avoided your eyes as she nodded.

“Yeah,” she admitted reluctantly. 

“She’s the one who asked me to bring you here,” Minjeong added after a pause. Her tone was careful, measured, as though she were treading on thin ice. “She even bought the tickets beforehand.” 

You blinked at her, stunned. 

“I didn’t want to do it,” Minjeong continued quickly, frustration in her voice. “I told her this was a bad idea, but…” She trailed off, biting her lip as her gaze dropped to the ground.

“She was persistent.” 

Your heart did a strange flip at that. You could almost picture Jimin sitting across from Minjeong, stubborn as ever, insisting that she take you to the movie. She must have known showing up herself would only push you away, so she found a way to make sure you’d still see it. It was so… Jimin. Thoughtful in a way that made your chest ache. 

“She’s been doing things like this for weeks,” Minjeong muttered, almost to herself. “Little things. She thinks they’ll fix everything.” Her round eyes flickered with an anger she didn’t bother to hide.

“I told her to leave you alone. I told her you didn’t need her messing things up again.” 

“She hasn’t been bothering me,” you said softly, reaching out to squeeze Minjeong’s hand in reassurance when her voice grew sharp.

“I promise, Jeongnie. She hasn’t done anything. Don’t worry.” 

Minjeong’s shoulders sagged slightly, but her lips pressed into a tight line. “Has she talked to you yet?” 

You shook your head. “No. Weirdly, she hasn’t said a word. Just… left some gifts every now and then.” 

At that, Minjeong’s eyes widened, and she groaned, slapping her forehead.

“I’m so stupid,” she muttered, half to herself. 

“What?” you asked, confused by her sudden exasperation. 

She shook her head quickly, waving the question away. “Nothing. Come on, let’s go inside. The movie’s about to start.” 

As she guided you toward the theater, her arm looped protectively through yours. Though Minjeong was close friends with the leader, it was clear she didn’t like Jimin trying to worm her way back into your life.

You could see it in the tightness of her jaw, the subtle furrow in her brow. She didn’t trust Jimin. Not her promises, not her intentions, and certainly not her ability to heal the wounds she’d caused. After all, it had been Minjeong who had patiently helped you piece yourself back together, bit by bit.

And yet, the fact that she’d brought you here today, using Jimin’s tickets, betrayed the tiny sliver of hope she held for her.

.

.

.

.

This was the fifth time that day Jimin walked past the bistro, casually peering through the windows with her hands stuffed in her leather jacket pockets before walking away.

You watched her each time, fidgeting, kicking the ground with her boots, looking like she wanted to step inside but was holding back. It was endearing, not that you’d admit it. But every time, she chose to walk away, opting to follow your words from before instead.

It had begun to snow, and you couldn’t stop yourself from worrying.

“Stupid oaf,” you muttered, before slipping outside to call out Jimin’s name.

She was already on her sixth round of circling the bistro, her slender figure blending into the gray snowfall.

“Yoo Jimin!” You called, your breath forming a cloud in the cold air.

The raven-haired girl stopped in her tracks, her shoulders stiffening before she slowly turned around to look at you. A nervous grin tugged at her lips, and your heart fluttered involuntarily.

“Just…just come in.” You sighed, avoiding her gaze.

Jimin’s face lit up, her eyes sparkling with glee like a little kid as she quickly made her way over.

You led her through the busy bistro, past the tables full of customers, to the counter, exactly where she had sat the first time she came. You couldn’t help but feel self-conscious at the way she was staring at you, her face resting in her palms, eyes wide and starry.

Sighing, you pushed the menu to her. “What do you want to order?”

Jimin merely looked at you, a silly smile gracing her lips. Your eyes flickered to it, momentarily lost in the soft curve of her mouth and her luscious lips, before quickly looking away.

“Fine.” You mumbled, quickly pouring her a cup of warm coffee.

Fortunately, you were distracted by the steady stream of orders. It was a Saturday night, after all, and that meant people were coming in for drinks. You were busy making drinks, serving them, but with Jimin there, it felt different, lighter, happier.

That was when Joon, a usual customer and a tall, blurry figure, stumbled over to the counter, clearly drunk. You tensed instantly. Joon was always handsy when he drank, more often than not, and you always tried to stay out of his way.

“Y/NNNNN,” he slurred, leaning way too close for comfort, his breath heavy on the counter.

Jimin’s eyes narrowed, and you saw the muscles in her jaw clench.

“I missed you,” Joon continued, leaning forward, his gaze lingering in a way that made your stomach churn.

“How about we go on a date? My place is just around the corner.”

“I’m not interested, Joon.” You pushed back, trying to create some space. “Please, leave me alone.”

Joon’s expression twisted into something more sinister, his hand suddenly reaching over the counter to grab your arm, his fingers digging into your skin. You winced at the pressure, red marks forming on your arm as he held you tight.

That’s when Jimin had had enough. She stood up, towering over him, her height equal to his, but with a quiet strength that commanded attention.

“Get. Your. Hands. Off. Her.” Her voice was cold, and before you could react, she pushed Joon off, sending him stumbling backward into the wall.

Joon recovered quickly and swung at Jimin, narrowly missing her face by a hair. You stepped forward, panic flooding your chest, quickly pulling Jimin away from him.

“Let it go, Jimin,” you urged, your voice shaky as you tugged her close to you. “Please, stop.”

Jimin hesitated, her eyes softening as she looked at you. She reached down and gently cradled the arm that Joon had grabbed, her cold fingers brushing over the tender skin, sending a shiver up your spine.

“I’m okay,” you said, trying to reassure her.

She looked like she was about to say something when a yell from your coworkers snapped your attention back to the scene. You turned just in time to see Joon charging forward, having managed to break free from the grip of your coworkers. His fist collided with Jimin’s temple with a sickening crunch, and she crumpled to the floor.

You screamed, panic rising as onlookers rushed to contain Joon. Jimin lay motionless, and you immediately knelt by her side, heart racing.

“Jimin?” You screamed, rushing to her side. The blood had already begun to trickle down her temple, and a bruise was swelling rapidly.

You knelt beside her, panic clawing at your chest. “Jimin? Baby? Please, wake up.”

You cupped her pale face in your trembling hands, her skin cool against your palms. She was so still, and it terrified you.

After a few moments of desperate attempts to rouse her, her eyelids finally fluttered open, and you let out a shaky breath of relief.

“Oh thank god,” you sighed out in relief, your chest tightening as her eyelids slowly fluttered open.

“Jimin? Can you hear me?”

Her cheeks were squished as your hands cupped her face. You might have found it cute if you weren’t so worried. Her dazed expression and the way her chubby cheeks puffed out only made your heart ache more.

“Am I dreaming?” she asked, a dopey smile still lingering on her lips.

You leaned back, running a hand through your hair in relief and exasperation.

“No, Jimin,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “You just got punched. This is very real.”

Her grin faltered in realization. Her eyes widened in horror as she scrambled to sit up.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she muttered, groaning in embarrassment, her hands shooting up to touch her tender forehead.

“Please forget I said anything. Please.”

She couldn’t believe that she wasted her only chance, her only sentence, just to ask her if you were real.

You reached out, gently stopping her from touching her injury. “Don’t touch. You’re bleeding.”

Your manager let you leave early after apologizing repeatedly to Jimin. After all, one of the biggest rising stars had just been injured in his bistro.

Jimin smiled good-naturedly and shrugged off his apologies, clearly not phased. She had refused to go to the hospital for a check-up, and unable to stop yourself, you found yourself driving her back to your apartment.

You promised yourself this was a one-time thing, that you were just being a caring, responsible friend. Anyone would’ve done the same for her, right?

As you led her into your room, she glanced around, the familiar space tugging at something in her heart. Her eyes landed on her sweatshirt that she had lost so long ago, still draped casually over the chair.

She noticed the absence of the photos on your vanity mirror, ones that once captured all the memories of the two of you. But, then, her gaze softened as it settled on the SlowPoke doll still sitting on your bed. Her heart skipped a beat. You had kept it.

You still cared, even if you seemed so distant, so far away.

Maybe, just maybe, you hadn't forgotten her love.

You paused in your tracks as you saw Jimin poking at the SlowPoke on your bed. You turned a brilliant shade of pink, flustered, before quickly ushering her to sit down so you could tend to her wound.

"Don't move," you muttered, your voice softer than you intended as you reached up gingerly to disinfect the cut on her temple.

She winced and hissed in pain but didn’t pull away, remaining still, her dark eyes never leaving your face. The closeness of your bodies was unnerving, her skin so warm under your touch, and that tight white shirt she wore, showing off her tattoos, only added to the flurry of thoughts rushing through your head.

Why did she have to be so damn beautiful?

Jimin, on the other hand, couldn’t take her eyes off you. The softness in your eyes and the gentleness of your touch, was making her heart race. She wasn’t sure if she'd ever have this chance again.

"Why are you doing this, Jimin?" you asked, your voice coming out a little more strained than you'd planned, your hands trembling as you applied a thin layer of medicine.

Jimin’s brows furrowed in confusion. "Doing what?"

"All this," you said, motioning between the two of you. "Not talking to me, but following me around... giving me gifts..."

Jimin paused, taking a deep breath, before saying, “I wanted to make you remember.”

“Remember what?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper as you finished applying the medicine.

She let out a small breath, trying to steady herself. "Remember us."

She looked down at her hands, then back up at you, her voice growing quieter, more vulnerable. "And... make you remember my love for you."

You froze, your hands retreating from her face as your heart pounded in your chest. You searched her eyes, so open, so full of regret and hope.

And in that moment, you knew you still loved her too.

"Jimin..." You tried to form words, but your throat was tight, the emotions threatening to spill over. “I-“

Before you could finish, Jimin quickly knelt beside the bed, gently cradling your hand in hers and placing it in your lap.

“Please, give me another chance, Y/N,” she begged, the tears she had been holding back finally breaking free.

"These past few months without you have been... miserable. I know I hurt you. I know I lost myself, but I promise, I won’t let this happen again. I love everything about you, your softness, your quirky obsessions... everything. I’m sorry I didn’t reassure you when you were doubting yourself, or protect you from the hate.”

She took a shaky breath, and in a voice barely above a whisper, she said, “I don’t think I could ever love anyone as much as I love you.”

Your heart clenched, the weight of her words crashing over you. The pain you had felt for so long, the loneliness that had settled deep in your soul, began to break. You missed her, but you're scared, so scared. Scared of trusting her again, scared of the hurt she could cause, scared of how much power she held over you.

“You hurt me, Jimin. So much,” you said softly, unable to keep the pain from your voice. “I don’t know if I can trust you.”

Jimin nodded, her face softening with understanding, though the sadness in her eyes remained. But she wasn’t giving up.

“I know,” she said, her voice steady. “But I will spend the rest of my life earning back your trust.”

And in that moment, with everything on the line, you finally gave in.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Her eyes widened, and that smile, so hopeful, so full of warmth, spread across her angelic face.

“Yes, Jimin. One chance.” You whispered, your heartbeat thudding loudly in your ears.

“Yes!” Jimin punched the air lamely, her eyes sparkling as she grabbed your hand, pulling you up effortlessly.

Before you could even react, she spun you around in a twirl, making you let out a small scream in surprise. The sudden rush of laughter filled the room as you both stumbled and collapsed onto the bed, her arms immediately wrapping around you.

.

.

.

.

The soft thud of Jimin’s heartbeat was lulling you to sleep, a comforting rhythm that calmed your racing thoughts. You gently traced the ink on her forearms, each line and curve filled with her memories. Her steady breathing was a lullaby, peaceful and steady, as you cuddled up to her.

After tending to her injury, you had given her a change of clothes, and let her stay the night. She refused to let go of you, her arms wrapped tightly around you, her lips pressing soft, affectionate kisses to your forehead. It was a strange feeling, like nothing could go wrong in that moment.

For the first time in months, your heart felt whole again, free of the old pain that had lingered too long.

But then, a thought crept into your mind. Gently, you pulled away slightly, your eyes meeting the beautiful dancer’s.

She whined, unhappy at the space between you. You laughed softly, seeing the playful pout on her lips. Outside, she was fierce, confident, and intimidating even, but here, in front of you, she was just a clingy baby.

“I wanted to ask,” you began, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear, “Why did you want me to forget about what you said at the bistro? When you told me to forget it?”

A faint pink blush spread across her cheeks, and she shifted uncomfortably, not meeting your eyes.

"It was because..." she trailed off, her voice hesitant, and you gently cupped her chin, forcing  her gaze to meet yours.

“Because of what?”

"Because Minjeong said I could only talk to you once. One sentence. If you reacted badly, I would have to leave your life for good," Jimin admitted, looking away in embarrassment.

"I couldn’t believe I wasted that one sentence on asking if you were real. I was scared Minjeong would beat me up if you got mad."

You stared at her in disbelief. "That was why you refused to speak to me?"

Jimin nodded, her lips twisting into a sheepish smile.

"You’re so fucking stupid, Jimin," you muttered under your breath, shaking your head, though a fond smile tugged at your lips.

"Thank god you’re good at dancing, or else I’d be worried about your future."

"Hey!" she whined, pushing you playfully. "I’m not stupid! It’s just... Minjeong is scary when she’s mad."

Unable to hold back your endearment for this stupid lovable girl, you finally leaned down to press your lips to hers.

Jimin froze, marveling at the feel of your soft lips against hers. She had been dreaming about this moment for so long, and she quickly kissed you back with just as much enthusiasm. The kiss was soft at first, tentative before it deepened following the quickening of your heart beats.

When the air between you became a problem, you both pulled away, gasping for breath, but neither of you made a move to break the closeness. Your foreheads rested together, and for a moment, you just smiled into the space between your lips.

“What did you plan to say then?” You whispered, still breathless from the kiss, “The sentence.”

“Oh, I was going to say: Look at this cool tattoo I got.” She said mischievously, before sitting up and pulling off her shirt, leaving herself in nothing but a bra top.

You blushed immediately, eyes instinctively flicking to the defined muscles of her abs as she twisted to show you the back of her shoulders. For a moment, you couldn’t help but be distracted by the way her muscles flexed before your gaze landed on a small patch of ink on the corner of her right shoulder.

“You got a tattoo of a Charmander?” you sputtered, almost disbelieving.

“Yeah, it’s cute, right?” Jimin grinned, proud of herself.

“It reminded me of you. You have the same eyes as Charmander. And also, it’s your favorite Pokémon, so it’s a win-win.”

“Jimin, my favorite Pokémon is Chikorita…” you sighed, shaking your head in exasperation.

“Chikorita.” She repeated, her lips pursing in thought. “Not Charmander?”

“Not Charmander.”

She thought for a second, then shrugged with a grin. “At least it looks like you.”

Unable to contain yourself any longer, you grabbed the collar of her top and pulled her into another kiss, one that made her remember that you were definitely hers.

got a bit carried away so some scenes kinda dragged out 😬

but hope you all enjoyed this loserish version of jimin!

[lzucid]

ㅡ A song for you

Genre : Fluff, Slight Angst? idol!jimin × reader

Summary : Jimin has been distant lately, lost in rehearsals and schedules. But tonight, he comes back to you with something special—something that speaks louder than words. ☾ .𖥔 ݁ ˖

Author's note : i'm writing after a really long time so i have no idea if anyone will like this, but i hope you guys enjoy! <3

The rain had been falling for hours. You watched as tiny droplets slid down the apartment window, tracing their slow, aimless paths before disappearing into the dark. The city outside was alive—cars honking, people rushing under umbrellas—but inside, it was quiet. Too quiet.

You pulled the sleeves of Jimin’s oversized hoodie over your hands, trying to find comfort in the lingering scent of him. It had been days since you had last seen him, and even longer since you’d had a real conversation. His texts were short, his calls rushed. "Sorry, practice ran late. I’ll call you tomorrow. Miss you."

You knew he was busy. That was part of loving someone like him—an idol, a star. But knowing didn’t make it easier.

A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you leaned your head against the couch. Just as you were about to reach for your phone, the familiar sound of the front door unlocking made your heart jump.

Jimin stepped inside, shaking the rain from his hair. His black hoodie clung to him, damp from the weather, and his cheeks were flushed pink from the cold.

You stood up immediately. “Jimin?”

His tired eyes softened when they met yours. “Hey,” he breathed, shutting the door behind him. He let his bag slip from his shoulder, kicking off his shoes. “You’re still up.”

You crossed your arms. “Hard to sleep when my boyfriend has been MIA.”

Jimin winced, running a hand through his wet hair. “I know. I’m sorry.”

You sighed, not wanting to argue. “Did you even eat?”

He grinned sheepishly. “Maybe a snack between rehearsals?”

Shaking your head, you walked past him to the kitchen, already grabbing a bowl of leftover soup from the fridge. “You need to take better care of yourself.”

As you placed the bowl in the microwave, you felt his arms wrap around your waist from behind. His chin rested on your shoulder, his body warm despite the chill from outside.

"I missed you." he murmured, his voice tinged with exhaustion.

Your heart clenched, but you refused to let him off that easily. “You sure? You’ve been too busy to say more than two words to me lately.”

Jimin sighed, pulling back just enough to spin you around and face him. His dark eyes searched yours. “I know,” he admitted softly. “That’s why I came here. I have something for you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Unless it’s a time machine that lets us get back all the nights you missed, I’m not sure—”

Jimin cut you off with a small, teasing smile. “Just sit,” he said, leading you back to the couch. He reached for the guitar resting against the wall—his guitar, the one he rarely played in front of anyone.

Your breath caught. “Jimin…?”

He sat down beside you, adjusting the instrument in his lap before meeting your gaze. “Just listen.”

Then, he started playing.

The first few notes were soft, hesitant, but the moment his voice joined the melody, the room changed. Jimin’s voice was always beautiful—smooth like honey, rich with emotion—but this was different. It wasn’t the polished, perfected sound of an idol on stage. It was raw. Personal.

The lyrics spoke of quiet mornings tangled in sheets, of stolen glances across crowded rooms, of whispered confessions in the dead of night. They spoke of waiting, of longing, of loving someone from a distance but never letting go.

They spoke of you.

Tears pricked at your eyes before you even realised it, but you blinked them away.

Jimin’s voice wavered slightly as he sang the last note, his fingers stilling on the strings. He exhaled, looking at you nervously. “I wrote it for you,” he admitted, biting his lip. “I know I haven’t been around, but… I needed you to know that no matter how far I am, no matter how busy I get, you’re always here.” He reached out, gently pressing his hand over your heart.

You let out a shaky laugh, wiping at your eyes. “You’re such an idiot.”

Jimin blinked. “Wait—what?”

You sniffled, shaking your head with a smile. “You didn’t have to go and write me a whole song, Jimin. I just needed you to show up.”

He let out a breath of relief, his lips curling into a lopsided grin. “So… you liked it?”

Instead of answering, you lunged forward, wrapping your arms around his neck. He let out a surprised laugh before pulling you in tightly, his warmth chasing away every lonely night you had spent missing him.

“I missed you,” you whispered against his shoulder.

Jimin sighed, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I missed you more.”

Outside, the rain continued to fall, the world moving on. But in that moment, with Jimin’s arms around you and his song still lingering in the air, nothing else mattered.

ㅡ thank you for reading, have an amazing day! ☾ .𖥔 ݁ ˖

[muniimyg]

ALONE TOGETHER // MYG

you’ll always be his first choice

+

yoongi spends too much time convincing you to not be anyone’s second choice all the while he remains yours

pairing: (protective) best friend yoongi + oc 

au/genre:

best friends to ???

crush au

fluff, slight, one-sided pining

warnings:

mentions of cheating

explicit language

feelings of being second choice

note: originally posted on @/meowachi ,, revised !!

🏷️ permanent taglist: @joonsjuice @taetaecatboy @pb-n-juju @miss-rainy-days @firesighgirl @whoa-jo @vantxx95 @pamzn @kakixaku @casspirit0705 @tae165 @prdshobi @sopebubbles @leefics @ggukkieland @bebebutbetter @yoongimentita7 @vampcharxter @miss-jupiter @floweryjeons @taegijns

There’s an unfamiliar tension that invades the space between you and him. 

You’re fidgeting with your hands, trying your best to avoid eye contact. He’s here. Of course, he is. It’d be much more unlike him to not be. Yet, he stays silent, unable to pick a thought to express first. 

You’re sitting on the edge of your bed as he stands, leaning against your door frame. You can’t really make out what his facial expression is, but there is a weight of disappointment that presses your heart. It all feels too heavy—all too real. It didn’t need to be like this but the days of your avoidance fell in vain as the recently confirmed rumours exposed every bit of privacy you’ve been trying to keep.

“Yoongi—“

“Don’t.”

He exhales heavily and takes a step forward. “I.. I should’ve known better. I should’ve been here earlier.. I could have been. If you let me, you know?” Yoongi gives you a puzzled look. It was as if he was offended at your lack of needing him. “... And that’s the part where I’m confused.. Why didn’t you call me?”

He makes the move first. 

He sits next to you and places his hand on top of yours causing your fidgeting to stop. You look up and him and he feels like he was just punched in the stomach. Perhaps it was your tired expression and your dull eyes—whatever it was; it hurt to see you look the way you do now.

 You move your hand away and shrug. “Does it matter? You’re here now.” You say in an attempt to lighten the mood. He glares at you, refusing to give in to your words. A moment of silence falls upon you two again. 

“So.. How is he?” you ask Yoongi. Instantly, he groans in frustration. 

Are you serious? Were you always this annoying?

“Jimin dumps you for the girl he told you not to worry about… And you’re asking if he’s okay?” Yoongi’s words feel like salt being rubbed into your open wounds. “Not to mention that he practically cheated on you.”

You look at him with a soft smile but no words come out of your mouth. What was there to say? It already happened. Were you supposed to beg Jimin to stay with you? How could you live with yourself, fully knowing you’re the second choice? How could you continue to love him truly if his wandering eyes never glance your way?

Jimin’s mistreatment towards you almost feels like a joke. Everyone had warned him not to fuck up. Everyone warned you to keep your guard up. It was just the nature of him and the fate for you. Now, here is your best friend in the entire world; incredibly angry for you. He barged into your apartment to be some sort of damage control. 

The thing is; no part of you wants to admit how bad it really burns inside. You struggle to swallow your pride. But it is hard. It’s so fucking hard when you feel pathetic and useless. There’s no way you’d want to mix desperate in there. 

It was your pride that stopped you from calling Yoongi. He was right and it was too embarrassing to cry over someone he had told you not to give the time of day. On the contrary, you still believe Jimin was a good boyfriend—a great one even! However, he had a life and impulsive decisions that contradicted his promises to you. You didn’t expect commitment or an incredibly long relationship with him, but you did expect honesty.. 

And perhaps, honesty is what he gave when he dumped you. 

“He’s fucking amazing. He’s Jimin. Nothing really brings him down even if it’s his own bullshit,” Yoongi pauses and wonders if he should stop here. Should say the next part? He’s afraid they could possibly change your feelings. Could it? If it does.. Would it be for the better or worse?

“He asked about you, though.” Yoongi pauses, almost instantly regretting to speak up about this. maybe he should brush it off and leave it be.. This was his chance to protect you in a way.. Then, your eyes light up. Your eyes always light up this way whenever you have feelings for someone. It’s an observation Yoongi took the time to note. 

Putting his feelings aside, he dismisses his hesitation and fixates on your happiness. 

He should tell you. He has to tell you. 

“He asked about you.. First. That’s how I found out.. He told me.” Yoongi confesses.

Now he feels sick. 

He feels like he’s giving you false hope and making Jimin look humane when he’s such a villain.

Fucking shit does Yoongi really want you to hate Jimin. 

Even if it was for a split second, he wants you to take a moment and feel a fraction of the rage he feels towards Jimin. His frustration, anger, and resentment should be yours. Yet, you’re you. You aren’t the type to get angry and regretful. You love what comes along and wish for the best when it’s time to let go. Rarely do you fall apart and therefore rarely do you need Yoongi.

He hates that.  

“Did you hit him?” you ask softly, trying your best to mask your concern. You wish for a no. You wish for an answer that won’t make you feel like you’d have to choose between the two. “... You shouldn’t hit your friends.”

The corner of Yoongi’s mouth twitches. 

“No,” he chuckles as you let out a relieved breath. “I didn’t hit him. Was about to… But I thought about it. Mid-swing, I realize you’d probably be madder at me than him.” 

See, Yoongi has always been the nonchalant type. No one doubts how far his anger could drive him. Fortunately for everyone, he is a patient man. Nevertheless, his patience has a bad habit of fracturing whenever it comes to you. He always been protective of you. As for you; you expect better from him. You know he’s better than hateful actions. 

“Jimin told me you said you wanted space… He thought you told me.. That’s why he brought it up. Then, when he realized I didn’t know—he went full defense mode.”

You sigh. “Keep me updated, yeah? Jimin is still a good guy. He is still your friend.”

“Not a very good one if he’s fucking my best friend over.” Yoongi snaps. “You need to stop letting yourself be treated so poorly.”

You laugh. “Noted.”

For a moment, you two are okay. For a moment, Yoongi isn’t pissed and you aren’t hurt. You sink into the cozy feeling and decide to carry the conversation into a different direction. “Anyways, how are you?”

“No,” Yoongi says sternly. “___, we’re not doing that. I’m here for you. You’ve been avoiding me. You’ve been cheated on and—“

“Yoongi, I know what happened to me. It’s clear that you do too. We’ve established it so you don’t need to repeat it,” you snap. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

He groans at you. 

In response, you throw your hands in the air and roll your eyes at him. “See? this is why I didn’t call you. God, I knew you’d do this.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes, shakes his head, and almost laughs at you. “Do what? Worry about you? That’s kind of what a friend is for. This is called a friendship. Me communicating and trying to protect you—this is shit men do. Something Jimin—“

“Stop it. He did communicate. I just wasn’t his choice. End of story.”

“And that’s the dumbest bullshit he could ever pull. I mean, how could anyone not choose you?”

“To each their own.”

“Fuck that and fuck him,” Yoongi scoffs. “I choose you.”

Your eyes widen and so does his when he realizes the words that fell out of his mouth. What happens now? It’s such an odd thing to say, no? Yoongi has never said anything like this to you before. When you look at him, you see his gaze had softened and even if there was a slightly panicked look on his face… There was also an underlying sense of relief.

It’s as if he had confessed a secret. 

You brush it off. Clearing your throat, you ask him; “A-are you done? Because I’m, uh, n-not in the mood for this. I don’t need you to—“

“To what? I didn’t come here to say ‘I told you so,’ ___. Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Then why are you here?” you huff, beginning to feel more and more defeated.  “Just go, Yoongi. I want to be alone.”

“We can be alone together.” 

It’s then when you look up at him, eyes watering and feelings on the edge of a cliff. You take a deep breath. Holy shit, you’re so tired of this. You stand up but he catches your hand and pulls your body into his embrace. Before you can protest, he holds you tighter. 

“It’s me, ___. It’s us.” he comforts you. “Fall apart or go numb, whatever. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Unsure of what stirs in you—perhaps it’s the days worth of holding everything in—but tears begin to fall from your eyes. Your inhale is cut short and disrupted by a hitch and the ache in your chest. It takes over. It practically consumes you the moment you let it. 

“I hate how you can j-just—how y-you can get me like this,” you cry, poking his chest passive-aggressively. Soon, your hands form a fist and you’re beginning to hit his chest as light cries escape your lips. As predicted, the louder you begin to break, the slower and lighter you hit him. When you come to a stop, he places his hands on top of yours. “I hate you,” you mumble.

He hushes you and holds you as you begin to tremble.

Yoongi moves the two of you into your bed. He wraps his arms around you as you cuddle up to him while you continue to cry. His sweet nothings calm your cries. He holds you tighter to calm you. His hands are placed patting the top of your head or rubbing your back. While he does all this, Yoongi wonders what it would be like to hold you in a totally opposite situation. 

One where you’re happy and hung up on him. One where you don’t feel like shit and he’s just trying his best not to cross any lines. 

After a while, you finally calm down. His arms and wrist felt a little numb, but it was worth it. He tucks his chin to take a peek at your state. Your eyes are puffy and your nose is a little red from the crying… But you look relieved. You look like you could rest tonight and if he’s not mistaken, you also look a little sleepy. The truth is; you just feel safe. 

He does this so well. He holds you better than Jimin.

“I wanted to face it alone and deal with it.. Pretend like it didn’t matter and that I could handle it..” you say, eyes slowly fluttering closed. Your voice gets softer and sleepier. He hushes you, promising that you don’t need to explain yourself. “No, because… It’s like whatever I do.. I just feel so alone. I figured there was no point in calling you because honestly… I still feel empty with you here, Yoon. What do we do about that?” 

He wishes he had an answer. Yoongi wishes he could find the perfect words for you and form some sort of metaphor that could change your perspective on everything. He should’ve majored in English Lit or something. 

Although, he can’t say he’s not surprised or offended by how blunt you are. He knows you’re all about transparency. It’s probably why you’re still a little hung up on Jimin: he came clean. He had an honest conversation with you, which only complicated your feelings for him even more. Now, the issue wouldn’t just be on how you’d have to learn to unlove Jimin, rather it would have to do with your new perspective on honesty and trust. 

Is honesty really worth it? Is it really that good? From the looks of it; maybe some things are better left in the dark.

Yoongi knows it’ll take time for you to adjust to the pain, but a big part of him wishes you could let him in more. After all, you can’t heal what you won’t touch, right?

So he lies there, wondering to himself when could he ever be enough for you. It confused him how you still felt alone when he was giving his all to be here with you. How much closer did he have to be to get to your heart? 

Your face is buried into the crook of his neck. Your makeup was smudging over his shirt and his arms had already given out from holding you for so long still, he stays. He doesn’t dare move or feel the need to complain. This is what he gets—pieces of you that others leave behind.

No part of him gets it.

Yoongi will forever wonder why he’s the one who’s left to help you clean up when you could be with him and never need to feel like this. Don’t you know that you don’t need to be in a position of loving someone who gives you up like you’re a choice? Like you’re an option?

To Yoongi, there’s no choice when it comes to you. 

That’s what he has learned from being friends with you all these years. The irony is that he'll spend hours unending trying to convince you that being a second choice isn't worth it.

Yet, that's what he is to you.

The worst part is that even if he had a choice, he’d still choose to be in love with you. 

What do we do about that?

[bleuside97]

There is Only One Rule.

paring: toxichusband!jungkook x wife!reader

genre: yandere jungkook

summary: when y/n get home late and jungkook is waiting for her.

warnings: Jungkook is an asshole in this, abusive behavior, drunk and aggressive Jungkook, manipulative behavior, cussing, manhandling, bipolar jungkook, sadistic Jungkook, mentions of gagging, jealousy, degrading oc, oc is punished by jk.

This is purely fiction just for entertainment purposes. Do not condone or support behavior like this!

Jungkook kisses his teeth, shaking his head. "Ah... What can she be doing out so late." He pressed his lips against the rim of the cold beer in his hand, closing his eyes letting the cold sensation trickle down his his throat. That was the last drop left of his drink. He rest the empty bottle on the coffee table that was in front of the chair. He leans back in the chair, kicking his feet on the coffee table in thought. Resting his tattooed arm above his head and the other arm scratching his chin. The cans and empty bottles of soju pile around the floor. Currently, it's early in the morning he awaits for your arrival, watching the minutes go by on the clock. His eyes turned to the front door as he heard the sound of keys unlocking it. You walked into your dark house, tired out of your mind. You just had the night of your life with a couple of friends and want nothing more to do than be in your loving husband's arms. You turned to lock the front door, taking off your shoes before the door.

His eyes narrowed at the sight of you. "Where the fuck were you?" He demanded, finally standing up from the couch. "Relax, I was just with a couple friends." Your voice is monotone. You pause in your steps, you stretch your arms above your head to yawn. You eyes land on the only other person in the room. You take in his appearance. He moved sloppy and slurred his words a bit. He's drunk. Nevertheless you go to kiss him on the cheek. He backs away slightly, he was clearly pissed off. Pushing you slightly away when you tried to kiss him. He crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at you menacingly.

"You know what time it is? You were supposed to be home hours ago. What is my wife's explanation for coming home at almost the crack of dawn?" He stared down at you waiting for a response.

"What's up your crack?" You muttered under your breath, making sure Jungkook didn't hear you. "I didn't know you were my dad. Next time I'll make sure to ask for permission first." Y/n rolls her eyes and carries her tired legs to the kitchen to get herself a meal out of the fridge. He follows you to the kitchen, standing behind you as you fill up a cup from the fridge. He grabs your arm, spinning you around to face him.

"Don't you fucking dare disrespect me!" He growls, his eyes blazing with fury. He shoves you hard against the fridge, pressing his body against yours. The back of your head immediately hits the cold metal throbbing immediately.

"You will never talk to me like that again." His once dark brown eyes become dark. He looks down at you intensely. His hands remain at the side of your head locking you in. "Jungkook stop!" You whined pushing your husband off her with all your might, he only stumbled a bit before catching himself. He takes a minute to walk straight towards you. He chuckles eerily as his hands worked to unbutton his cuffs and roll the sleeves of his crisp black button up to the elbow, telling you he is not playing around. When your husband is drunk, there's only one rule don't make him mad.

"Yah! Where are your manners is that how a wife should treat her husband, huh?” His voice is so powerful it is laced with hostile, enough to make you feel small. You looked at him to digest the situation not knowing who it can turn out. Maybe you where fucked out of your mind too, not thinking straight. Because you were most definitely brave at this moment. "Jungkook, who do you think you are huh." You answered bravely before you could see something in the Jungkook switch. The look in his eyes was cold and ruthless, as if he was ready to hurt you. And that scared you the most.

You wanted to say that Jungkook had never acted so aggressive before but that would be a lie. "Look at me y/n." He commands you in his busan accent. You look into his dark eyes, you don't see the same doe eyed man you, you knew before. He narrows his eyes at you menacingly, if looks can kill you'd be dead by now. "Sweetheart, I should really fix that mouth of yours... Just how rude are you? One warning was already given to you, now you will get the apprehensions."

Your eyebrows furrowed, giving him a confused look. You hesitate to utter another word. "Honey, are you drunk?" You asked the new man standing in front of you. He ignores your question, nodding his head kidding his bottom lip out. "Do you think I want to be like this? Do you think I like being so aggressive? No! I can't help it, I can't control myself when I'm around you. You make me lose all control. So you should be more careful around me. This is your fault, y/n." Jungkook's tone is cold as ice as if he doesn't feel an inch to blame for his abusive behavior.

He stands beside the counter grabbing your hand pulling you to the sink of the kitchen. He forcefully pushes your head down the sink, hand reaching for the soap. You try your hardest to fight against him. Yelling and thrashing out, but he didn't listen to you. He positions his body behind you his big strong arms wrap around your smaller frame like a lock. "Y/n. You know how much I can't stand when I have to repeat myself.” Through brute force he is able to force your mouth wide open and shoved the bitter liquid. He watches you with a smile as you react by gagging your hand in your mouth. He enjoyed seeing the tears leave your eyes. When Jungkook feels as if you've had enough he with water helps you rinse the cleaning substance out of your mouth. Soon enough all over the soap leaves you a chocking and crying mess on the counter. You try to catch your own breathe. He steps away from you admiring is his work. But soon, enough he feels only a tad guilty.

He grabs your wrists again, squeezing them tight. He pulls them behind your back, pressing your body against his. You could feel his warm breath on your neck, his voice low and menacing. she turns her face away from him as he reeks of beer. He grabs your chin, forcing you to look up at him. His eyes turned a shade lighter.

"Aigoo, I didn't mean to be so rough." he apologizes, seeming genuinely remorseful. He gives you a weak smile, hoping you will understand. He pouts his pink lips to you.

He reaches out and touches your cheek, caressing it gently. His eyes meet yours, filled with such warmth and affection. He looks at you with such devotion, as if you were the most important person in the world to him. He stops nuzzling your neck, his face just inches away from yours.

He gazes at you with such fondness and affection, his eyes filled with now love. You eyes now unsure if you can look at him the same. He seems completely smitten with you, as if all his anger has disappeared. "I'm sorry" he apologizes again, seeming genuinely remorseful. "I got carried away, I let my jealousy and possessiveness get the better of me. You have to understand, I'm afraid of losing you" he explains, "Y/n, let's go to bed now."

a/n edited: let me know if you like this one ... should i keep doing fics like this. I love writing yandere but maybe this is too abusive. But the real question is why am I writing fics like this so casually? and trust me i have many more yandere fics in mind. like idea wise and i basically have the whole brainstorming thing down. but it would really be amazing if I can collab with someone to write them with.

[hoseoksluna]

THE FUN DAY, pt. I. | kth ft. pjm

pairing: idol!military!boyfriend!taehyung x f. reader (ft. best friend!jimin)

genre: fluff, angst — the sad kind

word count: 4.8k

summary: you've prepared a fun day for your boyfriend's military vacation. thank god he's here, right?

pin: f. / playlist: fun / taglist: join / discord: join

warnings: suggestive but not described themes of sex and alcohol consumption.

note: i'm so EXCITED to bring you this fic that i can't wait until tomorrow to post this. everyone welcome TAEHYUNG and JIMIN to the hoseoksluna universe. i have to tell you a secret. taehyung was my first bias when i first became army. taehyungie was the first one to save me from the bunch—literally to resurrect me because in him i found all the things i used to love and fell out of. jazz, poetry, the aesthetics and arts. it is an honor to write about him and i think i will write another taehyung fic next week. if you have any ideas, drop them in my ask box and i will use them for inspiration. this fic is dedicated to my baby ruru @tkslovechild, my tatlim @jjk7k, and the beautiful anon that asked me for a tae fic while i was already working on this one. i love you all so much. enjoy this beautiful piece. <3 mwah.

𓂃 ౨ৎ .

I am much too alone in this world, yet not alone enough to truly consecrate the hour. I am much too small in this world, yet not small enough to be to you just object and thing, dark and smart. I want my free will and want it accompanying the path which leads to action; and want during times that beg questions, where something is up, to be among those in the know, or else be alone.

I want to mirror your image to its fullest perfection, never be blind or too old to uphold your weighty wavering reflection. I want to unfold. Nowhere I wish to stay crooked, bent; for there I would be dishonest, untrue. I want my conscience to be true before you; want to describe myself like a picture I observed for a long time, one close up, like a new word I learned and embraced, like the everday jug, like my mother's face, like a ship that carried me along through the deadliest storm.

𓂃 ౨ৎ . — I Am Much Too Alone in This World, Yet Not Alone by Rainer Maria Rilke

It was your love language, to dress up like your boyfriend. 

Dress pants, shirts and jackets. Linen, silk, leather. Pointed heels or oxford shoes. Grays, browns, beiges and whites. It was something that made you happy—and it was something that represented a vessel, made of unbreakable porcelain, for your love that you carried for Taehyung. 

He’s sitting in the corner of your bedroom, on a wooden stool he specifically placed at such a picturesque place. With the ivory curtains drifting along the nape of his neck, sheer enough to expose the small vase of tulips that stoop in a private longing for his touch. He fondles them often to preoccupy his mind when you take your usual long showers and he waits for the fashion shows you give him. He’s the one who says yes or no. These shoes, love. Look, they’re just like mine. And right at this moment, the wine-yellow petals are caught between his slender fingers when you come out and he doesn’t let go of them—because you’re not holding up the outfit for the day as you always are. 

For the fun day as you’ve called it. 

You’re dressed in it. Low-waisted gray dress pants with a little, tight, white shirt. Black stilettos, black shoulder purse. Your trench coat is waiting for you in the hall, hung up and lonely, but other than that you’re matching him fully. It feels as though you’re fading into him, becoming a singular being that has his DNA and his beauty, and when he beams up at you, boxy smile on full show, spine straight and tall on the stool, long fingers gripping its rim, Taehyung, with his gray suit and a white shirt, somehow validates that feeling. 

Somehow, in that peculiar Taehyung way of his. 

He extends his hands towards you, asking for your closeness. There’s a mist of murkiness that envelops him, with the saddened clouds beyond the window, standing in the place of the sun. It moves through you, this image of him reaching for you in this landscape, and you think he deserves to be painted like this. With black charcoal and a little bit of soft carmine to eternalize the blush of his cheeks—the only trace of color in the sketchbook. Your hands don’t know the art of drawing, but your heart does and while you take those necessary steps towards him, you feel the scratches of that dark pencil over that grainy flesh. 

His palms find your curves and you consider it unbelievable, the fact he’s still so big, despite the size of the stool and the height of your heels. No matter how much taller you grow, he’ll always be that tower that protects you from the blazing heat of the sun. 

He’s the epitome of autumn. No longer a boy, but a man, whose lungs are perfumed by apples, leaves, cinnamon, pumpkin spice and the slight iciness of the seasonal wind. Whose eyes witnessed the growth of your form since you were a little girl with two long braids. 

Childhood best friends turned to lovers, favored by the hanging, twinkling stars. 

You always saw him the most in autumn. Chasing you down during festivities that your mom couldn’t not be a part of, grabbing a hold of one of your braided pigtails with his already long fingers, then tickling you until you gave up. Ever so easy to catch because of the length of your hair. You knew, even as a little girl, that he was not just a part of your life, but your life itself. More than a companion, more than a friend. You dreamed about having his babies and that dream would come to life through your imagination whenever he would chase you down, years later, in the grand halls of the east wing of his grandiose family home, where nobody ever comes, just to steal a kiss or two. It was the moment you realized that you were no longer kids, even though you acted as such, but that you desired little legs to follow you in the fun of it all. 

And that kiss changed every autumn from that year on.

Stolen glances, the blush of cheeks, quivering fingers that no longer grabbed your braids. Not until many autumns later. You gave him your everything, every bit of your newly-bloomed femininity, your dream of having his babies and he folded it into the vinyls of his favorite jazz music that he would play every night whenever he needed inspiration or whenever he simply needed you. 

Newly. Not just yet as adults and no longer as kids. Somewhere in between. 

And then the duties of adulthood came. The natural process of drifting apart settled between your bodies and you no longer played in the stage between. Taehyung, the saxophone-playing jazz singer, moving foreign bodies into his personal, heart-sung rhythm. Not yours, never yours for a long time. You, working a day job that never paid enough, not for the dresses you yearned to wear at those clubs he would play at. 

But what you didn’t know was that drifting apart meant coming together eventually. 

He might have become your Turnip Head, silent and distant, but you were Sophie—and you found him. You found him while looking for something, or someone for the lack of better words, and he helped you. Over a cup of coffee he didn’t drink, at a jazz bar you always wanted to come to. Your date was a hit and miss and the guy never came, and your Turnip Head didn’t help you find your Howl. 

He helped you find himself. And from that moment on, you never drifted apart again. 

Who would’ve thought that seeking a relationship that did not resemble your dream nor your childhood would make you find him all over again. 

In autumn, too. 

Taehyung paid for your dresses, your female suits, paid for your drinks. Kissed you underneath those dimmed, brown lights before he went off to play songs that moved your body at last. Dancing alone to his songs was your dream come true until he set down his saxophone and joined you. Let his band mates play his favorite Etta James song as he took your hand and drifted upon the dance floor with you. Those who danced before this song sat down, let you have this opportunity for yourself, and Taehyung kissed you, after a long time, after many autumns had passed, right then and there. 

And both of you realized that you could never drift apart again. You could only drift together. 

You moved in together. He bought you tulips of every possible hue every week. Played you his new songs for you on the saxophone. Took you to art galleries. Took you sightseeing, sometimes alone with you, sometimes with Jimin joining you. Shared your dream about having babies with you and talked about it all the time. Tried it out, seized it many times, though the outcome both of you desired never came. Had a beautiful life with you until…

Until he thinned out into his Turnip Head form and skipped away to fulfill his country duties. 

But he’s here. Oh, he’s here. Buff and big, apples, cinnamon and pumpkin spice. Brown eyes that carry the memory of your growth, hands that clutch your hips and that hold the silky memory of your still long braids. Hands that edge around your slightly, barely puffy tummy and that don’t know that you are with a concoction of a small him and you, a divine magical realism, a dream that came true without his knowledge right after the last hours of his military vacation were up and he had to go back to serve the country. 

The reason behind this fun day. 

The day of his second vacation, the day you tell him. 

“You look just like me,” he breathes, the width of his smile never lessening, hands skipping over the space between your hips and your arms and grabbing your hands. It gets to you still, the way his eyes never look up at you, the way they never have, and you feel so sweetly small. Even more so when Taehyung stands to his feet and slides his suit jacket over your shoulders. You become even smaller, a fawn taken care of. A pregnant fawn. “And now you are me.” 

Oh, he doesn’t know just how much. Not yet. 

He sits back down and gently pushes you to take a step back. On wavering feet, like that freshly-born fawn, you waver on your feet, but Taehyung keeps you stable, leaning forward to make sure you’ve caught your balance. A wisp of his dark hair falls over his eye that he, at last, flicks up at you. And the sensation from it, it is nothing that you ever felt before. 

It is a step forward. 

It’s something that tells you: go ahead. 

You planned to tell him at the jazz bar where he kissed you for the first time as an adult and made you his. But now, now it feels more than right, amidst this strange newness that you don’t think you’ll ever experience again. 

You open your mouth, brace yourself, but Taehyung is faster. Ringing fills your ears, the atmosphere around you feels gooey—as if you’re walking through a limbo. 

“Jimin will meet us at the park.” 

Oh, yes. Walk in the park, a warm drink to go, then the jazz bar. Jimin is having his military break as well, about to sing in Taehyung’s honor, you already knew this, knew he would join you, but being in the presence of your boyfriend, the detail slipped out. 

The newness leaves. Taehyung straightens. Towers over you. The normalcy flattens over the chemistry between you and him, the atmosphere lessening to feathery lightness and when you move your arms to give back his jacket, your arms feel as though they’re not your own. 

Your smile falls. 

Jazz bar it is. 

“We should go,” you prompt, turning around, having all the balance in the world as you go fetch your purse and reapply your red lipstick. 

Taehyung watches you in the mirror, his boxy grin on eternal display, warming your heart. You think about how you can’t wait until his baby witnesses that smile for the first time—and wonder if God is molding, at this very hour, the same one upon their little face. It brings tears to your eyes, ones that you quickly blink away, and instead you focus on lining your lips with the tip of the lipstick with utmost precision. 

In your vast collection of lip liners, you don’t have a red one. Truth be told, you always feared this vibrant color. It represented a stigma you never liked—that only promiscuous women wear that color, but to you it was never that. 

It was a color that meant you lose your girlhood, your childhood upon wearing. 

And now, it is a color that announces the next era of your life: adulthood, but different, painted with motherly instincts that are of these vibrant hues. Womanhood. No longer fearful, but brave. 

Right. 

You want your baby to connect this color to you and know that you made it. You waited your whole life for their father and gave it to him in one of the autumns as a child. Without knowing, without realizing. 

That color is a legacy. 

As if he could hear your thoughts, Taehyung kisses the back of your head, halting your motions. Wraps his arms around you as he props his chin on the place he kissed—and right here, right now, you’re looking at a family portrait in the mirror. 

A living, breathing one. With lifting chests in tandem, growing smiles and a growing baby in your womb. 

Magical realism in full effect. 

And then Taehyung is off to fetch your trench coat, holding it up for your arms to slip inside its sleeves. Grabs your hand and revels in the autumn weather outside, boxy smile never faltering. Sings in the car on the way to the park, makes eye contact as he mouths the lyrics—kiss me once and kiss me twice, then kiss me once again, it’s been a long, long time—because he could never sing over that part. It’s too precious to his heart for him to do so. 

The wind accompanies you and grabs your other hand as you walk down the pathway lined with half-barren trees and a still pond. Taehyung hums the Bing Crosby song that seems to be playing on loop within his mind and it is the only greenery that spreads around through his husky voice. All else—the pond, the trees and the last of their leaves that dance around you, the shrubberies and the clouds up above—are smeared with sullen blues and grays, to which Taehyung is everlastingly immune. 

Jimin is standing by an antique coffee stand, dressed to the nines in an outfit he most definitely must be cold in. Black dress pants with a jacket that stuns you. A matching Hussar one, with golden braiding. A military piece of clothing from another time. You think it suits the fun day quite delightfully, but not as much as it suits him. The golden detail goes hand in hand with his golden hair and you think he needs his picture taken. 

“Jimin!” you call out, making his confused little face turn in your direction, and he swivels his body to face you altogether. He holds two cups of coffee in both of his hands, one for him and one for you. You melt at that and look up at Taehyung to see his boxy smile ever so frozen and beautiful, pointed at his best friend. 

When you reach him, he hugs you. His cold skin stings you and you quickly warm him up with rubbing motions against his back. Scrunch your brows in puzzlement when he doesn’t hug Taehyung nor even look at him. 

But all is swept away when Jimin exclaims in discomfort and takes a rapid sip of his boiling drink. 

“Jimin, where’s your coat?” you ask him in pity, watching him shake and moan in pain once he burns his tongue. He uses the cup to warm up both of his hands. 

“I didn’t think Paris would be so cold in October,” he explains in a hushed, livid tone, drawing the rim of the paper cup back to his lips as if he didn’t learn his lesson. Typical Jimin. “But this outfit is for Taehyung anyways, so I’ll survive.” 

He talks of him but he doesn’t look at him. Makes heart eyes at the misting coffee, instead. Like Taehyung isn’t here at all. 

Strange. 

You shake off the thought. 

“Go stand by the pond before you freeze. I want to take a picture of you,” you say, softly, pulling your phone out of your purse. Glancing up, you expect Jimin to be ready with his pose, but he’s looking at you as if you said the most outrageous thing in the world. Eyes wide, mouth downturned in horror. You laugh and place a hand on his arm. “Go, Jimin. This is a special day and special days ask for special pictures.” 

Jimin sighs and nods, despite the fact he doesn’t really look like he wants to do it. 

“Fine, but I’m keeping the coffee in my hand.” 

Your tender laughter prolongs. “Fair enough. Go pose with your little heat pack.” 

Gazing out at the pond, Taehyung is already standing there. With his brown coat over his gray suit, he coalesces with the autumnal scenery and you think he belongs there. That a statue should be made of him right where his feet are planted, for people to remember and appreciate his beauty. You snap a few pictures of him before Jimin makes his way towards the stone bannister and stops right in front of Taehyung, who towers over him. Jimin lifts his cup and smiles a little tight smile, the mist from his coffee eclipsing over him like a soft fog. Switching to portrait mode, Taehyung is gone by the time your screen clears out and shows Jimin by his lonesome self, setting his coffee cup down on the bannister and turning around for some dramatic, aesthetic shots. Taehyung laughs in your ear, catches your slipping purse and places it back on your shoulder, and what he says next gives your life a whole new meaning. 

“Jimin is cute, but he’s strong and sane enough to protect you while I’m gone.”

You pivot back, piercing your sight right through him, not believing those words were just flung out of him like that. Taehyung never mentioned you having a protector while being in the military and even the whole concept of it confuses you even deeper as Jimin is serving as well. He might not be in the special forces like your boyfriend is, but he’s serving nonetheless. The systems are the same, no matter the department. 

Before you can ask him what he meant by that, the sing-song tone of Jimin’s voice reaches you. He calls out your name with a bit of alarm. 

“What’s wrong?” 

You gaze back and meet his eyes in full motion—he’s already taking long steps towards you and grabbing your arm, taking your confusion to another level.  

“What happened?” he asks, his pupils thin dots that ripple through your skin with stiff, panicky electroshocks. You glance back at Taehyung to discover that he’s not standing behind you at all, but behind Jimin, clutching his shoulder. 

You blink. “Nothing.” 

Jimin lets go of your arm and inhales the autumnal air. The pond, suddenly, heaves. 

“Let’s go somewhere warm,” Jimin suggests and you agree with him with a nod of your head. Pinpricks of iciness kisses your fingertips, despite the fact you’re still holding your own cup of coffee that Jimin bought you. 

A strange feeling seizes you. 

The jazz bar is an embrace of snug heat that embraces your womb first before greeting the rest of your body. You can’t help but to touch your baby, say to her in your heart: this is your Daddy’s most favorite place in the whole wide world. And the feeling is so surreal that it washes away the strange sensation that clung to you so heavily. 

You’re the first customers to come. Jimin sighs in absolute relief and he’s standing in the middle of the dance floor, frozen in time, as he lets the warmth of the place defrost his bones. Your cup of coffee was long finished and discharged; Jimin’s drank his in long sips that took seconds to finish, too, and the whole ordeal was so funny to you that it’s given you a sense of lightness that you needed. 

Taehyung hasn’t spoken a word since you left your apartment. 

He sits at the bar stool like he sat in your shared bedroom. One leg propped on the footrest while the other is relaxed on the floor, one hand folded on the apex of his thigh, the other drumming on the bar while the band he doesn’t know is rehearsing their instruments. You take a seat right beside him and feel like the parents you’re about to become. Sophisticated, classical, sublime. 

The pretentious kind, but in a good way. 

That thought makes you smile softly until the bartender asks you if you’d like anything. You politely decline her, even though you’d love a glass of wine with the daddy to be beside you. You can’t drink, not for many months to come. You wait for her to ask Taehyung the same question, but she doesn’t even lift her eyes to his direction. She wipes down the wood of the bar and leaps away. 

Nobody fucking asks Taehyung anything. 

Amidst a hearty guitar strumming solo, Jimin notices the furrow of your brows, the downturned pout of your mouth that opens to ask Taehyung about the strangeness that keeps occurring today. But before you get the words out, Jimin calls out your name into the microphone, the vowels made sweet by the sound of his princely voice. He stands with the band behind his back, his Hussar jacket exquisitely fitting the dimmed background. He holds out his hand for you, a poignant glint perched on top of his irises, and he flattens his puffy, pink lips. 

“Don’t be sad. Tonight is for Taehyung and all sadness is prohibited,” he says with his feigned announcer articulations, the corners of his mouth rounding in a similar manner to yours, in sympathy. “We will have to kindly ask you to leave if you proceed in your sadness. Please, join me here.” 

You roll your eyes, but the smile gracing your features couldn’t be erased even with the force of the whole wide world. You stand to your feet and paddle your way to him, the heels of your stilettos clicking on the worn parquets. Jimin gives you a soft grin and places his microphone down, meeting you halfway on the dance floor and taking your hand. 

It is when he begins to sing, just for you, that you perceive that the instrumental song the guitarist played is one, which is contained in one of Taehyung’s vinyls. The ones he would play in the darkest of nights and sing the lyrics to your bare body. Tears prick your waterline when Jimin guides you into a gentle slow dance while maintaining the tones of the song with utmost perfection. 

And Taehyung is carried in every languid motion and in every vocal cord that is strained upon this hour in his honor. 

I’m in the mood for love, simply because you’re near me…

You gaze back at Taehyung, who sits still and smiles his boxy smile. Frozen and beautiful, but unbreathing. 

Still and unbreathing. 

Frozen. 

You halt your movements. 

Jimin stops the dance, ends the song with a deep hum that pulses through you along with the notion that something isn’t right, but very, very wrong. 

“I wish Taehyung were here,” Jimin says with a deep sigh, holding both of your hands, and an uncanny, perplexing feeling constricts your throat. 

Your breath shivers, vision blurry. “But he is here.” 

Jimin lets go of your hands and you lament his touch. You need to be touched because you feel yourself shrinking into a fawn most vulnerable that doesn’t know what’s real anymore. A fawn just born, pathetically ignorant of the world and of her loved ones.

“I know, but I wish he were here for real.” 

A cold sweat drips down your spine, paralyzing you. Your constricted throat dries up like a well and you can’t swallow. You can’t think, you can’t blink—your lungs can’t lift to inhale any air and they mirror Taehyung’s still ones, unbreathing. 

It is a surprise to you, the question that flows out of you. 

“Jimin, who is sitting at the bar?” 

A wrinkle forms between his brows as he sweeps his gaze over all those bar stools and doesn’t linger at the occupied space that you know is there. A perturbing energy thuds in his eyes once he returns them to yours, and that alarming potency in him rises once again. 

“Who do you see there?” he asks, carefully, leaving his mouth parted as he anticipates your answer. 

You peer back behind you and don’t find any bar stools occupied. Not single one. 

No Taehyung, smiling his boxy smile. 

No Taehyung behind Jimin. 

No Taehyung behind you. 

A sob rumbles out of you in unison with your realization that you were, indeed, very wrong. You catch your sob, covering your mouth with your fingers as your tears spurt down onto your cheeks. 

And then the memories arrive, the reality.

But Jimin ceases their flow with the warmth of his even more careful question. 

“Did you see him at the park, too?” 

You can only nod, but you can’t look at him. You stare at nothing in particular and it seems that what Jimin has ceased, he allows to stream through the pond of your thoughts, accompanied by his vocalized truth. 

“Taehyung isn’t here. He should’ve been here with us, but he had to go to North Korea. There was a conflict, remember? You know this.” 

Taehyung’s apologetic text message appears before your eyes. The letter that came first before his phone call, where he explained to you that he can’t have his vacation and visit you because he has to go and save his country. The real, known reason between the pair of you and Jimin behind this fun day. To honor Taehyung for what he’s doing. The day you wanted to share, as well, that you were pregnant. 

The aloneness has gotten to you, helped by your blessed state. Confused your mind to the point that you imagined him here when he’s not here at all. 

Jimin calls your name and you glance at him. Perhaps he can see the truth dawning on you by the way pity twists his features. He caresses your arm and leaves his hand there, his heat locking in the realization. 

“What has happened to you?” 

Another onrush of tears clouds your vision. Your spine bends. And you can’t. 

You can’t not tell him. You can’t keep it in. 

“I’m pregnant.” 

Jimin’s eyes widen and it merely takes him a second to envelop you in his embrace. He coos your name, rubs your back, a whimper resonates in his chest against yours as he holds back his tears. The music falls into nothingness—and nothing is said for a time that appears to be as long as the season of autumn. 

And then, somehow, you’re outside of the jazz club, sitting on Jimin’s Hussar jacket that he put down on the cold ground for you beside him. And the silence continues until it doesn’t. 

“Does he know?” he asks, and you feel his irises gliding across the side of your face that you cannot turn. 

It’s you who’s frozen this time. 

Still and unbreathing. 

With no smiling Taehyung at your hip. 

“I wanted to tell him tonight,” you say, quietly, with your hands helplessly in your lap. “On the day of his vacation that he looked forward to.” 

Jimin sighs, the sound full of that terrible pity. “How far along are you?” 

It’s a question that brings life to your numb hands and you take them to your belly. 

“Three months.” 

A beat of silence. 

You fondle your growing baby. Jimin seems to be watching you, considering his following words, but you fear to move your eyes. Lift them in expectation to see Taehyung only to meet the half-barren trees and the leaves on the ground that have absurdly regained their vivid colors. 

Lift them to look at Jimin and meet the outcome of your autumn-long aloneness. 

“He’ll be back in a month and I’ll talk to the Sergeant and offer my own vacation. I’ll give it up so you can see him and tell him.” 

A sob lodges itself in your throat and you tilt to the side, leaning your head on Jimin’s shoulder. He, in response, leans his against yours. 

“I don’t think your Sergeant will even hear you out,” you say, humorlessly, your personal pain still prickling the flesh of your heart. 

But then Taehyung’s words wash over you. 

Jimin is cute, but he’s strong and sane enough to protect you while I’m gone.

Jimin, Taehyung’s best friend, who’s been there for him through thick and thin, long before you came into the picture. Jimin, who stuck by your side when sightseeing, and took your pictures. Who devoured dinners with you and drank a whole bottle of liquor with you when Taehyung abstained. 

Jimin, your best friend, too. 

“Will you be here for me while he’s gone?” you ask, the sob in your throat enlarging, preventing you from speaking, but you push through. “So I won't get delusional again?” 

Jimin takes your hand in his, squeezing it firmly in your lap, his thumb brushing over your little, half-swollen belly. 

“It’s the least I can do. Let’s get you home.” 

And he does. 

He calls a cab. Walks with you up the stairs, lingers at the door, watches you take off your heels—watches the comprehension of this day being anything but fun take form on your face and posture, and he hugs you. Reassures you that he will be here the whole week until his vacation is over, and even long after that. 

And you nod. Thank him. Turn your head away when he clicks the door shut behind him. Walk over to the window and stifle your tears when you see him head over to the liquor store in front of your apartment and leave with a bottle of spirits hanging from his fingertips. 

And the tears rush out, despite your efforts, when your gaze cascades down onto the windowsill and onto the vase, where white wine-doused tulips stooped in yearning for Taehyung’s touch a few hours ago. 

They aren’t stooping. They’re flaccid, dead and withered. Like the fun day you prepared.

Because Taehyung hasn’t bought any newly blooming tulips in a long while. 

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @jjk7k , @tkslovechild , @euphoricmyth , @cinmmongirl , @ririkookiemonster , @perfectiondazesworld , @https-mei , @bangtansonyeondanue , @jungkoock , @cinmmongirl , @hoseokkie-caeks , @kam9404 , @fr0ggieth1nk , @parkinglot-nights

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved

BACK to masterlist | read part two

[byuljoonie]

moonlight // knj

I’m sorry baby I’m just really hot…

pairing: namjoon x reader

genre: one shot, slight angst, fluff, growing tension, boyfriend material, extreme smut, desperation, succubus intentions…

word count: 5k+ (sorry)

warnings: mentions of mature topics, spit, namjoon driving lmao, thigh humping bcs desperate, throat goat, dom!sub, dom rm!sub reader, alcohol consumption, probably a good amount of swearing, post-gym namjoon, grocery store activities, slight car play, teasing, oral, summer night, riding, overstimulation, a little masochism

summary: namjoon promised to go to the grocery store with you after the gym (extended ending on ao3)

note: just had what cody ko and noel would call a “power thought.” I literally just had a spark of inspiration bcs it’s really hot in the south right now and Namjoon’s vogue cover is to die for. enjoy and feel free to check out any of my playlists while reading. Sorry for any little mistakes. gonna make a tag list after I post 10 works! -ash (wrote this draft a few months ago so it might be slightly more extreme than expected.)

My reflection stared back at me, tracing the movement of the cloth against my skin. The long slit of the black fabric starts by the left knee and leaves an opening at the bottom of the dress. My manicured feet sat firmly against the hardwood bedroom floor, grounding me away from my persistent thoughts. I grabbed my sunglasses from the stand mounted on the cream walls and turned swiftly on my heels. Abandoning the mirror with a grimace on my face.

I loved this dress very much, the long sleeves light and airy protecting me from the harsh summer rays. The way it hugs my figure is like someone familiar. The same someone that bought this dress for me. He crossed my mind once more sending another surge of anger through me.

Namjoon promised to come along to the grocery store with me today but he’s been at the gym for almost 2 hours now. He said he’d only be gone an hour but an hour quickly turned to two, now I’m dressed and past ready to go. I hated going to crowded stores, at this rate we’ll never beat the after-work rush.

I sat on the bed putting on my anklet he gifted me for our 3 year anniversary. Yet another gift that I’m wearing today, being spoiled ruining my plans of holding a grudge tonight on our date. I slipped on some black socks and made my way towards the door. Listening as the front door swings open with a beep of the automatic keypad.

I excitedly descend the stairs, my black dress sweeping the floor behind me beautifully like a wedding gown flowing in the summer breeze. The second step I’ve already failed at trying to be mad at him.

“Baby! Where you at?” He says deep voice roaring through our apartment. I stopped at the bottom of the stairs almost running into his chest. He smiled at me taking in all of my body, returning to my eyes after his brief but thorough inspection.

“Right here NAMjoon,” I stated putting extra emphasis on his surname. I watched as his chest rose and fell with every breath, his skin glistened with sweat. Tan skin accentuating his muscular frame, my mouth parted slightly at the sight. He looked heavenly I almost lost my composure.

“I’m sorry I took so long Y/N my trainer wouldn’t let me leave until the workout was complete,” he said walking towards me. Smirking at the way my eyes followed his every movement.

“You look so gorgeous Princess, this dress is perfect for you,” he said pulling me into a tight embrace. Grabbing a handful of my ass as he reached over to rest his chin on my shoulder. I yelp in surprise at the sudden groping, melting into his body and giving up on being angry. I wanted to take him right now but first, we need food or we’ll be eating out for another week before we have time to shop again.

“Whatever Joon go shower we have to leave as soon as possible and you’re stinky,” I said pulling away from him and then standing on my tippy toes to kiss him quickly. He kissed me back beginning to deepen it before I push him away again. I give him a knowing look and bid him goodbye as I walk to the kitchen to make him a snack to eat in the car. The store was about a 25 minute drive from us but it was worth it for the produce.

I grab a few ingredients from the fridge to make him a nice sandwich with an everything bagel. I prepared everything quickly and put it in a small ziplock bag next to my purse. I heard Namjoon exiting our bedroom 15 minutes later, humming a sweet tune in his beautiful vibrato.

“Come on babe I already have the car warming up,” he said grabbing my hand and lightly pulling me next to him. He’s wearing a light brown shirt with a pair of distressed blue jeans. Looking as handsome as always I drink in his appearance for eternity. We walked to the elevator quietly, Namjoon tapping away on his phone until the elevator doors opened to be let us out.

As we walk towards our car I begin to sweat a little, the setting Sun still scorching my skin like its’ noonday twin. I started to speed up a little pulling Namjoon along so I could feel the relief of the A/C sooner than later. He swung the door open for me making sure my dress wasn’t in the way before shutting the door.

Namjoon jumps in quickly closing the door before the heat could penetrate the closed air. It still wasn’t cool enough in here, with the sun beaming directly on our vehicle the A/C felt like lukewarm hell. I let down the window hastily fanning myself as we pulled out of the parking lot.

After I few minutes of fanning and desperation, I looked over and behold a sight that would make any woman yearn in an instant. A head of sweat moved swiftly down the expanse of Namjoons golden jaw. Resting at the base before dropping down onto his slightly exposed shoulder. His lips rose colored from his unconscious biting. I wanted to reach over and swallow him whole, I crave him so bad I can’t help but squeeze my legs together at the thought.

I was so caught up in my sinful thoughts I didn’t notice him glance over at me. A twinkle in his eye set off the indication of a torturous idea. Namjoon placed his large hand on my thigh, causing me to tense up instantly. Before I could utter a word he reached over my leg and grabbed his sandwich from my lap.

His smile turning into a stifled laugh as he continued to stare straight ahead. I must have let out the small noise I was holding in because he seemed to know exactly what would tick me off right now. I turned my attention towards the windshield trying to focus on the passing cars and people watching. Then an idea popped into my head.

I pull out my phone and open the group chat I have with our 6 best friends. I stop and think of what to type before another brilliant idea is brought to me. I pose provocatively making sure my cleavage was “present,” in my photo. I took a couple of pictures, some with sunglasses and some staring at Namjoon. He patiently drove, oblivious to my sly intentions. He hummed along to one of his favorite songs looking over at me to shoot me a wink.

I giggled and looked away almost feeling bad for what I’m going to do. Yet not bad enough because I went ahead and sent the photos with a message. “Should I post these on my close friends? I don’t know if I look good enough today…” I said ending with a sad face. It didn’t take long for our phones to simultaneously vibrate. Secretly glancing over at Namjoon, I unlock my phone knowing he can’t check his until we’re in the lot.

Hobi ddaeng: You look great !! Of course, you should post it, Namjoon talk some sense into her.

Me: He’s driving right now. I didn’t ask for his opinion yet I want to hear you guys first :)

Park Chanel: ooooh…I see…

Park Chanel: If you don’t post the pictures I will! Wow wow you look beautiful. Nice..dress and necklace.

I looked down at my neck realizing I didn’t wear a necklace today. Oh Jimin you’re evil Namjoon is going to kill me and you. I laughed a little at his crude behavior and read the next incoming message.

Yoongi: You’re gonna get hit Jimin *laughing emojis*

Me: mmm just because you guys said so I will post it hehe

Before I could read the next response I felt the car shake as we pulled into the grocery store parking lot. I quickly went on my sns and posted two of the pictures on my close friends. Picking the two the boys liked the most. I was starting to get nervous, I know how possessive he is with me and I’m the same but I want revenge for making me frustrated.

Namjoon pulls into an open parking spot almost near the front of the bustling building. I take off my seatbelt with a click grabbing my purse from my lap and swinging the door open. I wanted to beat Namjoon inside before he could read the texts and catch me. As I hurriedly closed the door I saw him reading the messages, jaw tensing with rage.

I hear him call my name from the car and a slam of a car door followed behind the sound of his sexy voice. His long legs easily closing the space between us as he grabbed my hand, squeezing it while looking at me. I put my shades on ignoring his questions. Stroking the back of his hand as I never break eye contact with the automatic sliding doors.

“Can you get us a cart pet?” I froze at the nickname. He knows what he’s doing, and I don’t plan on breaking that fast. I let go of his hand briefly going to grab the first cart I saw. Cleaning the handle before strutting back over to my boyfriend as he eyed me intensely.

I let him grab the cart from me but not before pulling him down to whisper in his ear. “Anything for you Daddy..” I say in a hushed tone. Making sure to leave a kiss on his sensitive earlobe as I pull away.

I walk forward trying not to laugh at the silly nickname I used to get him riled up. He trailed behind me, failing to hide his blatant staring at my ass. We make our way down the aisles trying to speed up the process as people begin piling into the store.

“Joonie baby I can’t reach this,” I said struggling to reach the box of goldfish on the top shelf. He moved over to me in a flash, pressing his front flush against my back. I heard his breathing stop as I purposely pushed my ass against him.

“This one, this one, this one, or this one…” He trailed off purposely picking the wrong boxes to tease me. He finally grabbed the correct item and tossed it in the cart. Walking away as if he didn’t leave me speechless and flustered on the cracker aisle.

I follow him to the snack aisle after grabbing a few bottles of wine and champagne for our date tonight. The empty aisle presents another opportunity for me to assert my dominance. I walk over to the chips looking at them inquisitively as if I’m mocking a character.

“Honey do you want this kind or this kind?” I said while bending over. Making sure to sway slowly as I wait for an answer. “Babe? Which-“ I was cut short as a hand firmly grabbed my ass causing me to yelp in surprise and sit up straight.

“I want this one right here,” he growled in my ear. I turned around and looked at him, watching his eyes darken with hunger. “Let’s get outta here yeah?” He questioned looking into my eyes. I nodded furiously ready to exit this hell and get home to what’s waiting.

We race to the self-checkout line, scanning and bagging groceries like a 5000-dollar prize is awaiting the winner. Namjoon grabbed my hand after he paid and pulled me along with him as he pushed the basket with his other hand. He was so warm, skin clear and kissable. I wanted to pull him aside and cover him in kisses, not caring about the people around us.

Namjoon unlocks the car as we stop beside it. I move to walk around the cart but he stops me in my tracks. “Let me help you get the groceries in the car love,” I say looking confused at his sudden maneuver.

Unexpectedly, he opened the car door and motioned for me to get inside. I insisted again that I help but he gave me a look that I know better than to disobey. I got inside praying I didn’t anger him too much. I set myself up for this one, didn’t I? It’ll be worth it in the end right? Maybe I went a little too far with the texts but I can’t help but shiver with anticipation. I pull out my phone to text Jimin about my bad decisions.

Me: I think I fucked up lol

Park Chanel: you’re welcome ;)

Namjoon slams the trunk shut causing me to jump in surprise. I close my phone sitting it in the cup holder beside me. He gets in the car, jaw still tense as he turns the key in the ignition. I thought about breaking the silence but the tension was so thick a knife would recoil at the slight pressure of penetration. Namjoon puts on his seatbelt then proceeds to look at me.

“ I don’t want to hear another peep from you Y/N..” he starts lowly not breaking eye contact for a second. “You’ve done enough for tonight, if you do anything stupid I swear I will pull the car over and take you on the side of the road. I promise you wouldn’t want that.” He deadpans and looks away from me, pulling out of the parking spot. I utter a soft okay and prepare to behave the rest of the way home.

I slide my palm over to his free hand resting on his thigh. I stare firmly at him, giving my best puppy eyes in return. He doesn’t look away from the road but I watch as his lip twitches into a small smile. He grabs my hand, rubbing his large thumb over the back of my hand. In love can’t begin to describe how I truly feel about this man.

I laugh as he tries to sing along to Smoke Sprite, raspy voice blending well with Soyoon. I rap along to his part of the song, stealing the spotlight and making him bop his head in excitement. The song finishes and we’re about 10 minutes from our place. I check my phone and see a text from our group chat, making the recent grocery store escapades flash through my mind. I want him to touch me again, I like it when he’s desperate and needy for me.

Another terrible idea floods my brain accompanied by a mound of outcomes. I suddenly let go of Namjoons hand causing him to spare me a confused expression. A smile graced my face as I turned my body forward, grabbing the slit of my dress and opening it over my legs. I let my left hand run down the front of my dress, stopping at my panties hesitating even.

I slide my hand under the fabric immediately coming in contact with the soft skin. I dip my fingers and get to work. I began letting out dramatized moans and grunts. I moan Namjoon's name and furiously let my hand lose control. I looked over and saw Namjoon gripping the steering wheel in frustration. Sweat adorned his angelic face, veins prominent in his hands. I let this go on until we reached the last stop light near our apartment building. I sat up and closed my legs acting like I didn’t just masturbate next to my boyfriend in a moving car.

We pull into the lot entering our designated spot. Namjoon quietly turned off the engine and released a sigh that he seemed to have been holding in. He looks absolutely pissed and it’s so sexy. His erratic breathing only made me wetter by the second.

“You’re going to follow my instructions carefully. I don’t want to hear a word from you or tonight will be your worst fucking nightmare got it?” He questioned angrily letting his eyes trail over my body once more. I nodded too scared to move an inch more.

“Go upstairs, get undressed, wait in the middle of the bed. If you’re not in that spot when I come up there in 15 minutes, you better pray you can stop time.” He seethes hotly. “Yes sir,” I say scared and ready for more. He gets out of the car walks around and opens my door. He grabs my purse from my lap holding eye contact, his brown almond eyes dark and predatory.

“Go.” He states motioning for me to exit the vehicle. I get out swiftly, grabbing my purse from his hand and sprinting towards the entrance of the building. The elevator took an eternity to bring me to our floor. I ran to the door and shakily put in the passcode, messing up a few times before it finally let me in.

My shoes are off in a flash, I leave my purse by the door as well abandoning my shades on the counter as I run past to the stairs. I burst into our room, slipping my dress off. Almost fell as I grabbed my silk lavender robe hanging on the wall. I threw it on and climbed onto the bed. My anklet glowed in the natural light seeping through the parted curtains. The front door swung open slamming against the wall.

I heard shuffling, cabinets opening and closing for 10 more minutes before his heavy footsteps echoed through our hallway. He walked into the room eyeing me before raising an eyebrow. I started to sweat nervously hoping I did what I was told.

“Who told you to put on your robe Y/N?” He questioned in amusement. He slowly walked over to me, grabbing each side of the robe and ripping it open. He discarded it onto the floor and stalked around the bed, he stood at the front motionless. “On your knees in front of me, now.” He said and I immediately left the bed. I swung my legs over the side and dropped to my knees.

Namjoon watched me through lidded eyes as I crawled over to him on my knees, stopping directly in front of his growing bulge. I was quick to unlatch the hook of his buckle, the metal of the belt clinging as it hit the hardwood floors.

“I’ll excuse the robe mishap since you’re so eager to taste me doll face,” he said reaching down to grab my chin. A loud moan echoed through the room as he grabbed my hair and yanked my head back. He looked down at me, motioning his head back as if telling me to open up. I did as I was told and watched as he spit in my mouth and closed it back. He pulled his pants down and kicked them to the side.

“Good girl, now eat.” He said intensely. He hummed in satisfaction, eyes never leaving the way I wrapped my fingers around his cock and finally engulfed his length into the warmth of my mouth. I took him in slowly inch by inch, his girth heavy against my tongue as I extended my jaw wider and wider. I choked a little as he hit the back of my throat.

“You look so fucking gorgeous with your lips wrapped around me, pet,” his fingers tightened into my hair, his gaze stoic and heavy on me. Pet. The pet name earned a moan from me as I began a steady rhythm of sucking. My fingers were coated in a thick layer of saliva, Namjoon’s cock easily sliding against my pressured grip as my cheeks hollowed, jaw growing sore from my strenuous movements.

He groaned loudly, fucking my throat faster until I could no longer take it. I let my jaw go slack so he could use me as his personal toy. He grabbed my face and fucked it harder until I was seeing stars. A beautiful repetition of my name strung from his tongue, stilling as he came into my mouth. I happily swallowed every drop, coughing around his cock one last time, sending a shiver through his body.

“Good job, get on the bed I want to taste you. I can see you dripping on the floor,” he smirks as he picks me up and helps me onto the bed. He walks around and gets in the middle of the bed, watching me as I sit patiently waiting for instructions.

“Come here baby, sit on my face,” he motioned for me to come to him. I slowly crawled towards him, bracing myself on his lap. He kissed me roughly, tasting himself on my tongue, running his hand down to play with my chest. Nipples sensitive to the touch, he pulls away from me, taking my right breast in his mouth. Sucking and nibbling on me, teasing me. He pulled off with a pop, scooting further down the bed and then lifting me so I could move towards his face.

I place my hands on the headboard hovering over his face in anticipation. He suddenly grabs my thighs and pulls me down onto him. I scream out in pleasure as he dives into my center. Feverishly lapping his tongue at my pussy like it’s the last time he’ll have me. His moans send intense vibrations through my body, making me scream his name. We’ll have a noise complaint tomorrow.

I felt my orgasm coming on, riding his tongue until my legs were sore. He let go of my left thigh to slap my ass hard, signaling me to cum on his tongue. I came with a loud groan of his name. Shaking and twitching as I came down from my high.

Namjoon grabbed my hips, gently guiding me down to his lap. His face was covered in my essence, from nose to chin, he glistened like an Angel. He smiled and rubbed circles on my tummy as he watched me shake.

“Don’t think we’re done darling, I’m not finished until I see my cum dripping down your pretty legs.” He gave me one last smile before his eyes darkened once more. He grabbed my hips and lifted me slightly, sticking his girth fully inside me. I sank slowly, letting him fill me to the brim. Tears streamed down my cheeks loving the painful stretch in my core.

“Ride me until I say stop.” He deadpanned motioning for me to move or else. I started to ride him painfully slow, not being able to take much more. This was my opportunity to finally seize control. I picked up the pace, rhythmic grunts and sounds of skin slapping filled the room. I put my hands on his chest and let my hips do the talking.

I ground down harder, spelling his name with every swift motion of my hips. I felt his cock twitch inside of me, indicating he was close already. Now that I have control I’m going to make him feel everything he did to me. I moved faster, causing the bed to shake and tremble with every shout of his name.

He grabbed my hips trying to make me slow down but I only grind down harder. Clenching and tightening around him to send me him over the edge. I watched as his orgasm roared through him, eyes rolling to the back of his head. I kept moving, milking everything from him. Getting closer to my orgasm, I let myself go with one last yell of his name.

Squeezing my eyes shut as I finally stilled. The sound of heavy breathing filled the room, the bed creaking as I rolled off of him. Shivering as the empty feeling overtakes me when he’s not inside of me. “I hope I didn’t get too carried away,” I started while looking over at my completely wrecked boyfriend.

“That was perfect.” He said smiling over at me. He slowly stood up, going to our bathroom to retrieve a towel. He returned momentarily, cleaning me off and then cleaning himself. Throwing the towel in the hamper against the wall. I was so exhausted I could barely move. I got under our giant duvet, getting comfortable fairly quickly.

Namjoon glanced at me, nestled under the warm blankets, my eyes getting heavy with exhaustion. He promised me a special date night and he was determined to make it happen, even if he just put me to sleep. With a gentle smile, his aftercare continued.

“Hey, babe,” he whispered softly, brushing a strand of loose hair from my face. “I know you’re tired but I don’t want our date night to go to waste.”

I yawned in response and mumbled sleepily, “Joonie I’m so comfy right here.” Earning a chuckle from him, my reluctance seeped through the atmosphere. “I know, but trust me, you won’t regret it. I’ve got something in the living room set up for us.”

That caused me to sit up, curiosity overcoming my fatigue. “Oh? What is it?” I said carefully. “It’s a surprise, but I promise it’ll be worth it.” He said leaning in to plant a kiss on my forehead.

With his gentle encouragement, I reluctantly pushed the covers aside and allowed Namjoon to help me out of bed. He passed me the discarded robe and my slippers, and together we made our way to the living room.

Where soft candlelight flickered with a movie on the screen waiting to be played. As I settled onto the couch I couldn’t help but smile at the effort Namjoon had put into creating this romantic haven. A charcuterie board with our favorite snacks and 2 bottles of the wine we purchased earlier were on the coffee table.

Namjoon plopped down beside me, taking my hand in his. “See princess? Our date night in the living room isn’t so bad, is it?” He said grinning like he won the lottery. My fatigue began to dissipate as I basked in the warmth of Namjoon's love and effort. “Not bad at all,” I said, feeling grateful for his consistency and thoughtfulness.

“Let’s start the movie I’m so excited!” I exclaimed pumping my fist in the air embarrassingly hard. Namjoon laughed and mimicked me, making me laugh even harder than before. The first half of the movie went by as we stuffed our faces with food and downed wine like it was our last supper. I was starting to feel tipsy and before I knew it my thoughts started wandering again.

“Mmm, these snacks are-“ Namjoon started as he reached for the charcuterie board. I interrupted his thought by grabbing his hand. Namjoon looked at me puzzled, “huh?” He says in surprise. I move closer and settle onto his lap. “I want to be closer to you,” I said, hands resting on his toned chest.

Namjoon blinked at me, a tipsy smile forming on his lips, “Well I can’t argue with that pet.” I look into his eyes exploring the galaxies I can reach within them. “You know, I love nights like these, just you and me, a movie, some wine…” I rambled to him.

“Yeah, me too. It’s moments like this when I realize how lucky I am to have you in my life baby.” He said while lost in my eyes. Searching for something, something that he knows I have. I leaned in slowly, our lips almost touching, “I love you Namjoon.” I kissed him before he could respond. Feeling his emotions spill into our kiss. He pulled us apart gently, rubbing his hand on my cheek. “I love you too Y/N.”

He grabbed my face and captured my lips again. A thief that could do no wrong in my eyes, I deepened the kiss craving more of him. Needing to feel something more. I slowly began moving my hips on his thigh, grinding down onto the exposed skin, earning a guttural groan from his throat.

His hands moved down the side of my body, exploring every curve, touching every mark he left on me this evening. He landed on my hips, guiding me to my last orgasm with his strong hands. The air was hot once more, soft moans and sweet nothings penetrated the quiet.

The movie is long forgotten, the candlelight coating the walls in a beautiful golden glow. I felt my orgasm building quickly, still sensitive from the earlier assault on my clit. Namjoon began bouncing his leg, adding more pressure on my center, and sending me over the edge.

I kiss him one last time before I fall fast asleep on him.

The end.