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awrkive · 1 year ago

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NEIGHBOR BLUNDER, pt. 1 — JJK

in hindsight, you should have seen it coming. had always known your luck – or lack of it, thereof – and the universe's meticulous plan of your downfall made it easy for you to get tangled up in a series of unfortunate events, which presents itself as the neighbor that lives across from you, jeon jungkook.

PAIRING jungkook x (fem) reader

GENRE r18+ (fluff, angst, (eventual) smut) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

CHAPTER WORD COUNT 18.2k

CHAPTER WARNINGS/MISC neighbor!jk, bsf!jimin, accountant!oc software engineer!jk, jk and jimin are chaebols lol, minjoon boyfriends <<<<3 mature language, this chapter's pretty tame (for now) but theres a lot of FLIRTING, if u squint this story is a mosaic of every shows i love lmfao, for the apartment complex just imagine the namil villa from the kdrama fight for my way NB!JK VISUALS

NOTES hello im back!!!!! remember the jk in tech xmas fic i told you about last year? this is it except its not a xmas fic anymore lmfao. had an idea to make it a full blown story and im just sooo excited to share it with u guys on this platform!!!!! if ur from wattpad, the chapter system is gonna be a little different here but the content is not <3 anyway let me know what u guys think!

READ ON WATTPAD | AO3

PART ONE | TWO

You never settled your relationship with the summer season. To put it simply, it was a love and hate sort of thing; you liked that it was dry, and the air always felt like it was filtered and healthy even though you were well-aware of the current shit-state of the Earth's ozone layer. There were beams and sunlights and street vendors and people lying on the park's ground. Summer felt nostalgic, like the first time you bought a vinyl in highschool and listened to Fleetwood Mac in secret because your mom was certain they peddled cocaine and all sorts of illegal drugs, and with a highschool friend you no longer talk to, not because of a friendship-breaking betrayal but something more melancholic than that like drifting apart as you got older — the ambience, generally, was what you loved the most about it.

But regardless of those, summer got hot. Sure, you could forgo layers of clothing and it was always nice to lounge about in short bottoms and strapless tops and sandals, but at the end of the day, you needed to set your AC on the lowest temp, and it cranks up your monthly rent a greater percentage which causes a detrimental result to your monthly pay. (And you always had to reapply make-up every now and then whenever you went outside because if not, you'd be a sweating mess.)

In the grand scheme of things, though, there was nothing more than you disliked than Park Jimin, your best friend since college, asking you to be his plus-one on his mom's birthday dinner. For the second time.

“I told you, Jimin, I’m not doing that anymore. Your mom called me fat and recommended a bunch of expensive skin care products to treat one single zit on the side of my forehead the last time you brought me there. I hid that with my bangs and she still saw it, like what the hell? The baked lasagna might have tasted good but I’m not stepping one foot in your house ever again.” You spat out, rolling your eyes at your friend who just dramatically flopped himself on your bed.

“Okay, so I’m really sorry about my mom. She’s a…” He trailed off, looking at you with meaningful eyes that weighed words you knew he couldn't exactly say without feeling bad, and you sighed. Nodded in understanding. Jimin’s face contorted into a cringed expression at that. “... yeah. But! Please. I swear! This is the last time. I just really need you to be there. They’re setting me up with Heesu, okay? You know that snotty nepo baby of the Kang clan who owns Kang Tech?”

“Jimin, you’re a nepo baby.”

He hit you with a pillow. “I am but I can earn a hundred thousand won without my family’s money. They can cut my credit cards and I'll still be thriving.”

You broke the serious demeanor and laughed loudly at his seemingly confident claim.

“I’m sorry but you could not even get a job at a burger joint without some nepotism let alone have a hundred thousand without your dad’s credit cards. Bitch, you’re just lying.”

“Fuck you. I was employee of the week at Seventh Street Burger.” He backfired, referring to that point in time in your sophomore year where you picked up a part time job during the summer at a burger joint and Jimin just decided to come along randomly. He got it because the owner knew of his dad.

“Yeah, because Sowon had a crush on you?” You said, remembering the owner’s daughter, who was also helping out at the store at that time. She was so smitten by Jimin you almost felt bad for her.

“Okay, fair, point taken. No need to be such a bitch about it,” Your best friend said with a dismissive wave of his hand, telling he was over it. You only laughed at that, boisterously, might you add, just to piss him off for no reason. Jimin deadpanned. “But seriously. I think they’re planning to marry me off to Heesu.”

Your face fell out of genuine concern this time.

“Oh my god, really?”

Jimin once again cringed visibly. “Yeah. I mean from a business lense it makes sense. But me marrying at 33? That makes me – like – a child groom.”

“Oh… yeah…” you trailed off, sympathizing with him. Not that you've ever been in the situation where your parents forced you in a sham marriage for their own wealth because there was no wealth to begin with. But you felt bad for Jimin. You always have, when it came to this particular subject.

You knew how it was with rich people, having known Jimin for almost half your life. It was true that arranged marriages were still a thing, and while Jimin seemed that he could pretty much do everything he wanted because of his free-spirited nature, his parents could still most likely make him marry someone he barely knew. Solely for business.

“Ugh.” Jimin groaned. “Should I just come out at the dinner so they can stop linking me to women? I’m gay as fuck, man. My cousin Park Youngdam would have a field day given that homophobic fucktard has been calling me the f word ever since he learned it in seventh grade.”

You shook your head, visibly cringing at his words. You didn't have family yourself. It was your mom who raised you alone for all your life, until she died five years ago. Didn't know any extended family. But frankly, you thought it was better that way than to deal with a complicated family like Jimin's.

“Nah. I mean if you’re ready, well, do it. But like, your parents are…” You two shared a look together again, and Jimin just slapped his palms over his face, indicating his doom. Your face twisted with another shot of deeper sympathy for him.

“This is it for me. They’ll marry me off to Kang Heesu and we’ll fly to the US and live in Massachusetts to fulfill her white picket fence fantasy. I’ll be a miserable husband and she'll be an even more miserable wife because she’ll eventually find out I’m gay. The neighbors will start talking and the white republicans will shun me out of the town church. We’ll have a surrogate baby and—”

“Jimin, what the fuck!” You hit him hard on his arm as you couldn't keep a straight face anymore at his dramatic monologue. “You’re not gonna marry Heesu and you won't live in fuckass Massachusetts and no one’s gonna shun you out of the town church and you won't have a surrogate baby.”

“It’s a possibility.” Jimin shrugged.

“I feel like you're guilt-tripping me into agreeing to be your date again at your mom's birthday dinner and I think that's very evil of you.” You said, squinting your eyes at him.

“Well, duh? But also, I’m really kind of lowkey highkey scared they’ll marry me off to someone now that I’m pushing forty.”

"You're quite literally seven years away from forty." You countered.

He looked at you with an expression of I know right! And he told you so.

"That's what I said to mom and dad, but they're acting like my sperm will freeze next year. God, I can't stand them!"

Jimin, for all his jokes and unserious and bitchy behavior, was someone extremely important to you. Yeah, sure, he was rich as hell and he annoys you when he says something that reeks of too much nepotism but he was never intentionally snotty, never thinks he was better than everyone else (Jokes about how he thinks he has the fattest and juiciest ass in the world, though), and he wasn't at all like the rich people you've had the misfortune of interacting with at his mom's birthday party last year. He might be a self-proclaimed bitch but if you put him together with those people, he might as well be one of God's disciples.

For all his crass language and rather strong personality, Jimin was a doting friend who was there for you every single time. You could call him up at 3 am and he’d be at your door bringing Chinese take out and two tubs of ice cream, ready to hear you vent about your stupid job or a guy that you fumbled by being weird and off-putting because you didn't know how to handle a relationship. He was the kind of friend who would defend you in front of anyone else but will mercilessly tell you off and list down all points of your stupidity once you were in closed doors. He was the kind of friend that would ask you to be his pretend partner at a birthday dinner party, but he was your best friend ultimately and even if you had a big problem with his family and their extremely traditional (read: toxic) ways, you didn't want him to be pressured into coming out just so he could avoid to be engaged off to another random heiress. Didn't want him to do something he wasn't ready for. Didn't want him hurt or anything of the sort.

The last dinner wasn't even that bad, if you were to be honest. His parents were shitty, yeah sure, and the other guys in there that consisted of politicians and businessmen and people in the showbiz industry were something taken out of the toilet bowl for how stinky their elitist, better-than-you personalities were, but you both just totally forgot all about it by getting wasted at the local bar right after leaving. Not that his mom’s words didn't sting a bit or didn't make you a little conscious, but at the end of the day, you weren't actually dating Jimin so you didn't care what his parents thought of you.

Additionally, you didn't have something planned for the next two weeks when the birthday would be happening. You were supposed to, but that ship has long sailed when you fumbled a date with the guy at the IT department. For the record, you didn't really like him that much and he talked too much about his job and while you didn't mind that, it was getting a little too tiring. If you wanted IT lessons you would’ve majored in it in college. Still, Shin Taemu was handsome. And he wore those rounded glasses. Was tall. Had nice arms. Too bad he wanted to be the next Mark Zuckerberg. Fuck that guy.

“Ugh, I don't know,” you groaned. “It's just so disgusting to be your girlfriend, okay?”

Jimin audibly gasped. “How dare you? A lot would jump on this ass.” He said with incredulity seeping through his voice, pointing to his bum.

You rolled your eyes. “Not me, obviously. Before you take offense—”

“Offense taken.”

“—it’s just that you're like my cousin and when you call me honey I want to crawl out of my own skin.”

Jimin laughed at that while you looked miserable, remembering those moments from last year. Seriously, how could you have fooled anyone in that party that you were banging? You swore you looked like Ariana Grande and Troye Sivan in that one music video? (Jimin was the one who showed that meme to you, by the way.)

“So I won't call you honey. Just babe.”

“Ew.” You quickly retaliated.

“Ohh, the homophobia is sho-wing.” Jimin sing-sang, ever the mature individual he was.

“Fuck off, seriously.”

Jimin just giggled and then scooted closer to you. “No but like, are you coming? ‘Cause jokes aside, I'm just gonna find someone else if you really don't wanna do it. But you know you're always my first choice.”

“First choice when you do some stupid shit.” you countered, rolling your eyes for the nth time that night. Jimin would be the cause of your eye surgery if ever they got dislocated or something.

“That’s my biggest act of love.”

“I don't want it.”

“I’ll double what I paid you last year.”

“Double it again and give it to the next person?”

Jimin flipped you off. “I’ll give you my nintendo and I’ll get you a card at that coffee shop you love so much.”

That caught your attention. You raised your brow. “On god?”

“When did I ever lie to you?”

You deadpanned. “We won't finish this conversation if I list all the times—”

“Okay, okay, point taken. But I'm really serious. Please, please, please, please be my pretend girlfriend on my mom's birthday party please, please—”

“Shut up. Ugh,” you could already feel the big smile creeping up Jimin’s face when you let out a big sigh. “Okay, I’ll do it. Buy me boba now.”

Jimin tackled you to the bed and hugged you and kissed your forehead.

“Thank you! Best best friend ever.” he delightfully said, grinning widely, eyes almost disappearing in his triumph.

Your face contorted into a disgusted expression while Jimin just laughed as you pushed him so hard he almost fell off the bed.

“You are a disgusting limpy sack of dicks! Also, I’m not your best best friend, you don't have a wide selection. I'm your best friend. Period.”

“Unfortunately.” He waved you off and when you were about to retort something his phone suddenly rang. You watched quietly as he put it over his ear. “Hey, you just landed?”

If it was a private conversation Jimin would've left the room but since he didn't, you decided to stay in bed, kind of listening in to the conversation, but also not, as you turned the volume down of the show you were watching earlier on your laptop.

“Nah, you want me to pick you up?” Jimin sat up on the edge of the bed and you looked at him curiously. “Sure, I’m free, Kook. You have a place to stay? Hotel suite or something?” He nodded to whatever the other person was saying on the other line. “Oh, you're here for three months? Thought you were just flying in for mom's birthday?”

It was moments after they said goodbye that Jimin turned to you to ask, “Well, my cousin’s apparently staying here for three months. Got this job thing going on.”

“Is that one of the non-problematic twenty percent cousin lineage of your very complicated family tree?" You asked, referring to him telling you one time that his family, including the extended ones, was eighty percent shitty and twenty percent decent.

Jimin chuckled at the inside joke. "Well, yeah, he's one of the good ones. Knows I'm gay."

"Oh, nice."

Jimin stood up from your bed. “I’ll get you your boba and head off. Gotta pick cousin up or he’ll start throwing tantrums at the airport.”

“Add extra pearls please.” You told him, watching as he clicked away on his phone to get you your drink.

“I spoil you too much.” Jimin said, clicking his tongue, eyes still on his phone.

“What are you here for if not my glorified sugar daddy?”

“I will kill myself in front of you.” Jimin deadpanned, getting a chuckle out of you.

You didn't know the psychology — or if there even was psychology — behind feeling embarrassed when you were about to cross a path while carrying huge boxes. It was a normal task, and yet, it always felt like a huge walk of shame when you did it.

It was probably because you had to carry it over a flight of stairs, and there was no way you wouldn't trip on yourself carrying two heavy boxes in your hands that were already disrupting your vision.

Maybe it was your fault for choosing the pick-up option when you were checking out these furniture online, all because there was a huge increase on the fee for door-to-door delivery. For the record, there was a huge gap and the boxes were not really that heavy to the point you could not carry them both. It's just a lamp and a portable desk, you thought a week ago when you opted for the pick-up option, I could carry it all the way to the unit just fine — and obviously, your delusion has resulted to this very moment.

As soon as you managed to walk over five steps, you felt as if your oxygen supply just got cut back, panting like someone fresh from a marathon. Damn. You definitely needed to work out a little. Maybe do some squats for your New Year’s resolution, commit to it for three days straight then forget about it for the next 362 days of the year.

You looked ahead of you and a string of curses let themselves out of your mouth automatically as you estimated the number of stairs you needed to get through to get to your apartment.

This day sucked! It was Sunday and you planned to wake up at five am to have a productive day but then you slept through your five alarms and woke up at eleven am instead. You ran out of eggs and you had to go to the convenience store to eat a sad meal of yogurt and kimbap. And now there were these boxes that you needed to carry over what seemed to look like six million of stairs. You weren't Sisyphus! And where were your goddamn neighbors when you needed them?

"You need help, ma'am?"

"Jesus Christ—" you turned to look to your right only to see a man who seemed to own the previous voice.

And Jesus Christ, indeed.

He was wearing a white shirt and some shorts, Nike sliders on his feet and a pair of headphones on. He was wearing glasses. And he had a tattoo sleeve.

What the fuck.

What the fuck!

It has been so long since you thought a man was crazily attractive. Okay, well sure, the guys from the IT department were something else (or you just had a weird eyeglasses fetish, Jimin once pointed out, that you still — to this day — vehemently try to deny) but you’ve never been this taken aback by someone’s face before.

The guy’s lips tilted a bit, some sort of greeting maybe, and you quickly looked away, embarrassed, fearing that he caught you looking at him longer than necessary.

Oh god. This was pathetic! He was a stranger! He was a man! He just had a cute face attached to a very good body with an arm full of tattoos and he was tall but you were sure he wasn’t six feet two. Also, he had hair that looked fluffy from where you stood and a pair of eyeglasses but Jimin was just bluffing when he said you had a fetish for them. Right?

You were performing mental gymnastics until you realized he was asking a question.

"Oh! Uh, no, thank you. It's fine." You said, embarrassed at the way you almost jumped in surprise earlier.

But the whole thing was ridiculous. What, because there was a very fine man across from you the universe suddenly decided to fuck up your fate by making you be seen by that very man struggling with boxes all the way up to your unit? Couldn't it just have been on a day when you did your make-up and dressed up in that overpriced dress you bought hundred bad choices ago?

You fumbled with the boxes a little bit before continuing your way up, nevermind the guy whose response you didn't wait for because you needed to get the fuck away from him before you say something weird and off-putting.

Truthfully, you could use the help. But at what cost? A fine man carrying them? Okay, that wasn’t so bad. But what were you supposed to do with... all of that?

As if the universe was indeed trying to prove to you that you were, in fact, not its favorite creation, you almost tripped. And the guy most definitely saw it.

Fuck.

You turned to the side to see him looking at you, concern etching his face. You wanted to convince yourself that it was genuine concern because you'd commit something that would totally change the trajectory of his life if he was to laugh.

But you thought his own unit must be way up as well, as he was going to the same path as you, and if that was the case, he must have been a new neighbor in the complex because you've never seen the man before.

“Well, it’s not that heavy but…” you trailed off, looking blankly at the cardboard boxes. And then at him. "I could use some help, if you don't mind."

The guy just chuckled. Oh wow, his laugh was very... low.

You didn’t even know what the fuck that meant.

“I’ll get them for you.” He said, crossing the small distance between you and taking over the pile, leaving you with nothing in your hands.

“Oh, no, I’ll have that one. It’s fine.” You said, stepping closer to take the other one but he was already securing it in his hold, with stability this time, ready to take off.

He let out a small laugh again and you bit your tongue to not think about how cute he looked. If he was a new tenant, you hoped you didn't cross paths with him ever again.

"It's okay, ma'am."

He's got to stop calling you that before you do something drastic.

“It’s quite far from here, I'm all the way up to three-three-six.” You uttered, pointing forward, a few steps behind the guy, who hummed at what you said.

You quickly caught up to him. "Really, thanks for doing this."

"No problem, it's nothing." He said, smiling at you. Warm and kind. All cute. "I'm all the way up to four-four-six as well."

Your eyes widened. "No way, that's just across mine."

The stranger, apparently your neighbor now, grinned.

"Nice coincidence, huh?"

A sheepish smile formed on your lips. You didn't dwell on that comment too much. Knew it was just small talk.

"If you don't mind me asking, are you a new tenant here?” You asked out of genuine curiosity. You had never seen someone come out of the unit across from you out of all the four years you'd been here.

He nodded, agreeing with what you presumed.

"Yeah. Just temporary, though.”

“Oh…” A surprised sound. Maybe it was a good thing he was only staying temporarily... “I hope I didn’t inconvenience you or anything. You really don’t need to bring the boxes over to my apartment.”

The man just chuckled, dismissing your worry. “You looked like you could use a hand, these boxes are big. Anyway, I was just out checking 'round town. Settling in.”

From the sound of it, you'd assume he was not only moving in in a new apartment complex, but new city as well. Perhaps country? But he most definitely looked Korean. But maybe he came from abroad. Who knows.

“Yeah, there's a really nice coffee shop three blocks away. You should check it out sometime. Ji—my friend and I are obsessed with their iced caramel macchiato. And the boba.”

His brows furrowed in pure interest. “That must've been the one I passed by this morning. I’ll make sure to try that one.”

“You really should. And the barista gives you a brownie on Sundays if he likes you.” You shared like it was gossip, mentally taking note to visit the cafe sometime this week.

“And I'm sure not everybody gets the privilege?” The guy looked at you funny, and that made you laugh.

"Of course, yes! You have to earn it, I think. I feel like I spent over a million there before he started giving me brownies."

"Hope my charm works on him as well," he said, and it caught you off guard.

What did he mean, "as well"? Like he was speaking from the basis that you had charm and so he hoped he had it as well to get the barista to like him?

"Well. He's strict." Was all you could say, before you spotted your apartment. "Hey, I'll take it over from here."

The guy looked over the plated number on the door, reading three-three-six just as you said earlier. Trudging forward, he set the boxes down on the side of the porch.

"Thank you, really. This was really nice of you."

You extended your gratitude once again as if you didn't spend the walk up to here thanking him non-stop, sounding like a broken record. Thank god the guy didn't seem to mind your over-the-top gratitude, only waving his hand.

"Told you, it's fine. You need help with a few boxes again and just ring me up across," He joked, turning around slightly and looking at the door across your unit, Unit 446. It earned a chuckle from you. His face turned serious now, but there was still a charming smile on his face. “Hey. I’m actually pretty new in this town. I was thinking about visiting a few restaurants downtown, maybe you could recommend me some?”

You didn't mean to, but you took note the way his doe eyes seemed to shimmer even behind the frame of his glasses.

“My favorites are just, like, a ten-minute walk away. There’s this restobar near that drugstore when you turn left from this building, right?” The guy nodded, and you were slightly delighted he knew right away. “Yeah, their ramen's great, you'd thank me forever.”

He chuckled at the way you said it and you smiled.

Your interactions with new people were always a range from pure silence to oversharing; talking to them like they were your long lost friend whom you’ve milked goats with in your father’s orchard. It was probably just a product of introversion; not knowing the right approach to socializing.

“Thanks for the recommendation.” He said, a genuine appreciative tone lacing his words.

“You’re welcome. If I can ring you up to help me with some boxes, you can ring me up for some restaurant recommendation.”

"It's an exchange, then. Deal."

"Why not?" You shrugged, laughing along with him when he did so.

You both stood there for a while until seconds passed. You didn’t know exactly how to end the conversation, not that you wanted to, but there was nothing that went to your head to talk about more. And besides, he was probably headed somewhere, so you began to speak.

“Hey, so I’m going in—”

“What about we—”

“Oh.” You stopped. “Sorry, what was that?”

The guy just shook his head. “Nah, you’re probably busy. Thanks for the recommendation again.”

“No, seriously, sorry I didn't hear it the first time...”

“I was just gonna ask about the name of the restaurant.”

“It’s Midday Miso.” You told him, smiling.

“Midday Miso,” The guy nodded, “Yeah. Got it. Thanks again.”

“You’re welcome, and, uh, thanks. For the help.”

You took your keys out from your shorts and you didn’t expect to still see him standing in front of you when you turned around. You jokingly squinted your eyes at him.

“Yeah, you first, get in.” He said with a low chuckle.

It was a little embarrassing and pretty stupid how your heart fluttered a bit at that.

“What a gentleman you are,” You respond with a snort, opening the door to your unit and pushing the boxes inside your apartment. When they were in, you turned to look at the guy again, saying, “Okay, bye for real. See you around. Hope you like Midday Miso if you try it. And the coffee shop. It's called Brown Coffee.”

“See you around.” He did a little wave that made you both laugh before you closed the door.

When the lock system clicked, you stood on your doorway for a little while.

And then fake-cried.

You quickly clicked on Jimin's pinned contact on your phone.

You [5:35pm]: JIMINNNNNNNNN You [5:35pm]: POP EMERGENCY You [5:35pm]: POP EMERGENCY BITCH IF U DONT RESPOND You [5:36pm]: I HAVE A DIABOLICAL CRUSH AND ITS GOING IN THE MEMOIRRRRRR

It wasn’t even one full minute when Jimin replied.

cuntress #1 [5:37pm]: oh my god SHUT UP!!! im at a training program for ghis stupid ass company my fathers been running fir 600 years cuntress #1 [5:37pm]: whats up cuntress #1 [5:38pm]: its always a crush and never a job 😒

You [5:39pm]: yeh so remember when i told u im oacking up my vagina last summer

cuntress #1 [5:39pm]: many such times

You [5:40pm]: 🖕 You [5:40pm]: SO raincheck!!! You [5:41pm]: COZ I just met a fine man at my apartment AND flirted with him You [5:41pm]: i think

cuntress #1 [5:42pm]: ohhhhh OK???? cuntress #1 [5:43pm]: cuntress #2 flirting???? now thats not uninteresting go on while i fake a restroom break 👀

You [5:45pm]: this story is not for the imessages baby get ur ass up and ICE CREAM WITH ME NOW.

cuntress #1 [5:46pm]: omg 😭😭😭😭 cuntress #1 [5:46pm]: i’ll be off 7:30pm wait for me 😭😭😭 cuntress #1 [5:47pm]: i also have #stories to tell

You [5:49pm]: 🤭

There must be a time where you finally grow up and learn to cook.

You were a twenty-eight-year-old woman and yet, your meals sadly ranged from instant noodles, canned goods, and food from the nearby twenty-four-hour provision shop. Sometimes, you had the gall to cook something from scratch—but with scratch you meant scratching off the labels from food take-outs and reheating them in your microwave.

Jimin had told you one time you would die at twenty-nine with your lifestyle. You told him he couldn't tell you shit because he didn't know how to cook either, he just worked out and ate healthy stuff, and you did, too! But Jimin knew you, and in an evil manner, clocked you with, "Buying fresh produce and not consuming them does not count as healthy living."

Anyway, you never understood why you were so bad at cooking. Your mother, as you remembered her, was decent at it but you guessed it was because she never really taught you and you never really bothered, either. In some immature way of thinking, you'd like to think it was a win for feminism as you were battling patriarchal standards by not conforming to stereotypical "female" qualities. But deep inside, you knew cooking should be a survival skill.

Well, maybe Jimin was right and you would indeed die at the ripe age of twenty-nine. On the bright side, at least you wouldn't have to pay off your student loans and your monthly rent.

In relation, not knowing how to cook meant impractical visits to the restaurant, and that was how you ended up at Midday Miso for dinner after your shift.

It was only a little over seven pm when you entered the restaurant, the ahjumma quickly greeting you and preparing your usual, a sign of familiarity that implied your countless visits ever since moving in at your current apartment building.

Regular visits meant usual sitting spot, and in your case, it was the high stools that faced the glass walls of the restaurant's facade where you could see the busy street making that little area of the town alive.

As minutes overlapped with one another, your food was served and you were hit with the waft of the restaurant's delightful signature beef ramen and bibimbap that the ahjumma made sure to add extra beef on.

Eating with a happy heart made you feel like nothing in the world mattered but you and the food before you, so, you didn't pay attention to the person who was coming to your direction and eventually sat beside you, but what caught you off guard was when said person suddenly said,

"Hi."

When you turned to the side to see who it was, your eyes widened as you said in both recognition and surprise, "Unit 446?"

"That's me." He, Unit 446—in the flesh—said with a low chuckle, twisting himself so that he was sat appropriately on the high stool. Still, his body leaned towards you when he continued to say, "Fancy seeing you here."

You grinned, flattered at the casualness of his approach.

"Same to you. I wonder who told you about this local gem."

He pursed his lips. "A nice neighbor across my place... whom I still don't know the name of."

"Oh, shoot!" You'd face-palm right now if he wasn't looking, but truthfully, you didn't even think about that! You've just been referring to him as the Staircase Guy slash Neighbor 446 in your head and when you told Jimin about him. You laughed at the thought. "That neighbor of yours is __."

Neighbor 446 nodded and extended his hand to you

"I'm Jungkook."

It was a little silly but you shook hands, anyway, and knowing it was, indeed, silly, you both laughed together at your joint connection.

Jungkook. Huh. Not exactly a common Korean name, but it wasn't rare either. The name does ring a bell though, felt like you've heard it somewhere before.

You brushed off the familiarity as inconsequential.

Unlike the completely casual attire he adorned the first time that you met him, he was now in some sleek slacks and a white polo which sleeves were ridden up half high, which exposed the vines of ink on his right arm once again. There's a coat that hung around the back of his chair, and he had forgone the glasses this time around, which was a bit of a shame on the part of your brain that might have a silly crush on him.

Jungkook's clothes seemed to mirror your own business casual ensemble, and that made you think about what he possibly did for a living. Maybe he worked a corporate job just like you, and the prospect might have made you down a little—only because as far as you were concerned, corporate people weren't the most pleasant people you could encounter—but it was not something you dwelled on too much because you couldn't care less. If Jungkook was corporate, he sure didn't seem to be one the way he was.

Besides, you wouldn't be the one to bring up the depressing and aggravating conversation about gross grown-up things like... jobs... Eurgh. You both could just talk about the weather or how insane the ahjumma's ramen tasted for eternity.

"Well, hello, Jungkook." You greeted him. All warm and soft, testing the syllables of his name on your tongue. Rolled off well enough. He had a nice name that sure fit his face for some reason.

"Hi, __." He mirrored the soft smile on your lips, and just as he said it, the ahjumma was heading towards your direction to give him his order.

In that usual way grandmas reacted, the ahjumma gasped audibly—and dramatically, might you add—upon seeing Jungkook, but what she said next made you want to dig a hole under your seat.

"__-dear! Is this young man your boyfriend?"

Good thing you weren't consuming anything as of that moment, because it would've entered the wrong track.

"Ahjumma!" You laughed, totally not authentic at all because your face didn't match it, looking at Jungkook who just sent a shy smile her way.

Ahjumma must have seen you both talking to each other and had completely jumped to a conclusion. An insane one at that!

Shaking your head, you clarified, "This is Jungkook. A friend. He's new in town and checking out all the stuff around here. I recommended him this place."

You saw Jungkook nodding along with your words while he helped her set his table.

The ahjumma just shook her head. "I apologize, then," She looked at Jungkook and as if gossiping with him, whispered in a not very subtle way, "I keep on telling this girl to date already! Such young beauty shouldn't be wasted, you know."

A tsk-ing sound made its way through her mouth, and as much as you were starting to feel embarrassed that she was telling on you on Jungkook—who was literally a stranger to you a day ago and whom you may have a teeny tiny bit of crush on—you knew ahjumma did not have any malicious intent and just chose to laugh the whole thing off.

You heard Jungkook do the same.

This was ridiculous.

"Ahjumma, I told you, you're gonna be the first one to know when I date. For now I'm just a part-time accountant and a full-time promoter of Midday Miso." You pout at her, trying to dodge the topic of romance altogether.

Not in front of Jungkook.

"Ayee," She gave you a side-eye. "Fine. I'll bring over some extra beef."

You mouthed an enthusiastic "yes!" and raised your fist in the air with excitement, and Jungkook looked at the interaction with a smile on his face.

As the ahjumma walked away, you looked over at him.

"I'm glad you came by—" You identified his order to be the same one you used to be obsessed with the first few months you came to the restaurant. "—and ordered their best seller. You sure know how to be a tourist."

"Looked good on the menu. The ahjumma also seems to be nice. Seems like she's a close friend, huh?" Jungkook said.

"Totally."

And it was the truth. There was just something about ahjumma that made you feel reminiscent about the grandmother you've never had. Ever since you moved in and became a regular at this place, it felt like she's taken care of you and your relationship had been special since.

"This is really good." Jungkook commented after having his second bite, and you nodded in agreement. "She was serious about the beef thing?"

You chuckled at the mention. "Yeah, she always gives me extra."

"You just always get free stuff around these areas?" Jungkook joked which earned a hearty laugh from you. You remembered telling him about the free brownie on Sundays at Brown Coffee, a little bit surprised he recalled that.

"Now that you said that, I actually do." You proudly shared. You've been in this town for so long that the various faces just went from familiar to friends.

Jungkook nodded, his face showing amusement.

"I have to learn your ways, then."

"The secret to that is be incompetent at cooking. It means it's either take-out or eat out. Business owners around here have no choice but to see me every three days because I can't cook my own meal."

You could see Jungkook's amusement growing every second, and to add faux insult to injury, he joked, "Oh, bummer."

You decided to ride along with that.

"You mean you're a good cook? That's the real bummer! And here I thought we were bonding." You said, purposefully trying to sound scandalous at his implication of being a good cook.

He shook his head instantly, chuckling. "Okay, nah. I'm not that good. Just decent. But I'll have you know I can make a mean tangsuyuk. Any other complicated stuff is out the window, so there, we are bonding."

"I appreciate that you're under the assumption that I know where to begin with the non-complicated stuff. You're already putting way too much faith in me."

"I seriously doubt that." Jungkook laughed once again.

"You know what my friend tells me? That I'd die at twenty-nine because I don't know how to cook."

Jungkook almost keeled over hearing you say the words, and as much as you were amused at his own amusement, you decided to further add on the joke because you were enjoying this way too much.

"Wow. I wouldn't doubt you'd be an accessory to my murder the way you're laughing way too hard at my impending death. That's next year, you know."

Jungkook reached over for the glass of water and drank it. While he did so, the ahjumma had come over to give you the beef she promised. You did not forgot to thank her as soon as she went away.

You did hope Jungkook didn't notice the malicious wink she sent your way.

"Fuck, sorry." Jungkook's laughter had gone down this time, but his eyes still showed a hint of mirth when he asked, "You're twenty-eight, then?"

You nodded. "Yep." Unfortunately, you thought.

"Oh, that's actually surprising."

A gasp left your mouth. Jungkook was quick to correct himself.

"I meant it's surprising because I thought you were way younger."

Oh.

"Don't flatter me. I won't share my extra beef with you."

"I thought—" He shrugged. "—Early twenties."

"I'm guessing you are in your early twenties." You joked back.

"Okay, now, don't flatter me. I know how old I look." Jungkook said with a dismissive tone, but nevertheless light-hearted. Just like how this whole thing was going.

God, you were so in awe of how good he was at talking to you that he was practically bringing out the extrovert in you you only ever show to exclusive people like Jimin.

"So, you're like, fifty, then?"

Incredulous, Jungkook burst into laughter. "Wow."

"Sorry, just that you sounded like you were five years from retirement! Anyway, you look like we're the same age?"

He shook his head. "Three years older. Turning thirty-one later this year."

Jaw dropped. Not physically, but mentally.

"Oh wow, you're basically—" a fucking DILF! What the hell!

Thankfully you managed to cut yourself off before Jungkook could think you were way off your rocks and embarrass yourself in front of him for eternity. You could just hear Jimin from miles away telling you off about calling thirty-year-old men DILFs even though you didn't know if they had a child.

What do you mean this guy was thirty and why did that just make him even hotter in your head... He's got to stop this madness before you do something completely incomprehensible.

"—A senior." Was the lame thing you came up with to finish your sentence.

"Ouch." Jungkook said, but his word was completely opposite to the expression he was wearing on his face the way he just couldn't suppress the grin that had been visible on his mouth since you started talking.

You brought your hands up.

"Totally didn't mean that in a negative way."

Which was the entire truth. So far, the things you knew about him was that he had tattoos, a nice body, a nice personality, good ass freaking conversationalist, and that he was thirty! Thirty! As in, the peak of male hotness. The evil psychological concept of most men only getting hotter as they age.

"I'm sure, I'm sure," Jungkok nodded. "By the way, are you heading out after this?"

"Oh, yeah. Don't have anywhere else to go. I have a nine A.M tomorrow so..." you shrugged, and he nodded in understanding.

"You work as an accountant, right, from what you told the ahjumma?" Jungkook asked you curiously.

"Yeah... it's a very tedious job." You grimaced a little bit. "What about you?"

He tilted his head a bit, picking up a dumpling on his plate. "I'm a software engineer."

"Oh, that's cool."

You nodded to yourself while you processed what he said.

Works in fucking tech; another thing you just learned about him.

You weren't actively seeking out guys in tech, but why did they seem to come to you voluntarily? God forbid you saw someone who wasn't in there! Was every man working in tech now? Was Jimin really only being truthful when he said they were exactly your type?

"Have you made any software or is that, like, a wrong assumption about you guys?"

Jungkook merely chuckled at your retort.

"Not entirely, no. I've designed a few software in college—I'm still doing it. I'm just currently doing more business stuff now." He gave you a sheepish smile. "You?"

"Well, it's just... you know—I actually work at a tech company. I'm a junior accountant. And, uh, nothing interesting, really. You get to do cool math like programming, and I get to do boring math like calculating money I don't have. It's always a great day at work." You said, couldn't help the laugh that skipped your mouth at your own sarcasm.

Nothing like joking about hating your job to someone who you just met yesterday.

"Programming and coding are not all that, either. It's tedious and... it's just a really boring job. But... it all pays the bills."

You chuckled.

"Yeah. Totally."

Without minding it, you raised the small glass of soju, initiating a toast, one that Jungkook understood immediately and met you in the middle of it.

The night was still you when you walked out of Midday Miso, but unlike any other nights, it was with Jungkook this time walking beside you.

"So you just—what—hid him for three months?"

"Well, yes! I wasn't about to get a notice for that! And besides, he was really cute. But he's in good hands now, his owner still sends me pictures of him. He's very grown and big."

"That's insane."

You peered at Jungkook who watched you in awe as you told him about the story of Alfredo, the cat whom you rescued on your way home from work a year ago. The landlady obviously had her fair share of rules and regulations in her building, and keeping pets was an absolute no, which was a shame. Definitely wasn't a shame when you first just moved in the complex, but things got lonely sometimes when you were living alone and company was almost a luxury.

Anyway, as told, you managed to keep Alfredo out of the landlady's sight until you found a highly qualified parent on some online forum who you still kept in contact with to this day.

But as you watched Jungkook, you noticed the way his expression fell into something concerning. He looked worried, which made you feel the same way as a result.

"What are you thinking?" You asked him curiously.

"Oh, nah, I was just... thinking. See, I actually have a dog."

"Oh!" You looked at him wide-eyed.

He has a dog; another thing about Jungkook that would qualify him on the regular rounds of hot boy of the month on Twitter dot com.

"Yeah."

"You didn't read the terms and conditions of the building?" Your eyebrows formed a concerned expression.

Jungkook chuckled and shook his head. "I did. I just—suddenly thought about him, is all. He's being taken care of some place. But, you know, I missed him, and I was thinking about getting him here and showing him around my new place and all that."

"Oh... that's a bummer, then. The landlady's strict, even with the small dogs, can you imagine? Is he small, by the way, your dog?

"He's a Doberman, so definitely a big one."

"He must be really cute. What's his name?"

"Bam." He smiled at you, and you could totally see the pride showing on his face at the mention of his dog. And with a tone that you could only identify as someone who's suppressing his enthusiasm a little bit, he added, "You wanna see a picture of him?"

"Sure!"

Jungkook took out his phone from his pocket and showed you images of a big, chocolate brown dog. Bam definitely wasn't like the other regular Dobermans you'd see around. His ears weren't cropped, and his tail wasn't docked either. You didn't know if the lack of surgery was intentional from his side, but you'd like to think he kept it that way because he knew it hurt the dog greatly. From how you've been knowing him, you were certain he just didn't want to put his dog under unnecessary pain, which was honestly heartwarming to think about.

Jungkook was becoming way too good to be true in you head little by little.

"Awe, he's adorable!" You cooed, especially when he swiped through the picture of his pet, Bam, as a pup in what seemed to be Jungkook's arms based on the familiar tattoos that peeked from the exposed arm as seen on the picture. The tattoos also seemed to be new at that time as well, considering that the skin was still yet to be fully covered like now.

"I'm flattered you think that."

"Where is he, by the way? If you don't mind me asking."

"He's at a... friend's place in New York. He's not very good at flying so I didn't bring him with me here, and I thought, I'll only be here for three months, anyway, so." Jungkook shrugged.

Three months. Well. He did say he was only staying here temporarily.

You nodded. "For business, right?"

"Yeah, yeah."

"You grew up there?" You kicked the stone that was caught at the tip of your shoe, putting your fists in the deeper part of your coat's pockets. Summer may be hot during daytime, but it sure as hell was cold on nights like these.

"Nah, I'm from Busan. Flew to California for college and have been there since. Until now, that is."

Jimin was also from Busan, you thought. Though he said they only lived there for a few years until his parents moved to Seoul, but he made sure to visit his hometown every now and then. Most of the time, he made you come with him which you never had complaints about. You lived in the city all your life so going there, especially in the more urbanized area where you and Jimin stayed. Felt like fresh air—which Busan had, quite literally.

"My best friend's from Busan too."

"Really? What about you?"

You chuckled before answering, "I, unfortunately, did not come from any interesting place. Born and raised in Seoul, through and through. Though my mom told me she lived in Daegu for many years prior to having me."

"Seoul is an interesting place, though."

"Eh. It's okay." You shrugged, and your nonchalance made you both laugh.

The walk to your apartment building from Midday Miso was not that far. Still, it was five blocks away and while you and Jungkook were currently sharing conversation together and seemingly walking the same path, you weren't sure if you were both walking together there.

As if he read your mind, he suddenly spoke after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

"You mind if we walk together to the building?"

You decided to joke to get the jittery feeling out of your system.

"Scared of the dark, Jungkook?"

"Sure... my five-eleven self is."

You squinted your eyes at him. He did not just go there!

"Is that a slight against my height because I'm five-seven, mind you."

Jungkook stopped in his tracks which made you do the same, and you watched as he put his hand on his waist while the other reach up to his face to place a finger over his chin, seemingly assessing you up and down. You looked at him incredulously.

"You're bumping your height to two inches." He seriously said.

You gasped audibly.

"Oh, shut up,"

You rolled your eyes and turned your back at him, continuing your walk as you heard him behind you bursting in laughter at your reaction.

"I'm kidding!"

You first met Jimin at a college party. He was five years older than you, supposedly out of college by the time you attended, but he always had a problem with rebellion–what with his ragged relationship with his parents, he would intentionally flunk his courses as a message to them that he'd always be a black sheep and a proud one at that, hoping it would be enough to convey that they could not force him to be the heir of their company. (Obviously, it had taken him nowhere, given that he was now currently attending a training program to work at said company).

But maybe it was a blessing in disguise that he was set back to five years for graduation. Because you got to know him, and he got to know you.

On the outside, you might look like the total opposite of each other–because Jimin was the definition of extroversion who wasn't afraid to put himself out there–while you, admittedly, were more reserved and usually shied away from any public attention.

As much as you were welcoming to a lot of people, you didn't have a lot of close friends growing up–at least not the kind of friends you'd see on TV shows–but when Jimin came to your life, you clicked so instantly you could not even figure out where you two exactly began.

The instant way you two clicked, you realized, was like your relationship with Jungkook nowadays.

Ever since that night at Midday Miso, you've been seeing a lot of each other. Granted that it was only in the same place, same time. You'd usually arrive past seven and he, a few minutes later. Jungkook, cladded in his slacks and long-sleeved polo, was becoming a usual sight after a shift, and your business casual clothes was turning as one for him as well.

Your usual seating spot became his as nights passed, and ahjumma, thank God, no longer asked you if he was your boyfriend. You were glad that she was slowly getting acquainted with him though, greeting him with a friendlier smile and tone reserved only for customers like you when he entered the restaurant, and Jungkook seemed to welcome the newfound friendship wholeheartedly.

On the consecutive nights you'd spent with him, it was almost as if you lived quite the same life. Though, you didn't know when he went to work. In fact, you didn't see him during the mornings even though in theory, it could be easy, granted that you both lived across each other. But strangely enough, you'd never caught him retiring to his flat to go to the bus station. You assumed he started earlier than you or way later.

You never asked, it never came up either.

Still, there was some sort of tranquility in the thought that you could spend some time with someone after your shift and just talk about whatever–and whatever meant a lot of things. Random at best. You once told him about the first raccoon you met in your life, and he told you all about the lioness he got to watch when he went to a South Saharan trip a few years ago.

Sometimes, the conversation went around what happened in the office that day. Jungkook noticed the little blot of ink on the cuff of your baby blue long sleeves, and you told him about the jammed printer in the accounting department. He'd told you later on about how he almost fucked up a report, said he was nervous because he was taking on a new role in the office.

Those moments were shared in long walks from Midday Miso to your apartment building, because naturally, you both established a small tradition of walking home together after a night of eating your hearts out at ahjumma's restaurant.

It was a rather sweet gesture, if you were honest to yourself. But you chose not to linger too much on the romantic thoughts that floated in your head, especially when you'd notice the way he made sure to walk on the outer side of the sidewalk, and when your fingers got too close the tips almost touched.

Because Jungkook, for how objectively good looking he was, was more than just his pretty face and physique.

He was kind and funny and genuine unlike any other straight men you've met in your life. Maybe the bar was low, but for all the times you've gotten to talk to him, he never showed any signs of ego most men would by the second hour of your meeting.

In the dating scene as an adult, a lot of men would come up to a date talking about how high they were placed at their company's hierarchy and how much they made in a month, and when they hear about yours, they'd always have a backhanded comment about how "you could only go up from there, right?" and those moments were always a bummer. Yawn-inducing, to be more accurate. Men and their predictability was boring and it was the reason why you'd declare to Jimin almost every time you got home from a date that you were retired from looking for them because most men just plainly fucking sucked.

But with Jungkook... was it different.

You found he didn't talk a lot, and one time you asked him if you were doing it–the talking–way too much, but he just chuckled and told you that he didn't mind.

Later on, you learned that he was just more of a listener rather than a talker, and that was not only a pure assumption of yours because he did listen attentively, alright. As for all the random things you've told him about, you never expected him to recall a single thing, not until one time when you passed by a food truck.

"Hey, didn't you say you like sundae?" Jungkook asked, and when you followed where his eyes were, it was at the food truck parked just a few steps ahead from where you both were.

"I do... wow. It's been so long since I saw a food truck around here." You said, following his steps towards the vehicle.

They had tables to dine in, and even if you were still full from eating at Midday Miso that night, the sundae was just too gratifying to decline. Jungkook was the same with the tteokbokki on his small plate, telling you he missed eating at one of these things, as they didn't exactly have anything like this abroad.

After he paid for the food (and of course not without a long, silly, light-hearted argument about it), he came back with two sticks of Melona ice pops which you looked at with widened eyes, animated expression written all over your face especially when he thrusted the purple yam flavor to you.

"Oh my god, how do they have these?"

"I was surprised as well... this is the first time in a while I'm eating this again." Jungkook said and then gestured to the ice pop in your hand, "You like the purple yam, right?"

"Yeah!"

You were about to ask him how he knew, but then you briefly remembered that one time you had a passionate rant about people hating on purple yam ice cream and why they weren't right.

And as you looked at Jungkook, he seemed to remember it all too well.

Jungkook showed genuine interest in the things you'd tell him about. He'd visit the cafes and restaurants you recommended to him as much as he could, and because you've come to exchange numbers with him eventually after almost two weeks of casually hanging out, they sometimes came during lunch break.

1 message received from Jungkook (Unit 446)

That day, you only exchanged contacts the other night, so seeing him on your phone so quickly like that caught you by surprise. It was welcomed though.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:36pm]: I went to Cafe Heaven for lunch and loved their ice americano

As soon as you read the first message, another one came.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:36pm]: This is Jungkook by the way :)

You laughed at his introduction. As if he didn't see you type his name on your phone last night–like he didn't jokingly complain about you putting the (Unit 446) in there but giving in eventually and also adding (Unit 336) to yours in his own contacts.

You [12:38pm]: Hi Jungkook! You [12:38pm]: im glad u went!!! u should also try their fettuccine alfredo

Seconds later, he sent a picture of the dish you just mentioned which put a smile on your face.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:39pm]: i'll get my refund from you if this doesnt taste good

You [12:40pm]: 1 week of friendship and ur already ripping me off 🤐

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:40pm]: 😁 Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:40pm]: first bite Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:41pm]: second bite

What was he on, you didn't know. But you were glad that he was slowly coming around, his jokes getting more... how would you say it... less polite? He just stopped apologizing after he said them! He usually would in the first few days, but now in your newfound closeness, it was like you were out of that stage where you tiptoed around each other still, feeling the other one out, trying to figure them out, all that stuff.

Nowadays, it was just more natural. Smooth-sailing. Paradoxical, almost, because of how the relationship felt more defined as well as loose.

You found you liked it that way.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:42pm]: I like it 👍🏻

And to your surprise, he sent you a picture of him, indeed, holding a thumbs up.

You'd like to think you were an expert on going along with the tide because even though you would be classified as introvert by most, you did pretty well in forming relationships with people–granted, most of them were fleeting, at best, hence the lack of bigger circles in most of your life–but you were great with making friends, regardless.

And maybe it was how you ended up with this whole thing with Jungkook. Because you were friendly and open, although you wouldn't dare to take all credits because as you mentioned before, he was a great conversationalist.

He didn't talk much as you said, but he didn't ever make you feel like you were talking way too much because he made sure that you knew he was listening, and when he talked, it was always engaging; conversations with him transitioned to different subjects in perfect seugue you would never noticed how you jumped from Melona ice pops to the existential dread you fought every morning before going to work.

When it came to humor, Jungkook's was different from Jimin's, of course, and your dynamic with your best friend could never be replicated with somebody else but Jungkook was close to truly becoming your friend, and for that, it was getting easier to ignore his handsome face.

You may have had an embarrassing moment of panicking mentally at seeing such a man in the first meeting, but nowadays, you could hold a conversation with him without thinking how hot he was.

Dare you say, you were starting to think more platonically about him rather than romantically. As you said, you were an expert on going along with the tide.

Or maybe that was too soon a declaration, because there were moments, like now, when you were certain juvenile flirting insisted on happening between you, steering you clear from completely feeling wholly platonic about Jungkook.

"I certainly have a bigger hand than you."

As if you didn't know that, Jungkook brought his hand up to show you it. Confused but not totally minding the whole thing, you proceeded to extend your own hand towards his, pressing them both together. Predictably, his hand could have engulfed the entirety of your own.

Jungkook laughed at the sight, and you didn't know exactly who broke the physical contact first but you were glad it was over as soon as it started.

But you couldn't have forgotten the electric zap along your spine when your hand got so close like that to his. Couldn't have ignored the hot feeling in your cheeks when you were made aware of what you just did.

Wow.

Were you guys flirting? Was he flirting? It was flirting, right? Juvenile, at best, because this was what kids did in high school! And Jungkook's hand was so...

You never imagined what it felt like–never even crossed your mind until now. Expectations about how his hand felt never formed in your head because you sure as hell never thought about that kind of thing happening in the first place, but Jungkook's hand was the right balance of soft and hard. Calloused in a way most men's hands naturally were, and soft like enough comfort when held and touched.

It wasn't clammy, thank god, but you also wouldn't have thought he had clammy hands, solely because he just looked like he didn't. But god, was it big.

And my goodness, did it make you feel things.

You drank your water fast and cleared your throat, subtly, so that he didn't think too much of it.

"O-okay, but that's just genetics. Doesn't mean you could throw stronger punches."

You said in retaliation to one of your useless debates which now covered the coin-operated boxing arcade machine across the bus station nearby.

Jungkook leaned back against the monobloc chair that was definitely way too flimsy for him.

You were currently hanging out at the dining area of the food truck you came across a few days ago, forgoing Midday Miso for the night. Lately, Jungkook and you have been exploring a few more places other than there. You've tried other restaurants nearby, but ultimately, Midday Miso was still the top favorite and the food truck was becoming a staple in lieu of its convenience and just the overall vibe of eating outside and feeling the breeze of summer night air.

"You got me curious about the boxing machine." Jungkook said, crossing his arms.

"I held the highest score there for like a week, you know? Only did it though to impress the kids who liked to watch."

At that, Jungkook's face lit up in interest.

"We should do that sometime."

"Oh... I see, I see. You wanna impress the kids, too?" You playfully accused, squinting your eyes at him.

He chuckled and waved you off.

"It can be a challenge." Jungkook shrugged and looked at you with a hint of mirth in his eyes.

You let out a puff of breath, amused at his obvious antics.

"What's the catch?"

"Well... free boba delivered to your door for a week if you get the higher score. How's that sound?" He looked at you expectantly.

You chuckled before saying, "I'm gonna rip you off so bad, Jungkook."

"Only if you win, though." He said with a mischievous smirk.

"Oh, wow. When, you mean. When I win. So what's in it for you?" You leaned your elbow on the table and studied his face.

He looked at you for a while, then, the smirk from earlier was wiped off and exchanged with a much gentler smile.

"Home-cooked dinner at my place next week Friday."

Your eyebrows met.

"You want me to cook you something? Jungkook, do you have a death wish? I may either give you unintentional food poisoning or burn your house down, there's no in between."

"No," Jungkook laughed at your insane conclusion. "Sorry, I should've specified. I mean if you lose, I'll be cooking us a meal at my place."

"Oh."

You were left staring at him, a bit dumbfounded.

He just said he wanted to cook you guys a meal. At his place.

He was inviting you to his place. His personal space.

"It won't be better than Midday Miso but I think I can keep up." Jungkook added with a sheepish smile and scratched the back of his head in that seemingly boyish manner.

"Sure..." you responded, a bit delayed, much to your effort of not showing your big surprise at his offer. Before he noticed the way you were not believing what you heard, you chose to quip in a (hopefully) cheeky, "That is if you win, though."

Jungkook only hummed and then nodded.

"If I win."

He said, smiling at you.

This was dangerous.

The whole thing was teetering to something that was not very platonic, and just as you were starting to think this whole thing was!

Jimin always told you that you were bad at flirting, but in your defense, how were you supposed to know, exactly, if someone was flirting with you? A lot of people were friendly like that! Jungkook was maybe like that? Had you shown interest and he noticed so now he was playing into it? But that would be uncharacteristic of him. You didn't think he'd be the type to do something cruel like that...

But the tide was always rising and falling, they said, and the good thing was; you knew how to go along with the current.

So you did what you do best.

"Would you like to donate to the poor?"

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but there's a chance this card's gonna decline because I am the poor."

The cashier looked you in the eye with an even more impassive look than the one she had before you got your turn on the counter.

"Could've just said no." She said, punching your order away and you had to shamefully swipe your card and leave to go over where Jimin was.

"The cashier just snubbed me for being poor." You complained to Jimin, moving your coat to the next seat and settling in in yours.

Jimin took a sip from his latte and looked at you dead in the eye and said, "I'll call the manager if you want."

"Fuck off." You retaliated immediately. Jimin snorted at your way too predictable response.

See, this has happened way too many times more than what your fingers could count. You could not even pinpoint the exact time when Jimin started to joke about going full-on Karen-mode when you complained about a single little thing at the places you went to.

Anyway, you were currently on a lunch break when Jimin texted to see if you were free. What better way to spend your lunch than with your best friend? The company's canteen food was getting tired and they hiked up their prices. Your office's kitchen also ran out of Solhee's – your coworker – biscuits and so you thought you had to make do of Jimin's money for that day. You told him your motives yourself and as a petty retort, he told you to pay for your own pasta — at a café that was way too expensive for its own good.

You stole a bite off his churros, and predictably, he rolled his eyes at you.

"Why'd you want to see me, by the way? What's up? You don't have training?" you glanced at your wristwatch, reading 12:40pm.

Soon, you were casually taking over his plate of churros. For how ridiculously priced it was, it sure tasted good as hell.

"I got the day off." Jimin shrugged.

You eyed him suspiciously almost immediately.

"Did you really...?"

It was a few seconds before Jimin gave in and took back his plate.

"Okay, no, I ditched the training today but for the record it's for a very important reason."

You put your hand over your chest and contorted your face in an awed, touched expression.

"The important reason being... meeting me?"

"Ew, no," Was Jimin's quick, disgusted, response – which earned a laugh from you as usual.

From your peripheral vision, you saw the waiter heading towards your direction and so you waited for him to come over and serve you your pasta and frappe. After thanking him, you huddled closer to your best friend and asked, "Okay, what is it then?"

Jimi pursed his lips, making your eyebrows meet.

"It's kinda... bummer news."

"You're pregnant?"

"No, you'd be way too happy and I can't be a single dad," He shook his head as if not even wanting to imagine that.

"Namjoon looks like he's gonna take care of it with you." You sing-sang, sipping on your coffee and winking at him indiscreetly – emphasis on indiscreetly because you never knew how to wink properly.

What you did not expect, was the look on Jimin's face when you mentioned Namjoon.

"Well..." He trailed off, and you waited for it curiously; anticipating his impending answer in return because your conversation was always quick-witted like that. But right now, Jimin's expression was devoid of any jokes.

Not something you expected when you just mentioned his boyfriend.

"I— did something happen?" You quickly dropped the teasing tone and exchanged it with a concerned one, eyes looking at him with worry.

Jimin closed his eyes for a while and let out a deep breath. "See, that's the bummer news."

"Do you want to tell me? Or we can just—"

He cut you off before you could even finish your sentence. But he did it with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes – and this was Jimin. His eyes did not not reach his eyes when he smiled!

"He's going to Italy."

"Oh."

When the pause prolonged for over a minute, with you looking at him mouth agape, Jimin let out a heavy sigh once again and shook his head.

"I know. It's work... and I always understood that. He travels a lot and we're both okay with it. But it was usually just around the country, not another continent. I mean, what did he mean Italy? And that's not even the worst part. He knew a month ago he was going but he only told me two days ago and he's leaving Thursday," Jimin looked at you to take a pause, seemingly trying to look for a reaction.

You thought, that's tomorrow.

As if he read your mind, he nodded, sounding almost defeated.

"I know."

"Oh, Jimin..." You said, not exactly knowing what to say.

Jimin and Namjoon had been together for over a year. At least, officially, because they spent the last three years just casually hooking up on and off. You liked them together and had been more than glad when they finally put a label to it – exactly why you knew Namjoon enough to not badmouth him when you usually would men Jimin usually dated. You knew perfectly well that Namjoon genuinely cared about your best friend and he loved him. So if Jimin was at a loss for this obvious mistake on his boyfriend's part, even more so you were.

"He's been blowing up my phone ever since." Jimin added, glancing at his phone on the table. "Intentionally didn't charge my phone today so I don't receive his calls and texts."

That prompted you to remember the message you received from Namjoon last night.

"Oh, that's why he texted me yesterday. He asked about you, and I told you through text but you didn't answer." Things were starting to make sense now, and as you observed Jimin's face, they were getting clearer. "You never talked since?"

Jimin pursed his lips. He took his coffee back to his mouth and sipped while looking away. "Nope."

"Jimin." You tilted your head.

He looked at you again, and you knew exactly that he was thinking the same thing as you: It was within his right to feel off about what Namjoon did, but regardless; Jimin was being a little petty, and he needed to communicate with his boyfriend instead of giving him the cold shoulder.

There was a pout that formed on Jimin's lips right after.

"I know. I just..."

"He could've told you sooner?" He nodded at your words. You mirrored that. "He should have. Italy is not Busan – it's not just a train ride away."

Jimin sighed, looking exasperated now. "I told him that exactly. I'm not even mad he's going to Italy, I just think I deserve to know right after he was told about it."

You nodded. "You should really talk. It sounds like he wants to apologize, anyway, given that he's now trying to talk to me to get through you."

"Sorry you got caught up in this. I'm gonna talk to him about it."

"Eh, it's fine. Joon and I are also friends, you know?" You shrugged, genuinely not minding Namjoon coming to you.

You liked Namjoon and thought that he was the perfect match for Jimin. They were cute together and just seemed to... take the best out of each other. You'd go to any lengths to keep them together, as long as Jimin wanted Namjoon and as his boyfriend. You've seen Jimin go from relationships to relationships, some just fleeting and simple dalliances, and most destructive and were just... not good for him. You've never seen your best friend truly happy and committed in a romantic relationship other than with Namjoon, and as someone who cared about him, you'd do a lot of things to make him happy.

"Here's another thing, his flight is tomorrow at 11:30pm in the evening. Mom's birthday dinner is at 10." Jimin usually had his composure everytime, and it was very rarely you'd see him show any worry because he liked everybody to think he was in control of every situation. You smiled. Classic Jimin. He'd only ever show his true nature to you though, and that was exactly why he looked at you with worried eyes and continued to say, "I really wanna be there to send him off."

The call time for his mother's party was at 10 and naturally people would start swarming in way past that time. If Jimin were to sneak out way too early, you knew his mother was not going to be happy about it and his father would give him an even bigger shit for it. Sure, he could cancel, but what would he say? That their supposed cishet son is sending off his boyfriend at the airport for the night? He couldn't reason work either because he didn't exactly have one.

After having his wrongful DUI accusation last spring– which was actually already settled, on the grounds that it was definitely not DUI and the owner of the other car just overreacted to a fender bender, the media was adamant on tactically using that to taint his family's image and it unfortunately succeeded – hence, why Jimin had been laying low these past few months; going to training programs, obeying his parents more than usual, doing what they wanted...

You sighed. Your best friend deserved so much better.

"Don't worry, I'll find a way to get us to leave early." You told him after awhile.

Jimin arched his brow, intrigued.

Waving him off, you said, "I can fake something."

As if hearing some magic words, Jimin suddenly perked up.

"No way you're using the diarrhea card?"

Giving him a dirty look, you shook your head. "Nah, not during a dinner party. It's gotta be something new and less... gross."

"Oh, oh!" Jimin put a finger over his lip. "What about a sprained ankle? Can you pull that off?"

You deadpanned. "Okay, you ought to pay me more if you want me to do that."

"I can, but I won't. Stop ripping me off, I'm your best friend."

"Jimin, I'll save you from your family. I'm great at this." You said jokingly, but you hoped that he knew you weren't just jesting and were serious about it.

With the appreciation masking your best friend's face, though, you knew he got the message right away, but as you looked at him longer, you realize that he was about to say something and you quickly pulled back, shaking your head.

Jimin quickly reacted. "No! You know what, I'm gonna say it—"

"Don't say it." You quickly cut him off, giggling while you shake your cup of coffee.

"You can't keep me from saying I lo—"

"Jimin, I will tell everybody in this place you watch dubbed anime, I'm serious."

He gasped, quite dramatically.

"You did not just go there!" Then, he lowered his voice a bit, arching his brow at you, vindicative when he said, "You wore skinny jeans a month ago."

"How dare you, you wore a fuckass poncho last week. I saw on your IG story."

"That was from Namjoon and he also gave you one, FYI."

You grimaced. "Tell him I love him but I'm not wearing a poncho, Jimin."

"I was gonna tell you I love you and that you're the best person ever but now I have to rethink all of that." He rolled his eyes, and when the banter ended with you having the last words, you laughed at his face.

"God, you're just never beating me at this."

"Please, we both know you write your mediocre insults on your diary every night trying to one-up me, __. But let's talk about something else."

"I'm not even gonna acknowledge the diary thing but, sure, shoot." You said, starting to eat your pasta.

Jimin looked at your food full of judgement and grimaced. "Is that shrimp? Your doctor is growing grey pubes as we speak," He commented, and you knew he was referring to your shrimp allergy so you shushed him.

"This is vegan shrimp. It's tofu."

He just shook his head, disagreement written on his face. But he let it pass, anyway.

"Anyway, how's Mr. 446?"

The pasta suddenly entered the wrong track.

"Girl," Jimin was quick to offer you the glass of water on his side and you were just as fast to drink it. "You okay?"

"I'm sure there are existing cases of people dying because food got on the wrong track while they're eating, but yeah, sure, I'm okay." When you finished the water, you looked at Jimin who was just doing the same thing.

Crossing his arms, he eyed you expectantly. "Well?"

"I mean... what do you want me to say?" you told him, and you could've sworn you did not want to show anything on your face but you were certain there was a huge smile on it and for some reason, you couldn't help it.

Jimin's jaw dropped, expressions of disbelief and amusement when he asked you curiously, "What do you mean by that?"

"Okay, look, Jimin—" You scratched the back of your head, feeling a little sheepish to tell him all about Jungkook. "He told me we'd get dinner at his place this Friday if he wins this... thing."

His mouth was agape by then and you couldn't help but laugh.

"You... slut."

You would absolutely be rolling off the floor if you weren't at a public place the moment he mouthed the word, but still, you couldn't help but retort back.

"Shut up, you can't be the only one whoring around in this friendship." Jimin snorted at that and you both had to stifle your laughter when you noticed a woman from across the room eyeing you both.

This was one of the reasons why Jimin and you didn't belong in public places other than bars or clubs – because you were way too rowdy together for civilization.

"So you're saying you're whoring around?" He eyed you suspiciously.

"Wrong information. It's actually kind of platonic."

Jimin quickly waved you off. "Babe, if a guy invites you to his place, nothing is ever platonic about it. What do you think you'll do together there? Stare at each other for two hours straight?"

God, you hated and loved that he enables your delusions.

"Okay, you're being insane about this. It's just dinner," Trying to fight off the not-so-very-platonic things that suddenly played in your head after hearing his previous remark. To show that you didn't care, you added for good measure, "—And anyway, we had some sort of deal about it so it's not definite."

Your best friend just shrugged. "I'm all for it. But you're sure he isn't a serial killer, right?"

"Jimin, god, no," you chuckled at that. "I mean, I don't really know for sure, but we're friends now and as far as I know, he's never shown signs of psychopathy."

Jimin and you hadn't hung out in a while, so you haven't really told him all about Jungkook yet and the things you got to know about him. He didn't even know his name. As far as he was concerned, Jungkook was still Mr. 446, and you were fine keeping it that way. He had a lot on his plate right now, anyway.

"Just being cautious." He sing-sang, putting both his hands in the air.

You shook your head.

"Anyway, we also need to talk about what we're gonna wear tomorrow," Jimin suddenly said. "You got the Pinterest board I sent you, right? For the inspo."

Grinning, you grabbed your iPad from your bag and got to the link immediately. Your phone died on the way to the café. Good thing you had another device and brought it with you.

"I also added a few things in here. Gold and black's the theme, right?" You clarified, scrolling through the board you and Jimin both contributed to. Your best friend took it upon himself to transfer seats so he could be beside you and look at your screen at the same time.

"You're gonna look so good in Schiaparelli, babe," Jimin said while checking out the pictures you added.

"It's just an inspo, I don't actually need to wear a Schiaparelli." You chuckled.

"Who do you think your best friend is?"

You both laughed at that but it stopped when a notification popped up on your computer. Recognizing the address as your work email, you were quick to hover over it. When you were about to open it to see the full message, your iPad suddenly died.

"Shoot." You looked at Jimin with a straight face. "I forgot to plug it in. Didn't notice the battery."

Jimin grimaced. "Didn't bring any power cable."

"We'll have to do with a phone. Mine died."

You were just about to ask him for his but then you remembered what he said about avoiding Namjoon, hence, his phone was of no use either.

"We're gonna have to freestyle."

Last year, Mrs. Park's party was held at a theater hall – your first time at one, by the way.

Tonight, it was at their mansion.

You've only ever been to the Park's a total of one time, which was now. Stepping a foot inside here for the first time in your life, the house felt unreal. It was the epitome of money and wealth and everything regal in the world – like a palace of some sort. They had butlers and guards at the gates so maybe that wasn't an exaggeration, but damn, Jimin truly came from money.

Regardless of how shiny the whole building was in both literal and figurative senses though, there was an emptiness to it. It didn't look lived in – which was a fair assumption for a house this big. It definitely did not look like people liked staying here, and maybe that was not a stretch, because as soon as he turned 18, Jimin moved away and lived in his own place ever since. You asked him on your way here and he told you it was his first time this year to visit his own house.

The decoration was sick, though. Granted, they must have surely hired people to do it but at least they'd hired excellent ones. You wouldn't have expected anything less from Jimin's mom.

Jimin and you arrived at 10pm sharp, and thankfully, people were already starting to fill the place up. It was now past 15 minutes to 10pm since you arrived and there really was nothing different that went on from last year; you saw some familiar faces, politicians, and celebrities. Jimin introduced you to some people as his girlfriend, and you got to have quick chats with his model friends.

You knew it didn't actually matter if you thought about it carefully, but there was truly nothing compared to the feeling you get when you see someone in the flesh that you only see on TV all your life. You didn't feel lucky to see them in person, per se, you were just poured over the realization that these people were actually real and they weren't just some sort of simulation to keep the entertainment industry of your country afloat.

Although, you did meet Han Sol – an actress whose works you genuinely admired. Jimin just told you her husband was his second cousin.

It wasn't later that Jimin and you were invited to his family's table, where some of his cousins and immediate family were.

The greetings went pretty normal. Normal as in: Jimin's mom didn't say anything about your weight first thing first. Granted, she didn't try to hide the look of disappointment on her face when she saw you with his son. Probably reeling at the fact that you were still "dating" each other even after a year — she was probably under the impression that it wasn't serious between you two last year. His father, meanwhile, was... quiet. As usual. A man who obviously didn't really say much except ask Jimin about the training program and his siblings' jobs.

Mr. Park didn't really talk to you, just like last year. Like you were almost invisible to him – and you were glad that was the case. He probably didn't like to acknowledge your supposed relationship in the first place. Probably knew that you were working a middle-class job and didn't want to know any further. But at least, he wasn't saying anything. That was nice.

"Where's your cousin?" Asked Jimin's mom suddenly, looking at his son.

"He said he got caught up in traffic. Sent 20 minutes ago." Jimin shrugged. You would ask him about which cousin they were referring to but they had like millions of it at these events so you didn't bother.

Mrs. Park shook her head disapprovingly. "That kid. Always late to the family dinners. Did Junghyun ever teach—"

"Hey,"

Your attention was then focused to the man who just arrived. Black tie, tall... dashing. Jimin was a good-looking individual and his family, as evil as they may be as per his words, were blessed with good genes. If you were to look at the new man that arrived to the table very carefully, you'd say he almost looked familiar.

"Oh, Junghyun!"

Jimin glanced at you and discreetly mouthed, "Cousin."

"Aunt, happy birthday." He said after laughing at Jimin's mother coos. He looked across the table and continued, "Hi, uncle. Jaeyul, Sunghoon, Jimin." They all greeted him back and you could feel the hairs on your nape starting to stand up when his eyes landed on you once again. "And this is...?"

"Oh, that's Jimin's girlfriend, __." Jaeyul, Jimin's brother said.

"Hi." you greeted him, waving a bit.

"Oh?" Junghyun immediately looked at Jimin, eyes not hiding his shock. When you trained your eyes on Jimin, you felt his fake smile. "That's great, man. I didn't know you had a girlfriend. Hi, miss...?"

"It's __." you filled in.

"Nice to meet you, __." He said with a smile. The more you looked at him, the more you could almost pinpoint who he looked like – but that shouldn't really matter.

Junghyun looked over Jimin's parents once again, "Anyway, sorry I'm a bit late, got caught up in traffic."

Jimin cleared his throat.

"How about you, Junghyun? Got a girlfriend yet?" He asked as soon as Junghyun sat on the opposite side of the long table.

You could see Jimin's mother's curiosity peaking at that.

"Tell us, dear. Last time you were dating Kang Iseul, right? The actress. You're still with her?"

Everybody at the table nodded while you almost choked on the smoked quail you were eating. He was dating Kang Iseul? She was a popular actress who announced a hiatus three years ago. That actress Kang Iseul?

Junghyun chuckled and shook his head. "Nah, aunt, that was my brother, and uh, no, I'm not dating anybody currently."

"Oh well. I just wish your brother stops dating that woman. I never really liked that girl. She acts way too self-righteous! I mean, who cut ties with their billionaire father and live independently just so they can say they're self-made? It's ridiculous." Jimin's mother said in that usual snotty tone of hers, and you could not possibly process all of what was going on.

If it wasn't clear to you a moment ago, it was crystal now. Unfortunately, you were a bit chronically online and were there in real time when one random tweet blew up about Kang Iseul being a nepotism baby. But was this guy's brother really dating her? The most important and concerning thing, though, was that: why was Jimin's mom always so annoying about who her family members date? And this was not even her immediate family, mind you.

"Jina," Jimin's father had a warning tone when he called her but Jimin's mom just shrugged him off with a "tsk!"

"Kids are so ungrateful nowadays, don't you think? Anyway, Junghyun dear, you remember the Kang gala I told you about two months ago?" Jimin's mom looked pointedly at Jimin and you bit your lip.

Of course, here comes her passive aggressive disapproval of you.

"Kang Heesu and her sister Kang Hani will be there. Heesu is a wonderful woman," she chuckled, looking over at Jimin's direction subtly. You had to physically restrain yourself from rolling your eyes. Couldn't she be more obvious about acting as a wingman for Jimin and Heesu? But she continued, just like she always did. "I also heard Kang Hani is going for senior partner at Yoon and Yang, you may be interested. Pretty lady."

Junghyun just awkwardly laughed. "I'll keep that in mind."

Jimiin's father suddenly spoke, making everyone look at him.

"Where is that kid?" He said, authority dripping through his voice. Jimin was obviously not close to his father, and who would be? Mr. Park was way too intimidating. You found it funny to think if he ever did anything remotely paternal towards his children.

"We were supposed to go together but he said he had something to finish. He'll be arriving later." Junghyun said, obviously not oblivious to the "kid" Mr. Park was referring to. You were way too uncaring to actually try to figure that out.

"I see." Jimin's father nodded. "How's Jeon and Min, Junghyun? I heard you were just appointed managing partner last week."

Junghyun responded with a "yes" and they started to talk about the law firm – you assumed – and other people they mutually knew related to the business.

You knew Jimin's complicated family tree was composed of all sorts of professionals, but damn, they had lawyers in here too. It was like out of a career day event at grade schools.

"Is it true Gukka's going to be CEO?" Jimin's mother said, joining the conversation.

You were glad they were doing all the talking. Last year, they talked to you like they were interrogating you and that was not nice.

"Well, dad's not giving up the company so soon. Gukka's going for interim CTO first." Junghyun said with a polite smile.

Gukka. That must be the brother of Junghyun, although it sounded more like a nickname than a real name.

"Your brother's a hard worker. He's looking at a CEO position, some are still at training programs." Jimin's father remarked with a pointed tone.

Oh, fuck me, you thought to yourself. You thought it was gonna take awhile for the comparison to start, but it seemed they were determined to beat their record of one hour from last year.

You tried subtly looking at Jimin to see if he was okay or anything, but you felt him squeezing your wrist under the table. His face was devoid of any emotion as he continued with his own food.

Junghyun, meanwhile, was obviously taken aback by the response and also looked over at Jimin. He was quick to recover, though – probably knew that was a jab at his cousin just like every other person in the room. Atmosphere grew tense, and you had to squirm in your seat a little bit.

"Training programs help a lot, though." Junghyun awkwardly laughed. You were starting to feel bad for him as well.

"Well, you're lawyering. Trainings are important. Mine's kinda stupid." Jimin said which made everybody look at him, including you.

"You're learning anything yet, son?" His father pointedly looked at him.

"We'll see."

Jimin's dismissive tone made you feel the eye roll he would've done after saying that.

Look, he rebelled for the most part of his life so him being passive-aggressive towards his family was not a new thing, but to witness it was both nerve-wracking and honestly... funny. His parents were such assholes so they probably deserved his attitude.

Mrs. Park smiled a fake one before looking at you.

"Well, what about you __ dear? You're a... what was that again? How is that going for you?"

Because you wanted to piss them off, you mirrored her fake smile and said, "I got fired six months ago at my accounting job."

"Pft—" you pinched Jimin's arm at his reaction.

Of course he'd laugh at that. You asked him how you could piss his parents off tonight just to get back at them from last year and he told you to pretend to be unemployed or you work a minimum wage job because that was their biggest ick. Jimin didn't know you were going to come through.

"Oh."

The look on Jimin's mom's face looked as if she heard the most scandalous thing ever, and if his father's frown was deep even before the dinner started, his face was now below the ground. It felt satisfying to get those looks on their faces. Good! They were such assholes. Imagine getting devastated at someone being unemployed? Okay – for the record, being unemployed was devastating but these people weren't sympathizing with that, they found it humiliating in an elitist way– criminal almost.

You nodded, your lips almost getting tired from stretching them too far.

"Yeah. Anyway, I started working at a local burger joint. You should visit us sometime."

"I'm vegan." Jimin's mom said, her face now drained with the fake joy she's worn all night.

"We have vegan options." you quipped. Jimin once again made a sound beside you, hiding his laughter.

"Wait, really? They offer vegan options at a street burger joint?" Sunghoon, the youngest of the Park brothers, asked.

You almost laughed at the genuine curiosity in his voice. He was still in high school and from what Jimin told you, he was a nice kid. He wasn't very close to any of his brothers, though.

"Nah, it's the only one in town." You bullshit one more time, drinking the wine beside you. "Sorry, can I excuse myself for a minute?"

They nodded and you stood up, heading to the bathroom, brisking once you got out of their sight to get there more quickly.

It was now 10:30 pm – meaning, you had to do something to get Jimin out of here now if he wanted to be on time at the airport to send off Namjoon.

Once you got inside, you looked at yourself in the mirror and sighed.

This whole thing was sucking the shit out of your soul, but you needed to get through it.

It took you awhile to finish your pep talk in the bathroom.

If only you could've have locked yourself in there to avoid socializing with anybody, you willingly would. But you were running out of time and unfortunately, you had something to do and that was to fake some illness to get both Jimin and you out of here.

When you got out to approach the family's table one more time, you suddenly stopped in your tracks.

The table was at least fifteen meters away from where you stood, but you could clearly see the side in which Jimin's cousin, Junghyun, sat, facing your direction. He wasn't the issue – no, far from it. It was the guy beside him who wore the same set of black tie as him; the face attached to the body who wore it though, was someone you did not expect to see.

Why the fuck was Jungkook, Unit 446, here?!

From where you were, you could see him engaging with Junghyun and Jimin's parents. You couldn't hear them, of course, but it was clear that they were acquainted – close – even from afar.

Why did he look so comfortable with the Parks? Why was he at the family table laughing and conversing with everybody, including Jimin? Why did he seem like he went to many of these, like this was just another Thursday for him?

There was a waiter who walked past you and you were grateful for it because had it not been the case, people would start to get weirded out about you standing on the same place longer than necessary, looking stoned. That was also an opportunity to run away from the situation without Jungkook possibly seeing and recognizing you.

"I'll take this," You told the waiter and grabbed the glass of champagne and quickly turned on your heels, heading to the opposite side of the family table where the Parks, and apparently, Jungkook were.

You found yourself heading to the bathroom again, your feet seemingly developing a mind of its own as it led you there unconsciously. You knew you'd be in trouble if they found out about you putting the champagne glass in the sink, but you needed to get inside the toilet and think over everything that was happening tonight.

What the fuck. What the fuck! Again, why the hell was Jungkook here?

As far as you knew, he was just a regular man that happened to be living across from you. He was just supposed to be some guy you were regularly hanging out with nowadays. Your friend. Your crush – whatever! What he wasn't supposed to be is be here at your best friend's mother's birthday party and hanging out with his family!

Your phone dinged, a message notification from Jimin welcoming you.

cuntress #1 [10:32pm]: girl what happened I saw u going back to the bathroom?

You didn't know why it was suddenly too hot, but you felt the balls of sweat starting to form on the side of your forehead.

You [10:33pm]: im going with the diarrhea excuse

cuntress #1 [10:33pm]: tbh idc atp I just wanna go to joon 😔

"Shit!"

Right! Joon. Namjoon. Jimin needed to go to Nmajoon as soon as possible.

cuntress #1 [10:33pm]: also another cousin has arrived u rmr jeon jungkook he's junghyun's brother cuntress #1 [10:33pm]: love this guy but moms starting to compare me to him and I need out right NEOW im justt aking hits after hits jesusssssss

You could just feel the blood draining from your face as soon as you read Jungkook's name in the text.

Jeon Jungkook. Jungkook. Gukka. Kook-a.

That was why the Junghyun guy looked familiar. Because he had the same coloring of Jeon Jungkook. Because they were goddamn siblings.

You started to replay some memories in your head, trying to figure out if you've ever heard Jungkook talk about his family in one of your conversations. But as far as you remembered, he never did. All you knew about him was that he was from the States, and he only got here because of work and he had a dog and as far as you were concerned, his cousin was definitely not Park fucking Jimin, your best friend.

Pacing around the confined space of the toilet, you tried to wrack your brain if you've ever mentioned Jimin to him and in the event that you did, why he never told you that he was his cousin – but you came up blank. Blank because you never told him about your best friend's name... and in turn, Jimin didn't know what Mr. 446's name was, either. They were both genuinely oblivious about the whole thing and couldn't have made you a fool in the situation.

In short, you were the one who was stupid as hell for not connecting the dots sooner.

"Hey, you just landed?"

"Nah, you want me to pick you up?" Jimin sat up on the edge of the bed and you looked at him curiously. "Sure, I'm free, Kook. You have a place to stay? Hotel suite or something?" He nodded to whatever the other person was saying on the other line. "Oh, you're here for three months? Thought you were just flying in for mom's birthday?"

It was moments after they said goodbye that Jimin turned to you to ask, "Well, my cousin's apparently staying here for three months. Got this job thing going on."

"Fuck me." You hissed, remembering that time when Jimin told you about his cousin staying here for three months because of work.

cuntress #1 [10:35pm]: its either ur taking a guinness world record breaker piss there or u really do have diarrhea now and ur shitting cuntress #1 [10:36pm]: anyway get this, jungkook's gonna be interim cto at your company did u know that??????????????????

You almost dropped your phone upon reading the last message.

What the hell did he mean by that?

Heart beating fast as if it wanted to break out of your own ribcage, you closed your eyes and read Jimin's message once again. There was no way he would be shitting you about any of this. He knew where you worked at and you knew your current company was his uncle's, and now that you knew Jungkook was his cousin...

Shit. Was this what they were talking about at the table earlier? About Junghyun saying his brother was gonna be interim CTO? Did he mean Jeon Jungkook all along? Your freaking neighbor?

Suddenly, you remembered the email you received that afternoon that you never bothered to check again because you simply forgot about it. Who even actually checks their work email? Literally no one. You spend your weeks facing your computer while email flew in like porn ads on a shady website, you weren't about to willingly go to the app and check it on your leisure time.

But maybe you should have.

Fingers involuntarily shaking in their wake as you switched to your work email on your phone, you clicked on the recent unread message that was on top from the HR department.

Subject: Invitation to Ceremony: Announcement of Interim CTO Dear Blue Nexus Inc. employee, We hope this email finds you well. We would like to inform you that a ceremony has been scheduled on July 29, 2028, 10:00 am at the AVR Hall 5, 12th floor. The purpose of this meeting is to announce the appointment of our interim Chief Technology Officer (CTO), Mr. Jeon Jungkook. As you may be aware, our previous CTO, Mr. Shin Juman, is currently on medical leave recovering from a stroke. While he is recuperating and undergoing treatment, it has become necessary for us to appoint an interim CTO for an indefinite period of time to ensure the continuity and effectiveness of our operations. Your presence at this ceremony is highly valued as we introduce the new leadership to the team and outline our strategic direction moving forward. Light refreshments will be served. Thank you for your attention to this matter. We look forward to seeing you at the ceremony. Best regards, HR Department

You knew that feeling when you were just taking hits and hits? This was it.

So not only was Jeon Jungkook Jimin's cousin, he was also gonna be the interim CTO of the company you were currently working at. He was technically going to be your boss, and you would be both working in the same place all the while living across each other where he would see you taking out your trash every Sunday morning in your worn-out highschool PE shirt and pants. He was going to be your boss working at the company you complained to him about on the nights you walked together to your shared apartment complex.

You flirted with Jungkook. You flirted with the guy who was the son of the owner of your whole company building – and not only that, he was your best friend's cousin, to add salt to injury.

You [10:38pm]: jimin we need to get out of here

cuntress #1 [10:38pm]: ive been saying

You [10:38pm]: but i cant go out there again. Just tell them i had a problem in the bathroom??

cuntress #1 [10:38pm]: ok on it cuntress #1 [10:38pm]: im kind of convinced u shitted in there tho????????

You rolled your eyes, but at the same time found an opportunity in that. Jimin can't know the truth.

You [10:39pm]: u cant judge me for having a very human experience fuck u the cake i ate earlier was giving cake boss

cuntress #1 [10:39pm]: KJAHFKGSIDFHDSHASFHSKJBF

You [10:39pm]: im literally doing this for u and joon

cuntress #1 [10:39pm]: IKNOW!!!!!!!!!!!!thanks to ur stomach problems cuntress #1 [10:39pm]: im going there

You [10:40pm]: make sure they don't see us again to really sell the whole im-embarassed-thing

cuntress #1 [10:40pm]: ON IT! Were going out the back door I don't think they'll notice

You couldn't even find it in you to laugh a little bit at your silly exchange and scheme, because you were way too stressed about what you just found out.

You let out a controlled, heavy breath, leaning your back on the door and shut your eyes aggressively.

"What the hell am I gonna do after this?"

PART TWO | ....

#fic: nb #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook imagines #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook #jungkook x you #bts imagines #bts fluff #bts smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook

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4linos · 2 months ago

Text

already gone pt. 2

kim seungmin x f!reader

synopsis: to the world, you’re the perfect couple: the rising athlete and the woman who stood by him. but behind closed doors, something is shattering. the MLB offer. the agent. the betrayal you never saw coming. now your home is no longer a refuge, but the battleground where truth and love fight for survival.

warnings: angst, emotional distress, implied infidelity, trust issues, miscommunication.

wc: 8086

[already gone part 1]

The ache in your head was the first thing you noticed when you opened your eyes. A deep, dull pounding, as if your thoughts from the night before had hardened into something physical, a weight pressing against the inside of your skull. You winced, pulling the blankets tighter around you, wishing for a moment that you could sink into the mattress and disappear.

But reality wouldn’t let you.

You didn’t know how long you’d been awake, just that the light creeping in through the window was gray and cold, that strange shade that comes just before sunrise. It felt too early, and yet too late. Sleep hadn’t come easily the night before. You remembered lying there, turning from one side to the other, tangled in sheets soaked with quiet, bitter tears.

The confrontation with Seungmin kept playing in your head over and over, like a broken reel. His voice, raised. Yours, breaking. His lies, half-formed and crumbling the moment they left his lips. And then the door, slamming shut behind him. The silence afterward had been deafening.

You sat up slowly, careful not to make too much noise. The last thing you wanted was to wake Minjoon or Iseul, not yet. You needed a moment. Just one moment to yourself. Some air, some quiet. Some clarity.

Your feet hit the cold floor, grounding you instantly. You moved on instinct brushing your teeth, washing your face, tying your hair back. Each motion was mechanical, like your body remembered how to go through the motions even when your mind didn’t. You tugged a hoodie over your tank top, one of Seungmin’s old ones that still smelled faintly like his cologne, and padded softly toward the nursery.

First Iseul.

You peeked into her room, and there she was, your baby girl a bundle of calm in her crib, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Her tiny fists twitched now and then, as if she were dreaming. You stepped in just long enough to check her temperature with your palm, to make sure she hadn’t kicked her blanket off. Satisfied, you backed out slowly.

Then Minjoon’s room.

He was on his side, one leg flopped over his stuffed tiger, his chubby cheek pressed into the pillow. The nightlight cast a faint orange glow across his small face, and you felt your chest twist in that quiet, aching way it always did when you looked at him. So small. So unknowing.

So safe, for now.

You shut his door with the care of someone handling glass, and only when you were back in the kitchen did you finally exhale.

You brewed your coffee in silence. No background noise. No morning show, no baby monitor, no cartoons. Just the drip, drip, drip of the machine and your breath, slow and steady. You sat down at the kitchen table, wrapping both hands around the mug like it was the only warmth left in the world.

Then you opened your phone.

You didn’t plan to. At least, you told yourself that. But your fingers moved like they already knew where to go. The browser opened. You typed in her name.

Madison Lee.

You stared at the results, heart thudding a little too hard, a little too fast. The headache throbbed behind your eyes, but you ignored it.

Her LinkedIn was the first link. Clean, professional. UCLA graduate. Top-tier agency in L.A. Negotiated major sports contracts, specifically with international athletes looking to transition to the MLB. All of it lined up.

You moved to her Instagram next. Public profile.

Your breath caught the moment her photos loaded. She was beautiful sharp-jawed, clean lines, bright white teeth. She wore heels and tailored blazers like armor. Her captions were neat, professional. “Proud to represent some of the best in the game.” “Another day, another diamond.” Posing with athletes. Posing at dinners. Posing at events.

You scrolled faster.

The deeper you went, the more your stomach curled in on itself. There was one photo, taken two months ago that made your blood run cold. It was from a private dinner, tagged in Busan. Madison was smiling, wine glass in hand. The caption was simple: “Celebrating hard work paying off.” The comments were vague. But one of them… one of them was from Seungmin’s teammate.

“You two make a good team.”

Your throat went dry.

You stared at the comment for far too long, your mind rushing to connect dots that weren’t supposed to be connected. You remembered Seungmin’s deflections. The way he tripped over his words. The quiet “it wasn’t like that” before you’d even asked him what “that” was.

You hadn’t accused him of cheating, not then. Not even now. Not really. But somehow, he had still gotten defensive. Still shaken. Still ready to deny something before you could name it.

And now this.

The way he never told you about her. The way he downplayed everything. The way he didn’t mention the U.S. deal until it was practically out in the open, a secret dragged into the light by a journalist.

And this woman. This sleek, powerful, picture-perfect agent. She was everything Seungmin never mentioned.

Your thumb hovered over the screen. You told yourself to stop. Told yourself to close the app. To let it go. But your heart had a different plan. Your fear did. Your instinct, the one you had learned not to ignore since becoming a mother.

You clicked on Madison’s tagged photos.

One showed her seated next to Seungmin at a conference panel, his body angled slightly toward her. Another, taken from behind, showed them walking together through an airport terminal, not holding hands, but close enough. Too close, maybe.

You didn’t realize you were holding your breath until your vision blurred and you blinked, chest tight.

Your phone nearly slipped from your hands when a tiny voice broke the silence.

“…Mommy?”

You froze.

Minjoon.

You turned slowly, eyes finding his small figure at the edge of the hallway. He stood there in his blue dinosaur pajamas, rubbing one eye with his fist, his hair a messy puff. His voice was barely louder than a whisper.

“What you doin’?”

You blinked again, your phone dropping face down onto the table with a soft thud. The sudden reality of his voice so innocent, so real was like cold water down your back.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and stood, wiping your face quickly with your sleeve, hoping he hadn’t noticed your red eyes.

“I’m just… having coffee, baby,” you said softly, crouching down to his level. “Did I wake you up?”

He shook his head. You nodded, reaching out to cup his cheek. His skin was warm. Solid. Comforting.

He looked at you for a moment longer, his eyes filled with a curiosity you didn’t know how to protect him from.

“You sad?”

Your heart splintered.

You didn’t answer him. You just pulled him into your arms and held him close, your chin resting on the top of his head.

“I’m okay,” you whispered, your voice thick. “Mommy’s just tired.”

He didn’t respond. He just curled into you the way he always did when he knew something was wrong silent, present, offering comfort in the only way a two-year-old could.

You held him like that for a long time, your coffee growing cold on the table behind you. Madison’s face still staring out from behind the locked screen of your phone.

But in that moment, none of that mattered.

Because your little boy was watching.

And you didn’t want him to learn what it looked like to fall apart.

Not yet.

The knock-off hotel alarm clock glowed dim red in the half-dark, the numbers shifting sluggishly from 5:41 to 5:42 while drops of water slid from Seungmin’s hair and pattered onto the threadbare carpet. He had taken a five-minute shower on the coldest setting the rusty pipes could manage, hoping the bite of frigid water would shock the exhaustion and the shame, out of him. It hadn’t. His head still throbbed, his eyes still burned, and every breath still tasted like the silence that had filled the house after he slammed the door.

He toweled off in jerky, impatient motions, the towel snagging on the thin chain of the wedding band he’d looped around his neck at some foolish hour of the night. Too raw to keep it on his finger, too terrified to take it off completely.

The room smelled like industrial soap and last night’s cheap coffee. His duffel bag lay open on the bed, half-packed: a spare pair of jeans, two t-shirts, a hoodie that still smelled faintly of your laundry detergent. He shoved his travel-size toiletries kit on top, then hesitated, palms braced on the mattress, head hanging.

Go home, he told himself. Say you’re sorry, really sorry, no excuses, no half-truths. Just beg her to let you talk.

But every time he tried to picture the conversation, Madison’s name pushed in like static.

Three months of avoiding her calls, her emails, her marketing decks promising “seamless transitions” and “lifetime earning potential.” Three months of pretending he could outrun that night in the Los Angeles hotel bar, pretending the almost-kiss hadn’t happened at all.

It had happened. Quick, sloppy, drunk on victory and adrenaline after scouts bought a round of champagne. She’d leaned in, laughing at something he barely remembered saying, and before he could dodge, her lips grazed the corner of his mouth. He’d flinched back so fast he nearly toppled his chair. She’d apologized smooth, professional, but the gleam in her eyes told him she wasn’t sorry at all.

He should’ve fired her on the spot. He should’ve called you from the lobby, confessed everything. Instead he buried it because you were six weeks postpartum, surviving on ninety-minute sleep cycles and sheer determination. He told himself you didn’t need another worry. He told himself it was one slip. It would blow over. He could fix it later.

Only later never came. And the silence turned into omission, and the omission into a lie so sprawling he’d lost track of all its edges.

Seungmin scrubbed both hands over his face, then yanked the zipper of the duffel shut. He slung the strap over his shoulder, grabbed his phone and room key, and headed for the door.

The screen lit up just as his fingers closed around the handle.

Madison Lee – Incoming Call

The name glared at him like a warning flare.

His thumb hovered over Decline. Then stupid, reckless curiosity he hit Accept and lifted the phone halfway, not bothering with the speaker.

“Seung? You finally picked up.” Madison’s voice was syrup-smooth, a practiced mix of concern and authority. “I was starting to think you’d ghosted me for good.”

“It’s six in the morning,” he said, voice rough.

“In L.A. it’s one p.m.,” she answered breezily. “Look, I know things exploded online yesterday. I wanted to check in, see how you’re handling the press.”

Press. As if the fallout were a headline problem and not a marriage imploding.

“I’m fine,” he lied. He rubbed the knot forming at the base of his skull. “Nothing to talk about.”

“Seungmin.” The shift in her tone was almost imperceptible, businesslike turning coaxing, coaxing turning possessive. “We had momentum before you went dark. The Padres and the LA Dodgers both asked for new videos. If we get them preseason tapes this week, your offer numbers stay strong.”

“It’s over, Madison.”

A pause, a single beat where he could almost hear her recalibrating.

“Over?” she echoed, polite disbelief layered over steel. “The KBO is wrapping. You’re twenty-six, you’ve got prime velocity, and you’re about to start losing leverage. Over is not a strategic—”

“My marriage might be,” he snapped. “The contract can wait.”

Another pause, this one brittle.

“You told me she supports your career.”

“She does.” His throat closed. She did. Before I broke it. “But she also deserves the truth, and I haven’t given her that. I’m not signing anything until I fix what I can at home.”

“Seung—”

“She’s more important than baseball,” he said, and the second the words left his mouth he realized how painfully, perfectly true they were. “And she’s definitely more important than a contract built on secrets.”

Madison exhaled, an annoyed puff disguised as a sigh. “I understand you’re emotional right now. But you need to think long-term. Opportunities like this don’t sit on shelves.”

That familiar, silky persuasion the same tone she’d used that night in L.A. before leaning in. Guilt flared hot in his chest.

“This call is over,” he said, and hit End before she could respond.

For a moment he stood motionless, phone slack in his hand, heart hammering. Then he shoved the device into his back pocket, yanked the door open, and stepped into the hallway.

6:07 a.m.

The corridor smelled of disinfectant and stale cigarettes. His sneakers squeaked on the cheap vinyl tiles as he jogged toward the elevator, duffel thumping against his hip. In the chrome doors he caught his reflection, hair still damp, eyes rimmed red, hoodie askew. He looked like a man who’d spent the night running from ghosts and found them all waiting in the morning.

No more running.

He thumbed a rideshare request with shaking fingers. Twenty-four minutes to the house. Long enough to practice the apology again and again until the words stopped sounding useless.

But words, he knew, wouldn’t be enough. He would have to show you, prove with every action that the silence was finished, that the truth, unvarnished and ugly, was finally on the table.

The elevator dinged. He stepped inside, pressing L, knuckles white around the strap of the duffel.

As the doors slid shut, he whispered into the empty space, half-prayer, half-promise:

“Please let me still be her home.”

He rehearsed the truths, over and over, until the rideshare pulled to the curb in front of the house quiet, blue-gray in the dawn. Lights were off except one faint glow in the kitchen window. He imagined you there, a mug between your palms, the kids still asleep upstairs.

Please open the door, he prayed silently, stepping onto the walk. Please let me tell you everything.

The sun hadn’t fully risen when Seungmin stepped inside your home.

The door creaked slightly as he opened it, just enough for the morning light to creep over the threshold and land across the living room floor in narrow slants. He held his breath for a beat as he closed the door behind him, the silence of the early hour wrapping tightly around him like gauze. There was no welcome. No warm light. No scent of breakfast or soft hum of music like there used to be when things were okay.

But the house wasn’t silent.

The first sound that hit him was the tiny, sharp cry of Iseul raw and distressed, unmistakably the kind of cry that had lasted more than a few minutes. It had that edge to it, the exhausted kind that said she had been fighting sleep for a while now. The second sound, softer, more familiar, was the rustle of Minjoon on the couch, feet kicking at the blanket around him as his favorite cartoon played on low volume. The third sound unspoken, invisible was the throb of emotion in his own chest.

Seungmin set his duffel bag quietly by the door, his movements slow, deliberate, like approaching a wound he wasn’t sure how to treat. His eyes found you immediately.

You were pacing the living room, hair pulled back hastily, dark circles beneath your eyes, one hand clutching Iseul against your chest while your other rubbed her back in practiced, instinctual circles. Your lips moved every now and then hushed words, gentle reassurances, but your eyes looked blank. Not empty. Just… spent. Like a body operating entirely on instinct. On routine. On the kind of fatigue only a mother running on fragments of sleep could understand.

He wanted to crumble then and there. He didn’t deserve to walk into this into you, carrying the weight of everything on your own again. And still, you did. You always did.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice breaking the stillness.

You didn’t flinch. You didn’t even look up right away.

But when you finally did, your eyes flicked to him in a way that made his heart ache. Not startled. Not angry.

Just… tired.

“Iseul’s been crying for over an hour,” you said, your voice thin. “She keeps waking herself up.”

He nodded, already moving toward you, his arms out. “Let me.”

You hesitated, gaze locking with his for a fraction of a second longer than he expected. Not because you didn’t trust him with her. But because this was the first time he was this close to you in days physically, emotionally. After everything. And he knew you were wondering whether you’d even be able to stand it.

But finally, wordlessly, you passed Iseul into his arms.

The baby girl fussed as the transfer happened, her cry catching in her throat, but the moment she settled into his chest, the crying slowed. His hand cradled the back of her tiny head, and he swayed slightly on instinct, rocking side to side in that barely-there rhythm she liked. Her hiccuping breaths began to slow.

“She missed you,” you whispered, voice fraying around the edges.

Seungmin pressed a kiss into Iseul’s forehead and closed his eyes.

“I missed her more,” he whispered back.

He glanced at Minjoon, who hadn’t moved from the couch but had clearly noticed his dad’s arrival. The little boy looked over with sleepy, cautious eyes, milk bottle in hand, stuffed tiger tucked into his lap. His cartoon was still playing in the background, but Seungmin could see the tension in his small shoulders.

Guilt rose again like a wave.

“Hey, Min,” he said gently.

Minjoon gave him a half-hearted smile but didn’t speak. Seungmin wanted to go to him, to kneel down and wrap his boy up in his arms too, but this moment wasn’t about repair with the kids, not yet. First, he needed to repair what had been broken with you. The children needed stability. Trust. They would get that once he gave it to you again first.

“Can we talk?” he asked quietly, finally looking at you again. “Please?”

You looked at him then, really looked. The dark shadows under your eyes, the exhaustion carved deep into your features, the subtle bite of suspicion still lingering behind your gaze, it all told him exactly what kind of damage he had done. You didn’t nod right away.

You looked back at Minjoon. At the clock.

Then back at him.

Finally, you said, “Okay.”

He followed you to the bedroom after he handed Iseul back to you, now dozing lightly against your chest, still sniffling now and then. You laid her down carefully in her bassinet by the window and checked twice to make sure her pacifier was in place before turning back to him. You sat down on the edge of the bed, your hands resting in your lap, unmoving.

He stood for a long moment, unsure where to begin. The truth was ugly. The silence, worse. But nothing could be worse than watching the way your fingers were trembling now as you waited.

So he sat, hands resting on his knees, and breathed once before diving in.

“I didn’t cheat on you.”

You didn’t move. Didn’t even blink. But he saw your shoulders tense.

“I know,” you said after a pause. “I never said you did.”

“I know,” he said back, guilt crawling into his voice. “But I acted like someone who did. And I need to tell you why.”

You looked away, staring out the window.

He continued.

“Three months ago… after a showcase game, Madison tried to kiss me.”

You flinched this time subtle, but real.

“I didn’t let her,” he said quickly. “I swear. I pulled away, told her it was inappropriate. But I didn’t fire her. I didn’t tell you. I didn’t come clean, and that’s where I screwed everything up.”

You inhaled sharply, but still said nothing. Your silence screamed louder than anything.

“I didn’t say anything because I thought I was protecting you. You were still recovering, you weren’t sleeping, the kids were barely giving you a moment to breathe—”

“And you thought I couldn’t handle the truth?” you interrupted quietly, looking at him now, eyes sharp. “You thought I’d break?”

“No,” he whispered. “No, I just… I thought if I told you, you’d see me differently. Like I’d let it happen. Like I’d opened that door. And I didn’t. But I—, I still didn’t tell you. And that’s just as bad.”

The words hung in the air between you, thick and heavy.

“I felt like I was being pulled in two,” he went on. “One side of me wanted that contract—so badly. I wanted to prove I was good enough. That I could play with the best. But the other side of me…”

He trailed off, voice cracking.

“The other side of me didn’t know how to chase that dream without hurting you. And instead of being honest, I started lying by omission. I thought I could balance both. But the second I hid Madison’s attempt to cross a line, I was already letting it fall apart.”

You looked at him then, really looked at him, and he could see the pain etched deep into your features.

“She wasn’t just your agent, Seungmin,” you said, voice shaking. “She was part of a secret you were keeping. That’s what hurts. Not the kiss that didn’t happen. Not the job offer. It’s that you made choices without me when we promised to do this—life—together.”

His eyes welled up. “I know.”

“Do you?” you asked. “Because you left. You didn’t talk. You didn’t fight for us last night.”

“I didn’t know how,” he admitted. “I was ashamed. I kept thinking… if I didn’t say anything, maybe it would fix itself. But I’ve been lying to myself too. And I can’t anymore. If you hate me, if you don’t forgive me, I’ll accept that. But I had to tell you. I have to be the man you and the kids deserve.”

You didn’t respond right away.

You stood up slowly, walked over to the window, and wrapped your arms around yourself as you looked out at the pale morning sky. He didn’t follow. He just waited.

Finally, you said, “I don’t know what this means yet. I don’t know what comes next.”

Seungmin nodded slowly, his voice almost a whisper. “Whatever you need. However long it takes.”

He stood, stepping closer, slowly, like you were a cliff edge he was terrified to fall from.

“Let me help again,” he said, gently. “With the kids. With the house. With you. I don’t want to be a visitor in this family. I want to come home.”

Your breath hitched.

You turned toward him, tears brimming now, but still not falling.

“I want that too,” you whispered, voice cracking, “but I need to believe you again. That’s going to take time.”

He nodded, one tear finally slipping down his cheek.

“I’ll wait,” he said, softly but with conviction. “I’ll wait for as long as it takes.”

And for the first time in days, maybe longer, you nodded back.

The off-season came with quieter mornings, slower afternoons, and a noticeable shift in the atmosphere of the house. Not peaceful, exactly because healing wasn’t immediate, and the weight of everything that had happened still lingered in the walls like a draft you couldn’t quite seal up, but there was space now. Space to breathe. Space to try again.

And for Seungmin, that space meant relearning his role in his own home.

He was always a good father. Attentive when he was around, gentle, patient. But “when he was around” had become a luxury during the season. Days blurred into flights, games, hotel beds, away stadiums, and practice fields. FaceTime calls with Minjoon that ended with the toddler smashing the screen in frustration because it wasn’t the same as a hug. Missed milestones, first steps, first words that you had recorded and sent to him with a bittersweet caption and a quiet ache behind your smile.

But now, the Lotte Giants were done for the year. The glove had been hung up. And for the first time in months, he wasn’t just a guest who dropped by with gifts and apologies. He was home.

And he was trying.

You noticed it right away. The way he hovered behind you during breakfast, watching how you made Minjoon’s pancakes into small shapes to make eating fun. The way he squinted when you measured out Iseul’s formula and checked the temperature of her bottle on your wrist. The questions that followed you around the kitchen like a soft echo:

“Do we cut the apple slices like that so he doesn’t choke?” “How many ounces is she drinking now?” “Does Minjoon still hate that one blue cup?”

There was hesitation behind all of it, a nervous energy that said he didn’t want to screw anything else up. Not even the smallest task. And even when you didn’t answer too tired, too wary, too heart-heavy, he found ways to try.

It was endearing, if not occasionally clumsy.

One particular night, you had just put Iseul down in her crib after a feeding, and the house was finally quiet except for the faint sound of Minjoon’s toothbrush scraping across his tiny baby teeth. You leaned against the hallway wall outside the bathroom, arms crossed loosely, head tilted as you listened.

Inside, Seungmin was kneeling on the bath mat in his hoodie and sweatpants, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, watching Minjoon brush his teeth with great concentration.

“Okay, buddy,” he said gently. “That’s good! You got the top teeth. Now get the bottoms. Can you say bottoms?”

Minjoon garbled a half-word around the toothbrush and grinned.

“Yeah? Okay! Cool. Um—after this, what do we do next?” Seungmin asked, clearly unsure but trying to make it sound fun. “Do we put your pajamas on now?”

Minjoon frowned like Seungmin had asked if he wanted to eat spinach for dessert.

“No,” the toddler mumbled, pulling the toothbrush out dramatically. “Mommy do face.”

Seungmin blinked. “Mommy… what?”

“Mommy,” Minjoon repeated very seriously, pointing to the towel hanging on the hook. “Mommy wash face. First. After brush. Then jammies.”

You bit back a laugh and pressed a hand to your mouth.

Inside the bathroom, Seungmin stared at the towel like it was a final exam question in a language he didn’t study.

“She washes your face?” he repeated. “After brushing?”

“Yah,” Minjoon replied, nodding with the unwavering confidence of a two-year-old whose world made perfect sense.

Seungmin let out a soft, amused huff and reached for the towel. “Okay, okay, little boss. Face wash it is.”

You heard the soft sound of water running, then a wet towel being wrung out. A moment later, the giggle of Minjoon as Seungmin dabbed the warm cloth over his cheeks.

“Is this how Mommy does it?”

Minjoon nodded again. “Warm, warm.”

“Warm. Got it. Anything else, Mr. Routine Expert?”

“No soap,” Minjoon added decisively.

“Noted,” Seungmin said, and your heart ached just a little. He really was trying.

The small exchange warmed something in your chest that had long been locked in ice. It didn’t erase the tension. It didn’t undo the past few weeks. But it added a softness to the air. A reminder of who Seungmin used to be and who he was still trying to become again.

He carried Minjoon out of the bathroom a few minutes later, the toddler now wrapped in spaceship-themed pajamas, holding tightly to his little stuffed tiger. When he saw you standing by the wall, Seungmin gave a sheepish shrug, like he’d been caught cheating on the test by asking the kid for the answers.

You smirked, arms still folded. “You let him boss you around?”

Seungmin met your eyes, and for the first time in days, his smile came with no walls. “If it means doing it right… yeah. I’ll take the help.”

Your smirk faltered slightly as your gaze lingered on him holding your son with such care, with such openness. You nodded, voice quiet. “That’s good. He’s… routine-oriented. He likes things a certain way.”

Seungmin shifted Minjoon in his arms and gave you a slow nod. “Just like his mom.”

And the look you gave him in return wasn’t soft, exactly. But it wasn’t cold either.

Progress, in its rawest form.

He carried Minjoon off toward the toddler bed without another word, and you heard him whispering a story about a dinosaur who played baseball and forgot his bat. It was silly and charming and full of nonsense, but Minjoon was giggling by the end of it. It filled the quiet of the house in a way that you had missed more than you’d realized.

You stayed leaning against the wall long after the house had gone quiet again. Long after Seungmin had tiptoed back down the hallway and passed you with a tentative glance. Neither of you said anything. He didn’t try to reach for your hand. He didn’t try to fix everything all at once.

But that night, he didn’t sleep on the couch.

Not because everything had been healed.

But because you’d left the bedroom door open.

The room was dim, bathed in the soft, amber glow of the bedside lamp. Outside, the early winter wind tapped against the windows rhythmically, brushing dried leaves along the glass like it was trying to soothe the tension inside.

You were propped up against the headboard, knees tucked under the blanket, phone in hand but not really reading anything just scrolling through article titles, social posts, bits of news that couldn’t quite penetrate the fog in your head. Your mind was elsewhere. Stuck somewhere between the memory of Madison’s name on that leaked article, Seungmin’s broken explanations, and the sharp echo of your daughter’s cry the morning after it all came crashing down.

Beside you, Seungmin sat on his side of the bed, legs stretched out under the covers, a respectable distance between your bodies as if he was afraid even the smallest touch might rupture the fragile stillness you’d managed to build over the last few days. He’d just come out of the bathroom in his familiar gray cotton pajamas, towel drying his damp hair like he always did before bed. It used to be a comforting routine, watching him pull the towel away from his head, ruffle his still-wet hair, and crawl into bed beside you with a sigh of relief and whispered complaints about practice. But now, even that normalcy felt like borrowed nostalgia.

He hadn't said anything yet, and neither had you.

But he was watching you.

Not the way he used to, when he'd sneak glances because he couldn’t help it, because loving you had always come as naturally as breathing, but in the way someone watches a candle flicker in the wind, terrified of the moment it might go out.

And when he finally spoke, his voice was low. Raw. The weight behind it made you stop scrolling before he even finished the sentence.

“What happens next… with us?”

You didn't move. Not right away. Your thumb hovered over your phone screen before you let the device slowly drop to your lap, its glow disappearing into the folds of the blanket.

He turned more toward you, though he didn’t close the space between you. His gaze dropped briefly to his hands fingers fidgeting, like he needed to do something with the nervous energy. When he looked back up, he exhaled through his nose and said, “Because I can’t keep pretending like we’re okay when we’re not. And I know it’s my fault that we’re not.”

You swallowed, jaw tightening.

“I was wrong not to tell you,” he continued, his voice thick. “About the MLB talks. About Madison. About… everything. I just—” He paused, eyes glossing over for a second before he caught himself. “You’d just had Iseul. You were barely sleeping. You were already carrying everything. I didn’t want to add more weight to your shoulders.”

“That’s not your decision to make,” you finally said, voice hoarse and sharp around the edges.

He nodded quickly. “I know. I know that now. I was trying to protect you, but I wasn’t honest, and I made it worse. And when everything blew up, I—” His voice cracked slightly. “I didn’t know how to fix it. I’ve never been this scared before. Not even when I tore my shoulder. Not even when I thought I’d never pitch again. This… you and me… the kids… this is what matters.”

Silence stretched, thick and heavy between you. His words hung in the air like a trembling branch.

“I don’t want Minjoon and Iseul to grow up in a broken home,” he added softly. “I know I’ve already cracked the foundation, and maybe you’ll never be able to forgive me for lying, but if there’s any way to fix what I’ve broken, I want to try. I need to try. Because I don’t want to lose this.”

Your chest ached at his words. There was desperation in them, but there was something else, too earnestness. A sincerity that you recognized. A part of the man you married that had been buried beneath months of silence, distance, and secrecy.

You pulled your knees closer to your chest, the blanket sliding with you, and looked at him for a long time.

“You weren’t just protecting me,” you said, voice quieter now. “You were protecting yourself. You were afraid I’d leave you if I knew what she did. You were afraid to look like the bad guy, even if it was just a kiss that she tried. You didn’t cheat, Seungmin, but you lied. You let that woman stay in our life after she crossed the line, and then you covered it up like it wouldn’t matter.”

He winced at your words. But he didn’t deny them.

“And what hurt the most,” you continued, blinking back the sting behind your eyes, “was that you made that decision alone. You stopped trusting me to handle the hard things with you. That’s what broke me.”

The room went silent again.

You looked down at your hands, turning your wedding ring absentmindedly on your finger.

“I don’t know what happens next,” you whispered. “I don’t have the answer. I know I love you. I know I don’t want to lose what we built. I don’t want our kids to feel this tension either. But I can’t just… go back to normal like it didn’t happen.”

“I’m not asking you to,” Seungmin said, voice low and steady. “I just want a chance to rebuild. Even if it takes time. Even if it’s slow. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

For a moment, you didn’t say anything. Then, after a long pause, you slowly shifted your weight and lay back against the pillow, turning to your side to face away from him.

“Then don’t leave again,” you murmured. “Even when it’s hard. Even when I’m angry. You stay.”

He nodded, even though you couldn’t see it.

And after a minute or two, the bed shifted gently as he lay down too. Still not touching you. Still giving you space. But he was there. In the dark. Quiet and present.

It started with a note.

Folded twice, written in Seungmin’s tidy handwriting, and left by your favorite mug on the kitchen counter one early, quiet morning. You found it while reaching for your coffee, your eyes still heavy from sleep and your arms sore from holding Iseul during one of her longer crying spells the night before.

You stared at it for a long second, cautious.

Then you opened it.

“Take the morning off. Dress warm. No kids. I’ll handle breakfast, diapers, tantrums, and all. Please. just trust me. – S.”

You blinked at the page. Once. Twice. Your first instinct was suspicion, what was he doing? What did he plan? Could you trust it?

But it was followed, surprisingly, by a quiet sigh of curiosity.

It had been weeks since he started rebuilding slowly, like a man afraid of stepping on glass. Weeks of learning the kids' routines, of showing up even when you were too angry to acknowledge him, of sleeping on the edge of your shared bed and never asking for more than what you were willing to give. You saw it in the way he watched you with exhausted, apologetic eyes. You saw it in how he parented: fully, wholly, learning how to care for Minjoon and Iseul like he should have all along.

Maybe… maybe he was ready now to do more than apologize.

You moved through the motions of the morning cautiously, your heart beating too loudly for the silence of the house. The kids were already downstairs with him, Minjoon’s giggle echoing faintly from the living room, Iseul’s soft baby babble cooing in between. You trusted him with them, of course you did. It had never been about the kids.

It was about you.

You took a shower. Got dressed in something warm, a long wool coat, scarf, your gloves tucked in your pockets. Then, stepping carefully through the kitchen, you spotted another note next to your keys.

“There’s a driver waiting. Just follow the instructions. I’ll see you soon.”

You raised an eyebrow, but curiosity won out.

The driver was polite, quiet, and refused to tell you where you were headed. You stared out the window as the city passed you by, watching the buildings give way to open spaces, the grey of winter brushing along every surface like a forgotten memory. Thirty minutes later, you pulled up to an empty baseball field.

A public park, technically, but the field was immaculately maintained. You stepped out of the car slowly, hesitant, confused.

And there he was.

Standing near the pitcher’s mound, bundled up in his hoodie and warmup jacket, hair ruffled by the wind. A single bench sat nearby with a small thermos of coffee on it. Yours. The same hazelnut syrup you loved. The same milk-to-coffee ratio he had memorized long ago.

He waved when he saw you, and you didn’t wave back. But your feet moved anyway.

“What is this?” you asked, as you came to a stop a few feet away.

Seungmin’s breath fogged in the cold morning air. “A place I come to when I need to remember who I am. And… who I could’ve lost.”

You stared at him, unsure what to say.

He took a deep breath. “This is the first field I ever threw a ball on. Before the scouts. Before the league. Before the Giants. My dad used to bring me here. Just me and a bucket of balls. He’d stand where you’re standing now and say, ‘Show me who you are, Seungmin.’” He chuckled softly. “I never knew what he meant back then.”

Your lips parted slightly, but the words still wouldn't come.

“I lost myself this season,” he said quietly. “In the pressure. In the silence. In trying to be everything for everyone except the people who matter most. I thought I could control it all what to hide, what to protect you from. But the truth is, I was afraid. Of failing. Of losing you. Of not being enough for the kids.”

The wind blew gently, carrying the soft scent of pine and earth.

“I’ve been talking with the MLB agent,” he said, not flinching this time. “Madison was out of the picture the moment she crossed that line. But I should’ve told you. I should’ve come to you first. I didn't, and I will always regret that. I’ve declined their offer. Formally. I told them I wouldn’t uproot our life, not without your trust. Not without your voice in the choice.”

Your eyes widened. “You… declined it?”

“I did,” he nodded. “Not because I’m giving up on my dream. But because I forgot the first dream I ever had, us. This family. You and me. Minjoon, Iseul. I don’t want to go anywhere they can’t follow.”

You felt your hands tremble slightly in your pockets.

“I’m not trying to win you back with some big gesture,” he continued, stepping a little closer. “I’m showing you that I meant it. When I said I’d do anything to rebuild this. I’ll work as hard as I did to become a pro. Every single day. I’ll be here. Not just for the kids. For you. Because I love you.”

Tears welled up behind your lashes before you could stop them.

The wind, the cold, the weight of everything, it all collapsed into that one still moment. And you realized: he meant it.

Not just the words.

The action.

The choice.

For so long, you had been the one to make the sacrifices. You had been the one to carry the weight of parenthood, of loyalty, of silence. And here he was finally choosing you, even if it meant risking his own legacy.

“I hate that it took this for you to get it,” you whispered, voice shaking. “But I believe you.”

He didn’t move. He didn’t touch you. He waited.

And then you took a step closer. Just one. But it was enough. Enough for him to know he was forgiven, if not fully, then at least with the promise that one day, you would be.

And for the first time in a long time, you saw your future again.

Together.

The house was still when you both got home. Not quiet in the lonely way it had been in the days after the team dinner no, this was a different stillness. The kind that settled after a storm had passed. The kind that let you breathe again without choking on the silence.

Minjoon was fast asleep in his little bed, the soft hum of his nightlight casting gentle blue shadows on his blanket. Iseul had tired herself out after a long afternoon with Seungmin’s mom, and she lay curled in her crib, the tiniest fist tucked against her cheek, her chest rising and falling peacefully. You stood for a long time in the doorway of her room, your arms folded against your chest, watching the little miracle you had brought into the world, twice now and wondering how your life had shifted so drastically in such a short time.

Seungmin stepped behind you, careful not to make a sound. He didn’t touch you, but his presence was warm, grounding. When you turned your head just slightly and caught his eyes in the soft light, something unspoken passed between you mutual exhaustion, yes, but also something tender. Fragile. Real.

When you both made your way to the bedroom, neither of you turned on the main light. Just the small lamp on the nightstand, bathing the room in amber glow. You took off your coat slowly, the weight of it replaced by something heavier in your chest. You felt raw. Exposed.

Seungmin changed quietly into a plain white T-shirt and sweats, moving through the room with an uncertain hesitance, like he didn’t want to do anything to break the calm that had settled between you.

You slid under the covers, and after a moment, so did he. For the first time in weeks, the distance between you was gone. Your bodies weren’t pressed together, not yet, but there wasn’t that cautious gap anymore. You were facing each other. Close enough to feel each other’s breath.

Seungmin looked at you the way he had when you were young and newly in love like you were both everything and the thing he could never quite believe he deserved.

“I meant what I said,” he whispered. “About rebuilding. About choosing us.”

You nodded, your fingers curling into the blanket. “I know.”

He reached for your hand beneath the sheets, and this time, you didn’t pull away. Your fingers threaded together with his slowly, and a soft breath left him relief, maybe. Or hope.

“I don’t deserve how much you’re still willing to give,” he murmured.

“You broke my heart, Seungmin,” you said softly, your voice shaking despite your best efforts to hold it steady. “But you’ve always held it, even when I didn’t know you were.”

His eyes welled, and before either of you could say another word, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his.

It wasn’t desperate. It wasn’t perfect.

It was real.

Warm and aching and full of tears that escaped down both your cheeks. His hand cradled your face gently, like he was afraid you'd disappear if he held too tightly, and you kissed him like the ache in your chest could be healed by the shape of his mouth. It was the kind of kiss you give when words have run out, when all you have left is the truth inside your chest and the hope that the other person still wants it.

And then, suddenly, you broke away sniffling, crying harder now and smacked his chest with the side of your fist.

He blinked. “W-What—?”

You hit him again, softer this time, frustration and heartbreak rolling off you like a wave.

“You gave it up,” you cried, your voice cracking. “Your dream. You gave it up, Seungmin. For me.”

His brow furrowed in confusion, mouth parting in protest. “But I thought—”

“I never asked you to do that!” you snapped, even as more tears ran down your face. “I was mad you didn’t tell me, I was hurt, but that doesn’t mean I wanted you to give up everything you’ve worked for. You love baseball more than anything, and you were finally about to reach that next level. And you just—” Your voice faltered. “You gave it up like it didn’t matter.”

He sat up, slightly, hand still gripping yours as he searched your eyes. “It does matter,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “But you and the kids… you matter more.”

“I don’t want to be the reason you let go of that dream,” you whispered, tears falling silently now. “You’ll regret it. One day, maybe not tomorrow, but eventually you’ll look at me and wonder what could’ve been. And I can’t live with that. I won’t.”

For a moment, the room was silent. Just the sound of both your uneven breaths, the way your hands trembled together.

Then he reached for your other hand and held both in his, warm and steady.

“If I call them,” he asked gently, “if I tell them I made a mistake, if I take the offer… would you come with me? Would you follow me?”

The question hung in the air like a single note.

You stared at him, wide-eyed, your heart pounding with something new and terrifying. You opened your mouth and closed it again, trying to form the words. You imagined the move. The packing. The loss of familiarity. The kids adjusting to a new world. You imagined yourself in a place where you knew no one, far from your support system, away from the life you built together.

But then you imagined him on the mound, beneath the bright lights of a stadium you’d only ever seen on TV. His name on a jersey that echoed the legacy he’d worked so hard for. And you standing in the stands with Iseul in your arms, Minjoon bouncing on your hip, cheering for their father.

You saw it.

You saw him.

You saw you, a different you, maybe, but a braver one.

And you nodded.

“Not at first,” you said, voice soft and sure. “I’d stay here with the kids while you got settled. But I would come. Once we’re ready… I would follow you.”

Seungmin stared at you for a long moment, something deep in his chest breaking open with relief, with emotion, with love that hadn’t diminished despite all the cracks.

He leaned forward slowly, brushing his forehead against yours. “That’s all I need.”

And in that quiet, broken, slowly-mending space, the two of you sat, still holding hands, tears still drying on your cheeks and for the first time in weeks, you felt something other than fear.

You felt hope.

masterlist.

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[already gone. taglist: @piscesrising01 @troublemaker02 @bearseuming @hanniebunch @ready2readnwrite @mbioooo0000 @puppymsworld @linosgrape @devoured3him @chaosandcandies @itvenorica124 @bonesawce @maddy24207 @vixensss]

[official taglist: @alisonyus @lenfilms ..]

#stray kids imagines #stray kids x you #skz imagines #stray kids fanfic #stray kids x reader #skz x y/n #stray kids scenarios #kpop x reader #kpop imagines #kim seungmin angst #seungmin angst #kim seungmin imagines #seungmin imagines #skz dad au #dad!skz #stray kids dad au #kpop dad au #dad au

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captain-joongz · 5 months ago

Text

Abraxas; Act 1, Chapter 3 Part 1

Pairing: mafia boss!Min Yoongi x police office!reader

Genre: enemies to lovers, humour, angst, investigation themes, dark themes, eventual smut, slowburn, some fluff

Chapter summary: The summer brings a new challenge - and a new moral failing, it seems. And while Yoongi certainly seems happy to lurk and wait for his opportunity, Minjoon is quite adamant about solving the tension.

Chapter word count: 21.9k words

Warnings: i mean, not much haha, the mc has like three breakdowns every day, some crime happening, yoongi being a menace

Previous part | Series masterlist | Next part

A/N: okaayyyy, so the first part of the summer chapter is here darlings, and while it is important, it's actually just a bridge to the real shit that's going down in the next chapter haha, so you have that to look forward to! enjoy the read and do let me know what you think! <3

Summer, first year in the force

I sighed, eyes red and watery from staring at my screen for hours already, and clicked on yet another online article about Yoongi’s involvement in some charity event, donating a truckload of money and being hailed as the modern day warrior of justice, scoffing at the ridiculous attempt to hide any links he had to the underworld.

It’s been six days. Six days since I last saw Yoongi, six days since Seungcheol called me panicked that he was last-minute called away to Busan to help with a case related to a possible serial killer they’ve been working on before, therefore he couldn’t make it to our Monday morning debrief, and I’d have to wait for his return or start by myself. Six days since Minjoon left my apartment at 3 AM, both of us guilty yet satisfied. Six days since we spoke properly.

Six days I spent back at my desk, back at square one, and desperately grasping at any straws to take at Hoseok and Jungkook, since I was hesitant to tail them without Yoongi between us as buffer. After all, to them it would be less hassle to kill me without his permission and then grovel to get back into his good graces. I was as expendable as they got.

I tried googling the seven men, but didn’t find anything much interesting. Namjoon won a few gold medals back in high school, so he was probably the kid that always participated in all the competitions. Taehyung was mentioned a few times when he opened new clubs, though there were two very interesting articles about a murder that happened at a seedy bar that fell under him. It went nowhere, but it was interesting to see.

Jimin was mentioned only a few times in fashion related articles when he flitted around fashion shows or partied with models, nothing except for his exceptional charm and charisma mentioned.

Seokjin by the nature of his pedigreed upbringing cropped up quite a few times – mentioned in articles about his family and their legacy, all prestigious successful doctors and lawyers, an old family with ties to old aristocracy. He also won some competitions, archery among them, and he was mentioned in an article about saving a man’s life, but nothing that linked him to anything uncouth.

Jungkook had none. Hoseok had a single one – when his fighting ring was busted and he ended up in a holding cell for three days before getting released, bond paid by Mr. Kim and Mr. Min, back then two unknown names, now giants towering over all of us.

The two that stood at the beginning of it all.

Yoongi himself had a barrage of articles about him, so many in fact that I quickly got tired of going through all of them. Most were from the last few years, when he was already sucking up to the higher class and fighting his way to belong with all the young, spoiled chaebols, who really made the best kind of clientele for him.

There were three articles from when he was about eighteen or so, detailing some petty crimes he got busted for and spent six months in jail, and the only reason he was mentioned at all was purely by association to his boss who was the actual target of the raid.

Except for Namjoon and Seokjin, none of the men were mentioned before they hit adulthood, and I had a sneaking suspicion it was due to the protection of privacy of minors law. When I pulled their records, I hit a few obstacles there as well – all of the reports about juvenile crimes got sealed and courts rarely gave permission to unseal them. So what was happening before then, we could only guess.

That didn’t stop me from my sleuthing though.

I had to remind myself periodically that this wasn’t about Yoongi. No matter how much the man occupied my thoughts, awake or not, night or day, he wasn’t my current target.

So, once again, I went through the information available for Jungkook and Hoseok, this time more diligently, comparing it to things I was already able to deduce.

Both men still had their addresses set to their home cities – Hoseok in Gwangju and Jungkook in Busan. A quick search revealed what no doubt were the houses they were born in and at least to a certain point grew up in, but it quite clearly wasn’t where they resided currently.

Namjoon had a little flat close to the office he spent most of his time in, and Taehyung and Jimin according to the records lived together. Seokjin’s and Yoongi’s addresses were clear. The only address associated with Jungkook was his security company, and Hoseok didn’t even give me that luxury, as elusive as ever.

If I had to guess, Jungkook probably lived with the other two youngsters and Hoseok definitely slept hanging upside down from a cave ceiling like a bat.

Currently my best bet was to stake out Jungkook’s office building and see whether I see him around a suspicious amount.

A movement caught my eye and I looked up from mindlessly scrolling through news reports in time to see Minjoon carefully slinking towards my table, unsure and awkward. I straightened and gave him a polite smile, taking all the wild emotions trying to burst out and stuffing them back into my chest, back into that little closet where they belonged, where they caused no havoc. Right next to Yoongi’s dark eyes, warm form and spicy scent from last Friday.

“Park’s bringing Namjoon in,” Minjoon informed me, keeping his voice steady and matter-of-fact, nodding my way when I thanked him. I had completely missed Park even leaving, too engrossed in my little corner of shame and regrettable choices. To be completely honest, what the rest of the team did in the past few months, unit leader included, I wasn’t too sure about. My tasks ate all of my time and attention, and it was easy to forget that others actually still continued with their jobs as well.

Without thinking I stood up and followed the fellow detective back to his table, leaning on the side that would allow me to keep an eye on the entrance, and tried to pretend I didn’t see how Minjoon looked at me with eyes swirling with hope.

“What is he bringing him in for this time?” I enquired casually, fingers instinctively going to play with the edge of my t-shirt, “I didn’t even know we made enough progress to question him again.”

Minjoon hummed, making it a point to look straight at me with a small smirk, growing more comfortable with each second I spent sitting by his side again. I fought my own amused grin off, but my lips still twitched and his eyes jumped down and back up, grin spreading wider.

“Well, I think it’s more or less the same as last time,” the man finally answered, leaning back into his chair leisurely, “a mix of psychological warfare and an attempt to annoy Yoongi.” I chuckled at that, knowing all too well how that usually went, before promptly freezing, the smile slipping off of my face lightning quick.

Like last time. When I met them for the first time. Already half a year ago, when I was still a nobody that didn’t even talk to anyone in this unit. When Park dragged Namjoon in and in just over two hours Yoongi was storming in to get him. The night I made the first of a long series of bad decisions that led me all the way down here. Yoongi’s going to come here.

“I don’t think he really even has anything, I mean, the informant did bring in some interesting info, but it’s not much,” Minjoon continued happily, “It’s actually annoying how well everything matches up in their finances. We’ve already wasted one warrant and found literally nothing, and the judge is done with our bullshit.”

“What do you mean?” I frowned, never having heard of this before. Minjoon sighed and leaned forward on the table, propping his head on his hand.

“We fucking know that Yoongi’s doing something illegal with his finances, but the fucker manages to make it all look so legit, it’s bulletproof,” the man complained, grimacing with disgust, “we managed to get a warrant to go through his finances after catching him with some other known names in the game, made a whole spectacle of it. We were absolutely sure we were going to bust him for something, but his records were squeaky clean. Namjoon might be a criminal, but he clearly is a genius. The most we found out was that Yoongi drinks dangerous amounts of coffee from a little café near his office.”

I hummed, but my mind was already somewhere else. In the background Minjoon continued grumbling, but I was experiencing something I could only call an epiphany.

Financial records. Of fucking course. The one thing they’ve been focusing on since I came here, I thought I would get around it by doing it more old-school by focusing on the unofficial stuff, but really. What better way to find out what a person does and where they spend most of their time than bank statements?

“Hey Y/N, I was thinking...” Minjoon’s voice filtered back, but I was already pushing myself off of his table, going through my mental catalogue of all the information I had on the Min gang. I turned quickly on my heel, startling the man into silence, and gave him a quick professional smile.

“Sorry Min, I just remembered I needed to look up something for the Moon case, talk to you later?” since I was walking backwards to my table, Minjoon just awkwardly smiled as well, hand abortedly waving in the air in a half wave gesture.

The moment I crashed back into my chair, I was pulling up the database for one Jung Hoseok, scrolling through endless arrest reports, victim statements and court records, painting the whole picture of the kind of violence this man was capable of. I was frantically searching for at least a single confirmation of my assumption – that they all most likely used the same bank.

It took a while, I did have to read through several different court documents outlining violent assaults, but finally I managed to stumble upon a settlement he paid to a guy he beat up in one of Taehyung’s clubs, where bank information was mentioned – and bingo. KEB Hana Bank. The same as Yoongi and Namjoon.

So that now meant I was facing two new problems (awesome) – I would need a warrant I’d never get, and Hana Bank was known for having an impenetrable wall of lawyers and putting them between their clients and anything that could hurt their money, police included. Even with a warrant it would be hard to breach their defences, that’s why rich bastards usually chose them. Client above anything.

If their finances looked as clean and proper as Minjoon said, it’s highly improbable I’d be able to find enough to get that endlessly sought after warrant, plus as was established – someone in the prosecutor's office was paid off by the man. He’d not only get warned, but they’d also most likely shoot any attempts down.

Not even with an esteemed hacker I could get in those statements. Shit. Fuck.

Shamelessly I walked back over to Minjoon’s table, the man curiously looking up as soon as he noticed my absent-minded approach. There was a small smile already playing on his lips and he leaned back, probably very aware of what would come next.

“Minjoon, is there any other way to-“

“Get someone’s bank records without a warrant?” the man jumped in, shocking me into a wide-eyed stare, “Yeah, there is.” He was smirking at me cheekily from his chair, all relaxed into the backrest, eyes beckoning me to continue speaking.

Instead, I playfully narrowed my eyes, a grin tugging at my lips while I dragged over a chair from the neighbouring table and sat down heavily with a thud, putting the backrest to the front and leaning on it. I saw his eyes flick down minutely before he looked back to me, and the air between us crackled.

Shit, there was the tension again.

“What, are you side-hustling in fortune telling?” I teased, leaning forward just slightly, just enough to draw the man’s attention to my lips forming into a smirk. He did look, of course, for a second getting lost to his own thoughts before the topic of the conversation resurfaced in his mind and he looked back to my eyes.

“It wasn’t that hard to guess, given the fact you mentally checked out of the conversation the moment I mentioned that,” the teasing sounded very smug from him, and I could tell he wasn’t done just yet, “it also helped that you were mumbling financial records as you walked away.” I physically felt my face burst into flames, cheeks rapidly getting consumed by red as I spluttered for a moment, not really knowing how to respond.

“Okay, let’s leave that behind for now,” I quickly got out, cutting through the detective’s amused laughter as I attempted to school my features and look my part as a hardened police officer, “So, is there a way?” It took a moment for Minjoon to stop his chuckles, and the several slaps I administered to his shoulder definitely didn’t help, but finally he seemed to give up on this and actually answer.

“Yeah, but you can forget about it,” he said good-naturedly, “you’d have to get their written consent to look.” The way my face fell and I sunk back into seriousness wasn’t lost on the man and he immediately matched my mood, a more sombre expression settling onto his face. His fingers started up a nervous little tapping rhythm at the edge of the table and I watched them for a moment.

I hummed. I had no idea what I was doing. I needed those statements. Everything was so muddled.

Well, clearly I wouldn’t be getting that from Jung fucking Hoseok. So… how does one swindle a swindler?

With a big sigh I stood up. “Thanks Min, I’ll think of how to get that warrant,” I told him dejectedly, pulling my lips down into a frown and patting him on the shoulder. I could almost see Yoongi’s amused proud smirk, and I hated that. The police officer was obviously confused by my sudden mood changes but let me go back to my table with an easy smile, hand squeezing my wrist in reassurement.

I was lying to him.

Fuck. Back here we were. I pushed all the thoughts of Yoongi away, pushed away his teasing voice whispering taunts in my head and sat down back to my computer.

There was no getting a fucking warrant, who was I trying to fucking kid? I had to get that consent off of him, no matter how. And legally, there was no way. So, how does one forge official documents? Time to find out.

The same second I desolately looked to my monitor, the door flew open and Park charged in, a terrible déjà vu gripping me as Namjoon got dragged behind, two officers holding each of his arms and speeding through the office towards the back rooms.

Much like last time, he looked completely unperturbed, like he was just taking a walk through the park, like the officers were nothing more than annoying flies buzzing around him and he was simply mildly inconvenienced, not a hair out of place. But this time, he looked at me and smirked. For a moment I was shocked, a terrible feeling like he knew what I was planning from a single glance gripping me, before I turned away and hid my shame.

I told myself that it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter how many laws I broke as long as I brought him down, nothing I did could be worse than what they were already doing.

And it did feel more like a lie every time I tried to make myself believe it.

“Are you going to finish that?”

Yoongi’s voice cut through the blankness of my mind and I realised I had been just sitting there and staring dumbly somewhere slightly above his shoulder, fork hanging limply from my hand. There was a really annoying grin on his face as he pointed towards my half-finished pasta, a nervous looking waiter hovering by his side.

Instinctually my fingers tightened around the rim of the bowl and I fastened a polite smile to my face to quickly shake my head at the waiter. He didn’t linger for a second longer, immediately bowing and high-tailing it out of there.

I felt Yoongi’s eyes burning holes into the side of my face as I started shovelling the rest of my food in my mouth. I hated to admit it, but it really was quite delicious.

“I was just thinking about how inappropriately dressed I am for this place,” I muttered in between bites, washing everything down with coke that Yoongi so graciously let me order instead of a matching wine. The man in question just scoffed and grabbed his own glass from the table.

“Doesn’t matter, you’re sitting with me,” the black-haired man said, smirk colouring his voice into smugness, “Nobody dares to judge.” This time it was my time to scoff at him, and I rolled my eyes so hard there was no way he missed that.

“Humble, are we?” My voice was lacking its usual bite, and I wondered whether he realised that.

“Darling, we’re literally sitting in my restaurant,” he shot back immediately, clearly in his shit-stirer mood. And he was right as well, that was what pissed me off the most.

We were sitting in the Black Swan, the restaurant in the lobby of his fancy schmancy hotel. I was caught by Jungkook while suspiciously loitering around his car and he flew over like a cartoon cat with its ass on fire, prepared to defend his car from my dirty parking-tickets-distributing hands, but that time I wasn’t intending to do that. It was purely a coincidence, not that Jungkook believed me.

In an attempt to break us up before our squabbling got too annoying to listen to, Yoongi came over and invited me inside, which I accepted just to spite Jungkook. Now I found myself here, sitting across a private lounge from the man, the restaurant buzzing with life to our side and the young man staring daggers into me from across the room.

“So, officer, what are your plans for the summer?” Yoongi revived the conversation, doing some heavy lifting today. Ever since I came to the resolution to falsify legal documents, I hadn’t been much in a mood. Minjoon tried as hard as he could to bring my spirits up, bless his heart, but he probably assumed I was being icy because of the whole ‘you shouldn’t fuck your colleagues’ thing, which funnily enough currently was the least of my problems. Cheol was still away and the files lying on my table were collecting dust, my first big case starting off with a crime.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” I grumbled back, moving on from the pasta to the little salad that was brought to me as a side-dish. Yoongi peered over the edge of his wine glass at me, eyes filled with uncharacteristically soft-edged entertainment, and I did my best to pretend we were still at odds with each other, and not sharing a suspiciously normal lunch together.

“Well yes, that’s why I asked,” the man replied smartly and I rolled my eyes at him again, “I wouldn’t want my favourite policeman to suddenly disappear again. I’d miss you too much.” His voice tampered off into something deeper, huskier, towards the end, pulling the rug from under my feet once again with these pesky complicated swirls of emotions I tried to persuade myself I didn’t care enough about to dissect. The bastard was probably having the time of his life teasing me like that, I was just being weird about it.

“How’s Hoseok?” I chanced a cheeky change of conversation, hoping I’d be able to play it off as a joke about our last meeting, and he wouldn’t know that I was currently quite literally losing my mind because of that man. Yoongi tsked at me, leaning back into the cream-coloured chair.

“Still too busy running after my friends?” he teased, “I don’t consider myself a jealous man, but you should be careful lest you hurt my feelings.” Mischief swirled through his eyes together with something harder, much less kind. Stay away, his gaze screamed, or trouble will catch you.

A little too late for that Yoongles, I’m afraid.

“Unfortunately, from a police officer’s standpoint your friends are what’s most interesting about you,” I shot back immediately, feeling no need to keep the suspension.

Yoongi didn’t say anything to that, only watched me with sharp gaze and hummed, taking a gentle sip from his glass.

“Then how about we play a game?” I blurted out suddenly, surprisingly myself as well as the dark-haired man. It was almost time for me to return to the station, but I was feeling reckless enough for a little gamble. I got Yoongi’s attention immediately though, and at the end of the day, that’s all that mattered. He simply gestured for me to continue, but his eyes sparkled under the artificial lighting of the restaurant.

“If you answer one of my questions truthfully, you get to ask me something back and I’ll answer too.”

It was plain stupidity. All he had to do was ask me about something concerning to official investigation and I’d be done, either unable to answer and losing my opportunity, or forced to spill important secrets. The risks were immense, and depending on Yoongi’s attitude there didn’t even have to be that good of a reward. And really, I couldn’t even find it in myself to think up an appropriate excuse.

“How interesting,” the man purred, not even trying to hide his excitement and I did all I could to sit still under his dark roused gaze. He leaned closer on the table, everything about his body language screaming how open he was to this suggestion. “What do you want to know?”

“Where is Hoseok’s office?” the question tumbled out of me in an instant, “And don’t even try to bullshit me, I know it’s not the warehouse in Songhyeon-dong.” I felt slight heat in my cheeks at the way Yoongi giggled with the remainder of that cursed building, but soon his mirth was overshadowed by plain curiousness.

“Why do you want to know?” he asked in return. I scoffed.

“I’m not required to answer that.”

Silence settled over us, a few tense seconds during which Yoongi measured me with his gaze, contemplating, before finally a bit of his resolve lessened.

“He’s in Jungkook’s building,” he answered me in the end and internally I was screaming in victory, attempting to school my expression so the way I was so disgustingly happy with myself wouldn’t show. Yoongi smirked then, and a bit of my joy died down. “I only feel comfortable telling you because you’d be crazy if you tried anything around there. Jungkook has eyes around most of the city, but that there is the centre of his turf. Consider that a friendly warning.” I fought back a shudder at the clear threat in his words and said nothing. There really wasn’t anything that could be said back to that. How does one respond?

But then Yoongi brightened again, and I realised it was his turn to ask. Steeling myself to whatever he wanted to know, preparing to lie my ass off if needed, I gestured for him to go ahead.

“Did you fuck the detective?” his question wasn’t said seriously at all, he actually sounded quite amused, but it still shocked me to say the least (an understatement). I was sure if I was drinking something I’d be choking on it and spitting everything out all over the fancy white tablecloth right about now. The blush was back with a vengeance, and I could even feel my ears heat up. But mostly I was just angry that such a question even crossed his mind.

“Why the fuck do you even want to know that?” I gritted through my teeth, boiling in my seat enough to almost have steam coming off of my head, “You really going to waste your chance like this?”

Yoongi just shrugged, the annoying smirk still firmly sitting on his face, quiet chuckled escaping his lips at my peeved expression.

“Just curious, that’s all,” he hummed mysteriously, and I sighed, figuring this wasn’t the worst thing he could have gotten me to admit to him.

“Yes,” I muttered, voice going uncharacteristically quiet. It was just another one in the long line of rules Yoongi caught me breaking, even after that lecture I gave him about the importance of following the law. I was such a pathetic hypocrite, it was laughable.

“It was that night, right?” he asked, and this time his voice dipped into a strange mix of dark and faux scandalised, gaze probing for something that set me alight for a different reason altogether. If it was possible, I blushed even darker, but attempted to stand my ground.

“That’s a second question, so I won’t answer.” Yoongi’s delighted beastly grin told me that was answer enough to him though, and I decided enough was enough.

Promptly I stood up, rattling the table and sending the chair skittering back with a terrible sounding screech, drawing the attention of most of the room, the grumpy driver included. Yoongi sat in his seat, completely unperturbed and looking like he was having the best time of his life.

I scowled and moved to leave, finally sending the man into action as he leaped to his feet to follow after me.

“In a rush to get back to work?” he teased some more, sounding way too happy for my liking, but I was no longer interested in keeping up conversations with him, a fact which made him chuckle at me.

Jungkook joined us as soon as we walked by him, immediately falling into his place by Yoongi’s side, watching me alert to make sure I wasn’t trying anything.

“Leaving so soon?” the young man joined in on the teasing, though his grin was much more hostile than Yoongi ever looked at me, and I deliberated on whether I should ignore him as well.

“Some of us can’t spend all our days staring broodily off into distance,” I settled on finally, bursting out through the Black Swan entrance door and taking the stairs two at a time. The two men stayed standing on the top, looking down to me with unreadable amused expressions as I sped by their car.

I pointed at it, still parked at the same spot that made me give them all those parking tickets, and wagged my finger at them, before taking off and briskly walking towards my own vehicle.

Nerves uncomfortably rolled through my stomach, a looming sense of unease that lingered in me after the turn the conversation took that I couldn’t fully place or explain. I weaved through the busy Hannam-dong streets, putting as much distance as I could between me and the cursed hotel, somewhat aimlessly wandering the streets in the vague direction of my car, not really ready to drive back to work where Minjoon and Park were currently having a meeting about the strategy the new special team was taking.

I wasn’t invited, of course, and the violent crime unit was absent as well due to their prolonged stay in Busan, making Hwang and Min the only ones involved. They brought in all that they were capable of gathering so far, information of which I had only a surface understanding to my utmost frustration, but I felt bad continuously pressing Minjoon to tell me more, especially since we haven’t been really speaking much lately.

Clearly keeping me up to date wasn’t their priority.

And I knew that some sort of resolve has broken in me. For the second time that day I thought back to my first meeting with Yoongi (well, second technically, but the first in all the ways that counted), when I came to his bar and flew off into a self-important rant about justice.

Yoongi had warned me then, that laws will never be enough, and I called him a monster. And look at me now – cut off from the security of partnership by my colleagues, left to my own devices and pushed to my limits in the face of a seemingly all-powerful demi-god of a criminal, I spent the last few days deliberating on how to get my dirty little hands on Hoseok’s signature so I could falsify it.

I could tell myself all I wanted that I merely had to slip down into illegality to be able to fight Yoongi on an equal ground, but I knew that my ego was also getting the best of me. And that somehow made it worse – I fully couldn’t even say this was about a noble cause.

Just a few months earlier I’d been chastising myself about the same thing, about seemingly forgetting all about the reason I even did all this just to one up Yoongi whenever I could, and I promised myself to keep my distance from such things. And today I was driving back to the station, after having taken lunch with the very man I was hunting, avoiding a colleague I had slept with against the internal rules of the force, and thinking of how to commit a crime to get my way.

But I couldn’t lie – at this point, just good plain taking him down would be enough to quench that uncontrollable fire that roused in me in these past few months. The infallible Min Yoongi, bested by a young police officer. A tale worth of telling.

Maybe I caught more mannerisms from Yoongi than I was willing to admit – illusions of grandeur certainly seemed to be one of them.

When I reached the station and walked back in, Minjoon was already sitting at his table, signalling the meeting has already ended. Discreetly I peeked into the meeting room to quickly look through the picture wall and see if anything has changed, but either it was still the same or it was small enough that I didn’t catch it on the first try.

I also attempted to catch Minjoon’s eye, to see whether he’d call me over to fill me in, but he kindly smiled at me before gathering his phone, keys and badge and swiftly walked off with Hwang. Probably on official business, which left a sour taste in my mouth, and I sat down on the chair with an ‘oomphf’, hitting the seat with more force than I was anticipating.

The black screen of the monitor stared back at me blankly, as if telling me that there was still time to turn around, chase after them, humiliate myself by begging to be included and then silently watched them work. Still time to change my mind and take the righteous route.

Instead I powered the computer on and clicked once more on the digitalised file on Jung Hoseok, full of court documents, warrants and testimony statements.

This time it took me considerably quicker to find what I was looking for – the undecipherable scrawl of Hoseok’s name together with his personal seal, all forever adorning the documents about financial settlements.

Before I could change my mind, I quickly printed out the bundle of papers belonging to the same case, taking care to choose one of the new printers, the pride of our little precinct as it was bought by the meagre grants given to us by the headquarters, and which kept all of us in awe with the quality of the printed papers. It was just two weeks ago that I myself finally gathered courage to use it and marvelled at how real the testimony looked. Now it would come in handy to do the exact opposite of what its purpose was.

Hastily I grabbed the stack of documents and a stapler, stuffing them both in my bag and I rushed out of the building, the address of the specific court scribbled on a little paper clutched deathly in the palm of my hand.

In the car I took a moment to wind down, trying to will away the subtle shaking that overtook my hands and knees, taking in deep breaths and pushing my body down into the coarse fabric of the car seat, grounding myself through the feeling of my heavy limbs pressing into the furnishing, through the feeling of uneven bumps in the foam I felt under my fingers. I wondered whether Minjoon and Hwang went to Yoongi, whether he was still at the restaurant. Whether he already informed Jungkook and Hoseok that he told me the location of his office, so they should keep an eye on me.

I hoped they would be too focused on guessing where I was sniffing around during nights to realise I was messing about somewhere completely different. I hoped Yoongi still didn’t have me followed.

The court would close in an hour, and it was quite the gamble on my part when I breezed through the door like a hurricane, almost running through the modern building towards the archives. I had one hand permanently stuck in my pocket, at first only to make sure I still had my badge with me, but then I grew too anxious to pull it back out, instead closing my fingers around the cold metal, even though it was slowly warming up. The weight of what I was doing had it burning a hole through my palm and I fidgeted endlessly, cold sweat gathering at my back and soaking into the white t-shirt I threw on that morning.

There was an old lady sitting behind a desk, bored and tired of everybody’s bullshit, and I took a long stabilising breath in, before pushing through the door and walking confidently over.

Her attention was on me immediately, torn away from the book spread in her lap by the sound of the opening door, and when she glanced up, there was already annoyance visible on her face, likely at getting interrupted from her read. I plastered on another polite smile, expression admittedly a little wooden.

“How can I help you?” the woman asked, mono-tone and stone-faced. I walked all the way to her, until I was leaning on her table, and gave her another queasy smile.

“I’m here to check out a specific file on Jung Hoseok’s settlement trial from 28th of April 2022,” I recited, more focused on keeping my voice as steady as hers than on the words that I’d been practicing repeatedly in my head on my way over.

“Do you have the appropriate permits?” she asked back, barely even looking at me to instead fiddle with her computer, swiftly putting in the date and name I just gave her to check it over.

I pulled out my badge and set it down on the table in front of her, other hand rummaging through my bag to locate my unit ID card to show her as well. She took one unimpressed look at it and then back at me, eyes gliding over my body head to toes, before she set her stare back on the computer.

Silence stretched between us, interrupted only by her mouse clicking as she sifted through the database.

“I don’t know if you have clearance to access these files,” she said, sounding like she had to deal with fifteen people like me each hour, and I started to feel desperation and frustration lick at my mind.

“Police officers are legally allowed to look at files connected to their investigations,” I told her with all the conviction I could muster, “this man has been investigated by my unit for over a year.” She looked at me like I was crazy, lips in a thin line and clear disapproval all written over her face.

“Then you surely have access to these scanned for his files,” she said petulantly, safe-guarding the documents like they contained the nuclear weapons codes. I fought back the urge to sass back at her, as it would likely make her ever harder to deal with.

“I do, which should be answer enough whether I’m allowed to access them,” I answered, not even lying on that one, though I still had to carefully skirt around the reasons for my visit, “but I’d like to see the original document, the scan’s never as clear as good old paper.” For signatures anyway. Otherwise they’re pretty well visible.

“They lack the depth,” I added in for good measure, but it was obvious the lady really lost interest in fighting with me over this. The settlement was for grievous bodily harm caused by Hoseok to a club-goer, and it was clearly stated that he acted as a body-guard to Min Yoongi and almost killed the man while “trying to maintain peace” in the club. She wasn’t dumb, she must have realised it was gang related.

And no matter what she thought about my visit, I clearly was police, and that opened a lot of doors (even when it shouldn’t have).

“Show me some ID, I’ll need to put you into the system as a visitor,” she grumbled finally, outstretching her hand to me and waiting for me to fumble with my bag to pull out my wallet.

After another few tense moments of silence during which she carefully copied my details into her computer, she then suddenly got up and gestured for me to follow her. I scrambled to go after her, stuffing all of my things back and making sure the papers I took were still there and in a passable state.

She weaved through the maze of shelves, confidently making her way as if she’d walked the same route a thousand times, suddenly speedy now that she wasn’t behind her little table. Our journey took us one floor door, a rickety metal staircase leading further into the underbelly of this huge building.

As we strayed away from the little table, I noticed a significant lack of cameras, which was frankly startling for a court in Seoul, but they probably thought writing your name down into the little form and going through this little old lady was security enough. I chuckled a little at that and thanked whoever it was that decided that putting CCTV here wasn’t a priority.

The lady finally slowed down by one of the shelves, fingers flying around the boxes stored there until she found what she was looking for, nimbly pulling out a brown cardboard box with Hoseok’s name written on the front.

Without much preamble she thrust it into my arms and then turned around and left, no words spoken and no glances exchanged. For a few moments I watched her go in stunned silence before the reality of the situation kicked in and I swiftly shuffled near one of the little tables that were scattered through the space.

To my absolute annoyance, the box contained a mountain of documents, and I spent good twenty minutes going through it just searching for the one that I brought with me. But once I had it in my hands, it was entirely too easy to carefully peek around to make sure I wasn’t watched by anyone or caught by a camera, dig out my stapler and punch the documents together in a way that looked the most similar, and then slip the original ones in my bag while I pretended to closely read through the copy.

It wasn’t fool-proof. If anyone looked closer at the files, it’d be fairly obvious that they were printed copies – as I said before, there was no depth to them and the signature didn’t look as real. But that’s exactly why I needed the original with me.

I just prayed to God that no one would feel the need to dig these out and closely inspect them until I had the chance to sneak back and switch them again.

I loitered around long enough so that it wouldn’t look suspicious (or at least what my nervous brain told me was enough time to not make it look suspicious) and then I slowly made my way back up the steel old staircase, towards the little brown desk.

The lady didn’t even look up this time, eyes glued to her book without a single acknowledgement of my existence as I walked past her, smuggled documents stuffed in my black bag.

As I was walking out of that building, it suddenly struck me just how easy it was to break the law when you had the police badge on you – a realisation I’d keep to myself and never divulge to Yoongi, lest he laughs himself to death while screaming ‘I told you so’.

Now, I wasn’t an expert on forgery, but I had been able to catch some basic ideas while growing up on the streets. I wasn’t directly involved in it, but some of the kids I sometimes used to hang out with made and sold fake IDs around the orphanage and other neighbourhood kids, and I wasn’t completely clueless on that. When you spend hours sitting next to someone labouring over a fake little piece of plastic, no matter how hard you’re trying to ignore them, you’ll take a peek here or there.

Still, it was more DIY than I was expecting. I bought some see-through paper sheets and spent an evening carefully tracing the elegant lines of Hoseok’s name and personal stamp, trying to work out all the kinks and all the lines, watch where they fill out more, where he exerted more pressure and dug the pen deeper into the paper. All of that, all of the things that made it a little bit more authentic.

The seal was going to be more tricky – not only I had to trace it, but then I’d have to mould it somehow so that I could make a copy of it from wax. I had bought a whole case of playdough and I wasn’t scared to use it. Well, maybe a little bit. I’ve never been an overly artistic person, nor a terribly precise and patient one. So that would be fun, for sure.

When days later I finally felt confident enough to try and transfer it to the actual document, my tiny two rooms apartment was buried under mountains of white papers with randomly placed signatures on it, some a little more successful than others, but most of them still felt a little wonky.

That day I stood at work right next to the fancy printer, once again, and hoped that whoever walked past wouldn’t think it weird that I was gathering what looked to be a hefty stack of the same copy of an official form, waiting expectantly at the mouth of the machine and snatching all the freshly printed sheets still warm from the process as they were coming out. I certainly hoped that what people said was true – that no one was really paying as much attention as you did to what you did. This would be a little awkward to explain.

The stamp DIY had gone as terribly as I was expecting it to. The playdough was malleable, maybe even a little too much, and even when I spent literal hours carefully tracing the shapes into it and smoothing it out with thin popsicle wooden sticks, every time I tried to actually make the seal the result was less than desirable. One look at those uneven lines and everybody would be able to tell that it was made by a child. The messiness of the ink could hide some discrepancies, but what I had made was laughable.

It was truly embarrassing how many evenings I spent bent over the table, tongue peeking out of my mouth as I as carefully as my clumsy hands allowed me traced Hoseok’s name into the soft clay, hoping that maybe I’d already written it so many times those lines were pressed into my muscle memory.

Even with the practice I allowed myself, I still burned through the stack of the forms pretty quickly, always chickening out and fearing that it was just not perfect enough to get caught under a closer inspection. And closely inspect they would, the Hana Bank were no amateurs and they’d walk through fire for their clients. I didn’t know what the procedure was when we had a signed consent to get the statements, but when we delivered warrants, they sure fought it for as long as possible.

Some of my colleagues apparently even believed they even tipped the clients off sometimes, even though that was illegal.

So it had to be bulletproof. More bulletproof than Hoseok himself seemed to be.

On Wednesday a week later I walked through the office once more to nervously shift around the printer as it gave me a fresh copy of the official consent form to butcher at home, this time only one because it was suspiciously full today, with almost everyone present at their desks. I sincerely hoped no one was tracking my printing history.

It felt a little more concrete, having only a single try this time, like I really had to succeed, and I was determined to do so. So determined in fact, that I didn’t even notice when I basically walked straight into Minjoon who had been watching for an undisclosed amount of time, my arms and body immediately twisting so that the piece of paper stayed unharmed.

Minjoon’s arms wrapped around me to catch me, working against the momentum I put to work and instead pulling me closer to his body, to right me when I inevitably lost my balance. Very briefly I thought back to that sunny afternoon I broke into Yoongi’s office and then bumped into him on the corner, before I was forcing myself back into the present, quickly shuffling out of the detective’s arms. I was properly flustered at being caught so unaware, even as a pinch of fear ran through me at being seen like that, as if the others could sense what happened between us the last Friday of May.

“Whatcha doin’?” the man asked cheekily, completely ignoring the fact that seemingly everyone and their mother currently sat just a few feet away from us, our small little desks mushed together to fit into the tight space. On a cursory glance no one was overly paying attention, but one never knew.

All that was needed for me to lose everything was one nosy police officer making an anonymous complaint about me getting a little too chummy with my colleagues. ‘The only woman in an all-male unit fucked her way through the entire team’ was a rumour that would spread a little too well around these parts, especially if Park got involved.

“P-printing,” I blurted out before I could stop myself, instinctively taking a few cautious steps back. Minjoon noticed, and for a split second I saw hurt flash through his eyes before a sad kind of understanding settled in instead, and I heaved a sigh of relief.

“Coffee?” was the next question that came out his mouth, noticeably less cheery, but I still appreciated the exit he offered us, the chance to talk a little more openly without the very real possibility of everything spectacularly crashing down around us. So I just nodded and led the way, not even realising I was still clutching the freshly printed document.

Minjoon clocked it in too and as soon as we were settling down in the empty cafeteria, he was pointing at it with a jut of his chin, a silent question written into his gaze.

“O-oh yeah,” I stuttered through once again, cheeks colouring slightly in embarrassment even as the acidic feeling flooded me at the realisation I’d need to lie to him more, “I’m taking your advice. Someone in those cases might be willing to let me go through their finances, it would give me an advantage. I’ve been prepping it while Cheol’s gone.”

The man hummed in answer, but I could tell his interest laid somewhere completely else, eyes slightly glazed over as he stared intently into the cup of coffee gripped almost dangerously tight in his hands. Oh, so this wasn’t going to be professional chit-chat about work.

“What’s up?” I asked instead, meaning it as both a question about his current mood and the current happenings in his life. I hadn’t exactly given him many chances to catch me for a conversation these past two weeks, and I was starting to feel a little guilty about it; but every time he even as much as looked in my direction, I feared someone would immediately figure out what I’d done – let him fuck me in my living room, as if my bedroom wasn’t full of pictures of Yoongi and I didn’t still wear the little skirt I chose specifically to surprise the man. As if I still didn’t feel the phantom ghost of his presence by my side, and my mind still wasn’t stuck on that little red couch, three pairs of eyes glued to me while I sipped on a fruity cocktail and Yoongi whispered to me like a lover about to sweetly strangle me to death.

That’s what I’d done.

And Minjoon deserved so much better than that as well. I truly liked the man, I did so much, but the way Yoongi burrowed himself under my skin, like a permanent itch, it left barely an hour a day when I didn’t somehow think about him, even if that was the last thing I wanted to do. The man was like a curse, hanging over me and poisoning my mind until even a stupid black car reminded me of him, and I hated that with my whole being.

I didn’t want to do that to Minjoon, but now what was supposed to be a sweet moment will forever be tainted by the fact that I spoke to Yoongi the same day and somehow got myself stuck with the man firmly clawing his way into my consciousness every waking second of my every day.

When I went to him that one winter night, sitting in Dynamite for the first time across him, I had no fucking idea I’d end up here, with my entire existence carved and moulded around his in mere months.

‘I’m like mold, darling’ Yoongi had said, and at the time I had no idea just how right he was.

The awkward silence took over our table, both of us too troubled by our own thoughts, before Minjoon finally decided to take a step forward, looking like he’d been pushing himself to it for a long time and maybe now felt brave enough. How unfortunate that it coincided with the kind of spiral I was going through right opposite of him.

“I was thinking we could have a dinner together,” he suggested quietly, throwing little unsure yet hopeful glances my way, “like we used to.”

Like we used to. Like it was years, and not merely two weeks ago, that we last met for food outside of work.

“Is that a good idea?” when I asked that, I already knew my resolve was slipping, and I knew Minjoon knew that as well when he gave me a wide toothy grin, life pouring back into him and I saw a glimpse of the flirty attractive man he turned into when no one was around. I found my lips tugging into a grin too, wanting to follow his lead with no further prompting needed, but I pulled back until I heard what he had to say about this.

“No.” the word was simple enough, an acknowledgement – both of the fact that we were getting into trouble and the fact that we weren’t about to stop, “But you don’t strike me as the type that would mind that.”

Oh, if you only knew, I found myself wanting to say, but bit my tongue to keep those words in. You haven’t the faintest idea, were the next ones, and I just simply settled for an amused smile.

“Fine, then,” I said, and even as I put more sauce on the resigned tone in my voice, the lightness slowly spread down to my chest and a different kind of trepidation set in. And for once it felt like the good kind, even though I still couldn’t shake the feeling of doing something kind of wrong.

I wished it was easier to banish the thoughts of guilt from my mind – for having even slipped there during the intimate moments we shared. I wished even now I wasn’t thinking about how unsettling it felt with Yoongi being so clearly invested in my relationship with Minjoon. ‘Was it that night?’ as if he branded me by talking to me. Like he was trying to tell me ‘I got there first. It was me. ME’.

But I’d grown tired of that. I wanted to reclaim my life from his hands. And I wanted Minjoon and I didn’t want to feel guilty about it. I wanted to do it right. I didn’t want Yoongi interfering with that. And I sure as hell wanted to try.

I had a feeling that whatever happened this summer, wherever we were heading, it would come to a head now anyway, and everything would change between us. The warehouse murders, the Moon Jiwoo case, me hopefully finally cracking down on Hoseok, too many things that would put us clearly on opposite sides of the fight, and for all Yoongi tried to plant seeds of himself into me, soon I’d cross that line. And he wouldn’t be as friendly anymore.

Like it should have been from the beginning. As was right. The natural order.

Minjoon would still be here even after Yoongi had grown tired of playing with me, and it was time for me to move on from the frustrated obsessiveness he pulled me into when I interacted with him. I might have reconsidered a lot of things since the first time we spoke, broke a lot of my own rules, but the truth was still there – he was a criminal and it was my job to catch him.

“I still have a few things I gotta work on,” I was only half-lying to him, and I told myself that was somehow better than full-on lying, “so I’ll go back now.” The man hummed and nodded, and when I stood up, he made no move to follow – so I walked back to the office by myself, clutching the paper in my hand.

For the first time since Cheol left I opened my notes about the cases we were supposed to work on together and started quickly reading through. If I was going to tell people these forms were for this investigation, I needed names at the ready. If I stuttered and stumbled through some vague explanation, it could make them realise I was being suspicious. There had to be a concrete wall between them and the truth, so I sat there and built it brick by fucking brick.

When Minjoon came to my table hours later, the station was already almost empty and our office was void of any of our coworkers, which made it easier for me to relax about being seen leaving together. This time when Minjoon gestured to his car, I ignored mine own and went with him to his. I’d get my car tomorrow morning, and right now I just wanted to go.

The slightly awkward tense silence still hung about us, though both of us were considerably less high-strung. As I sat quietly in the passenger seat, I felt the brown-haired man sneaking glances at me, face open and curious, like he couldn’t believe he finally succeeded in talking me into talking to him again, and it had a tentative smile tugging at my lips.

He drove us a little further away from the Namyeong station, where we usually grabbed lunch due to the vicinity to our little police station, most probably to make sure we’d have privacy cause a lot of the restaurants around there already knew our faces and knew we were police officers. Though, he did drive us straight into Itaewon, which also didn’t serve my nerves too well.

If we bumped into Yoongi or another one of his clowns, I’d be forced to commit aggravated assault.

But thankfully without any problems we ended up in a small, cute hole-in-a-wall eatery that served ramen. Not one of us has spoken a single word yet, except for ordering, and the tension slowly grew as we knew we were nearing the point when we’d have to talk to each other.

Finally, Minjoon seemed to have reached the breaking point, and when he turned to me, I saw the determination in his eyes. I steeled myself as well, sipping from my coke to put a little barrier between me and the intensity he channelled.

“So… should we talk about it?” he asked simply, though he didn’t look strictly serious – there was still a light smile on his face, like even through his nerves he was sure I was already open to whatever he wanted. Which I was, so I smiled as well.

“Talk about what?” I teased him, cheekily throwing little glances towards him while I pretended not to pay attention by playing with the napkins. Minjoon didn’t seem offended, not at all, though he scoffed lightly and leaned back in his chair. For a moment my eyes jumped to the way his t-shirt stretched across his chest, before I looked back to the table with my cheeks a little redder than before.

“Should I describe in great detail what I mean?” Minjoon teased back, and I immediately held up my hand to him to stop him, even though we were both already snickering.

“I think there’s some things you can keep to yourself,” I grumbled back, feeling myself unfreeze and relax slightly. For a moment we just sat there and looked at each other with small grins, the atmosphere warming around us and reminding me of the way we’d enjoy each other’s company before. Then we both sobered up a little though, the reality of having to have this conversation fully sinking in.

“No, but really, we should speak,” Minjoon said again, this time a little more serious than before, and he leaned on the table, like unconsciously trying to shorten the distance between us, “Do you want this?”

The simplicity of the question and the straightforwardness of the statement momentarily shocked me, and I choked a little on the soda I’ve clutched in my hand this whole time. But I guessed there was no reason to beat around the bush – we’ve already crossed the line, there was no need for being all shy now. I still found embarrassment flooding me at the way I reacted though, and I cleared my throat.

“Do you want this?” I knew it wasn’t completely fair flipping this onto him when I didn’t answer the question myself, I knew it wasn’t fair having to know his answer before having the guts to make the leap of faith myself, but I couldn’t help the strands of doubt wrapping themselves tightly over my heart.

Minjoon simply stared me for a few seconds before he nodded. It was such an uncomplicated and yet resolute gesture, it robbed me of my breath momentarily. Could it really be that easy between us? Just acting on desire and need, ignoring all the things that could be at stake – just being together, like we were a normal couple of coworkers. Did he even fully realise what the consequences could be?

Still, I couldn’t stop the way my heart quivered in quiet hope, jumping in my chest at the idea and letting me run with the fantasy of sharing this with Minjoon. Aligning myself to where I was supposed to fit, doing the right thing with the right man by my side. He was a good detective, and a kind man, and as much as I feared getting found out, there was a part of me that yearned for getting to have that kind of connection with him. We were both on the same side, shared the same goals – we could be perfect like that.

“I understand why you’re hesitant,” Minjoon whispered when he sensed my conflicted state of mind, and offered me a small smile, “but I’m willing to risk it, for you. For us, really. I’ve never connected with anyone here this way, and I knew that you were something special from the moment you stepped through the door. I could see it all in the fire and determination in your eyes. I’ve enjoyed all our little chats, I’ve enjoyed being a mentor for you, I’ve enjoyed our dinners and the time we spent together outside of the precinct. And I’ve most definitely enjoyed our last time together.”

That had me lightly slapping his shoulder, even as I was smiling to myself about his words. Minjoon laughed, the genuine cheerful sound cutting through the atmosphere between us and pulling me along.

“Minjoon, I…” the words simply escaped me, and I had no idea how to express the storm of thoughts, worries and emotions, but I figured I owed him to try. “I’d like that. A lot. I’ve also enjoyed our time together, but my standing in the unit is already quite precarious. I don’t really even care about breaking the rules, I’m just scared. Of what it will do to my career were something to get out. If the situation was different, I would have loved giving this a try, truly I would.” I tried softening the blow with a smile, but I knew I looked more sad than reassuring.

“We’d be careful,” Minjoon whispered to me, hopeful grin in place and I could already feel myself slipping again, “We’d make sure no one knew. Y/N, I don’t want to do anything that hurts you. I’d never let that happen.” He reached over the table to grab my hand, and I almost jerked back before realising we weren’t at the station and I didn’t have to worry about being seen together. Minjoon noticed my reaction, I could see it in the way the corner of his lips weighted down with the knowledge, but when his hand reached mine it was gentle and light.

“We both want this, and I think it would be a pity to not try,” he gently probed, leaning even closer to look into my eyes. I fought the instinct to dodge the eye contact and allowed myself to soak into his soft brown gaze. “It would be a pity to lose what we could have together, don’t you think?”

I saw the waitress approaching with our orders out of the corner of my eye, so I pulled away and softly dropped my hands to my lap to give her space to put our food on the table. Minjoon’s face dropped for a second before her approach registered in his mind too, and we both attempted to focus on the food for a moment.

Silence settled over us as we both dug in, the atmosphere surprisingly not as oppressive as I feared it might have been, but still a sense uncertainty hung in the air.

I spent the entire meal mulling over his words. I knew what decision I wanted to make, and I knew what decision I could afford to make – and they were not the same. Minjoon’s soft insistence that he’d shield me from the bad warmed my heart, I felt touched by his genuine words, but at the same time – how much control did we have over this?

To take the leap of faith and potentially face losing everything, or to continue living by the side of what could have been and awkwardly bumble through every interaction?

‘Did you fuck the detective?’

Yoongi already knew. It gave him a direct fool-proof plan of getting rid of me should he choose to do so. He wouldn’t even have to plan anything, wouldn’t even have to plant anything on me. He’d just report our relationship, and the rest would be done for him. And the sad thing was it would be a bigger hit for me than if he’d plant cocaine on me.

And once again I had to face what my life had become – Yoongi’s echo chamber. Everything I did and everything I chose to do or not to do, it always came back to him, and for a brief moment I mourned the control over my life that was taken from me when I stepped into this investigation. But that was all the more reason to bring him down.

In a moment of panic I just wanted to run from everything. I was so overwhelmed and I felt like a child in many things – choosing things with potentially devastating consequences knowing I couldn’t ever make a fully informed decision. And living with knowing I’d always managed to choose the thing that brought me into a worse situation.

I wanted to trust Minjoon’s reassurance, and I wanted to take the leap, but something kept me firmly tethered to the dark little spot I made for myself here at the rock bottom.

Not many words were exchanged between us after that, and once we finished our meal, we quickly found out there wasn’t much point in staying out longer. Minjoon still watched me with hopeful eyes and I still found myself hesitating every single time, not capable of giving him what he asked of me.

Sleeping with him complicated everything, and while I wouldn’t say I regretted doing it, I thought to myself quietly that given the chance to make that decision again, I wouldn’t do it – just to spare myself this strange vacuum we were suspended in – sitting side by side, yearning, yet not brave enough to take the final step. Well, at least I wasn’t.

Minjoon drove me home, his presence as calming as it was anxiety inducing, the silence spreading over us in an all-encompassing embrace. I couldn’t decide how I felt.

Just like that night, he insisted on walking me to my door, and just like that night I accepted after slight hesitance. Minjoon lingered a little, hand almost instinctively reaching out to me endlessly – always gripping onto my sleeve for just a second before letting go. I could see he wanted to speak, to say more, but didn’t know what.

I knew what he meant to do when he stepped closer though, and I’d later tell myself I didn’t have enough time to stop him, to protest when he leant down with his eyes burning into me, lips gentle and reverent in how he slowly kissed me.

I couldn’t help the way my heart lurched in joy, couldn’t help how I reached out back just as instinctively to hold onto him when he briefly pressed closer. Couldn’t help the slight ring of disappointment when he pulled away, and with a last boyish grin walked away.

As soon as the door closed behind me, the weight of my reality settled back into my shoulders and the giddy feeling slowly trickled out of me. The state of my living room was an endless testament to the situation I’d gotten myself into – covered in a layer of documents with failed forged signatures, and the space that was clean of that was filled with dirty clothes or dishes.

My living room was cluttered with the signs of my planned crimes, and the ones I’d already committed also, and for a moment I had the terrible feeling – that maybe it was Minjoon who should have been fearing a downfall through his relationship with me. That maybe it would be me who ended up dragging him down.

With a sign I pushed away all thoughts of the evening I had, cleaning out my mind – because that always made it easier to cope, and I didn’t have the capacity to face everything right now.

I felt kind of queasy and scared and all I could think about was storming Yoongi’s club to distract myself, my treacherous mind supplying this idea to me like it was a cure and not the root of all of these problems.

Instead I sat down onto my cluttered couch and pulled out the single copy of the bank search agreement, pulling out the tools I’ve made myself in the weeks I tried. With shame I scribed Hoseok’s signature on there from memory, my wrist already familiar with the movements, before I reached over for the stamp with a jittery anxious heart.

This was the last attempt. If I didn’t like this, I’d stop. Clearly it was a sign for me to let this go – and I promised myself – if I messed this one up, it was the last I did.

I tried the stamp out a few times on a different paper, and this one did look the most accurate out of all the ones I did before. The ring around the name was finally symmetrical, and the characters didn’t look as if they were written by a first-grader anymore. With one last deep breath, I rolled it in the red ink and without hesitating a second more, slapped the stamp onto the document.

There was a strange stillness when the deed was done – as if I slowly accepted the decision I’ve come to within myself when I saw it. It didn’t look perfect, and I argued it couldn’t anyway – not even by his own hand the signatures looked all the same. There was a certain margin of error and doubt involved, and the moment I saw the signed and stamped document, I knew in my heart that it was close enough to pass.

Strangely, a trickle of disappointment lit up my chest – maybe I was hoping for it to fail, so that I could talk myself out of this insanity. But would I have stopped? How many times did I promise myself I’d keep my distance and how many times did I actually honour that?

How much time would it take before I tried again?

Leaving the document sitting in the middle of my table like it was a part of an exhibition, I slowly walked over to my bedroom, and I stared into Yoongi’s eyes on my wall before the sleep claimed me, clothes unchanged and all.

The sleek interior of the office unnerved me, and I watched the wooden carving lining the walls with endless curiosity. This was definitely a space where I firmly didn’t belong, and I felt it in the expensive interior and in the strange looks I got from the employees and the occasional client passing through.

I must have been standing out like an ugly bruise, all wonder-eyed and nervously sitting in one of the modern-like chairs, wearing my best clothes that still must have looked like rags to everyone around me, as they were draped in high-end brands from head to toe.

Bitterly I thought to myself that this surely was a crowd Yoongi must have felt very comfortable with, but any thought of the man cranked up my anxiety to new heights. Currently I was panicking about him potentially having an appointment here for today – and what a coincidence that would have been.

The Hana Bank headquarters, situated on the Eulji-ro intersection, was a sleek glass skyscraper with even sleeker cold interior full of squeaky-clean shiny blocks of sandy brown marble. Once I recovered from the initial wonder about the reception space complete with artworks and a fancy café, I stuttered out to the bored receptionist about my surprise visit and she let me up here into the office, where I was currently waiting for someone to talk to me.

And after what felt like ages, during which I sat there and stewed in my own fear and shame, I finally saw someone walking towards me.

“Miss Lee?” a nicely dressed woman stopped by my chair, her heels clacking on the floor loudly, and I stood to meet her halfway. I felt her heavy judgmental gaze on me and I felt the need to defend myself that I wasn’t here looking into my banking options, but kept my mouth shut and just followed after her when she gestured for me to join her.

Of course I wasn’t there about banking, I was on the wrong floor for that.

She walked me down the white and brown hallways until we reached a door that said ‘Kim Jaejoon, Director of Risk Management Division’. With a single knock she was gone, leaving me standing there like a fool.

“Come in,” a voice came from inside, and I struggled to put an age to it.

Upon my entrance, I quickly realised the white and light wood theme persisted in here too, and the uniformity of it all started grinding at my gears. The poshness of it all became almost laughable to me and the insistence on appearing a certain standard turned almost tacky.

I said nothing though, and sat down when offered.

The manager was an older gentleman, elegant and keeping a certain young-like vibe, no doubt through living a very comfortable life. He smiled politely, in a practiced way, but I couldn’t really force myself to return it through all my nerves.

“What can I do for you, officer?” he asked in that practiced slyness, and I decided that there was no point in beating around the bush. I reached into my bag and pulled out the cursed document, a weight falling off of my shoulders as soon as it was placed on the table, like I’d finally rid myself of the burden of it. Now I only had to sell it.

“I came here to obtain Mr. Jung Hoseok’s financial records,” I tried to match his energy, and hoped that I didn’t sound too hill-billy, “We’ve been investigating him and he graciously agreed for us to have access to his information.” If he only heard me, god. I’d be dead meat.

The man pulled the piece of paper to himself, squinting eyes in concentration as he read through the official form. I watched with bated breath as his gaze slid expressionlessly over the signature, moving on immediately to look at me again.

“Mr. Jung is one of our top clients, I hope you understand that I’d like to discuss this issue with our lawyer first before I grant you access,” he spoke diplomatically, keeping one hand on the paper, his smile turned sharper now that I was after someone he no doubt swore to protect.

I nodded and offered him a smile. I hoped he wouldn’t contact Hoseok himself – because if he did, I might not live long enough to hear back from them. I was expecting for him to show me out, but instead he picked up a phone and dialled a number so quickly it had to be at the top of his caller’s list.

It took barely a few seconds before the call was answered and I watched as he gave me a wooden smile while he explained the situation.

“It is signed, yes,” he told the phone, a bit of frustration bleeding through as he narrowed his eyes at the document, “I can send it over to you.” There was an answer that he didn’t like, telling by the way his eyebrows cinched together in a frown, clear annoyance taking over his expression.

“Yes, I said it already… Yes, there is a date… What? What do you mean? That can’t-“ I sat there and listened to him get angry, though he did try to be discreet about it. I put on a disinterested face, but I was listening in with stomach knotted in nerves, straining my ears to catch the lawyer’s answers.

“But don’t you want to see it first?” he asked finally, resignation settling in before he got what I assumed was the final confirmation and set the phone down on the table.

“Sorry about that,” the man told me, but he looked more annoyed when he looked at me again, “They seem to be quite busy. According to what he told me, I’m required to honour your request as it is an official document and you proved yourself with a badge.” Every word sounded like an accusation, and if I didn’t forge that document myself, I might have been peeved at his clear anger at having to honour the law. As it stood now, I was breaking it instead, so I let it slide.

“You’re entitled to the last year of the records, so you can expect it by afternoon today or at the very furthest tomorrow noon,” the man conceded finally, looking thoroughly peeved at me. Sorry for investigating a serial killer, I guess?

“Well, you’ve got my work email,” I said, just to have something to say, and then awkwardly sat there with his expectant gaze at me, before I realised he wanted me to leave. I scrambled to stand up and gather up my things because fuck this guy, I didn’t want to stay either, and he gave me the first pleasant smile since I got here.

After exchanging some wooden pleasantries and polite conversation, and after some more reassurance that he’d send the materials over, I found myself standing outside in the blisteringly hot street with the sun bearing down on my already burnt skin, wondering what the fuck just happened.

I checked my phone for time in disbelief, reading the little numbers over and over again like the piece of technology was somehow lying to me. I was in his office for all of 13 minutes. I waited in the lobby for almost twenty, and then I was out in thirteen.

I committed a crime, and all it took was not even a full quarter of an hour and not a single security check.

As I crossed the street to get back to my car, I had to wonder – was it always this easy or was it because I had a badge that nobody cared?

I spent weeks stressing myself out over a forgery for one of the most prestigious banks, only to be given the clear upon the decision of a single guy after his lawyer told him he’s too busy? It was almost laughable.

I kind of wished I could have asked Yoongi to compare notes with him. How long does it take you to commit a crime? Cause I bet I can do it faster with my badge. Ain’t got nothing on me, baby.

Sitting down behind the wheel, I almost didn’t know what to do with myself. The anxious energy that swelled up inside of me now didn’t have any outlet and I found myself squirming and overthinking, still expecting something terrible to happen the moment I let my guard down.

But even after I spent full twenty minutes sitting in my car staring at the building of the bank (which, if I didn’t look suspicious before, I definitely did now), nothing happened. People walked by, some walked inside, some continued on, some walked out, cars buzzed by. Nobody looked towards me, nobody seemed to care for my presence. Nobody was angrily chasing me down demanding an explanation. Everything went on as usual.

I pulled out of the parking spot absent-mindedly, thoughts going a mile a minute, but heart finally calming down slowly. I wasn’t even really thinking of where I was going, but my body worked on autopilot, clearly deciding for me where to go while I was still mentally stuck in that sleek white room, sitting across the bank manager calling his lawyer.

And that’s how I ended up sitting in my car right across Pied Piper, at 11 am, flabbergasted at how I even got there. Mindlessly I walked over, no plan no nothing, just plain curiosity and a propensity to making bad decisions.

Two bouncers stood in front of the club, smoking and clearly tired, but both perked up the moment they realised I was heading for them. I saw them gearing up to deal with me and send me away, before the taller one’s face lit up in recognition and he slapped the shoulder of his buddy to stand down. When I got to them, I was already intrigued at what the interaction was going to be like, but instead of telling me anything, the taller of the duo opened the door with a shit-eating grin and motioned for me to get inside.

I already held a personal grudge against the other two bouncers, and I certainly wasn’t planning on embarrassing myself in front of these two as well, so I hid my confusion about suddenly gaining a VIP 24/7 access and walked in without uttering a single word, feeling their amused gazes on my back. It sent shivers down my spine, but I figured I shouldn’t be looking down on such sudden luck.

Unless the only reason they let me in was that Yoongi was by some miracle here at the moment, in which case it would be weird and eerie that I ended up here at the same time. I would even consider visiting a shaman, if that ended up being the truth.

The club was of course completely empty – and now fully lit up, without the blaring music and empty of dancers it felt less glamorous and more like a big sad room full of discarded trash, spilt drinks and other liquids I’d rather not think about. The grey on the walls was way bleaker in this light, and I could clearly see how the floor was wearied down by daily use, same as the tables and chairs and couches – where every little stain was suddenly visible, and I vowed myself to never sit on any of those.

My reverie was broken by a melodic voice, and I turned from where I was standing motionlessly just staring emptily into the room.

“Hey, how can I help you?”

There was a boy behind the bar. Well, I say boy – he looked incredibly youthful, especially when his expression broke into a friendly smile, but couldn’t have been much younger than me. Might have even been slightly older. He was leisurely wiping down the counter, no doubt trying to deal with the disaster left behind by a busy night, but there was this cool vibe to him and he moved with a certain swagger.

When I turned to face him, his eyes took me in and I think we might have simultaneously realised we knew each other, because just as I thought back to the memory of him trying to lure me to his bar up in the VIP section with his smiley barkeep charm, he suddenly piped up again.

“Yoongi hyung isn’t here right now,” he offered me the information he probably thought I sought after, and I fought the angry blush off of my face.

“I’m just passing by,” I answered him with a forced nonchalant flare, going back to looking around the room to appear more care-free, and not like I absolutely had no idea what I was doing. Which was always true.

The guy hummed and moved on to shining the glasses with a special rag of some sorts. He didn’t let my attitude bring him down though and kept smiling towards me, almost as if he was blissfully unaware of who both me and his boss were. He probably thought we were some kind of friends.

“Oh, but Hobi hyung is here,” he supplied more details, chattering off excitedly when he caught my attention, “he came in like fifteen minutes ago to get TaeTae hyung, I think he promised to drive him somewhere.” I took a few steps closer to him, hesitating but kind of tempted to sit with him at the bar and just pull whatever he wanted to share out of him. He definitely seemed the type who loved to share.

The name Hobi also rung some kind of bell to me, but I couldn’t fully place it. I’ve gone through so many materials pertaining to the Min gang that I couldn’t remember everything, and I told myself it was probably someone that had a case against them once and I remember it from there. I didn’t care much for this apparent chauffeur of Taehyung’s and instead slinked closer to the guy.

He gestured towards the seat across the bar, and that sealed the deal for me. As soon as I sit down, he was offering me his hand, and I shook it with only slight hesitation.

“I’m Yeonjun. We kind of saw each other around, but hyung never introduced us,” Yeonjun told me excitedly, and I kind of hated having to burst his bubble.

“Hi Yeonjun, I’m detective Lee,” I braced myself for some kind of reaction – really anything would have been appropriate ranging from worry to curiousness to mistrust. I wasn’t really expecting the joyful barkeep to raise one eyebrow at me with a smirk and say: “Well, I doubt that’s your name, detective.”

For a moment I stared at him in surprise, eyes owlishly blinking and mouth barely keeping shut, but I pulled myself together with an embarrassed smile.

“You’re right, it’s Y/N.”

Yeonjun smiled all friendly at me again, no sight of the knowing smirk that slipped onto his face for a second, and I realised I might be dealing with much more of a professional than I initially thought.

“So, what are you here for today? Probably not to dance,” he gestured to the empty silent club, momentarily pausing with a glass precariously hanging from his other hand before he resumed the shining, “though if you feel like it, help with clean-up will definitely be very welcomed.”

I grinned at him and leant down on the bar, propping my head up on my hand to make myself more comfortable.

“Thanks, but I think I’ll pass on that,” I sassed back, curious eyes sliding over the design of the bar, drinking in every little detail. It somehow felt a little forbidden to be so casually sitting here in broad daylight, and I wanted to use the chance to look around well.

“Yeah, figured,” Yeonjun snorted and moved on from glasses to wiping down the bottles of alcohol that were no doubt all sticky from layers of spilt drinks. Silence settled over us and I wracked my brain to come up with any topic to talk about, opening and closing my mouth endlessly, but always changing my mind last minute. What does one talk about in a situation like this?

Well, in the end it didn’t matter anyway, because just then my attempts were ruined by cheerful voice booming over the room.

“There’s one of my babies! How’re you doing, Jjunnie?” a loud joyful scream interrupted our stilted conversation, and I froze in my seat, fear taking over for a few seconds. Just like that, the sudden realisation why the name Hobi seemed familiar to me hit me in the face like a truck full of bricks.

I turned slowly, almost too slowly, only to come face to face with a wildly smiling happy Hoseok swaggering down the stairs, all care-free and feeling very at home with arms flailing dramatically about. I saw the moment he clocked me in, the moment his eyes slightly narrowed and his smile turned more stilted, but he said nothing and did nothing. When he finally reached the bar, he was acting like nothing was wrong, and reluctantly I went along.

“I see that you’re entertaining one of our friends,” were his only words acknowledging my presence, before he turned to Yeonjun, eyes full of warnings. The boy chuckled, eyes rolling slightly at the older man.

“Yes, Miss Detective finally introduced herself to me,” came his answer, and as far as subtlety goes, this one was about as obvious as the Moon in the sky. He could have just come straight out and say ‘don’t worry, I won’t spill, I know she’s police’, but nonetheless I was glad I wasn’t getting some rando in trouble with Hoseok.

Though, he did call him his baby. Probably not a rando then. I looked Hoseok up and down, ignoring his slightly peeved aura – a lover maybe? I guess for a man as busy as him it’d kind of make sense if he was messing around with the employees. Where else do you meet people to fuck when you’re Min Yoongi’s phantom.

My eyes flitted between the two men, the dots somewhat connecting, when Yeonjun’s embarrassed face caught my attention.

“I feel like there’s a misunderstanding happening,” he quipped in, watching us with wide but amused eyes, and I turned back to him. His dark black-reddish hair was glistening under the lights of the bar, and the unusual mixture of colours kept catching my eyes.

“Well, I had no idea I was talking to one of Hoseok’s babies,” I teased the man, though I sounded much too disgruntled to carry the vibe of care-free joking, “if you ever need help, I have a crucifix and garlic in the back of my car.”

Two different voices burst into laughter and filled the empty room almost to the brim, and I was flabbergasted by the chance that I made Hoseok laugh – but the second laugh wasn’t his (though I did see his lips twitch to smile). Suddenly there was an arm thrown over Hoseok’s shoulders where he stood leaning on the bar with his side, and Taehyung emerged from behind him with amused eyes sparkling at me. I paled.

Great.

“I don’t consider myself overtly religious, but I’ll take the garlic,” Hoseok joked back, for a moment taking a break from casting dark glances in my direction (which I greatly appreciated), “I’m sure hyung would find a use for it.” Hoseok had two hyungs, but at that moment Seokjin completely slipped my mind and it jumped straight to Yoongi “making use of it” and I frowned in disgust.

“How? To stuff it into the fresh wounds of his torture victims?” my lip turned down as I sneered, turning my face into this sardonic grimace, which Taehyung readily laughed at. I think it might have been this point where Yeonjun realised he probably was in over his head in this conversation, and the poor guy watched us throw not-so-friendly jabs left and right with an awkward smile.

“Wow, you’ve got quite the imagination,” Taehyung teased, pretending to be shocked by my ‘brutality’ and almost even going as far as to clutch his metaphorical pearls while I rolled my eyes to high heaven.

“Ever consider getting employed here? Sounds like you’d fit right in,” Hoseok’s voice cut through the room and hit right where it hurt, and it didn’t help that this was the first thing he genuinely laughed at.

A frown pulled at my face before I could stop it, and with the way my lips curled in barely supressed anger, it must have been clear to everyone the effect the words had on me. And I felt like a big old fool for getting angry at it – because it was like confirming an anxiety – like if they could see it in me then every worry I had about the state of my own morals was right and warranted. In a twisted sense, it wasn’t even his fault I was mad about it, and it sucked.

So I pulled myself together and played it off, ignoring the painful tug of my heart and the way it beat hard and fast, like it was trying to escape out of my chest. Like I was found out.

And to make matters even worse, that was the moment Yoongi stepped in – scanning the room with eyes that were already searching for me, a big silver briefcase in an AP watch adorned hand, sleek and elegant and put together as always.

He walked to us with a small smirk playing on his lips, but like he sensed my raging emotions he aimed straight for me – until he was standing so close to my side I was once again greeted with the spice of his perfume and the warmth of his body.

Throwing an arm around my shoulders much like Taehyung did to Hoseok, he sent the gathered men a mischievous reprimanding gaze. “Stop bullying my police officer, you know she tends to run away when spooked,” he joked, but I was too lost in my own mind to even snap back at how he clearly depicted me as some wild scared animal.

Because from the moment his arm touched me, it was like a scalding hot iron brand was wrought around my body – and I realised this might have been the first time we touched – it felt like the first time we touched, because I’d remember this kind of feeling running through my shuddering body. I’d remember what the overwhelming sense of being drowned in him felt like.

But then a memory flitted to the forefront – yes, we touched before. I crashed into him outside his office and he caught me (everything always coming back to that damned tracker). But why didn’t it feel like this? Why didn’t I feel the strange heat enveloping me from inside out and why didn’t I already have the scent of his cologne mixed with the slightest tang of sweat burned into my brain?

Because now I did.

The weight of his arm didn’t move, and when my crisis calmed down slightly, I could even hear the other’s voice as if from far away. I heard Yeonjun’s drawl and Taehyung’s laugh, I heard Hoseok’s high-pitched cheerful yelling now that Yoongi was here and I was out of the conversation. I also heard their steps when they walked away and the subsequent silence during which Yoongi still didn’t move.

I sat there quietly, hoping to vaporise into the air to not deal with this right now, but of course the man wouldn’t let me go now. When his hand clamped over my shoulder so he could steer me where he wanted me to go, I went easily, not fighting the momentum at all.

Yoongi pulled me through the club up the stairs to the VIP section, leading me to the already very familiar balcony, and still keeping me firmly under his arm even though it made our sides rub against each other – my cheap shirt to his expensive suit. As we passed the top bar, I realised Yeonjun moved from downstairs up here to repeat the whole process of the clean-up, and he sent me a little wave.

When we arrived into the privacy of the balcony, I was expecting Yoongi to immediately let go, but he even went as far as to deposit me on the sofa where Taehyung usually sat before he himself settled down in his own usual spot, watching me with an entertained smirk.

For what felt like hours no one said anything, and slowly I came down from my embarrassment to tap back into the endless frustration I had towards this man. It also didn’t help that now I felt almost miserably cold after spending those several minutes melting under his aura, and the way my body reacted to that made me both ashamed and confused.

Refusing to deal with another thing in the long line of forbidden topics that slowly built up around this man like some ancient mythos, I instead turned away to face the entrance, catching glimpses of busy feet running about while cleaning.

The silence now suddenly felt like a competition – who would break first and start the conversation? Who’d beg the other to speak?

So I stubbornly pursed my lips and avoided looking at the man.

Yeah, well, too bad I wasn’t exactly known for my patience.

“You know fucking your employees is bad for business?” I threw out the first thing that came to my mind, thoughts straying back to happy Hoseok screaming at the top of his lungs, “I’d expect a businessman like you to know that.”

Yoongi simply raised his eyebrow, looking on the verge of laughter as I stewed in my own anger.

“Having another jealous tantrum, are we?” he teased back, pointedly ignoring my jab and turning it around at me.

“Another? Jealous tantrum? I don’t know which one of us is constantly asking inappropriate personal questions,” I huffed and grumbled, still looking away from the man, “I’m talking about Hoseok and Yeonjun. He called him his baby.” I didn’t know why this was the hill I chose to die on, but my pride was a terrible thing and didn’t allow me to pull back now, much to Yoongi’s amusement.

I heard his chuckles, a melodic and almost ironically joyful sound, before he leant forward into my field of vision – holding my gaze now that I was caught back into his charm.

“Hobi calls them his babies because he trained them, not because he fucks them,” the man explained in that voice one uses on a petulant child, further ruffling my feathers, “He trained our babies too.” For a moment I wondered to who he was referring to as our babies, before the realisation that he was talking about Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook smacked me in the face and I blushed. Right, not ours but theirs.

“Hoseok trained everyone? I guess that does make sense,” I mumbled more to myself, leaning back into the sofa subconsciously to make myself more comfortable. The mental image of teenage Hoseok in a fighting ring flew in front of my eyes, all bloodied and fighting for his life like a dog, young and feral and scared. That he trained Jungkook made perfect sense, though Yeonjun – why would he need training? Was he more than just a chatty waiter?

But after all, in a life like this everyone needed to know how to fight at least a little. I knew how to fight and I barely ever got out of the office. Unless I was annoying Yoongi.

Speaking of the man, I finally turned to face him, finding him sitting comfortably in his spot watching me with curious eyes, a soft grin playing on his lips.

“So what have you got in the store for me on this fine morning?” the man asked conversationally, fingers twitching as if on instinct to grab a whiskey glass. Well, I guess that was our usual set-up, so I couldn’t blame him for being a little confused.

“Or maybe this month?” he fished more, trying to push me into a conversation. He probably thought I was still sulking, so I ignored how embarrassing that was of me and grinned at him like we were great friends.

“Nothing special,” I teased, going for that whole mysterious vibe and shit, hoping my theatrics hid the way I shook inside from all the events I’ve already gone through that day – and it was only a bit after 11 am. Crazy, is what I was.

“Really? All that talk about having such amazing games prepared for me and you have nothing special ready?” The reminder of our last meeting nearly made my eye twitch, though my expression did sour – much to the amusement of my host.

“What? Not even your detective’s amazing skills made you less mad about that evening?” Yoongi’s voice was so happy, like he stumbled on a diamond mine by accident, and I scrambled to shut that line of conversation down as quick as possible.

“No, no, no,” I wagged my finger in his direction like I was reprimanding a misbehaving dog, “We’re not discussing that. Stop bringing that up, I’m also not asking about what you were doing to that girl when you got the call to come to The Rose.” Yoongi’s eyes immediately lit up at the mention of that, pulling an annoyed groan out of me. I should really learn to keep my mouth shut sometimes.

“You could you know, I’m an open book,” he said, vibe dripping in self-assuredness to almost a maddening degree, as he draped himself over that red velvet sofa, dressed in his nice black suit and with an infuriatingly amused expression on his face, I could see clearly how unbothered he was by everything. How this was such a fun game for him. Pissing me off.

“That’s why I don’t,” I growled right back. I could already imagine how happily he’d divulge any details, as long as it made me embarrassed. I wouldn’t trust a single word coming out of his mouth, but I’d still blush and be angry and cuss him and run out, just to spend the whole day thinking of his teasing words. We’ve been here before – there was no need to test that again, I knew he was perfectly capable of spilling anything just for a reaction back.

The conversation stalled a little after that, as Yoongi seemed to be too busy watching me with sparkling eyes, like a cat playing with its food, and me like a mouse squirming in my seat, knowing I was always on the verge of being devoured by a giant. Yoongi’s smooth sharp claws were already deeply embedded into me, now it was only a matter of time when he’d get hungrier.

“I hope you’re at least putting my tracker to good use” was his next quip, after a moment of silence, and that’s how I knew he was really trying to piss me off. And almost loyally, I as always gave him that satisfaction he craved from that.

“Why are you so obsessed with the tracker?” my voice took on almost a whiney annoyed edge, drowning out the giggling of the man as my face twisted into an annoyed scowl.

“Well, it is mine.. And I have a very hard time parting from what belongs to me,” he drawled out, voice suddenly taking on a much more seductive quality, and I cursed him for really trying to pull out all the stops here.

I leant back into the sofa and looked at him, properly took him in for the first time that day. As always, he wore loose dress pants with an incredibly soft looking airy t-shirt tucked into them and a blazer thrown over that, all in black. I doubted I ever saw him in any other colour, taking the time to dip into my mental catalogue of Min Yoongi and only coming up with black, white and greys.

He was way more comfortable and relaxed than I ever remembered him, and that said a lot since we were talking about Yoongi here – the king of appearing unbothered by mortal affairs. Something just put him into an extraordinarily good mood today, and for a moment I feared he already knew about my visit to the Hana Bank head office. After all, it wasn’t out of the realm of possibilities they’d try to double check with Hoseok on whether he was cool with sharing his records with the police – but if that was true, I doubt the man himself would joke around with me at the bar.

“What, are you like a dragon protecting its hoard?” I shot back after a while, getting back to the teasing back and forth once Yoongi let me stare my fill, nothing but his lips quivering to stretch into a smirk betraying that he was paying close attention to my very obvious ogling.

“No, that would be silly,” the man chuckled, hand playing with the hem of his jacket almost coyly as he spun his tales, “I’m just a poor boy that got his grubby little hands on some gold and now doesn’t want to let go.”

“Some? I’d argue it’s way more than just some gold,” I gestured wildly around the balcony and the club, and even with the very lavish furnishing, it still felt like a criminal understatement. I’ve seen The Rose, I’ve been to his office – and I dare say that were I to visit his house, I’d see even more, not to mention his never-ending collection of expensive brand hand-tailored clothes. A normal person wouldn’t even be able to comprehend the amount of his wealth.

“Yeah? Are you impressed by the size of my empire?” his out-right coquettish tone didn’t really leave much space for me to misunderstand the clear innuendo, and I rolled my eyes at him.

“Gotta be impressed by the size of something,” I grumbled back, crossing my arms over my chest and doing my best to throw him the most uninterested glare I was capable of even with the heat in my cheeks at the subject we’ve found ourselves discussing.

“Well, why don’t you come over here and find out which is more impressive?” something dark flashed in his eyes as he said those words, legs parting on instinct and making everything a little more prominent to the eyes, “I know what I’m betting on.” I could have just combusted with how my eyes unwittingly slid down at the movement before I caught myself and forced them back up to watch his smirk turn sharper.

Even with the embarrassment flooding my system, I could feel the strange heat that spread through me at the look in his eyes and the words spilling out of his mouth in that rasp, and in shame I found my heart beating faster in some sort of twisted interest.

I squashed all that down, though there wasn’t much I could do about my flaming red cheeks. I hoped nothing more than mortification was visible in my expression though, because otherwise that would have been the end of me, and I’d never talk to the man again without him teasing me to death.

Fuck, I thought to myself, I’ve been neglecting myself more than I thought, because there’s no way Yoongi’s flirting was actually working on me.

“It better be the gold, Min Yoongi, otherwise you’d be a very stupid man,” I gritted through my teeth, through the humiliation, and tore my eyes away from the confusing mix of emotions flitting through the man’s eyes. I could swear I saw a flicker of open hunger in them, but I chose to lock the mental image of that deep down into myself, so deep that I’d never stumble upon it ever again.

When I looked to him again after a bout of tension-filled silence, he was already back to his self-assured relaxed self, smirking at me – though now there was a twinge of something in the edge of it, something that made my stomach roll in an unpleasantly positive way.

If I was counting our victories, this one would definitely go to Yoongi, and I knew I’d be feeling the aftermath for a long time.

“So you’re not here to talk about your colleagues breathing down my neck about certain murders that happened at Bukhang Port,” Yoongi sing-songed, like he was revealing some big secret – like he found me out and wasn’t fooled by my visit. I sat there flabbergasted.

Oh. Right. It had completely slipped my mind Minjoon and Hwang were going to go talk to Yoongi about it. Right, I did want to talk to him after the revelation was made, because I wanted to gloat and try to pull information out of him, but I was so swept away with my own plans that I was truly shocked he thought this is what today was about.

No wonder he was trying to push my buttons when I didn’t say anything – he wanted to provoke me into getting mad and pulling out the murders.

But I was also too embarrassed to admit to him that I had ended up here by a complete accident, so I just played along.

“Right… You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, Mr. Min?” I drawled out, playing my part as the detective – what he clearly wanted me to do, “I distinctly remember you lying to me about having no idea what happened there while slipping a tracker into my phone.”

“Me? Never,” he teased back, putting a hand to his chest and finally fucking pulling his legs more closed, “I don’t lie.”

Even with him basically spoon-feeding me the topic for conversation, I just couldn’t think of anything else to say – my brain was fried under the barrage of strange experiences I had this morning, and I couldn’t even pretend to be interested in those murders. And I ended up just… staring. At Yoongi.

To his great amusement.

“Well, alright,” he said finally when I failed to continue with the jabs, breaking our sacred ritual of pissing each other off until I run off, too angry to continue, “we can definitely go back to the earlier topic if you’ve got nothing to say on this one.” I couldn’t have that.

“They were drug dealers,” slipped out of my mouth, very intelligently, but at least it seemed to surprise the man for a bit before he smirked.

“Great job, detective,” he purred out, “What do you want as a reward for cracking such a tough case?” I flew forward before I even knew what I was doing.

“So you did know them?” He only smirked more, before pretending to turn disinterested in the conversation.

“I may have.”

I could see the way his eyes ever so often flicked to me to gauge my reaction, to see how interested I was with keeping the conversation alive, and I realised this was another game. A game to say just enough to keep engaging me, but never too much to actually give me anything. He just wanted me to banter.

“Yoongi,” I said his name, and it came out all weird, like I wasn’t meant to call him such to his face – but it did get his attention immediately with his eyes wide and jumping to me in a split second, “If you’re bored, I’m sure you can pay someone to keep you entertained. With the size of your empire, as we established, I’m sure you could afford that.”

When his smirk turned a little more savage, it felt like I won something too.

“Hey Min!” I called out to the man bent over his desk, punching something away into his computer. The second he heard my voice his head whipped up, and he smiled warmly my way. When I stepped closer to him, for a moment I worried he’d do something, but the man just sent me a sparkling wink and patted the seat next to him, which I took gladly.

“I’ve got a question,” I told him, and he chuckled, already used to my antics at the office. I did feel a little bad because I’ve been so over the place the last month, but there was a lot on my plate – and if everything panned out, there was about to be even more.

“Fire away,” he sighed and leant back into his chair, arms folding behind his head.

“When you went to Yoongi about the warehouse murders, what did he say?” I hoped my tone wasn’t too eager. Hoped there wasn’t that strange waiver after the kind of morning I had – after the things we said to each other in that empty silent balcony. Hoped he couldn’t reach into my mind and see how jittery I still was from the interaction.

Cause Yoongi sure could – to him I was more than an open book. Sometimes it felt like he could predict me, and it left me worried when I interacted with other people – people that weren’t supposed to see what I didn’t mind showing Yoongi, because he was already a lost cause.

Minjoon though… Minjoon couldn’t see, not when he looked at me with those excited hopeful eyes. Why did I feel as if I cheated on him? That was ridiculous.

“Well, he deflected as always,” the detective said, cutting straight through my inner turmoil, “told us he didn’t see why we bothered him with something that had nothing to do with any of his businesses. Couldn’t get a single word out of him about it.”

The man grimaced and gestured to his face vaguely before continuing. “Did that annoying thing he does… you know, when you just know he’s lying to you because he’s straight up laughing in your face, but doesn’t really say anything, so you’re just really mad?” He chuckled tiredly, and I felt terrible.

The revelation that Yoongi himself admitted to me just hours ago sat parked on the tip of my tongue, and I so desperately wanted to shout out that he knew the men who died – but how would I be able to explain having that information? How valuable really is something that was said between teasing jabs during a conversation that shouldn’t have been happening?

I swallowed those words, and they went down bitterly – but there wasn’t anything I could do to help Minjoon right now. If I shared, he’d only be suspicious of me. If I told him to not ask how I knew, he wouldn’t be able to bring the tip to anyone else anyway, without an unconfirmed source it was useless – and I couldn’t afford to further fall down the rabbit hole of lies and invent a convenient informant.

“Well, that’s just typical of him,” I ended up saying, somewhat awkwardly trying to play the whole thing off and change the subject, even though I was the one who brought it up.

“Hey, are you free tomorrow night?” Minjoon suddenly asked, totally out of nowhere, turning more towards me with a coquettish look on his face, and I felt simultaneously flustered and mortified. A quick cursory glance of the office showed that no one was really around, and those who were had their noses stuck deep into their own work and business, but still a shrill note of panic flew through me upon his open flirtation.

“Actually, I’m most probably going to need to stay late, so I gotta pass,” I answered, not even lying but still feeling guilty, especially with how Minjoon’s face fell. I wished I could explain to him more what was going on in my life – enough so that he wouldn’t think I’m just trying to dodge him – but I couldn’t. At least not now.

Not when he still wouldn’t understand why and what I was doing.

“But I could probably meet up the day after…?” I added after a moment, whispering the words into existence as if they were deeply forbidden; cursing my soft heart and cursing how I couldn’t stop myself from slipping – not when it came to Yoongi, and not when it came to Minjoon either.

The man’s face lit up like I’d told him Santa was real, and for a split second he reached over to grab my hand and squeeze it, before letting go and leaning into his chair again. The action was so quick even I had trouble processing what had just happened, but I still cast a quick glance around the room to make sure no curious eyes were on us.

Even with me all jittery and squirming on the seat, the man was unbothered as he returned to his computer, back to furiously typing out something. I glanced over his shoulder to peek in, meaning it as just a playful gesture, and Minjoon let me with a little grin.

What I got an eyeful of though was a team report about the murders full of information I hadn’t heard of. My name wasn’t on it.

My heart sank, but I was already used to living with that feeling.

I ended up waiting for those records until the afternoon the next day, when I finally got a very unpleasant email from even more disgruntled Mr. Kim linking a file with the last year worth of Hoseok’s finances. He very begrudgingly admitted their lawyers gave the form the green light after looking it over just to be sure, and I felt an immense sense of vindication. In the end the ‘justice’ prevailed, no matter what the truth really was.

I could hardly keep back the excitement, the burning need to look through them wracking through every nerve of my being, but I was too afraid of someone seeing what I was doing, so I had to painstakingly wait the whole day until the office emptied out, pretending to keep busy by menial tasks.

I’ve long since realised that no one really paid attention to what I did, and at least sometimes there was an advantage to that.

With the hours counting up on the clock, the office slowly emptied out – Park rushing out in his usual manner, slamming doors open and running through the space like a storm, while Minjoon took the time to stop by my table with a smile and a discreet wink, gesturing to his phone as he texted me he couldn’t wait for tomorrow.

I also made the decision to stop waiting on every little breadcrumb they decide to drop for me, tired of the way I begged every little information out of Minjoon. After seeing him write up his report yesterday afternoon, I decided rather than going the usual route and pestering him until he told me everything, I’d just simply request the document and read up on the case as he wrote it for Park – quickly realising there were many reports – way more than I was expecting, detailing everything, and most of all things that no one bothered telling me up until then.

So instead of doing anything productive or endlessly going through old cases, I sat down with the reports, catching up on everything that I missed by not being updated properly.

There was a lot of material. Interviews with dock workers I wasn’t notified about (they all denied hearing or seeing anything), one more visit to Mrs. Kim (which didn’t yield much of anything when she plainly refused to see them), endless references to in-person meetings and team briefings I was never invited to.

The latest one was full of frustration on Minjoon’s part – the still unknown third man, the stubbornly quiet people from the neighbourhood, Yoongi’s silence on the topic. From the first reports where he swore these must have been turf wars, he now made a pivot back to a drug deal gone wrong, citing Mrs. Kim’s words as the reason. He didn’t know why though. He just had several pieces of the very infuriating puzzle, but not enough to put together a clear picture.

What we knew was scarce – these boys were playing with things beyond their scales, they got into a skirmish with Yoongi, and found themselves solved by Hoseok. Who were they, how they got there and what they did to invite such trouble – we knew very little about that.

My name was mentioned in a few of those reports, mostly where Minjoon recounted my work on assembling the cases and looking into the Moon Jiwoo case, but otherwise it was all between him and Hwang, with the occasional quip from Cheol or Sunmi.

By the time evening came, I was so beaten down by the reports I almost didn’t even notice when finally the last person left the office and I was alone, free to comfortably investigate my own things without someone constantly walking behind my back.

Well, clearly my path to this unit didn’t lead through this team – it would have to lead through Yoongi himself then, and I was determined to put the work in.

Hoseok’s records were long and disorienting at first – a mess of numbers and locations that were foreign to me, and I spent a lot of time just googling names of places and putting them on the map.

About halfway through I got up and pulled the neighbouring table closer to add a second monitor to my own, so that I could comfortably see both. I felt both like a professional and like some underground vigilante, but it did significantly ease the whole process to me.

I spent hours there, just scrolling through endless spreadsheets, linking Hoseok’s whereabouts to several main areas.

Mostly the man just spent concerning amounts of money on clothes, watches and collector editions of sneakers (really, when I first saw the amount of money spent on a single shopping trip, I almost fell out of my chair), but after few very boring and confusing pages a few patterns started to emerge.

He liked to visit a small café near Jungkook’s office, he clearly had a favourite spot to have a lunch in for when he spent time around the docks. He spent a lot of money on food delivery – the amounts making me think they were probably for a team of people and not just for him. A lot of purchases happened in Gangnam too, real close to where Yoongi lived, which meant he might be living somewhere in that area too.

One of the more noteworthy ones were his weekly visits to a place called the Golden Lily, which at first glance seemed like a restaurant, but after some further digging turned out to be a very high-end brothel. As far as I could see, every Thursday without fail Hoseok went to this establishment and dropped a fat check there, probably paying for something even my wildest imagination couldn’t come up with (and honestly, I’d rather not try). Well, clearly I managed to stumble upon one of his vices – though he seemed like a man of many, with how much money he dropped everywhere he went.

After hours of going through the records and barely getting back a few months, I was fucking ready to pack it in and be happy with the info I was able to gather so far, but the combination of fear I’d miss something huge and the pure pettiness of ‘I committed a crime for this, so I’m fucking using it to the fullest’ kept me going long into the night – to a point I resigned myself to sleeping over at one of the couches in the break room. It wasn’t the most comfortable fit ever, but it would do.

And approaching 2 am, I finally came across something that was worth the determination and the pure torture I put myself through.

At the beginning of January of this year, Hoseok’s location suddenly shifted. The usual coffee spot didn’t come up, nor the odd little transactions from around Gangnam or Bukseong Port, and instead it filled with purchases in hotels and restaurants in Busan. Then Japan. Then Busan again. Then Seoul.

I looked through it again and immediately something screamed to me that this was somehow significant. It was just a few days, but it could have easily been a work trip – I knew that Yoongi had ties to yakuza, and Hoseok didn’t seem the type to go on vacations.

A woman on a mission, I quickly ran over to the meeting room, frantically looking through ‘the Yoongi wall’ and searching for any mention of his Japanese gang ties, but wasn’t able to find anything more than a brief mention of him being seen meeting up with Sato Masaru, which had to do as far as information went.

Running back like a headless chicken I slid onto my chair so hard it wheeled halfway across the room, and I had to awkwardly shuffle back to my table, where I logged back into the internal police database and quickly pulled any files I could find on the man.

There were also plenty, though most of them weren’t specifically about him but about his family as a whole (and his older brother mostly), and they were all signed off by names that were vaguely familiar to me as my colleagues, but I couldn’t think of whether I’d had a single conversation with either of those men.

A quick read-through (which I did clutching a cup of coffee and desperately trying to stay awake as my eyes started closing by themselves) told me that apparently, they were a family Yoongi struck up a connection with immediately after he claimed his throne. The oldest son of the family, Sato Daichi, at the time started taking over the ‘family business’ and took a liking to the struggling boy of a similar age, and the two empires have been moderately friendly over the years.

Problem was – Satos were based in Fukuoka and controlled most of the trade with Busan and Korea. Hoseok didn’t go to Fukuoka.

Double-checking just to be sure, squinting into the brightly lit monitor, I once again googled the name of the hotel he stayed at – and it was located in Kitakyushu, a city northeast of Fukuoka.

When running that name through our database didn’t give me much of anything, I groaned in frustration – because what do you mean that after spending hours on this and stumbling upon the first potentially interesting thing, it turns out to be a dead-end? Hoseok was really starting to piss me off with this.

After a few more failed attempts at finding out why that city specifically could be significant to Hoseok and Yoongi, I dejectedly went back to the financial records. And then, looking at the dates, something just… clicked in me.

Why did they feel so familiar? Why did I vaguely remember something happening at that time?

Absolutely crazed and on the verge of passing out from exhaustion, I dived under my table to fish out my bag, spilling it all over the floor in the process of raking through it with the grace of a bridge troll – I was able to find what I was looking for. My little black notebook, full of bullshit and useless little tidbits about Yoongi. Like what coffee he liked to drink, because I was genuinely insane and wrote down everything (also it wasn’t that hard to not remember – he liked plain unsweetened americano, and even during winter he alternated between getting the hot and the iced version).

Included in those notes were a few days of angry rambling – me losing my mind about Hoseok being nowhere to be found and wondering what the fuck was he doing and where. And the dates matched – even to the point of the very embarrassing stake out when Yoongi had Soobin bring me coffee happening only like four days after his return. And the warehouse murders happened a day before he left.

In a scrawl that was undecipherable even to me I wrote down the connection I seemingly made and with shaky hands turned back to the map of Japan I had pulled up and the Sato family files, reading through them again with more presence, though it took absolutely everything of me to not just fall asleep on the spot.

I was hoping that maybe I’d find a mention of the city – a suspected base, a warehouse, a fucking summer getaway cottage or some shit, just anything to signal why Hoseok travelled there of all the places, but the Satos infuriatingly seemed completely straying clear of there.

For a moment I even wondered whether I actually lost my mind and this was just a normal vacation. Everybody needed a break sometimes, didn’t they?

But then I noticed something – through the files and the reports, there was a name that kept coming up every once in a while – and from the way the detectives spoke of him, he must have been close to our unit. Baek-sunbaenim.

Going back to square one, I put his name into our database and was met with a friendly middle-aged face, distinctive black curls already greying through and an unkempt stubble giving him a bit of a rugged vibe. He seemed like the perfect example of a merry neighbourhood policeman – and he was apparently the chief of Busan’s narcotics and organised crime unit.

There, sitting by the brightly shining computer, eyes tearing up, completely deranged, at 3 am – the idea that suddenly burst into my mind like a wrecking ball through a cardboard wall seemed like the best one I’ve ever had.

Hoseok went to Japan around the time the murders happened. He didn’t visit the family Min gang was affiliated with, and instead went to a different city. He stopped in Busan both on the way there and on the way back.

Busan was somehow important. Baek-sunbaenim seemed to have a lot of expertise on Japan’s current crime scene, and he was in Busan.

Who was also in Busan? Cheol and Sunmi, chasing a serial killer.

Quickly turning everything off, I pulled away from the table and promptly stumbled like a drunken sailor the moment I tried getting on my feet. The world swung in front of my eyes for a moment before everything righted, and with shaky hands I grabbed everything I could see from the floor, stuffed it back into my bag and started the long and exhausting shuffle to the break room.

As I dragged my feet through the office, I reached for my phone.

There weren’t many people I was in contact with – the very few I usually kept up with offline, and there was little need for any kind of electronical communication. What was work related was kept to my email. Yoongi didn’t have my number, and I didn’t keep in touch with people from my childhood. As such, when I opened the messages app, the only chat that had been active in the past week was Minjoon’s still unread text about tomorrow’s dinner, and so it didn’t take long at all to find the only other person I’d been recently (in the past three months) texting.

Cheol picked up my call on the third ring, groaning into my ear sleepily with a healthy dose of annoyance, and I guiltily realised I was calling him literally in the middle of the night and other people actually slept instead of endlessly scrolling through miles of white spreadsheets until they were crying from the exposure (among other things).

“What happened?” his voice was all scratchy and raspy from being woken up, but I could still sense the tinge of worry as the detective started coming more to himself. There weren’t many reasons police officers called each other in the middle of the night, and none of them were good, so I couldn’t blame him for expecting some bad news.

With more guilt pushing into my heart, I vowed myself to buy the man at least a breakfast, a lunch and a dinner once I’d get the chance to, and with an equally tired voice I replied.

“Hey, Cheol… Do you think I could maybe come down to you to Busan? It’s work related…”

Previous part | Series masterlist | Next part

Taglist (open): @wobblewobble822 @viankiss @jjkwifestyle @mortal-body-timelesssoul @fullmetalavatar54

@ot72025 @jalexad @eleni-cherie @m00njinnie @mysteriousgeminizone

♡ MASTER TAGLIST (open) ♡

@afangirl91 @bear-hugs-and-kisses @luuucifer-writes @anjoellamorte @ami7-12bts

@thenaverse @shakespeare-in-the-park7 @karinaever @anaspectoflife @luvly-angel

@sousydive

#kpop fic #kpop smut #kpop angst #kpop fluff #bts fic #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #yoongi fic #yoongi smut #yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #yoongi x reader #abraxas series

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bulletproofscales · 2 years ago

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BTS sfw oneshots

jinnie's piggies (ot7 , feeder jin , drabble)

pampering the leader (minjoon , chubby namjoon , hurt and comfort)

they are all staring at you (yoonmin , chubby yoongi , poping buttons , public space)

chp2 (yoonmin , fat yoongi , bdsm , dom sub dynamics , hurt/comfort , use of safe word)

stubborn Yoonie (yoonkook , chubby yoongi , shaming)

zumba at 6:30pm (sope , chubby yoongi , zumba instructor hoseok)

miss the gym? (could be ot7 , jungkook centric , chubby jungkook)

his baby, his stuffed, gassy baby (taekook , chubby jungkook , gassy)

chp2 (taekook , chubby jungkook , gassy )

weird oportunity (could be ot7 , jungkook centric , chubby jungkook , insecurities)

stress eating (ot7 , fat hyung line , stuffing , hurt comfort)

teeny tiny house (2seok , fat hoseok , breaking furniture , hurt comfort , use of safe word)

MAMAs presentation doesnt have to be perfect (namseok , double gaining , hurt comfort kinda)

Jinnie’s...piggies? (ot3 , namjinseok , fat namjoon and fat hoseok , getting stuck in chairs , breaking the couch)

a 6 month hiatus does that to you (jungkook x reader , chubby jungkook , hurt/comfort)

Coca Cola and beer (hopekook , gassy jungkook , pinning , light angst)

the realest of selves (namkook , not feederism , established relationship , fluff)

“namjin evidence” (namjin , not feederism , established relationship , fluff and crack )

literature can be interesting? (sope , not feederism , uni professor au , fluffy , happy ending , pinning )

chairman sized (vminkook , fat jimin , getting stuck in chair , public space , wg denial)

bts x mcdonalds (ot7 , word dump , furtniture breaking , they all gain weight )

the gentler touches (trans guy hoseok , namseok , fluff , gender dysphoria , hurt comfort)

monthly charity carwash (bottom heavy seokjin , public space , carwash , word dump?)

how to train your hybrid, sorta (yoonkook , mutual gaining, fluff , stuffing

admiring you is a full time job (hopekook , drunken confessions , ripping clothes , pinning, NSFW BONUS IN SECOND CHAPTER)

a king's banquet, pocket sized (jinkook , royal au , king jungkook , chef seokjin , stuffing , fluff)

room to change (namjin , hurt/comfort , internalized homophibia , anxiety , making out , dry humping , chubby seokjin)

skinny boy big dreams (jungkook solo , feedee jungkook , small drabble , bodyshaming)

not yet afterhours ( jinkook , obese jim seokjin , muscle chub jungkook , stuffing , bakery au)

a higher gpa and a higher bmi (namkook , taejin , sopemin , fat maknae line )

a fu(filling) challenge (yoonjin, gainer seokjin, wg , fat seokjin, competitive eating , public space)

heavyweight champion of the mile high club (taekook , fat kim taehyung , feeder jeon jungkook , in public , mile high club (i guess)

absence makes the waistline longer (yoonjin , seokjin discharge , making out , chubby yoongi , ruenion)

i need a (big) hero (jikook, superhero jk, villian jm, rapid wg degradation, noncon )

#you can ignore this post~#just making some reorganazing of the masterlist

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bratzkoo · 10 months ago

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doré | minjoon | part two

Author: bratzkoo | Credits to: @jintherapper for the banner Pairing: crown prince! namjoon x pirate! jimin Genre: fluff, angst, more angst Rating: 18+ Word count: 2.1k Warnings/note: cursing, mentions of death and killing, revenge, no proper pov TT, homophobic piece of shit king, bisexual jimin x bisexual namjoon... just saying, idiots to lovers?, jin being the best brother out there, jungkook is an impulsive boy and stupidly brilliant, yoongi had enough haha, it’s my first time writing a pirate! au and i do not know what i’m doing. to @written-in-flowers for @thebtswritersclub . part one here.

summary: jimin’s quest on clearing his name after he was framed for murder consists of making the crown prince fall in love with him.

taglist: TT i can’t find my taglist, pls hit me up if you wanna be added.

The gentle rocking of the ship lulled Namjoon into a false sense of security. He found himself surprisingly at ease, considering his current predicament. The Crown Prince of the Empire, kidnapped by pirates and now willingly agreeing to help clear the name of their leader—it was absurd, really. Yet here he was, sitting across from Park Jimin in the captain's quarters, discussing their plan as if they were old friends conspiring over tea.

"So, let me get this straight," Namjoon said, leaning back in his chair. "You want me to vouch for your innocence when we return to the palace, but you're leaving the details entirely up to me?"

Jimin's lips curved into a mischievous smile. "I have faith in your creativity, Your Highness. Surely the Crown Prince can concoct a believable tale?"

Namjoon couldn't help but chuckle. "You're putting an awful lot of trust in someone you've kidnapped."

"Technically, Jungkook kidnapped you," Jimin corrected, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "I'm merely... benefiting from the situation."

"Ah, yes. How could I forget?" Namjoon rolled his eyes, but there was no real annoyance behind the gesture. Despite himself, he was finding Jimin's company oddly enjoyable. "And speaking of Jungkook, where is your impulsive first mate?"

Jimin waved a hand dismissively. "Probably trying to figure out how to sail the ship he stole. Don't worry, I've made it clear that you're not to be harmed."

"How reassuring," Namjoon deadpanned. He stood up, stretching his long limbs. "Well, if I'm to be your guest for the next three days, I might as well get acquainted with my temporary home. Care to give me a tour, Captain?"

Jimin raised an eyebrow. "You're taking this remarkably well, Your Highness. I half expected you to be demanding your immediate return."

Namjoon shrugged. "What would be the point? We're already at sea, and I've given my word to help you. Besides," he added with a wry smile, "this is the most excitement I've had in years. Might as well enjoy it while it lasts."

Jimin laughed, a sound that was surprisingly melodic. "Very well, then. Allow me to show you around our humble vessel."

As they made their way out of the captain's quarters and onto the main deck, Namjoon was struck by the organized chaos of ship life. Crew members scurried about, adjusting sails and checking ropes. The salty sea air whipped around them, carrying with it the cries of seagulls and the distant rumble of waves against the hull.

"It's... not what I expected," Namjoon admitted, taking in the sight.

Jimin glanced at him curiously. "And what did you expect, Your Highness? Bloodthirsty pirates swinging from the rigging with knives between their teeth?"

Namjoon had the grace to look sheepish. "Well, when you put it like that..."

Their tour took them from bow to stern, with Jimin pointing out various parts of the ship and introducing Namjoon to key crew members. The prince was surprised by the camaraderie he witnessed, the easy banter and shared laughter among the pirates. It was a far cry from the stuffy formality of palace life.

As they reached the ship's galley, a boisterous voice called out, "Oi, Cap'n! Who's the fancy gentleman?"

Namjoon turned to see a burly man with a wild beard and an even wilder grin. Jimin chuckled, clapping the man on the shoulder.

"Namjoon, meet our cook, Seokjin. Seokjin, this is... well, I suppose you could call him our guest of honor."

Seokjin's eyes widened comically. "Blimey, it's true then? We've got the Crown Prince aboard?"

Namjoon nodded, offering a polite smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Seokjin."

The cook let out a bark of laughter. "Well, I'll be damned. Never thought I'd be cookin' for royalty. You got any fancy tastes, Your Highness? 'Fraid we're a bit short on caviar and champagne."

"Whatever you normally serve will be fine," Namjoon assured him. "I'm not one for extravagance, despite what you might think."

Seokjin nodded approvingly. "A man after me own heart. Well, don't you worry, Your Highness. I'll whip up a feast fit for a king—or a prince, in this case."

As they continued their tour, Namjoon found himself genuinely enjoying the experience. The crew, while initially wary, seemed to warm up to him quickly. He listened intently as Jimin explained the intricacies of sailing, asked questions about life at sea, and even tried his hand at tying a few knots under the guidance of a patient deckhand.

As the sun began to set, casting a golden glow across the waves, Jimin led Namjoon to the ship's bow. They stood in comfortable silence for a moment, watching the sky turn from gold to pink to deep purple.

"It's beautiful," Namjoon murmured, almost to himself.

Jimin nodded, his expression softening. "It is. No matter how many times I see it, the sunset at sea never fails to take my breath away."

Namjoon turned to study Jimin's profile, illuminated by the fading light. "How did you end up here, Jimin? Last I heard, you were the Archduke's son, set for a life of luxury and political influence. What happened?"

Jimin's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "It's... a long story, Your Highness. One I'm not sure you're ready to hear."

"We have three days," Namjoon pointed out gently. "And if I'm to help clear your name, don't you think I should know the truth?"

Jimin sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You're right, of course. But perhaps we should save that conversation for tomorrow. It's not exactly a pleasant bedtime story."

Namjoon nodded, respecting Jimin's reluctance. "Very well. But I hope you'll trust me enough to share it soon."

As if on cue, Seokjin's voice boomed across the deck. "Dinner's ready, you landlubbers! Come and get it while it's hot!"

The galley was a cramped but cozy space, filled with the mouthwatering aroma of Seokjin's cooking. Namjoon found himself seated between Jimin and Jungkook, the latter eyeing him warily.

"So, Your Highness," Jungkook began, his tone cautious. "No hard feelings about the whole kidnapping thing, right?"

Namjoon couldn't help but laugh. "Well, considering I'm enjoying a delicious meal instead of languishing in some dank cell, I suppose I can find it in my heart to forgive you."

Jungkook visibly relaxed, a grin spreading across his face. "See, Cap? I told you he was a good sport."

Dinner was a lively affair, with conversation and laughter flowing as freely as the rum. Namjoon found himself regaling the crew with tales from the palace, carefully omitting any sensitive information. In return, he was treated to outrageous stories of their adventures at sea, each tale more unbelievable than the last.

As the night wore on and the crew began to disperse, Jimin led Namjoon back to the captain's quarters. "You'll be staying here," he explained. "I'll bunk with Jungkook for the duration of your stay."

Namjoon raised an eyebrow. "That's very generous of you, but I don't want to put you out. I'm perfectly capable of sharing a room."

Jimin shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "Nonsense. You're our guest, after all. Besides, I doubt you'd enjoy Jungkook's snoring."

"Fair enough," Namjoon conceded. He hesitated for a moment before adding, "Thank you, Jimin. For everything. This isn't at all how I imagined a kidnapping would go."

Jimin's smile widened. "Well, we aim to exceed expectations, Your Highness. Sleep well. We have a lot to discuss tomorrow."

As Namjoon settled into the surprisingly comfortable bed, his mind raced with the events of the day. He knew he should be more concerned about his situation, about the potential consequences of his absence from the palace. Yet he couldn't shake the feeling that this unexpected adventure might be exactly what he needed.

With the gentle rocking of the ship lulling him to sleep, Namjoon's last thought before drifting off was of Jimin's enigmatic smile and the mysteries that lay behind it.

The next morning dawned bright and clear, the sun's rays filtering through the porthole to rouse Namjoon from his slumber. For a moment, he was disoriented, the unfamiliar surroundings causing a brief panic. Then the events of the previous day came rushing back, and he let out a small chuckle at the absurdity of it all.

A knock at the door interrupted his musings. "Your Highness? Are you awake?" Jimin's voice called from the other side.

"Come in," Namjoon replied, sitting up and running a hand through his disheveled hair.

Jimin entered, carrying a tray laden with what appeared to be breakfast. "I thought you might appreciate a private meal this morning," he explained, setting the tray on the small table by the window. "We have much to discuss."

Namjoon nodded, climbing out of bed and joining Jimin at the table. The spread was simple but appetizing—fresh bread, cheese, some fruit, and a steaming mug of what smelled like coffee. "Thank you," he said sincerely. "I admit, I'm curious to hear your story."

Jimin took a deep breath, his fingers idly tracing patterns on the wooden tabletop. "It's not a tale I enjoy telling, Your Highness. But you're right—if you're to help me, you need to know the truth."

And so, as they shared their breakfast, Jimin began to recount the events that had led him to this life of piracy. He spoke of his father, the Archduke, a man consumed by ambition and greed. Of the pressure to be the perfect heir, to follow in his father's corrupt footsteps. Of the moment he discovered just how deep that corruption ran.

"I found documents," Jimin said, his voice low and intense. "Proof that my father had been embezzling funds meant for the people, collaborating with foreign powers to undermine the Empire's stability. I... I couldn't stand by and let it happen."

Namjoon listened intently, his breakfast forgotten. "What did you do?"

"I tried to expose him," Jimin replied, a bitter smile twisting his lips. "I thought if I brought the evidence to the proper authorities, justice would be served. But I underestimated my father's influence. Somehow, he managed to turn it all around on me. Suddenly, I was the traitor, the corrupt son trying to frame his innocent father."

"That's why you were exiled," Namjoon realized, the pieces falling into place.

Jimin nodded. "Exile was a kindness, really. My father wanted me executed for treason. It was only through the intervention of... a friend at court that I was allowed to leave with my life."

"And you turned to piracy?"

"Not immediately," Jimin admitted. "At first, I just wandered, trying to figure out what to do with my life. But then I met Jungkook, and well... the rest, as they say, is history."

Namjoon sat back, processing everything he'd heard. It was a lot to take in, and it painted a very different picture of the man before him than the one he'd previously held. "Jimin, I... I'm so sorry. What was done to you was unjust."

Jimin shrugged, though Namjoon could see the tension in his shoulders. "It is what it is, Your Highness. I've made peace with my lot in life. But now, with your help, perhaps I can finally clear my name and return home."

"Of course," Namjoon said without hesitation. "I'll do everything in my power to help you. But Jimin... why didn't you come to me before? As Crown Prince, I could have—"

"With all due respect, Your Highness," Jimin interrupted gently, "you were barely more than a boy when this happened. And my father's influence runs deep. I couldn't risk involving you then."

Namjoon nodded, understanding but not liking it. "And now?"

Jimin's lips quirked into a small smile. "Now, you're the Crown Prince in more than just title. You have real power, real influence. And, if I may be so bold, I believe you to be a man of integrity. Someone who will listen to the truth and act on it, regardless of the consequences."

Namjoon felt a warmth spread through his chest at Jimin's words. It was a heavy responsibility, but one he was determined to live up to. "I won't let you down, Jimin. We'll find a way to clear your name and bring your father to justice."

"Thank you, Your Highness," Jimin said softly, his eyes shining with gratitude and something else Namjoon couldn't quite identify.

As they finished their breakfast and began to plan their next steps, Namjoon found himself studying Jimin more closely. The man before him was not the carefree pirate captain he'd first appeared to be, nor was he the traitorous son Namjoon had once believed him to be. He was complex, layered, a man shaped by hardship and injustice but not broken by it.

And as the sun climbed higher in the sky, casting its warm light over the two men deep in conversation, Namjoon realized that his adventure at sea was becoming something far more significant than he could have ever imagined.

#bts fic #pjm #knj #kim namjoon #park jimin #minjoon au #minjoon fic #pirates! au #prince! au #pirate! jimin #crown prince! namjoon #bts #kim namjoon writing #park jimin writing #seokjin #yoongi #hoseok #taehyung #jungkook

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rainbowsuitcase · 1 year ago

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Fiction Writing

Explicit pieces are written in red

Top Gun

Ice hates his name

Country Ice

Hit Me/Hug Me

IceMav Fucked Before TG; Version 2; Country Version

Trans Bradley

Icemav - The Bruise

Vampire Ice Angst

Ice Doesn't Actually Drink

Ice Has Ice Powers

Ice Talks To Saints

Academy Era - Sick Ice; My Father Will Hear About This (like a liar)

IceMav - Roleplay

IceMav & Mobile Phones

Mavdad & Teen Bradley; Tapping Out

IceMav Highschool AU

Ice Chews Ice

Bilingual Ice; Polish Ice Headcanons

Secret Identities Everywhere

De-Aged Ice

Marvel IceMav

Ice the Dog

Simon Kazansky Gender Fuckery

Hop 31 IceSli Version

Looking After Mav

Ice's Father's Legacy

Marvel

Steve cooking

Stony/Stuckony - Fireworks

Omegaverse - Tony is Bucky's son

Post-Avengers 1 Shrunkyclunks

Trans Steve AU

What If SHIELD found the Winter Soldier first

Steve cutting Bucky's hair

SteveTony & Ropes

Stevie doesn't know (about the assumptions)

The Mechanic

Fondue

SteveTony - Amnesia

Steve & Needles

Steggy: A Scene

SteveBucky - They were wrong

SteveLokiBucky - Where they've met before; pt2; pt3

Endgame Steve Fix-It

The Captain's Backstrap

SteveBucky - Top Steve

Steve's Gag Reflex

SteveTony - Soft Dom/Sub

SteveTony Soulmate Crack

SteveTony Soulmates - the things you lose

Harry Potter

Drarry - Muggle things

Drarry - Nightmare

Darry - Mourning

BTS

Taegi - Vampires

Jungkook - Swimming

Namgi - Roadtrip

Vmin - Hybrids

Jungkook centric - Superheroes

Jungkook/hyung - Eye contact

Jungkook/YN - Long Distance

Vminkook - Double

Hyung Line - Friends with Benefits

Platonic Yoonjin - I got out

Namkook - Want

Namgi - Villains

OT7 - Tentacles

Namgiseok - Dominant

Sope - Touch Starved

Namkook - Alphas

Namgi - Small

OT7 - Band AU

Namgi - Gym Session

Namgi - Training

Namgi - Rivals

OT7 - Vampires & Apocalypse

Yoonkook - Drinking

Minjoon - Stop Talking

#masterlist #bts #marvel #harry potter #fanfiction #namgi #stucky #drarry #bts fic #top gun #icemav

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classy-sassi · 1 year ago

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Looking for long-term Rp partner⭐️

Hello everyone! I'm looking for a 21+ long-term rp partner. I've been role-playing for quite some time but my first language isn't English so I might still make mistakes.

I like to do member x member rps and I'm open to any ships, my favorites are jikook, yoonmin, minjoon and taekook.

I tend to write at least two decent sized paragraphs but I can definitely write more if I'm into the plot. It also helps when there's effort and details put into your replies! No one liners or anything close to it!

I have a few plots in mind but I'd love to come up with ideas together and have fun with it. I'm a sucker for a good mix of drama, angst and fluff.

I'm willing to include smut if the plot is good, I just don't want pure smut.

That's all for now and we can further discuss things in the dms! Please reach out to me if interested.

#bts roleplay #bts rp #roleplay #rp ad #bts #rp partner search #rp partner needed

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haebeomsleftbuttcheek · 2 years ago

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Yakuza in Love is one of my favourite manhwa’s 🥰 it’s so wholesome and funny, and Toma is literally my baby 🥺 he’s so adorable! I mean he is literally a toddler 😅 but you get the point:

My baby 😩 I adore him, and he’s the main reason I’m reading this manhwa! Even though I do love the main couple too!

Now, this manhwa is literally so wholesome and funny, unlike all my other manhwa’s which are quite dark, and ok there is a bit of angst in it but not to the same extent as my other manhwa’s! Minjoon is both funny and sweet, and the love he has for Toma is so precious 😭 and Daiki is very handsome! Yes 🙌 he is very handsome…..as long as he keeps his clothes on from the waist up 😅! Like he has a whole ass leopard print tattoo on his left leg, from the literal ass-cheek and I’m not sure how far it goes down his leg but that’s beside the point! A whole ass leopard print tattoo 😩 I cringed so bad when I saw that! He’s a yakuza boss, and that’s the tattoo he chosen…I nearly died laughing!

Moving on, more cute Toma screenshots:

#korean manhwa #manhwa #yakuza in love #when the yakuza fall in love #Yakuza in love manhwa #yaoi couple #yaoi bl

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sparklehoney7 · 2 years ago

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Desperate Echoes

by: dinominmin

pairing: jimin/jungkook

info: chaptered 12/12 complete (61,603)

tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics / Omega Jeon Jungkook / Alpha Park Jimin (BTS) / Arranged Marriage / Forbidden Love / Cheating / Alpha Kim Namjoon | RM / Alpha Kim Seokjin | Jin / Omega Kim Taehyung | V / Omega Min Yoongi | Suga / Alpha Jung Hoseok | J-Hope / yoonjin are mated / Seokjin Namjoon And Taehyung Are Brothers Secret Relationship / Mpreg / minjoon are bffs / Angst / Angst with a Happy Ending / Heavy Angst / Minor Violence / Endgame Jikook / Minor Character Death / Blood and Gore / Smut / Hand Jobs / Come Eating / Top Park Jimin (BTS) / Bottom Jeon Jungkook / honestly I suck at tagging but I'm trying / Unrequited Love / One-Sided Attraction / Rimming / Knotting / Shameless Smut / sad but sexy at the same time how did I do that / Semi-Public Sex / Misunderstandings

summary: Jungkook had always known he would have to mate outside of his pack, that he would be crucial in keeping peace across the lands. The day he finally comes of age, the Kim pack wins the bid for his hand, so he leaves his home and travels across the forest to marry his betrothed. But when he begins to fall for the wrong alpha, Jungkook is faced with an impossible choice that may destroy more than just his own heart.

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#bts fic #fic rec #a/b/o au #omega jungkook #alpha jimin

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apcomplexhq · 2 years ago

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✦ Nome do personagem: Kang Minjoon. ✦ Faceclaim e função: JUN - A.C.E. ✦ Data de nascimento: 01/01/1991. ✦ Idade: 32 anos. ✦ Gênero e pronomes: Masculino, ele/dele ✦ Nacionalidade e etnia: Coreano, sul-coreano. ✦ Qualidades: Extrovertido, solícito, resiliente. ✦ Defeitos: Inseguro, paranoico, medroso. ✦ Moradia: Tartaros. ✦ Ocupação: Médico no Severance. ✦ Twitter: @TT91JOON ✦ Preferência de plot: ANGST, CRACK, FLUFFY, HOSTILITY, SMUT. ✦ Char como condômino: Joon vai ajudar sem olhar a quem, quer um pouco de comida? Ele dá. Uma ajuda na faxina? Também! Mas é um tanto barulhento já que é pai de 4 cachorros grandes.

TW’s na bio: Menção a drogas, agiotagem.

Biografia:

Kang Minjoon nasceu em 1991 em Seul e inserido numa família de classe média. Seu pai, Kang Sangho, sempre foi um homem austero e distante, trabalhando como empresário no ramo de importação e exportação. Desde cedo, Joon mostrou interesse em estudar medicina e, na escola não deixava os estudos de lado e sempre participava dos grupos, liderando e ajudando quem tinha dificuldade, com muito esforço, desde o ensino médio, conseguiu ingressar em uma das melhores universidades do país, a Universidade Nacional de Seul.

Após anos de estudos intensos e dedicação, Joon se formou em medicina e conseguiu um emprego em um hospital renomado de Seul na área da clínica geral após sua residência. No entanto, sua felicidade durou pouco tempo. Seu pai, que havia se envolvido com o mundo do tráfico de drogas em suas viagens de negócios, acabou sendo preso em uma grande operação policial. Não sabia se o homem tinha culpa, se foi coagido a agir daquela forma e não pensava em descobrir, não queria, sua consideração pelo homem sumiu assim que ouviu a notícia.

Com a reputação da família manchada e todas as economias, tanto suas como as do pai, confiscadas pelas autoridades, Joon se viu desesperado, sem recursos para se sustentar e pagar as dívidas deixadas pelo seu pai em seu nome. As ameaças que sofria do agiota de seu genitor lhe assustavam, e por isso ofereceu seus serviços como forma de pagamento para que ele poupasse a sua vida, assim se envolveu no mundo do tráfico de drogas, seguindo os passos do seu pai e usando dos seus conhecimentos médicos e químicos para ajudar na produção de drogas sintéticas.

Depois disso, a vida de Minjoon mudou drasticamente. Ele passou a viver em um mundo perigoso e violento, onde a sua vida não valia nada e não conseguia se ver fora dali, já que um dos grandes chefes não queria que o médico se desvinculasse e parasse de trabalhar.

Após ter o coração despedaçado por sofrer ghosting da própria namorada, decidiu se mudar para um bairro mais perto do hospital e trabalhar mais para esquecer a dor física e ansiedade que aquilo lhe causava, e mesmo sem ter uma religião, orava para se livrar da gangue em seu pé e encontrar uma vida tranquila em Acropolis. Seu apartamento em Tartaros era pequeno para todos os seus animais, mas não se importava, era perto do trabalho e a segurança parecia boa.

#reapps #kang minjoon #tartaros #medico sevarance #junhee #ace

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yoonkook-ao3feed · 2 years ago

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BTS Oneshots

Read at https://archiveofourown.org/works/51367204 by Kpop_cupcake Basically, you guys request what you want me to write about and I'll try my best to make it happen!! Words: 6, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Categories: M/M, Multi Characters: Kim Taehyung | V, Jeon Jungkook, Park Jimin (BTS), Jung Hoseok | J-Hope, Kim Namjoon | RM, Kim Seokjin | Jin, Min Yoongi | Suga Relationships: yoonjin, 2seok, taejin, jinmin, NamJin, JINKOOK - Relationship, sope - Relationship, Namgi - Relationship, Yoonmin - Relationship, taegi, Sugakookie - Relationship, HopeMon - Relationship, JiHope, vhope, junghope, minjoon, Vmon - Relationship, Namkook - Relationship, VMIN, Jikook, vkook - Relationship Additional Tags: Fluff, Angst, Violence, Littles, v - Freeform, jk, Rm, jhope - Freeform, Jin - Freeform, suga - Freeform, jimin - Freeform, yoonjin - Freeform, 2seok - Freeform, TaeJin - Freeform, jinmin - Freeform, namjin - Freeform, jinkook - Freeform, Sope, namgi, yoonmin, taegi - Freeform, Sugakookie, hopemon, jihope - Freeform, vhope - Freeform, junghope - Freeform, minjoon - Freeform, Vmon - Freeform, namkook, vmin - Freeform, jikook - Freeform, vkook, oneshots, kpop, bts - Freeform, Mental Illness, Anxiety, bipolar, PTSD, OCD, Trauma, Abusive Father, Abusive Mother, Family Issues Posted November 04, 2023 at 08:20PM PT

#yoonkook #sugakookie #yoongi #jungkook #suga #jk #ao3feed #ao3 #fanfic #fic

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awrkive · 1 month ago

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NEIGHBOR BLUNDER, pt. 5 — JJK (m.)

PAIRING jungkook x (fem) reader

GENRE r18+ (fluff, angst, smut) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

CHAPTER WORD COUNT 15.6k

CHAPTER WARNINGS/MISC neighbor!jk, bsf!jimin, accountant!oc software engineer!jk, jk and jimin are chaebols lol, minjoon boyfriends <<<<3, as usual, super dreamy jk 😞 some realizations and some jk and nb!oc lore. SPOILER AHEAD DONT READ IF U DONT WANNA KNOW [ explicit sexual content: mature language, very indulgent & descriptive c*nniling*s (oral sex, female receiving) 🤩 ] also if u wanna know what her tat looks like this is it in my head

NOTES haii!! were back more than ever!! ive got nothing to say but enjoy!!!!!!! and lemme know ur thoughts in my inbox mwa mwamwa happy reading!

[ SERIES MASTERLIST ] // [ MAIN MASTERLIST ]

The first time somebody told you they liked you was in year eight. You were only twelve, and there was this guy in year 10, Gwanshik, who apparently fancied you to be his girlfriend. You’ve had crushes way before entering middle school, but they were mostly just the guys you saw on your TV. When Gwanshik asked if you could both hang out together after school that one afternoon by the lockers, you remember saying no.

No, because… the whole thing felt weird. You couldn’t comprehend the fact that a boy liked you in a romantic sense. You couldn’t wrap your head around going out with somebody and what… spend all your time together with them? It was too much for your twelve-year-old brain, and since then, you started avoiding Gwanshik as much as possible, and thankfully, he didn’t seem like he wanted to be with you that much because the “chasing” only lasted for two days.

The two days felt contradictory, though. You sure didn’t want a relationship at the time, but it did make you feel something new. You felt… wanted. You didn’t even like Gwanshik. His hair was weird and he was two years older than you and your friend at the time told you he was going through a lot of girls – but those two days he tried to make an effort; tried to catch you at the lockers or waited outside of your classroom and even tried to buy you pudding for lunch, you felt… seen. You felt a sort of validation. Gwanshik made you feel special for all those two days until he decided you weren’t really worth his time.

As much as you felt relieved that he wasn’t going after you anymore, there was some kind of bitterness that settled in your heart when he did stop pursuing you.

That same bitterness crawls in your heart whenever you occasionally stalk an ex on Instagram from a burner account and see that they were seeing someone new again, and strangely enough, the same feeling finds its way in your chest when you watch Jungkook leading Heesu up to the podium with a hand hovering over her waist, a gentle smile painted on his lips as they go up to face the audience together.

“They look good, don’t you think?”

You almost jump at Taemu’s voice beside you, having completely forgotten he was there.

Tonight’s the company gala, a celebration for the Kang Tech and Blue Nexus collab that Jungkook and Heesu are leading. It’s only been about an hour, and you’ve pretty much been with Taemu the whole time.

“Y-yeah, they do,” you smile at him, nodding. You clear your throat before looking ahead again, sipping on the champagne you don’t like the taste of.

“I heard they’re dating.” Taemu suddenly says, dropping into a whisper.

You don’t know how the words exactly register, but you feel slightly dissociative as you respond with, “Oh, are they?”

Taemu nods, glancing back to the stage where Heesu starts to deliver a well-crafted speech. She looks absolutely magnificent, with a silver gown that fits her like a glove. Her long, silky hair stops at her waist, and the way she speaks grabs everybody’s attention in the room.

“Nah, it’s just a rumor. But the Jeons and Kangs are close, though, and you know how that is.”

You wish Taemu would stop talking.

“Yep.” you give him a nod again, pursing your lips into a tight smile.

You try to drown out the conversation, listening in to the bits of Kang Heesu’s speech – something about innovation and future – and try to convince yourself that it ruffles your interest. But truthfully, you’d rather hear it than listen to some gossip Jungkook already disputed awhile ago.

It’s weird to have people carry these stories about him and his personal life – and you get how he can be a spectacle. He’s a Jeon, after all. His family is a conglomerate. But you know him… you know Jungkook. You value your friendship enough to know that he shouldn’t be a subject of people’s entertainment just because he comes from a certain lineage.

As it’s his turn to speak, you can’t help but focus on him, and you mean in a way that everybody just suddenly blurs out, and it’s all Jungkook that only matters.

He’s wearing his usual black suit, and his long hair is slick this time unlike all the times in your apartment complex where it’s messy and he’s wearing some Nike slides and shorts.

And whoever said that the eyes can focus so much better than a camera consciously is going to hell because just as you thought about how Jungkook looks like a dream tonight – your gaze slides to the woman beside him once again, Kang Heesu.

Then, you can’t help but think that they really do look good together, as per Taemu’s words.

As per everybody’s words, and probably, thoughts.

Rumors aside, or if Jungkook hadn’t told you that they weren’t dating at all, you’d think they would make a visually striking couple. It’s there for everybody to see, and everyone in this room must think so definitely. They’re both young and work in the same industry and their families are close – it wouldn’t be a shock if they actually are a thing.

You remember what you told Sol the past week. How Jungkook is majorly out of your league. You look at him now and sure, it’s the same person you hang out with back at home – the same man who laughs with his eyes crinkling, the same man who intently listens to you talking about whatever, and smiling shyly when you ask him about his day. The same man with admirable humility despite being him.

But ultimately, his world is here. This grandiose, larger-than-life, world.

And he looks so good in it.

“...Blue Nexus and Kang Tech as a team will continue to serve you going forward. Thank you.”

Jungkook and Heesu smile in front of the crowd while they stand close together, and for a second, it almost feels like you’re watching from behind glass. The picture of the man in your apartment no longer feels like he was real, or that he could be.

You don’t say it out loud, but some part of you knows. Jungkook belongs here in a way you never will.

As Jungkook and Heesu wrap up their speech, the room fills with applause, and soon, the crowd starts to settle back into conversation and cocktails, and you’re just about to look around for Sol and Junhwi when Taemu calls your name.

You turn around to look at him. “Yes?”

“I was thinking… are you free on Friday night?” He asks with a small smile on his lips.

You grimace inside at the question.

“I’ll try to see if I am,” you tell him. Taemu’s face visibly drops, and you instantly feel bad. You don’t know why you do, but you scramble for something just as quickly. “My schedule’s a bit hard to work around this week, but I’ll text you. What’s it about, anyway?”

You don’t miss the way Taemu’s smile picks up again at your promising words.

“I have two tickets for a tech expo. We can go if you like?” He arches a brow at you, trying to gauge your face.

You nod slowly. “That sounds interesting.”

“Yeah, it is. Would be nice if you can go.” He sends you a somewhat sheepish smile.

You chuckle.

“You’re not very subtle, are you?”

“I don’t know. Which one do you like? Subtle or straightforward guys?”

It prompts you to laugh some more, making Taemu join in. Somehow, the conversation puts you in place. Suddenly, you’re not thinking about Jungkook or Heesu or some Little Mermaid shit about how you’re not a part of his world.

You’re about to say something in response when your phone beeps in your purse.

“One sec,” You hold up your hand while Taemu hums. Unexpectedly, a message from Jungkook welcomes you when you took your phone out and turned it on.

Unit 446 (Jeon Jungkook) [11:35pm]: Hey

Well maybe the Little Mermaid drama is not over just yet.

You look up at Taemu. “I’ll just…”

“Yeah, go ahead.” Taemu smiles and nods. “I’ll just go see Min for a bit. See you around, yeah?”

You give him a small smile, glancing at Min – someone from the same department as his – across the room, stepping back a little farther. When Taemu leaves, you turn your phone on again to type a reply.

You [11:35pm]: hi

Not even a few seconds later, and Jungkook comes in with a response.

Unit 446 (Jeon Jungkook) [11:35pm]: I saw you just now. Was just about to say hi but you were talking to someone?

You [11:35pm]: yeah. its taemu You [11:35pm]: remember my coworker

Unit 446 (Jeon Jungkook) [11:37pm]: Interesting

Your brows furrow, intrigued.

You [11:37pm]: whats interesting abt it

Unit 446 (Jeon Jungkook) [11:38pm]: Nothing in particular

You [11:39pm]: now thats interesting

You feel a certain curl to your stomach. It’s not unpleasant at all, just something you’d rather brush off. Jungkook can’t be jealous of Taemu of all people – and you can’t deduce that based off one text that says “interesting” in response to you saying you were just talking with Taemu.

Yeah.

So you physically shrug it off.

You [11:39pm]: but your speech is way more interesting. you look and sound great!! congrats on the launch btw!! (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡

Unit 446 (Jeon Jungkook) [11:40pm]: Thank you. And your emoji looks very interesting

That earns a chuckle from you.

See, it was nothing. You think to yourself. Jungkook was not jealous and he’s just being his usual self.

You [11:40pm]: its not an emoji its an emoticon

Unit 446 (Jeon Jungkook) [11:40pm]: That makes me very curious. Wanna hear more about it Unit 446 (Jeon Jungkook) [11:41pm]: Come hang out with me

You almost thought you read that wrong.

You [11:41pm]: here?

Unit 446 (Jeon Jungkook) [11:42pm]: I’m at the rooftop actually. But I’ll come down there in a while. Where are you?

You have no idea where he’s going with this, but you find yourself typing a reply, anyway.

You [11:43pm]: ohh dont bother. I’ll come up there myself You [11:43pm]: would be nice to get some fresh air 🥴

When you head toward the elevator, you catch your reflection in the mirrored doors – hair a little messy from the night, heels already starting to hurt. You press the button anyway.

The wind blows your dress away and the cold of the night hits your bare skin as you navigate the empty space of the rooftop – which is not so empty anymore as you spot a tall figure by the glass railings, adorning a black suit. You could’ve mistaken it for anybody else as they all men at the party wear the same thing, but you couldn’t have taken Jeon Jungkook for anybody else.

Not when even the lines of his back feel way too familiar by now.

You’re caught off guard, though, when he shifts slightly – just enough to raise a hand. At first, you don’t realize what he’s doing, until he takes a slow drag, and smoke slips around his head, curling into the air like it’s got nowhere else to be.

“Smoke break?” you say, breaking the silence as you walk toward him. You catch a whiff of it in the air.

“Oh, hey.” Jungkook turns to look at you, the cigarette tucked between his middle and pointer finger. From the looks of it, he must’ve lit it a while ago. When you glance back up at him, he offers a warm smile. “Do you want one?” he asks casually, reaching for the lapel of his jacket.

You shake your head before he can take out – presumably – a pack of cigarettes. You wouldn’t have guessed he had one tucked away earlier, not when he was standing on that podium, all polished and composed.

“I don’t smoke.”

Jungkook looks slightly taken aback. You’re about to ask why, but he just nods to himself and puts his hand back at his side. Then he flicks the cigarette away, stepping on it with the heel of his shoe. The lingering smell clings to the air between you, but the breeze helps carry it off, little by little.

“You could be fined for littering, you know?” You joke.

Jungkook’s mouth slacks as he looks at you again, and you’re sure he was about to retaliate, probably pick up your joke and keep the banter, but he disarms you when he speaks his next words.

“You look beautiful.” He says it low, his voice dipping a little deeper as his eyes trail down your body. If you’re not mistaken, his gaze lingers a second longer on your chest – and you remember, quite clearly, how grateful you were that you believed that one push-up bra ad on Instagram. It really did wonders with the square neckline of the dress.

“You don’t look so bad yourself.” You say, arching a brow. It makes Jungkook laugh. He walks towards a bench, and naturally, you follow.

Jungkook’s the first to settle into his seat, and you try to ignore the way your heart does a weird little flip when he looks up at you, his hand instinctively lifting to hover over your back as you move to sit beside him.

And instantly, the cold of the night is whisk away by his warm presence. It’s not even that much, probably just an illusion, but Jungkook feels like a furnace on a winter night sometimes and you wonder how it’d feel like to bask in it.

Maybe if you weren’t too drunk that night when you cuddled up together on his couch, you would’ve understood. You do remember, though, the very brief moment of his strong arms around you, tight but comfortable, big and strong…

You shake your head internally.

Hah.

As much as you like to believe you can walk away from that memory like it was just another Tuesday, you can’t. Unfortunately.

“I didn’t know you smoke.”

You’re not sure why you bring it up. Maybe it’s a way to keep things from feeling too… intimate, sitting this close to him. But the moment it slips out, it feels borderline personal – maybe even invasive – and you regret it almost instantly.

You’re just about to steer the conversation elsewhere when Jungkook leans back against the seat. The moonlight hits his face just right, the shadows of his lashes brushing against the tops of his cheeks.

He really doesn’t look so bad himself, you think. But who are you kidding—he deserves a better compliment than that.

“I don’t smoke that much anymore. But these things…” Jungkook trails off, gaze flicking away for a second. You bite your lip, worried you might’ve touched something too personal.

But he keeps going. “These things take a lot out of me. Nerves. I don’t know. Big crowds stress me out. And they’re gonna publish articles about tonight, and maybe I’ve said this already, but I’ve never really liked public attention all that much.”

You blink up at him.

It’s strange, because all this time, you’ve always claimed to know Jungkook – because, technically, you do. You’re friends. He knows about the cat you secretly kept from your landlord two years ago, knows that you hate your job, knows about the disposable chopsticks you hoard from different restaurants for absolutely no reason, knows that your Sunday uniform is that worn-out white Elmo shirt from high school, and knows your favorite color is baby blue.

He knows so many little things about you. So naturally, you should know him too… right?

But the thing is, as much as you think you do, you realize now – you’ve never actually known him past a certain point. He’s shared bits and pieces: how his favorite part of town is Hongdae, how he could eat bungeoppang for weeks. But aside from the surface-level stuff – the things you’ve asked about – he’s never really offered up anything deeper. Never really talked about himself in the ways that matter.

Like his job. How he got into it. The pressure that must come with it. Hell, you didn’t even know he smoked. That one really caught you off guard, because if there’s one thing you’ve always associated Jungkook with, it’s how damn good he smells.

But what really gets you isn’t the smoking. It’s the nerves. The fact that he gets nervous. Not that you thought he was above feeling something as basic as that – but he’s always carried himself with this kind of ease, this quiet confidence, like he knew exactly who he was and where he stood. It never occurred to you that someone like him could feel… less than sure. That he might need something, anything, to steady himself.

“I— yeah. That makes sense,” you nod, eyes fixed ahead, voice softer than before.

You’re still sitting beside the same Jungkook. Still in the same night air. But there’s something different now, something settling inside you that you can’t quite name. You’re learning these new pieces of him slowly, like catching glimpses of something just under the surface. And for the first time in a while, he doesn’t feel so far away.

Maybe he never really was. Maybe it’s just that you were looking at him from a place too high up.

“Does it… does it get bad?” You ask gently. Jungkook looks at you curiously. “I mean, the press. I imagine you must’ve been bearing it since you were a kid.”

Jungkook nods, and the smile he gives you next doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“My brother took most of the heat when we were young. When I was away in the US, they stopped bringing me up in the articles. And, uh…” he chuckles, settling a bit deeper into the seat. “I haven’t really told you about this yet, but I was never meant to work in the company. Until my brother decided to take up law—and there’s only two of us.”

You try not to look too surprised. “Oh…”

Jungkook crosses his arms, brow furrowing. “It was never going to be me, and I didn't take that well. Anyway, I sold my first software to Vision when I was a sophomore – the top rival of Blue Nexus until now. Pissed my dad off a lot because it became a huge success.” He snorts, but there’s no humor behind it.

You want to ask a million things. But something in his tone, the careful way he’s choosing his words, tells you not to push. So you stay quiet. You let him speak on his own terms.

You’re not oblivious to the gossip surrounding Jungkook and Mr. Jeon. You’ve overheard your fair share of whispers tonight – speculations about why “Mr. Jeon’s son is only interim CTO,” or when he’s going to finally hand over the reins to his son. Everyone talks about it like it’s inevitable. Like it’s some corporate fairytale they’re waiting to unfold.

But instead of digging into that, you glance at Jungkook, voice gentle.

“What’s he like? Your dad, I mean…”

It takes him a moment.

“He’s a tough man,” Jungkook says, breathing in sharply. You see his shoulders stiffen. “But I still really want him to be proud of me. It’s a complicated feeling. This is why I get too nervous about this stuff. I take pride in my work, I like what I do, you know— but sometimes…”

“Sometimes…” you echo softly.

“Sometimes I think I could do better.”

Your heart presses against your ribs, caught in a mix of protectiveness and ache.

You don’t think. Your words just come out.

“I think you’re doing great, Jungkook,” you say, voice quiet but sure. Your hand lifts instinctively to rest on his shoulder, but you hesitate halfway and pull it back to your lap instead. “I mean… I haven’t studied the technicalities of your work yet – pun intended – but I think you’re really good at what you do. People can see the effort you put into the things you care about. I don’t know about your dad, but I think that’s… really admirable.”

There’s a pause. And then another.

You start to spiral. Maybe you said too much. Maybe he didn’t want reassurance, just someone to listen. You should’ve asked first. Should’ve waited to see if he even wanted your opinion. God. He probably didn’t need a pep talk tonight of all nights—

“Thank you.”

“Hm?”

“Thanks, __. You’re the first one to tell me I’m doing a good job so far.”

Your jaw drops slightly. What?

It must’ve slipped out loud, because Jungkook laughs – really laughs, his chest shaking with it. It’s the first time all night that he’s sounded truly unguarded.

“Yeah. I appreciate it,” he says again, softer this time.

“Really?” you blink. “That’s… tough, bro.”

“Bro?” he says, incredulous. You nod solemnly. “You’re cute,” he murmurs.

You feel the warmth flood your cheeks instantly.

“Hey,” you say, needing to shift the moment. Jungkook hums in response. “You know that feeling when you’re in high places – like rooftops – and you get the weird urge to jump?”

Jungkook raises a brow. “That’s… concerning.”

You wave him off. “No, not like that. It’s not suicidal or anything. Just… this curious impulse.”

“There are literally a thousand movies that show what happens when you jump off tall buildings,” he says dryly.

“Well, duh.” You roll your eyes. He laughs again, and you notice something unspoken in the way his posture eases. The tension he carried earlier seems to slowly dissolve into the night air. It makes you smile, quietly pleased that maybe, somehow, you helped.

“You know what I’m thinking right now?” you ask.

He eyes you warily. “I hope you’re not gonna say you want us to jump.”

“Close,” you scoot closer, and he doesn’t move away. If anything, he seems to lean into it. “I was thinking more land activities. Maybe we should go around town.”

“Right now?”

You make a face. “I mean, you might be busy.”

“I already socialized enough to last me through next month. I’m fried.” Jungkook sighs, and it’s so genuinely weary that you almost laugh. But you bite back a grin instead. “You wanna go for a drive?” he asks.

You flash him a bright smile, and with no hesitation, tell him, “I’d love that.”

They say when you’re having too good of a day, time flies fast.

You didn’t know Jungkook liked bands. And you definitely didn’t know he could sing. You’re not keeping track, but it’s been about two hours since the two of you slipped away from the party – armed with a stolen bottle of champagne and a badly packed plate of hors d'oeuvres, thanks to Jungkook, who remembered you saying you liked their mini quiches.

You didn’t really have a destination in mind when you left. Every time Jungkook asked where you wanted to go, you just shrugged and said, wherever – until the car eventually rolled to a stop on an unfamiliar street that smelled like salt and sea.

You both realized you were by the beach the moment you cracked open the doors and stepped out of the car.

“This is perfect,” you say, unable to contain the smile spreading across your face. “It’s been so long since I’ve gone to the beach.”

“You know where we are?” Jungkook asks, falling into step beside you.

The beach isn’t anything extravagant – just sand and sea – but the breeze is crisp, the air smells clean, and something about the quiet feels right.

“I have no clue,” you admit, glancing at him with a grin. “But it’s nice here, right? Who cares?”

Jungkook eyes you like he’s about to object, but then he just chuckles under his breath.

There’s a narrow bridge up ahead that leads to a small staircase descending onto the sand. You head toward it with a bounce in your step, eager to feel ground crunch beneath your heels. As soon as your foot touches the first step, you feel a hand gently settle against your back.

“Careful,” Jungkook murmurs behind you.

It’s just a reminder. A quiet one. But the brush of his palm against your dress, the low dip in his voice – it sends a shiver down your spine that has nothing to do with the weather.

You shake it off quickly and make it down to the sand. The sea is calm, the tide gently kissing the line of black sand just a few meters from where you stand.

“It’s freezing,” you mutter, hugging your arms to your chest. “This doesn’t make any sense. It’s supposed to be summer.”

You gather up the skirt of your dress and plop down on a patch of dry sand. Jungkook follows, but before he settles beside you, he slips off his suit jacket and holds it out.

“Oh, no. I’m okay,” you say quickly, shaking your head and gesturing for him to keep it.

He pauses. “Do you know how many people die from hypothermia?”

“Like… twenty-five?”

“No. Twenty-four thousand a year.”

Your eyes shoot wide. “Wait. No fucking way. In South Korea? Or globally?”

Jungkook holds your gaze for a beat – then cracks up, grinning as he doubles over slightly from laughing. “Yeah, okay. No. I just made that up.”

You squint at him in disbelief. “Wow… you got jokes now.”

He just shakes his head, still grinning, clearly pleased with himself. You throw him a mock glare, but it doesn’t last long – not when he nudges a mini quiche toward you like a peace offering.

You reach for the bottle of champagne, only to realize you have nothing to pour it into, until Jungkook, already reading you like a book, says, “Yeah. It’s fine.”

Jungkook watches as you chug on the bottle, and thank god he got the white wine because red wine makes you drunk and you aren’t planning on getting drunk tonight – especially not with your track record.

You pass the bottle to Jungkook, looking ahead to watch the dark of the night. It’s probably around 2 am at this point, but you don’t bother confirming because why would you? It doesn’t matter what time it is, anyway. It feels like you’ve been in a tight spot all week, and today is the reward of all that.

You realized you haven’t taken time to relax at all. The past few months had just been work, work, and work – as if you’re completely succumbing to your fate of being a corporate slave.

“It’s nice, right? You’re having fun?” you ask Jungkook, turning your body to him.

You guess it’s easy to assume Jungkookls got everything under control. It’s in the way he carries himself – so quietly confident, so composed, like the weight of the world never quite touches him. He didn’t lay it all out for you back at the party, but you understood very well. You heard what he meant when he spoke about his father, about his work, about everything that makes him feel like he’s constantly trying to measure up.

He gets overwhelmed, too.

Contrary to what you believed – what you’ve told yourself all this time – Jungkook is just like anyone else. He’s human. He doubts. He tries.

It’s a shame the thought has only clicked into your head now. Because you were so sure that pedestal you put him on was where he rightfully belonged. You were so certain that the distance between you and him wasn’t something that could be crossed. That he was out of reach.

But here you are. Sitting next to him on a beach you can’t name, under a sky full of stars that don’t care who’s who. And you’re realizing – again – maybe you were wrong.

You feel bad, honestly. Because Jungkook’s been nothing but good to you. Better than good, if you’re being honest. He’s been kind, thoughtful. Present in ways that surprised you.

And he likes you.

At least… he said he does.

You haven’t processed it that much, ever since that night of his… confession passed.

It’s not the first time somebody said it to you. And it’s certainly not the first time you feel conflicted about it, because you’ve always been weird about relationships – or men, in general. You haven’t been in any therapy except for Jimin’s bimonthly honest feedback about your “avoidant coping mechanism” because ”you somewhat are afraid to love someone and have someone love you back so you cope by joking about how men are not all that and when you break up with someone you tell me it was not that serious”. You never retaliated with any of those because you know they were all true. You’ve had two serious boyfriends in your life, and none of them lasted for longer than a year.

They may have had problems of their own, but you always knew what it was with yours.

You get easily scared. You get scared about the possibility of you growing more feelings for a person – get scared at the prospect that you might want them to be in your life forever.

And god, forever is such a long time. And the future scares you a ton more than you’d like to admit.

“This is the most fun I’ve had in months. I’m glad you made us skip the party.” Jungkook responds to your question.

“I did not make us skip the party,” you laugh, prompting Jungkook to do so as well. You look at the calm waves, and suddenly you get the urge to stand up. It just looks so inviting, and so you can’t help but stand on your feet, making Jungkook look up at you. He watches you curiously as you take off your heels. You gesture to him to follow you. “Come on up here.”

He eyes you warily. “Are you…”

You shake your head immediately. “What, no. I’m not swimming. Just gonna dip my toes in the water,” you look far ahead. And true to your words, the sea really does look inviting. “It looks really good.” But when you drop your gaze back to Jungkook, he still looks unsure. You roll your eyes. “Afraid to get a little dirty, Mr. Jeon?”

He narrows his eyes at that. You challenge him with a raised brow. Then, with a scoff, Jungkook stands up from the makeshift blanket that’s really just his suit jacket and begins to tug off his leather shoes—

Hold up.

“You wear toe socks,” you deadpan, blinking at the sight like it’s physically hard to process.

“Huh? Oh— yeah.” Jungkook looks up from his feet to your face, confused for half a second before realization hits. “Okay, I know what you’re gonna say. My friends already clown me about this a lot.”

You can’t help it – you burst out laughing. It’s loud, full-bodied, and totally ungraceful. Jungkook just stands there with his lips pressed into a thin line, expression resigned, like this isn’t his first toe sock trial and probably won’t be his last.

You snicker behind your hand and turn toward the shoreline, still giggling as you walk. Jungkook follows a beat later, not looking the least bit offended by your reaction.

“I just don’t get it,” you manage through your laughter. “Why do you have gloves for your toes? Does that not give you the ick?”

“A glove for my toes?” Jungkook repeats, incredulous. A laugh escapes him. “What the hell?”

“Yeah! It’s literally the same concept. Gloves are uncomfortable as hell. Are you sure you willingly wear toe socks?”

“If I didn’t, would I be wearing them now?”

“Exactly! So you do it on purpose. That’s wild.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “Hater much?”

“Through and through,” you grin, shaking your head. “How did I not know this sooner? You did—”

You nearly trip as your foot slips on the soft, uneven slope of sand. But Jungkook’s hands are already at your waist, steadying you before you can fall.

“Told you to be careful,” he murmurs, voice light with amusement.

You snort and push lightly against his abdomen. “Yeah, yeah. Thanks, Mr. Toe Sock.”

He shakes his head with a chuckle, and the two of you continue down the shore, moving closer to the sea. The air grows cooler as you approach the water, waves whispering along the sand like a quiet soundtrack to the moment.

“You actually remind me of my mom. She wore toe socks too.” you say suddenly, rendering Jungkook surprised beside you. But when you look at him, there’s a hint of a small smile on his face.

“Even your mom knows the drill,” Jungkook brags, prompting you to roll your eyes but you laugh anyway.

You bunch up your dress to your legs as you start dipping your feet into the water, a little surprised at the cold temperature even though you expected it already. It is still August, after all.

Jungkook follows, and you walk straight along the shoreline.

“You mind talking about her?” Jungkook asks suddenly, making you look at him.

You shake your head. “Not really. I love talking about my mom. She was a wonderful person.” you say truthfully, the words bringing a melancholic smile to your face.

“I’m sure she must have been.” Jungkook tells you with conviction.

“How are you so sure?” you can’t help but laugh.

Jungkook shrugs. “She has you as her daughter.”

“Hah!” Your laughter only becomes louder. “That’s really… that’s a good line.”

Jungkook only shakes his head, but there’s a hint of a shy smile on his face when he looks away. He can be really cute sometimes; such a walking contradiction, really.

“What about your mom?” You ask.

“She’s just as wonderful. My brother and I are close with her.”

You nod. You assumed that a while ago, but it oddly makes you feel good that Jungkook does indeed have a good relationship with his mother. It was cute, because the way he smiles when he talks about his mom tells you she’s really important to him.

“And… your dad?” You tread lightly, not sure about bringing him up again.

But Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind when he says, “He loves and adores mom, and I admire him a lot for that. He’s just… he just has a lot of expectations when it comes to his children, and it gets a little too overwhelming.”

You quietly hum at that.

Strange, really. How some people love differently.

“I once saw him before, you know?” You tell Jungkook, and he looks at you, intrigued. You nod, adding, “He looked really intimidating.” you give Jungkook a hesitant smile; he nods his head in understanding. “Anyway, I didn’t see him tonight. Did he come?”

Jungkook just gives you a smile. “I don’t think so. Not sure.”

You don’t question it further. You’ve made a lot of assumptions about Jungkook, but hearing the truth from him – it’s different. Like opening Pandora’s box, only to find something softer inside. There’s something oddly comforting about it. You’re talking about things that don’t usually come up, and it doesn’t feel awkward or forced. Just easy. And for once, it feels good to open up to someone who actually seems to care – not out of obligation, but out of genuine interest.

“What about you? What was your mom like?” Jungkook asks, walking beside you with his hands crossed behind his back.

“She was an angel. But I…” you hesitate, “I grew up hating her for half my life.”

You can feel Jungkook’s gaze shift to you, but you keep your eyes ahead. You like talking about your mom – just not this part.

“You don’t know a lot when you’re a kid. I hated her because we were poor, and I thought it was because I didn’t have a dad. Every family day at school, kids would show up with both their parents. I was always just with her. And being an only child made everything feel even lonelier. I guess I blamed her for that.”

There’s a bitter smile tugging at your lips. Jungkook stays quiet, and you’re thankful for that – for not rushing to speak. For simply listening.

“She never talked about my dad. I never asked either. She just never brought him up. Then when I turned eighteen, I finally asked if she knew where he was. She just said he wasn’t a good man. She didn’t elaborate, but I didn’t need her to. I understood. And I think that was the moment I started realizing how good I actually had it with her.” You smile faintly at the memory. “She sewed me clothes. Made my lunch every day. And she’d bring home these snacks from her job at the factory – these crunchy peanuts. I don’t know if you’ve ever had them…”

“You mean Ojingeo?”

You shake your head, amused. “No, not those. Those are the squid peanuts, right? Mine was sweet. Not spicy.”

Jungkook squints thoughtfully. “Damn, I think I know what you’re talking about… Oh! Matdongsan?”

Your eyes light up. “Yeah! Matdongsan! Do they still make that today?”

“I’m not really sure,” Jungkook says, shaking his head with a little frown.

“Oh well…” You shrug and keep walking. “Anyway, my mom. She gave me everything she could, even when I didn’t know how to appreciate it.”

You wince, looking away, that guilt still tucked away in the corners of your chest. You remember the tantrums, the slamming of doors, the silent treatment; all the ways you lashed out, thinking it was just part of growing up.

“She started getting sick during my third year of college. We found out too late that it was breast cancer. The doctors did everything they could, but…” You bite your lip to keep it from trembling. “She didn’t make it. She passed away four years ago. Right after I graduated.”

You take a sharp breath, blinking rapidly to push back the stinging in your eyes. It’s been a while since you cried over your mom. You’ve made peace with the grief, mostly. But sometimes – like now – it creeps back in, catching you off guard.

“I think what hurt the most was realizing how much time I thought we’d still have. When you’re a kid, you just assume your parents will be there forever. You think you’ll grow up, get your first job, bring someone home for dinner – and they’ll be there for all of it. But life doesn’t really work like that.”

You swallow, glancing up at the stars that have begun to peek out from the clouds above the sea.

“I was still so young. I didn’t get to spend enough time with her. Not the kind I wanted, anyway.”

You don’t say the rest. That losing her changed something in you. That maybe it’s why you hesitate with relationships. Why you carry every goodbye with a little more weight than necessary – why you try to avoid them as early as possible; and it means avoiding getting too close to somebody.

“That’s tough, __. I’m really sorry you went through that,” Jungkook says softly. He stops walking, and you feel his hand hover behind your back – so close it makes your skin tingle with the anticipation of comfort. But he doesn’t touch you.

Still, it’s enough.

You try to lighten the mood, groaning, “God, I’m totally killing the vibe, huh?”

Jungkook immediately shakes his head, firm. “No. Never.”

You turn to look at him, and he’s looking at you like he means it. Like you didn’t just ruin anything. Like your story mattered.

You smile. And somehow, you really believe him.

You take a deep breath,

“Mom was really funny, though. So, she wore toe socks, right? And I was kind of repulsed by them so she made sure to add it to my laundry when it was my turn doing it, especially when I gave her a tantrum during that day.”

Jungkook chuckles at the story, visibly amused. “She did?”

“Yeah, she was secretly vindictive as hell,” you shake your head as Jungkook’s laughter becomes louder. It was the kind of laugh where it’s bordering on wheezing, and you can’t help but join in too.

“How are you repulsed by toe socks?” Jungkook looks at you incredulously. “Wait– are you still repulsed by them? Are you repulsed by me now?”

You waved your hand at him dismissively. “No, you’re fine. I’m a grown up now. I’ve overcome my toe socks trauma.”

“That’s goddamn good to know.” He says with a tone of relief, comical in the way he puts a hand to his chest for added effect. “I don’t know what I’d do if you’re still that against toe socks. I’m not sure if I can give them up just yet.”

“Why would you give it up for me?” you snort.

“Dunno. I’m kind of a __-pleaser.”

You blink. “Jungkook.”

His grin widens, eyes twinkling with mischief.

You roll your eyes but can’t stop the laugh that bubbles out. “God, you’re such a flirt.”

“Am I really?” he says, tilting his head, voice all playful innocence.

You squint your eyes at him. He squints back, mirroring you with a teasing glint. Then, slowly, you bend down, fingers dipping into the sea – just enough to send a quick splash of water his way.

You expect a tiny splash. A harmless flick. But what hits Jungkook’s white shirt is a little more than you intended. Your eyes widen as the damp spot spreads across the crisp fabric.

Oh no. That’s probably designer. Tailored. Definitely expensive.

Before you can blurt out an apology, Jungkook moves faster than you can register, and suddenly, cold water smacks against your dress and hair. You gasp.

“Oh my god.” You stare at him, scandalized. “You did not.”

He raises his hands up, and he chuckles at the look on your face. When he sees you bending down again, he doesn’t make the mistake of waiting on you and immediately walks faster, effectively keeping himself a few feet away from you so he can avoid your expected attack.

Too bad he doesn’t run.

You scoop up a handful of seawater and hurl it at his back. Bullseye. Jungkook throws his head back in feigned betrayal, letting out a dramatic groan.

“Oh, that wasn’t very nice,” he warns.

You don’t wait for retaliation. You take off running, the cool night air rushing past you as laughter bubbles from your chest. You can hear his footsteps behind you, and you scream-laugh when his arms wrap around your waist, lifting you right off the ground.

“Jungkook!” you shriek between fits of laughter, squirming in his grip. But he’s strong – gentle, but determined – and you’re too breathless to fight him off.

“You’re gonna regret that, little miss devil,” he tsks, carrying you like a sack of mischief as he heads toward the water.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it!” you plead, kicking lightly.

“Too late,” he says, walking deeper. You can feel the cold moisture from his clothes seeping into you as he holds you close.

“Jungkook, we’re gonna soak your car when we get back.”

“My shirt’s already ruined.”

“You have your coat!”

“You started it.”

“I’ll bite you if you don’t put me down. I have my canine teeth.”

“Go ahead.”

“Jungkook!” You bury your face into the side of his neck, inhaling the scent of his shampoo, your giggles muffled against his skin. “Okay, okay! If you want to paddle in the water, let’s do it – but let’s take off our clothes first.”

That stops him. Completely.

His steps halt mid-surge, his arms frozen around you as your words settle between the two of you like a stone dropped into calm water.

“What?”

“What?” you parrot back.

Jungkook cranes his neck to look up at you. “Are you telling us to take a skinny dip?”

You bite your lip to not laugh at the incredulity written all over his face. You squint your eyes at him, noting the look on his face. It’s looking quite nervous. “You’re afraid to get naked?”

Jungkook scoffs, then… he chuckles.

“I’m most certainly not. Are you?” He says, sounding like he’s challenging you for something.

You arch your brow. “I’m most certainly not.” you mirror his words back to him, effectively making him laugh. “We don’t really have to be naked, though. I’ll just take off my dress. We’re already wet anyway, so…?”

It takes awhile for Jungkook to say something. Then, he shakes his head. “I can’t believe you.”

“What?” you bite your lip to prevent yourself from smiling a little too much.

“What if somebody sees us?”

You jut your bottom lip out. “Jungkook, it’s probably 2 am at this point. Nobody’s awake except for weird sea creatures. I didn’t take you for a wuss.”

Jungkook cackles.

“Fuck me.” you clearly hear him whisper to himself. Slowly, you feel his hands letting you down until your feet once again get into contact with the sand.

You look at Jungkook expectantly once you face him. “Well?” you say, gesturing with a flick of your hand. “Turn around. I’m gonna take my dress off.”

Jungkook lets out a short laugh but doesn’t move immediately. His gaze lingers on your face for a second longer than necessary, eyes shining with something unreadable. “It’s only fair if you turn around too,” he says, crossing his arms but giving in to a small smile.

You roll your eyes, but you turn your back anyway, fingers quickly locating the side zipper of your dress. The fabric loosens and slips from your shoulders with ease, falling into a soft heap around your ankles. Cool air kisses your bare skin, a stark contrast to the warmth still lingering from Jungkook’s touch.

You breathe in through your nose, silently thanking your past self for wearing a decent pair of underwear – a beige strapless push-up bra and matching panties. Not your sexiest, but it’s not humiliating either. You remind yourself this isn’t about seduction – it’s about spontaneity. The water felt amazing even though it was freezing but who cares! This was something out of someone’s bucket list, right? Skinny dipping at fuckass o’clock in the morning. Given, it’s not actually skinny-dipping… you’ve only ever done the real thing with Jimin from a trip years ago but it was in a pool so it didn’t count.

You feel pretty good about yourself until you turn around just as the same time Jungkook does.

And holy fuck.

You freeze.

You’ve seen Jungkook’s body before. Of course you have. But never like this. Never up close, never with this much bare skin and moonlight involved. His white shirt is gone, revealing an inked arm and lean muscle that tightens across his torso with every breath. But it’s his legs – his thighs – that make your breath hitch. The way they’re shaped, carved like he’s spent a lifetime training without ever trying too hard. Your eyes trail lower before your brain can stop them, and they land on the bulge beneath his black Calvin Kleins.

You snap your gaze up too fast.

“Your tattoo looks good,” Jungkook says.

The words hit you like a splash of cold water. Not because of what he says, but because it’s so obvious he caught you staring. And worse: he doesn’t seem fazed by it.

You glance down, catching the curve of ink that hugs your ribs. Your underboob piece.

“Oh. That one,” you say, clearing your throat as you angle your body slightly, fingertips brushing along your side. “Yeah. That’s what I told you about before.”

The piece goes from right under your boob to the side of your rib. It was quite a big one actually, but the tattoo is as wispy as it can get; a delicate image that curves along the ribcage – fine lines forming soft leaves and petals. It’s subtle and graceful, just like you wanted it to be.

Jungkook is still staring when you look back up. His mouth parts slightly, like he’s just now realizing he should say something.

“It’s beautiful,” he murmurs, eyes flicking up to meet yours. And it’s not just the tattoo he’s looking at.

You shift, suddenly hyperaware of the way your body is lit by the moonlight. “Thanks. I planned it for weeks. The artist and I talked a lot about what I wanted. He was really talented.” You adjust your chest a little so you can take a better look of your tattoo. You swear it takes a bit of your time when you’re in the shower or you’re changing in front of the mirror because you almost always have to admire your piece whenever you see it.

“He?” Jungkook repeats.

You’re caught off guard, but you nod anyway. “Hm.”

A pause. Then: “When did you get it?”

“Two years ago. Same time Jimin got his moon phase tattoo. You’ve seen that one?”

“No. Just the others.”

“Oh, you will,” you chuckle. “He’ll show it to you whether you ask or not.”

Jungkook grins, but it’s quieter now. His hands brush off the backs of his thighs before he turns and lays his clothes down on the sand. You do the same, carefully folding your dress over the top of his shirt like it might protect it somehow. The silence between you is suddenly soft now, turning intimate.

When you meet his eyes again, you smile. And somehow, when he meets your gaze, you feel as if there’s a wire pulled taut between you – stretched thin and aching to snap.

You turn first, bare feet pressing into the cold sand as you walk toward the dark, inviting water. The night air nips at your skin, but it’s nothing compared to the rush of heat pooling low in your stomach.

Behind you, you hear Jungkook follow.

You reach the shoreline, waves licking your ankles. The water is freezing. Your breath hitches at the sensation, but you walk further in, just until it reaches your knees, then stop to turn to look back at him.

“Well?” you ask, voice soft and challenging. “Coming in, or are you just gonna stand there?”

Jungkook steps forward and walks straight into the water like it’s nothing, like he hadn’t hesitated at all, like this was his idea in the first place.

The waves lap against your skin as he closes the distance between you.

You wade further in, letting the water climb your body inch by inch until it hugs your ribs. “Ohh,” you gasp with genuine surprise. “The water’s actually warm over here.”

Jungkook raises a brow as he hears that. Trudging deeper, he takes a few steps behind you. “You serious?”

“Yeah,” you nod, flashing him a grin. “It’s nice.” The word rolls out of your mouth like you’re savoring it. You lift your hands, gathering a small pool of water, and send a playful splash in his direction.

The water hits his face. His bangs drip instantly.

You laugh at the sight. There’s a frown that twitches on his lips as he tries to blink the saltwater out of his eyes.

And then he retaliates.

He flings water back at you with enough force to wet your hair this time, and your laughter erupts again, echoing over the waves. “Didn’t expect you to be so vindictive,” you call out between splashes, paddling away from him in slow strokes. “I thought you were sweet.”

“Didn’t expect you to be so mean,” Jungkook shoots back, and the grin you see on his teasing face tugs something sweet inside your chest.

It turns into this ridiculous game – splashing, dodging, laughing. The moonlight glints on the ripples between you, and every now and then, when you’re not dunking water in each other’s faces, you catch the way his eyes linger just a bit too long. He doesn’t say anything, and neither do you. It’s not uncomfortable. It just simmers there, under the surface like heat waiting to rise.

As you paddle further, you feel the ground slope under your feet and lift slightly, weightless now, the water just above your chest. You let out a breath and spin in place lazily, floating.

“Jungkook!” you call out, voice light, “Come here!”

He does, wading close until you're barely a few feet apart. He stops right where the water reaches his collarbones, droplets rolling down his throat.

You swim toward him instinctively, arms slicing through the water, and when you get close enough, you reach up and loop your arms around his shoulders.

You feel Jungkook stiffen for a brief second, seemingly surprised by the sudden closeness. But you don’t miss the way his hands instinctively come to your waist, steadying you.

“I’m hitching a ride,” you say breezily.

“What?”

“I wanna piggyback,” you grin, already hopping onto him, locking your legs around his waist like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Jungkook lets out a huff of a laugh, almost startled. But he catches you easily, arms adjusting around your thighs to hold you steady. His hands are warm even underwater, and your chest is pressed so close to his back. So close you can hear every shallow breath.

“God, you’re shameless,” he mutters, but his voice is low and there’s a smile there – something fond, and maybe something even… dangerous.

“And you’re acting like you mind,” you murmur near his ear, smiling into his shoulder.

The water sways around you, wrapping both your bodies. It’s playful. It’s soft. But it’s also charged – like every second poses a dare for either one of you to cross a line.

You tighten your grip around his neck, your cheek brushing against his. “It’s getting cold again,” you whisper, shivering against him. “Jungkook, it’s getting cold.”

“I thought you wanted to be in the water.”

“Don’t turn this around on me.” You whine, lips brushing against his neck in your exaggerated pout. He cranes his head slightly, and you’re close enough now to count the droplets sliding down his temple. “Let’s go back,” you say, voice softer now.

He nods. “Alright.”

But just as you think he’s about to carry you back, you feel him start to lower your legs.

“Jungkook, what the hell!” you yelp, gripping his shoulders tighter.

“You said let’s go back,” he says innocently, though the glint in his eye says otherwise.

“Swear to god, if you drop me, I’ll bite you. And it won’t be pretty. I have my canine teeth.”

He laughs, the sound echoing across the water. “Okay, okay— relax. I’m not dropping you, princess.”

He readjusts his hold, and you sigh in exaggerated relief, letting your arms wrap loosely around his neck again. The journey back is slow, quiet, and for a second, you almost forget you’re wearing nothing but wet underwear. That is, until your feet touch the shore again and the sea releases you both back to reality.

You let Jungkook lower you down, suddenly aware of how much skin is on display. You turn slightly, trying to avoid looking directly at him – though that doesn’t stop you from noticing how good he looks, wet boxers clinging to his thighs, moonlight catching on his skin.

God, get a grip.

“Here,” he says, offering your dress with a slight smile.

“Oh. Thanks.” You take it, fingers brushing his for a beat longer than necessary.

“I’ll give you some space,” he says, turning around just in time for you to see him start stripping his boxers off.

“Jesus christ, Jungkook. Warn a girl next time,” you squeak, spinning around like your life depends on it.

You hear him laugh, which makes you laugh as well. And it’s stupid, but it feels natural.

“I’m taking off my underwear. Don’t look,” you call over your shoulder.

“Hmm. No promises,” he replies with a chuckle.

You roll your eyes and get to work, yanking off your bra and panties with more urgency than grace, tugging your dress back on as fast as you can. You’re nearly done when you hear his voice again.

“Done?”

“Almost,” you reply, quickly shoving your wet underwear into a ball.

You finally turn around just as Jungkook, now fully clothed again, offers his suit jacket.

“Here. In case you get cold.”

You hesitate for a split second before taking it. “Thanks.”

The jacket smells like him, and you pull it tighter around you before saying anything else. There's still water clinging to your skin, and when you glance at Jungkook, his shirt is sticking to him in places, outlining muscle like it’s got something to prove.

You try not to notice. You fail.

“I’m still wet,” you mutter under your breath before realizing what you just said.

He raises a brow, and you both burst out laughing.

“For the record, I’m also still wet,” Jungkook adds with a smirk.

You don’t even have it in you to respond. Just a groan and a shake of your head as you both start walking.

The walk back to his car isn’t long, but it feels like a slow return to reality. You glance over at Jungkook once you’re near enough, wordlessly telling him to unlock the car. He gets the message, patting his jacket pocket like it’s muscle memory. Then the other one. Then his pants.

“Shit.”

You startle at the curse that slips out of Jungkook’s mouth. He does not usually do that, like at all.

“What?” you ask back, looking at him curiously.

“I think I left my keyfob in the driver’s seat.”

Your jaw slacks. “Are you serious?”

”Hold on just a sec,” Jungkook tells you, taking a few strides over to his car. He pats his trousers again, but just like a few moments ago, he doesn’t seem to find anything.

You walk towards his direction as Jungkook lowers his head to look through the window of the driver’s seat, and when you stop by his side, he lets out a low cuss again.

You’ve never heard him say so many expletives in the entire time you’ve known him.

”It’s inside the car?”

Jungkook nods, and you can feel yourself starting to worry when he glances back at you, saying, “Did you have your phone with you or something?”

“N-no.” you’re flustered as you stare at him.

Jungkook looks like he expected that already. But he nods again, anyway, stepping back a little from the car.

”Any chance you know where we are?” He looks around, and at the very least you’re thankful that he seems cool and collected.

Because if you were not panicking already, you definitely are now.

“Not right now, no,” you shake your head. “You don’t have your phone with you either or something?”

“I didn’t take it with me when we went down to the shore.”

“So all our things are in there.” You realize as you stare inside his car.

Fuck. You remember exactly how the two of you agreed to leave all your stuff inside to avoid losing any of them at the beach, just in case.

“We’ll figure it out.” Says Jungkook as he rounds the car about. He checks his trunk and you see him poking his tongue through his cheek, visibly wincing afterwards. “We can’t access the seats through the trunk.”

Which means you can’t access the car in any way.

You’re cold and you’re frazzled as you try to process the trajectory of the events tonight.

“__,” Jungkook calls gently. You look at him wide-eyed. “Is it fine if we walk around for a bit until we find a telephone or something? I could do it but I don’t want to leave you alone here.”

“That’s fine.”

Jungkook might’ve seen how worried you are that he quickly goes to reassure you, “We got it. I’m really sorry for forgetting about my keys.”

At that, you quickly shake your head, feeling bad that he even had to tell you that.

“No, it’s fine. Not your fault. I should have reminded you about the door too…” you trail off because at the end of the day, you’re both stuck here because you forgot to pay attention to the important details.

Well, there goes your fun night. All going down the drain because you’re gonna be stuck.

You hope you do pass by a telephone booth or something, though.

Do they still even make those nowadays?

“It’s kind of a quiet part around this town, no?” Jungkook observes as he looks around while you both start walking.

You hum, but you remember something, “Wait, Kook, your car. What about it?” you look back in worry at the vehicle parked across the road.

“I’ll call a car locksmith once we get a phone. That okay?”

Jungkook’s voice is so gentle and sweet you’re honestly confused how he’s so calm about the situation while you’re thinking about so many different things in your head it’s like your body is separated from your mind as you try to match his walking pace.

It’s eerily quiet, and there are barely lamp posts around the area to illuminate your path.

You stay close to Jungkook, and somehow, he radiates a sort of warm heat that makes it bearable for you to walk for another few minutes.

“What’s on your mind?” Jungkook asks after awhile.

Since when did this country start running out of provision shops that are open for 24 hours? Why is it that suddenly, you can’t even see a sign of civilization?

Where the hell are you guys?

“Right now I’m thinking of ten ways we can both get killed but that’s not a big deal,” you say as you nibble on your bottom lip. Then you sigh. “I’m really, really, geographically challenged. Even Sol can’t figure out why I still hesitate sometimes if the pantry area is on the left or right side of the office and I’ve been in the company for over three years.” You take a deep breath again, looking at Jungkook with worried eyes. “Anyway, the point is… can you still remember where we came from? Because I unfortunately can’t help you with that.”

You send him an apologetic look, and you feel bad, you really do. But it’s not your fault that geography is not your forte! And it’s not your fault either they had no budget for lamp posts or random telephone booths.

Dwelling in that thought, you don’t notice Jungkook’s stricken expression for a moment at your sudden outburst of a confession, but soon he shakes his head, giving you a reassuring rub on your shoulder as he responds with, “I can still remember it, don’t worry.”

You almost let a sigh out of relief.

“Hey, it’s alright, hm? We’ll go home.” Jungkook says again when you don’t say anything.

You nod.

Well, that indeed feels reassuring.

You’re freaking out.

“You okay?” Jungkook asks.

“No— I’m fine. I just… my feet kind of hurt in these heels,” you finally reply.

You’d imagined a brief five‐minute walk before encountering a telephone, but every shop is closed and there’s nowhere to borrow a phone. After twenty minutes in your party heels – hardly designed for even a level walk – you’re paying the price.

Still, you try to keep your frustration at bay. You remind yourself there’s no point complaining now; it would only slow both of you down.

“Let’s rest for a bit,” Jungkook suddenly suggests. He stops by a curb, drops onto the concrete, and gestures for you to join him. You hesitate for a moment before walking over and sitting beside him. “I feel really bad,” he confesses, his eyes apologetically large.

“It’s not your fault, Kook, I promise,” you assure him, knowing deep down it isn’t his fault either. A sigh escapes him, a rare note of distress beyond the initial panic when you two discovered you’d been locked out of his car.

Before you can add more, Jungkook kneels in front of you, gently taking your legs and slipping off your heels. The sudden, yet thoughtful gesture brings immediate relief to your aching feet.

“T-thanks,” you say, slightly flustered.

In the midst of what could have been a disaster, having Jungkook here makes everything feel a bit more bearable.

A comfortable silence settles between you both until a sudden yawn reminds you just how exhausted you are.

“Tired?” Jungkook teases with a smile. You merely scrunch your nose, prompting a soft chuckle from him. “Let’s get going then. We’ll find something soon, hm?”

As you prepare to put your shoes back on, Jungkook retrieves them and positions himself so you can step onto his back.

“Hop on,” he instructs.

You laugh, nudging him playfully. “Jungkook, it’s fine. I’m not gonna die from another two or three-minute-walk.”

But he simply tilts his head back with an arched brow. “You didn’t have a problem hopping on my back at the beach.”

“That was different,” you protest, though his expectant gaze leaves you little choice. “Well… if you insist,” you relent. “Thanks, Kook. My feet were killing me.”

Jungkook hoists you onto his back with ease, your arms looping around his shoulders.

“You good?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you murmur, resting your chin on his shoulder. “Stronger than you look.”

He snorts. “I’ll pretend that’s a compliment.”

You smile, letting your eyes close for a second. The night air is cool, the road still and quiet beneath his steady footsteps.

After a beat, you say, “If we die out here, I hope someone puts cute flowers on our grave, at least.”

“Wouldn’t that be nice… put that on my tombstone: Died in heels. Looked hot doing it.”

Your laugh is cut off when you see a flickering neon glow amongst the trees, cutting through the dark.

“Wait— look.”

Jungkook stops. “Is that…?”He starts walking faster, adjusting your weight. “That’s a motel sign.”

Sure enough, the closer you get, the clearer it is: a MOTEL sign blinking in faded colors, the word Vacancy lit underneath.

Jungkook lowers you gently to the ground, and you thought that’d be the end of it but he helps you with your heels again even though you didn’t say anything.

When you’re steady on your feet, you both stare at the building.

It’s shabby, a little creepy, but real.

“You think they’ll have a phone?” you ask.

“Let’s go inside?”

You give him a tight-lipped smile.

The dingy bell above the motel door jingles weakly as Jungkook pushes it open. You step in behind him, the heavy scent of air freshener mixed with something… older… instantly hitting your nose.

The lobby is small and tired-looking, lit by a flickering overhead light and a dusty lamp on the counter. Behind it sits a woman slouched over the desk, scrolling on her phone with a bored expression. She glances up once, before returning to whatever she’s doing.

“Hi,” Jungkook starts politely. “Uh… would it be okay if we borrowed your phone for a quick call? We’re kind of stuck out here.”

The woman barely moves her jaw as she responds. “Phones are for customers only.”

You and Jungkook exchange a look. Of course.

“Okay,” he says after a beat, managing a polite smile. “Then we’ll take a room.”

She finally straightens a little and reaches under the desk. “Only one room left,” she says as she pulls out a large, clunky registration book. “Two-oh-nine. Queen bed.”

You blink. “Just one?”

She shrugs, clearly not interested in your dilemma. “You want it or not?”

“We’ll take it,” he says quickly. “I’ll just make a quick call to wire you the money?”

The woman glares at him suspiciously. Then she glances at you again, brows furrowing. You try to look inconspicuous, sticking behind Jungkook slightly. He wraps an arm around your waist.

Then, the attendant boredly shakes her head.

“Whatever. Make your calls.”

You try not to look as awkward as you feel when she slides the key across the counter with chipped blue nail polish.

“Second floor. Stairs are on the left.”

With that, she’s back on her phone like you never existed.

You and Jungkook stand there for a second, key in hand, the silence between you suddenly a little too loud. You look at each other for awhile, and then wordlessly, you both head towards where the staircase is.

It creaks, the wooden material of the treads. But you both ignore that as you make your way up.

It’s not too hard to spot Room 209, as it’s just quite literally on the next two doors to your right as soon as you step on the landing.

The door creaks loudly when Jungkook unlocks the door and pushes it open.

When you both step inside, you pause immediately.

“Oh,” you both say at the same time.

The room is… something.

Faded floral wallpaper peels in the corners, and a single overhead light casts a yellowish glow over the queen-sized bed with mismatched sheets. There’s a clunky TV mounted to the wall, an old nightstand, and a mysterious stain on the carpet near the window that neither of you want to acknowledge.

You slowly turn your head toward Jungkook just as he turns to look at you.

”You can take the bed. I’ll take—” A quick scan in the room as you both step inside further tells a quick discovery that a couch is very much absent. “I’ll take the floor.” Jungkook finishes.

You’re too occupied with the state of the room that you don’t really say anything to that.

“You can take a shower first. I’ll just use the phone,” At that, you look to the other side of the room and find another door that presumably leads to the bathroom, and you almost let out a sigh of relief. At least they have a bathroom. “Lock the door for awhile. I’ll come back in three.”

He gives you the key which you take in your hand. When Jungkook disappears, the soles of his shoes making a sound down the stairs, you make another discovery again that the walls are very thin.

Yep. You have definitely been teleported to a movie in which you have no clue what the genre is yet. It might be a rom-com, but you’re more sure that it’s horror.

”Oh god,” you groan as you navigate the room.

Jungkook can’t possibly sleep on the floor! You bet he’s never done that before but even if that was the case, that would just be a cruel thing to do especially when the bed looks like it could fit the two of you just fine.

But the thought of sleeping with him again makes the heat crawl up your cheeks. You remember the last time you did it – not exactly how and why it even happened – but you remember that brief feeling of being pressed against his warm chest and feeling him all over you. Almost all of him, in fact.

“Shut up.” you verbally tell yourself and roll your eyes, heading to the bathroom.

You go straight to the shower, strip your clothes off and grimace as soon as the cold water hits your skin. You didn’t really expect the motel to have hot water, anyway, but you do still agonize it as you clean up your body anyway, forgoing the suspicious bar of soap on the side.

You finish quickly, not really wanting to stay that long in the bathroom.

There’s a clean looking robe that you wrap your body with before you pull open the door. And there Jungkook is, standing right in front of you, seemingly waiting. He’s also shirtless, because he’s handing you his shirt for some reason.

“I called a locksmith already and they said they’re towing my car here in an hour and a half. That’d be 4 am by then, so we’ll probably be asleep. And I’m thinking you wouldn’t be comfortable in your dress, so feel free to wear this for the meantime.”

“Oh,” you give him a grateful smile, taking his shirt. “Thank you. That’s really nice of you to think.”

“No problem.”

Jungkook walks inside the bathroom and you unintentionally admire his muscular back before he completely disappears on you.

You make quick work of patting yourself dry and putting on your panties and Jungkook’s shirt, feeling your cheeks heat up a little at the familiar scent.

As you make the bed half-heartedly, you try not to think too much about how you’re gonna invite him beside you – but it keeps messing with your head because now you’re thinking about cuddling him and it’s totally unnecessary and inappropriate.

At one point, you let yourself fall on the mattress dramatically, burying your face in the pillows and lying still.

“__?”

You lay flat on the bed completely motionless, brainstorming how to approach the situation.

You really can’t let Jungkook sleep on the floor. There’s not even that much of a bedding on the bed, let alone some sheets! And there are only three pillows for Christ’s sake!

You’ve drowned out your environment at that point that you guess you didn’t hear the shower shut close and the feet padding the floor, because when you crane your neck around, there Jungkook is.

And again, he is without a shirt.

And without pants.

And you’re mostly certain it’s his penis right there in between his thighs.

”Oh my god!”

”__, what the hell!”

“Jungkook, that’s your penis!”

“What? Turn around and don’t look!” Jungkook says wide-eyed, attempting to cover his dick with his two hands. But it’s too late now because you’ve just seen it and there’s no way to blur it out in your head.

“But I already saw it!” you cry, seeing different momentary emotions flash on Jungkook’s face.

“I was calling for you because the towel is in the cabinet but I thought you got knocked out from exhaustion and so I decided I was just gonna sneak in!” Jungkook explains frantically, and you can see his ears turning red from where you are as he tries to seemingly cover all of him, quite poorly might you add.

You stutter, “W-what do you mean knocked out, of course I’m awake!”

“I called you thrice, and you didn’t— okay. Okay. Just turn around, please, so I can get the towel.”

“Okay!” You bite your lip and almost snap your neck as you turn around swiftly, landing your eyes on the torn portion of the wallpaper in the room. “Oh my god…” You whisper to yourself as you hear shuffling from behind you, and if it was not any more obvious, you're about to burst in embarrassment. “What the fuck,” you hiss, trying not to physically shake your head to erase the image of Jungkook’s very naked body that keeps flashing in your head.

It seems like he picks up on it.

“Can you not sound so mortified?”

And for the first time in your life, there’s a tone to Jungkook’s voice that sounds genuinely annoyed.

You slap both your palms to your face. “Well, I’m sorry! I just saw your— your thing! how am I supposed to react to that? It’s embarrassing!”

“My penis is embarrassing?” Jungkook incredulously says.

You wish your mind worked faster than your mouth, but unfortunately, it doesn't. And you should’ve known that already, because it has gotten you in a lot of trouble all this time.

“No! Your penis is fine! It’s wonderful! I’m embarrassed, that’s what I meant.”

There was no way to take that back, because the silence that follows is too loud that at this point, you hope the building burns to fuck so Jungkook can forget about what you said and maybe all about you too while you’re at it.

“… okay.” you hear Jungkook’s unsure voice.

You groan. “Can I turn around now?”

“You can.”

Thankfully, Jungkook has his pants on now. You try to see past his bottom half but the upper part is no help at all because you're wearing his shirt and there’s no way you’re giving it back to him so he’s naked, again.

Jungkook cocks his head to the side. He looks at you curiously, then he shakes his head.

“If anything, I should be the one embarrassed here, not you,” he says as he walks by the edge of the bed.

“Well…” you watch him, following his figure. “I was speaking for both of us. You’re embarrassed about having your thing get seen by me and I’m embarrassed for seeing it.”

Jungkook pauses.

“That is definitely not offensive.”

You’re about to release a sigh of relief when you realize that was him being sarcastic.

You eye him apologetically. “Oh, Jungkook, how was I supposed to react? Your one-eyed monster just stared right at me. I had to scream.”

“My… what?” he incredulously says, seemingly just getting more and more confused the more the conversation gets going.

You remember your promise to yourself to stop calling penis weird names so you shake your head.

“I didn’t say that, actually,” you try to give him your sweetest smile but you’re sure you just look constipated. You sigh, shoulders deflating. “Jungkook, I think it would really benefit the two of us if you stop me from speaking sometimes.”

“Okay I get it,” Jungkook raises his hands, shrugging. “You’re mortified about seeing my dick.” He says and you swear he sounds a little defensive.

“What? No!” you quickly deny. “I’m not mortified about seeing your dick, I’m mortified about having to see it in the situation…!” When Jungkook doesn’t say anything, you let out a loud sigh again, eyeing him helplessly as you quietly accept that nothing is coming out right.

In defeat, you let your bum fall on the mattress and cross your arms as Jungkook finishes his make-shift bed on the floor.

“… well you would actually also scream if the situation was reversed, so.” You tell him as a matter of fact.

Jungkook stops on his tracks and turns to you. “You mean if I saw you naked?”

“Well, yes.”

You hear him scoff a little, prompting your brows to raise.

“Trust me, I’ll have an entirely different reaction if I saw you naked.”

He takes the spare sheet on the edge of the bed, laying it on the floor as your arms unconsciously drop to your sides once you register Jungkook’s words, jaw slacking at the realization. Before you can say anything to that, Jungkook’s already laying down on the floor and getting comfortable.

“You know what, you’re so full of lines it’s ridiculous.” you say and indignantly lay on the bed, staring angrily at the ceiling.

But you remember he doesn’t even have pillows. So you make quick work of taking the two under your head. “Here.” You pass him the pillows without looking at him.

You’re not even mad mad, you’re just… ugh! Jungkook frustrates you with his stupid lines and you don’t even know if he’s serious or not or you’re just way too self-centered that everything he says feels like flattery to you.

“What do you mean I’m full of lines?” Jungkook asks from below you.

“Come on, you always flirt with me.”

Suddenly, you hear a chuckle, making you instantly crane your neck to the side.

“Do you have a problem with it?” Jungkook says, and he has the audacity to sound playful.

You nibble your bottom lip. You could make up a lie, but you find yourself not wanting to. Besides… it doesn’t realy matter if you tell him the truth.

“No. You just make me so…” you trail off, not knowing what to say next. Maybe you didn’t really have anything in mind.

You hear Jungkook chuckling again at your prolonged silence.

“So…?” You can just see him cocking his head to the side with that charming smile of his.

“Nevermind.”

“That’s not fair,” he calls out, but there’s still a hint of smile that you can hear in his voice. “I still feel embarrassed that you felt mortified about seeing my—“

”Oh my god, don’t say it.” you quickly cut him off.

He laughs. A hearty, full laugh. “Sorry.”

“I’m not scared of your dick, okay? Stop saying that,” you say, cheeks heating. You bury your face further in the pillow as if it would teleport you to a place away from Jungkook. “I actually think—“ you cut yourself immediately when you catch what you’re actually thinking.

“What?” he sounds intrigued, and you’re really grateful that he can’t see you right now because you’re definitely banging your face in the pillow again.

While it is true that you got scared for a split second, it was only because of the shock of it all. But once you were past that, fear is definitely the last thing you feel about seeing his… thing, if you’re being honest to yourself.

“I think that it’s time to sleep now.” You settle for that, nodding your head to yourself and mentally patting your back for the successful change of subject.

“Uh-huh.”

“Okay.”

“Alright.”

You bite back a smile. “Night.”

“You too.”

You hear a little bit of shuffling from below you, and you try to get comfortable as well on the mattress.

When a few minutes passed, you find yourself unable to close your eyes, staring at the dark scenery behind the curtain of the one and only window in the room. You peek at the alarm clock perched on the bedside table, noting it’s already four am.

You’re used to a fucked sleeping schedule so it’s not a surprise to you that you don’t feel an ounce of sleep at this point. Thank god it’s Sunday tomorrow and you have no work.

Is Jungkook asleep already, though?

You move around the bed and gingerly roll yourself over to look at Jungkook. When you finally see him, he has one arm under his head while the other is draped across his bare stomach, eyes closed. There’s no extra sheet so you both have to deal with the cold from the breeze outside. Maybe it’s a good thing the AC’s not working, because you both will surely freeze to death.

“Can’t sleep?”

You nearly topple over when you hear Jungkook’s voice.

“You scared me,” you hiss. Jungkook laughs, but still, his eyes don’t open.

“Gotcha.” his words may be playful but you realize he actually does sound a little tired.

You’re quiet for a moment as you look at him. The floorboards must probably be hurting him, and if not right now, it surely will in the next hours.

“Kook?” He only hums. “Do you wanna share the bed?” you say, looking at him in concern.

“It’s alright.” Jungkook says gently.

“No, it’s fine really. And we can also share that sheet anyway if we both sleep here instead.”

Finally, Jungkook opens his eyes, meeting yours. “You sure?” You nod your head certainly. He gives you a smile. ”Okay.”

He gets off the floor, bringing the sheet and pillows with him as he stands up. You try to ignore the way your stomach curls at the sight of him: shirtless and only in his trousers, but it becomes more difficult when he gets closer, knees dipping into the mattress and scent overwhelming you.

He smells like the perfume you assume he wears for work, and goddamn does it stay and good god does it make you think of a lot of things.

Scooting to the side, you hug one pillow closer to you as you give him space. It’s not a tight fit, but it’s not spacious, either.

“You’re gonna fall off the bed at this point,” Jungkook says suddenly, and you realize you’re near the edge by your constant ruffling.

Giving him a sheepish smile, you adjust your position just as he lays on his back.

Your shoulders touch, and he feels closer than ever.

You swallow the lump in your throat before you turn around with your back facing him, curling to yourself as you barely whisper, “Good night, Jungkook.”

A beat. Then, “Sweet dreams, __.”

Minutes pass, and you’ve been trying to shut your eyes close so sleep can come visit you, but it doesn’t. You’re trying so hard not to press any closer in the fear of suddenly wanting to cuddle up to him and having your resolve get broken down.

“Hey,” Your heart jumps at Jungkook’s husky tone. But you hum in response, still your back on him. There’s a pregnant pause before he speaks. “What I said last time at your place, we never really talked about it again.”

Your heart picks up, knowing exactly where he’s getting at.

It’s been about four days, and none of you haven’t brought it up ever since.

“I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable.”

Your heart gets caught up in your throat. “Kook…”

“I’m completely fine just being friends with you, if that’s what you want.” Jungkook says, and every word that he says is starting to feel like a punch to the gut. “I’ve thought about it. I don’t want you to think that my friendship has an ulterior motive—”

“Jungkook?”

You feel Jungkook physically freeze when you turn around to look at him. He’s there lying on his back with an arm under his neck, and for now, you ignore the very obvious lines of ripped muscles on his stomach and arms. For now, you try not to think too much about how his chest looks so inviting like it’s begging to be cuddled into.

“Yes?” He levels you with curious doe eyes, a little tense.

“Shut up.” You tell him gently. His mouth parts, completely unexpecting that.

You adjust your position on the bed until your elbow is pressing hard onto the mattress, supporting your weight. Tucking a strand of hair that falls over your face, you look into his eyes as you add, “I don’t wanna be just friends with you.”

Surprise makes its way onto his expression, and you try to drown out the way your heart beats erratically against your ribcage.

When he doesn’t say anything, you let yourself fall on the bed ungracefully, turning your back on him, suddenly feeling embarrassed for your mini outburst.

But then a few seconds later, and you hear a bit of shuffling behind you. Then, there’s a breath that fans across your neck, and you feel a warm presence all over your back.

“This is okay, then?” Jungkook whispers against your hair, so close to the junction between your neck and shoulder. You could see from your periphery the way his inked arm hovers over your waist, and you find yourself yearning for him to just drop it and press you closer against him.

And so you decide to throw your inhibitions away and think fuck it. What’s there to think about?

You scoot closer to him until you feel all of him against your back.

Without knowing why, you feel a smile on Jungkook’s lips as he softly says, “You’re killing me here.”

When you look over your shoulder, there Jungkook is, meeting your stare instantly as if his eyes had been on you the whole time. And maybe it’s the magnetic pull you’ve felt ever since you stepped on that beach and felt and seen each other’s bare skin pressed so close against one another – teasing your feet over the lines you two have been blurring out ever since that night at his place when you got drunk and you shared a rather intimate moment that left you both hanging to a questionable push and pull situation.

But you choose to push this time; against the whirling thoughts in your head about what this would mean in the future.

You adjust yourself once again; lean a little close, and then kiss Jeon Jungkook.

And it doesn’t really surprise you that much when he kisses back.

You’ve thought about how he would taste like ever since that night it almost happened and kept yourself in denial for days. You’ve played the oblivious game as a defense mechanism for some fear you know you just conjured up in your brain – but tonight feels electric. Like the night built up just for this exact moment to come; with your lips pressed against Jungkook’s.

You hear a sigh escaping him, a deep timbre that sends shivers down your spine.

And when Jungkook nudges his tongue against your lips, you open your mouth to let him in.

You let out a soft whimper when Jungkook’s tongue starts exploring your mouth, beginning to feel lightheaded as he leans more of him towards you. His hands start wandering, and what was once hovering over you is now on your waist, fingers pulling up the hem of his polo shirt until you’re exposed down to your legs with only a pair of underwear to keep you decent. It travels down to your outer thigh, with Jungkook brushing a calloused hand against the soft flesh – and you can’t help but moan when he squeezes, especially paired with a skillful tongue that works its ways in your mouth like he’s trying to tell you something he’s desperate for you to know.

It’s how you find yourself pushing on his chest, effectively halting Jungkook’s ministrations.

“Wh—” you cut him off with another searing kiss, and you don’t let him say any more as you boldly straddle his waist, unintentionally settling down on his crotch where you feel a bulge against your thin underwear.

And oh god. Earlier when you saw it with your bare eyes, you had to convince yourself that it was just the shock that made it seem so… big. But feeling it right now tells the same story.

You both moan in unison, with Jungkook’s hands instinctively going to grab your waist, pressing you against him harder.

As you do an experimental roll of your hips, Jungkook lets out a guttural groan that makes your body tingle with want. His hands tighten their hold on your waist, and the next thing you know, he’s flipping you on your back in one swift motion. He presses his knee to your covered core, your eyes rolling to the back of your head at the delicious friction of something hard against your clit.

“Ah…” you tilt your head to the side when Jungkook begins peppering kisses on the side of your mouth, down to your jaw; nipping and nibbling. “Oh, Jungkook,”

“Fuck, baby,” The nickname slips past his lips like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and you watch as Jungkook kisses his way down your cleavage, made easily accessible by the undone top buttons of your shirt. He noses along the line of your bra, leaves butterfly kisses on his path. “Baby…”

“Jungkook– please…”

Suddenly, he looks up at you, eyes hooded with what you can only identify as lust. “Do you want this?” he husks out.

You don’t even have to think about it, a “Yes” escaping your lips just right after his question drops. “I want this. So bad.”

“Goddamn it,” He hisses, diving into your chest and taking in a huge inhale in the swell of your breasts. You feel lightheaded, brain hazy and not thinking about anything else but his hands all over you and the hard evidence of his mutual want pressing against your abdomen.

Until he breaks away.

Perplexed, you look at him with questioning eyes.

“Listen, angel,” Jungkook inhales a sharp breath, gaze dropping onto your lips. “I want nothing but to strip you off these clothes and show you how much I want you right now—” your mouth parts when he presses his hips against yours, his hand squeezing your rib, sitting dangerously close to your breast. “but I don’t want us to have sex for the first time in this… motel room. And I don’t have a condom with me.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.” Jungkook looks defeated, like it physically pained him to even admit that to you; face settling in a deep scowl.

You look around… and honestly, you get it.

You turn to look at him and then let your hands slowly wander across his chest as you sigh deeply.

“You’re right.” You nibble on your bottom lip as you brush past his nipples, noting the way his biceps flex at the touch. “It’s a shame.”

“__…” It sounded like a gentle warning, the way Jungkook spoke your name.

But you don’t let it deter your hands from traveling down south, ignoring his sudden heavy breaths on top of you when your finger stops at his zipper.

You look at him again, meeting his stare.

“Can we just do something else, then?” You blink meekly. And you watch as his mouth parts when your hand slowly rubs the hard-on he’s sporting in his pants. He’s so big, and so heavy. You wonder how it’d look like in your hand. “You’re so hard.”

But Jungkook takes your wrist, effectively stopping you from palming him.

You immediately frown, about to say something when Jungkook drowns it out with a hot kiss.

His tongue dances against yours in a fervid motion, knocking you out of breath, completely unexpecting the passion he puts into the kiss.

But you don’t mind one bit, not when he begins kissing his way down your jaw, the column of your neck, until his hands skirt along your shirt.

“Can I take this off?” Jungkook asks, already fiddling with the buttons. You nod unabashedly, body anticipating with want.

He makes quick work of the button down until all it reveals is you in your bra and panties. Jungkook takes a sharp breath and hones in on your tattoo once again.

“Gorgeous,” he breathes, and he sounds so mesmerized you don’t even know what to say. He traces the ink along your rib with light kisses that make you squirm. “This okay?”

He looks up at you, and you swore you never saw a man this beautiful on top of you in your whole life.

“Hmm.”

Suddenly, you hear a click, and you watch as your bra loosens with Jungkook taking it off you completely. Breasts spilling out from the confines, you both moan when Jungkook squeezes them in his palms.

“Absolutely beautiful– fuck.” He flicks your nipples, pinches them in his fingers until they’re tight and peaked. He lowers his head to kiss around the swell of your breast, nipping around the skin until he furthers down, breath ghosting along your hips.

You moan and grab at his shoulders at the tentative touch of his finger over your core, pushing your head back when he presses his thumb right where your nub is.

“Can’t tell you how much I’ve been wanting to do this,” Jungkook rasps, continuing to rub his thumb over your clothed core. You can feel your wetness starting to seep through, hands clutching his shoulders tighter by the second.

“Y-yeah?”

“Hm. You’ve been teasing me all night long.”

Jungkook hooks his fingers over the waistband of your panties, and in an absurdly, ridiculously slow motion, peels the flimsy fabric right off your legs.

You bite your lip. “How’d you say so?”

There’s a small tilt to Jungkook’s lips that you see before he lowers his head to press a kiss on your inner thigh. When you squirm, he tightens his grip, looks up at you and holds an intense gaze as he slowly licks a bold stripe across your slit.

You feel a gush of wetness coming out just as you feel a tingle in your groin, words getting caught in your tongue when you watch Jungkook zero in on your pussy.

“You in that goddamn dress made me almost malfunction at the rooftop,” he chuckles, kissing your clit. “Showing me your tattoo, suggesting to swim in our underwear. You know, I think you know exactly what you do to me.”

You inhale a sharp breath when you see him wetting one of his fingers in his mouth. It’s sinful the way he looks at you as he slowly dips it in your aching entrance, watching the way your mouth parts in an obscene o-shape.

“I-I don’t.” you deny, hands finding the rumpled sheets and gripping them tight at the anticipation of what he’s going to do next.

But Jungkook just chuckles; a dark, rich sound. And it’s the first time you hear something like that from him. Almost ominous, sinister. It excites you.

“Hm, I don’t think so. But it’s okay. I’ll let it slide for now,” He kisses your thigh again, teasing. “What do you want, baby? Let me take care of you and this wet pussy. So gorgeous, just like the rest of you.”

“Your mouth,” you say with no hesitation, “and your fingers.” You bite your lip, thinking about it before you throw out a small, “Please.”

Jungkook chuckles, leaning in so he could press a kiss on your mound. That evokes a shiver from you, legs jumping with equal need and want.

“Greedy and polite,” He grips your thighs, “I like that.”

“Jung—”

“Stay still now, baby.” He says before separating your glistening folds with his fingers and diving right in.

It tears out a cry from your vocal chords, the way he swirls his tongue around your clit and kisses around the crevice of your heat like he’s making out with it. His grunts and moans, along with the sloppy sounds of your slick is so lewd to the ears you’re almost certain the people on the other side of the room could hear it if they weren’t asleep – but you find you don’t really care if they could, because Jungkook is licking you clean like his life depended on it.

“Ah– fuck, feels so good– p-please…”

“Hm?” His hum vibrates in your pussy that rips a moan from you, hands grabbing at his head in panic at the pleasure.

Warm hands smooth up your thighs to pin them down again, preventing you from squirming too much. Now you’re immobile in his hold, panting at the sensation of him enveloping your clit and giving it a harsh suck that causes your hips to buck against his face. At that jerky movement from you, Jungkook splays his hand on your stomach, and you fall back down with a thump and a pleasurable cry.

“I’m sorry, baby,” He whispers in a raspy tone. He does give you an apologetic kiss on the mound, even giving a slow lick from your hole and dipping inside for a brief, solid second before he returns to your clit, putting it in a hot suction in his mouth again, causing a sharp moan to escape past your lips. “I love the pretty sounds you make for me, pretty girl. Keep that up for me, yeah?”

You whimper, nodding feverishly and grabbing at his hair tightly when he starts rubbing his thumb on your clit again, watching him lightheaded as he focuses on spreading the slick all over your pussy. Slowly, he dips in his ring finger in your aching hole, satisfying the emptiness you’ve long felt with his thick digit.

When you look down, you catch Jungkook staring at you while he digs deeper, and you hold his gaze until he’s knuckles deep; mouth parting at how unbelievably full you already feel with just a finger.

He begins sliding it out, but it’s not long until he’s putting it again and repeating the manner in a stroke that progresses its pace by the second.

“Jungkook– shit,” you moan, thrashing underneath him. “F-fuck. I can’t– baby– fuck—”

“Hm?” he quickens his pace, enjoying the way more slick oozes out from your pussy at his lewd ministrations.

“M-more. I want more– oh my god,”

And he doesn’t need to get told twice because as soon as you mention it, he adds in his middle finger, stroking your inner walls like it’s a job he doesn’t play about.

“So pretty. Wanna make you cum,” he breaks eye contact in favor of enveloping your clit in his mouth again.

This time, Jungkook emphasizes his sentiment by putting more enthusiasm in the way he licks you; messy and sloppy than before. He retracts his fingers from your pussy, and you’re about to reprimand him but your words die on your tongue when he only uses his fingers to keep your folds open to dip his tongue in your sopping hole, drawing eights in your inner walls that have you almost seeing stars.

His other hand that was once pinning you down against the rumpled sheets is now on your clit, rubbing it while he eats you feverishly like it’s his last meal.

Your eyes flutter shut at the overwhelming sensation of his tongue and mouth and fingers – hands pushing his head down unintentionally and moaning uncontrollably. Jungkook’s nose brushes against your clit as he devours your pussy, keeping his pace steady until pleasure coils in the pit of your belly.

Jungkook seems to notice that, as he once again slips his fingers in you, curling it so deep and expertly finding that sweet spot inside you it makes your toes curl at your impending orgasm.

“F-fuck, I’m gonna cum,”

“Yeah?” He murmurs against you, swirling his tongue around your clit in frantic circles. “You gonna be a good girl and cum for me, baby? Hm?”

“Yes– yes, yes!” You cry. “Don’t stop please, don’t stop,”

“I know… you can cum for me, angel. So gorgeous. Such a good girl…” Jungkook keeps his pace steady, doubling his efforts until he feels you thrashing wildly he couldn’t really keep you down.

“Jungkook—!”

The coil snaps in the pit of your stomach, vision going white at the orgasm that hits you like a ten-wheeler truck.

“Good girl,” Jungkook murmurs, riding out the waves of your pleasure by slowing down his strokes this time, your walls clenching around his fingers, still spasming.

When you whine, he unsheathes his fingers from your tight walls. You watch as he lowers his head down to dive in you once again, feeling even more boneless when you hear a shameless slurp that comes from him licking you clean.

You feel tired, sleepy, but happy all at once; your throat feeling absolutely dry from all the moaning you did earlier. Nonetheless, you smile as Jungkook looks up at you again – feeling suddenly shy when you see the slick that covers up his chin.

“Feelin’ good?” He says, grinning.

You roll your eyes that earns you a chuckle from him.

Jungkook slowly returns to you with kisses to your hips, up to your stomach; to your tattoo, the swell of your breasts, and then your sternum before you wrap your arms around his shoulders, craning your neck when his lips slowly ascend there.

“I feel tired,” you say, revelling in the kisses Jungkook plants on the base of your neck. “You might have broken me, mister.”

He chuckles against your jaw, playfully nipping then kissing the spot.

“Hm. I hope not. I’d feel really bad.”

A giggle slips past you, and you welcome Jungkook’s lips when he kisses your mouth, tongue dipping in immediately.

Suddenly, you feel his very obvious erection against your stomach, making you break away from the kiss.

Jungkook looks at you with furrowed brows.

You cup his face, biting your lip as you glance down. “What about you?”

It takes Jungkook a while to get what you meant as he directs his gaze down to where your eyes are. Then he looks at you again, chuckling, “Don’t worry, I’ll manage.” You frown. Jungkook erases your pout with a kiss. “Come on, I’ll clean you up and we’ll sleep right after. Sounds good?”

“Okay.” you give him a smile. Jungkook pecks you on the cheek before he stands up from the bed with grace that you know you cannot pull off after doing the deed.

“I’ll take this.” he picks up your shirt and gestures to the other side of the room.

You feel like every bone in your body had been liquefied, feeling absolutely nothing but pleasurable ache in between your thighs as you lay on your side, admiring Jungkook’s back as he disappears into the bathroom.

It’s not long before he returns with a dampened portion of the polo shirt, and you swear you had to tell every part of you to say nothing as he tells you to open up and use the shirt to clean you up.

You’re a heated mess when Jungkook comes back to bed, but you both don’t really say anything and let the comfortable silence hang in the air as you curl to your side with Jungkook sidling up against your back.

In a bout of sudden braveness, you take his arm and wrap it around you. He wastes no time and pushes you closer to him, burying his head in your hair.

“It’s almost morning…” you whisper as you take a peak of the window, finding a much lighter shade on the background compared to the pitch black night sky you walked in earlier.

Jungkook hums. “It’s almost 5. I’ll set an alarm at 8 and we’ll check out.”

You’re too sleepy to function at that point, couldn’t fight the drowsiness of sleep that pushes against your eyelids.

All you remember is a light kiss against your hair and Jungkook tightening his arm around you before you completely drift off to sleep.

#jungkook fanfiction #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #bts smut #bts fluff #jungkook imagines #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fanfic #p; writing #fic: nb #awrkive

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softjeon · 5 years ago

Text

Here there be beasts | Pt. 2

• Pairing: Jimin x Wolf!Namjoon • Genre: Angst, Fluff | Rating: Mature | RedRidingHood!AU / Fairytale!AU → Gifset Trailer • Words: 10k | AO3 • Disclaimer: nsfw-content, smut, mentioning of blood, abuse, violence, weapons, dark themes, anxiety

written with @cassiavioletblue

↳ Fear was a strange feeling. People feared the unknown, the dark and witchcraft. The shadows that were lurking through the forest at night. The same fear that made the folks in the village keep their distance from the forest at night; that locked their doors on nights when there was a full moon, or no moon at all.

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It had rained through the night into the early morning. As it came down, it had brought a cool dampness to the air that Jimin felt right to his bones, sending a shiver through him. A light fog stood over the lake he passed, but when the sun began to make it’s way above the horizon Jimin could feel it’s warmth rapidly tempering the air, causing the mist to rise almost straight up in a motion that appeared like dancers across the lake.

There was a smile on his lips that he couldn’t wipe off since he had woken up in Namjoon’s embrace this morning. And even though it had been a rough sleep, he liked it a little too much. Jimin only parted from the other with a heavy heart but he really needed to hurry to get back home before they would come and look for him and give the other and the wolf more trouble. Before he climbed down again though, Jimin draped his red coat over Namjoon softly, hoping that it would keep him warm. And maybe, also would make the stranger remember him.

Jimin was back in the village as soon as the sun’s rays were waking everyone up. It was early, but he could hear a few people already roaming around and he hurried up to get back to the doctor’s office to bring the herbs he had gathered and head home. Their village was about as small and simple as a town could be. The little community had a marketplace at one end and a church in the center.

“Jimin!”

Jimin froze in his steps, cursing under his breath before turning around with a sweet smile. “Yes?” He gazed up at Hosung, who was stomping towards him. It was obvious that he had seen him not being home when he had promised. Jimin didn’t listen to his rant and curses, the little prayers he said in between left him cold and feeling nothing as he simply let Hosung pull him along and behind closed doors.

“You done now?” Jimin crossed his arms in front of his chest, “I am fine as you can see. I knew I wouldn’t make it back to the village in time, so I stayed with my grandma, simple as that. Don’t pretend like you would have cared Hosung.” He rolled his eyes at him, before turning to the stove to heat up some water. “You didn’t look for me, right? Couldn’t been so bad that I was gone. Did you invite someone else at night then? To keep you warm?” Jimin passed the taller man, shaking his head as if it even phased him that the other did. Honestly, Jimin could have cared less. Right now, he had different things on his mind and one being the stranger that lived in the woods.

Without a word Hosung turned Jimin around and slapped his face. He was shaking with rage and adrenaline from the hunt because he hadn’t had time to rest and had been on his feet the whole night.

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that! I was worried sick for you! How could you do that to me? Vanish into thin air right after an attack? During the hunting night when the horns and people might have driven the monster out, angry and full of spite? I’ve seen you dead and in pieces in my mind, Jimin, fearing that the next time I would be able to look into your eyes they would be cold and dead and wide open in fear because you died in pain. And now you come back and mock me? Accuse me of cheating on you? What have I done to deserve this! Haven’t I always had your best interest at heart? You are an accepted citizen in this village because of me and me alone, Jimin, you might remember that next time you think about talking to me like that.”

Jimin hadn’t expected the blow. His eyes were wide, cheeks burning as he stood frozen in Hosung hold. There were tears threatening to spill, so he bit his tongue as hard as he could, trying to take a deep breath. “I…I am sorry.” The apology came over his lips so smoothly, hands shakily reaching out for the other. “I was…I was just as scared…for you,” He gulped, trying not to let the other see how much his cheek was hurting right now, hoping that there would be no bruises left. The lies to soothe the man were so easily spoken, something that Jimin had many years to perfect. “I don’t want you to get hurt out there. I am sorry, Hosung.” Hosung easily let him in again, pulling him into a tight embrace.

“I’m sorry if I scared you Jimin. Just please... don’t run away from me or stay outside the village. You know what can happen to people who do that. You are safe in here. Just…stay. I don’t know why it’s so hard for you to see where your future lies. It’s here, with me. Not outside the village, not in the forest. There’s only death and horror waiting. I can keep you safe and cared for. You will have everything you wish for. Just let go of that childish stubbornness. It won’t help you.”

Jimin didn’t fight the hold, just nodding to whatever the other was saying. “I know,” He whispered empty promises to Hosung. “I know, I’ll keep by your side.”

He knew it would be the safest way to just keep inside the village, to not find out what really happened and just stay with Hosung. He just wanted what was best for Jimin and honestly, sometimes he wasn’t so sure what even would be the right or the best thing to do. And yet, something inside of Jimin was telling him not to stop searching.

He just needed to be a little bit more careful from now on.

...

The village still seemed to be in shock, whispering behind closed doors and pointing their fingers at people even after a couple of days had passed. Jimin hadn’t returned to the forest. Not that he hadn’t wanted to, but Hosung kept closer to him and he did everything to show that he was trustworthy again, playing the perfect role until he would finally fall into his old habits again (meaning sleeping all day after being passed out drunk at the tavern).

Jimin sighed as he stood at the market, eyeing the fruits of the farmer as he eavesdropped a few conversations, when he startled at hearing his own name. His heart began to beat a little faster, hands shaking as he reached for an apple to buy when it slipped from his grasp. “Don’t listen to them,” The farmer had been quick enough to catch it and placed it back in Jimin’s hands. “They are looking for anything to make sense in this time honestly, saying it could have been you, the only one that the wolf spared.”

“But there’s never been a wolf with me…they just exaggerated it-“

“I know,” The older man smiled at him and Jimin’s eyes widened when the other so easily told him that he believed him.

“You believe me?”

The farmer nodded again, his gray hair falling into his eyes with the motion. “The girl survived, too, right? They are just making up stories now - but be careful, will you Jiminie?” The younger nervously bit his lip. No one ever called him this nickname. No one but his mother. He placed two apples in his hands, refusing to take any payment from him. Jimin bowed in gratefulness, putting the fruit safely in his basket before he left the marketplace. He knew a better place to get more answers and he also needed to get his hood back.

It was strange to step into the woods without his red cloak protecting him, but the sun was shining brightly - he wouldn’t need to fear anything. At least Jimin hoped so.

He took the same route, straying from the path just about the same way he had done the first time. Jimin had absolutely no clue where Namjoon lived or where he could find him and the longer he was roaming the woods the more he feared he would get lost and never find the other.

…

Namjoon had waited, with excitement in his heart for Jimin to come back. He had even tried to wake up at sunrise like people normally did, neglecting his hunts at night. But Jimin didn’t come. And when his reserve of fruits and nuts and berries was almost gone he made a last dinner of them, a bitter taste in his mouth as he knew that he would need to hunt again and that he would sleep during the daylight again meaning that even if Jimin would visit him he might miss him.

After a long night of hunting Namjoon had finally called it a night - or day, as the sun was already shining. His muscles were sore, and his hands were bloody so he stripped and slowly walked into the little lake. It was cold but it helped to keep him awake until he was finished cleaning up. He had a full stomach and he was exhausted so sleeping would be easy after this. He yawned, heartily, splashing a little around to get rid of the blood without really having too much scrubbing because his skin felt raw and tender after the transformation.

Jimin was about to turn around and take another route, when he heard the splashing sound of water and his heart instantly skipped a beat. The moment, Namjoon (and his sculpted, and very much naked chest) came in view, Jimin shrieked and jumped behind a tree in his panic that he had interrupted something that he wasn’t supposed to interrupt. He whined quietly, hoping that the other hadn’t seen him, yet.

Namjoon almost got a heart attack when he heard the shrieking. He had dozed off a little despite the cold water but Jimin’s panicked sound brought him back to his senses.

“Jimin?!” He turned around, searching frantically for a sign of the younger - and deflated visibly when he saw the other staring back at him from behind a tree. “Jimin, what the hell are you doing? Are you trying to wake the whole forest? I bet even your grandma heard your scream. Did you see a snake?”

“I am so sorry!” The younger jumped back again, cheeks flushing red in his embarrassment. “No…no, I…just.” He put his hand over his eyes, carefully getting out from the tree he was hiding behind while at the same time covering up Namjoon’s body so he wouldn’t see him. “I didn’t expected you to...to be in the lake...half naked, I assume.” He peeked through his fingers, before hiding quickly again.

“Why?” Namjoon made a face, “Do you wash yourself with clothes? That’s stupid.” He tried to get out of the water but another sound from Jimin had him freezing right where he was. “You’re really that shocked because I am naked? Don’t tell me you’ve never seen a naked person before. I can assure you that I have the same parts as you do. Just maybe… a little different in size...” He added as he let his eyes travel down Jimin’s form.

Jimin groaned when Namjoon hit the nail right on its head. He was right, Jimin had never seen another naked man before. Not one like Namjoon at least, that was sculpted like a god or something that was designed to lure him in.

“Hey, I’m not that small!” Jimin pouted cutely as he let his hand fall, but still not daring to look directly at Namjoon. “And no, I don’t wash myself with clothes either…it’s not nice though to stare, right? It’s called manners.”

Namjoon burst into laughter. “Manners? I don’t care for manners if it means denying oneself the pleasure of a nice view just to dream about it in secret behind closed doors. Also weren’t you the one that told me he doesn't believe in confessing your sins? Isn’t that against the rules, against the manners of your village too?” He smirked at Jimin who was visibly flushing under his gaze.

Jimin dared to look at Namjoon, trying to keep his eyes locked on his and not let them sway down a little more but he failed miserably only seconds in. “So, you don’t mind it if I…” Jimin stopped, when his eyes fell onto the many scars and bruises on Namjoon’s skin. Some of them looked fresh, as if Namjoon had fallen or gotten into a fight. His name fell from his lips in a whisper, before Jimin jolted forward not caring about getting into the water because now the scenery had switched from the other taking a simple bath to cleaning out his wounds. “Are you hurt? Oh god, what happened?”

Jimin’s demeanor changed so fast Namjoon had a hard time keeping up. It took him a moment to get what Jimin was referring to because for an awful second he thought he still had blood on his hands but when he looked at them they were clean. Then he remembered the bruises that came from changing forms, the cuts that came from running through the woods on bare feet and without clothes and the wounds that came from prey fighting back. Now it was his turn to flush in embarrassment. “Oh, no, don’t worry, I’m... I’m fine this is just… you said it yourself when we hiked up those hills; it’s exhausting and dangerous and sometimes you slip. That’s all. I’m fine, Jimin. Don’t worry.”

Jimin soothed over Namjoon’s skin with a light touch, tracing a few scars mindlessly. “Be a little more careful will you?” He whispered, smiling up at him as he settled his hands on the other shoulders. “I don’t want you to get hurt, so please keep in mind that I will smack you if I find you with new scars because you have been too exhausted and slipped from somewhere, deal?” Jimin sighed and looked down at his own clothes that were now sticking onto his body. “So much about washing myself with clothes on.”

Namjoon chuckled, smoothly slipping back into teasing mode. “And how will you know if I got any new scars? Will you map out all the old ones? I guess that would take patience, some time - and a lot more attention to detail than you were willing to give ten minutes ago. Or did it change now that you are about to get naked too?” He gently pulled at the wet clothes on Jimin’s form. “If you needed an excuse to go for a swim with me you wouldn’t have to get into the water like this. You might have ruined your shoes.”

Jimin scoffed, “I have another pair at home and trust me. I will count them all if you let me.” The soft giggle that came from him, only showed how much Jimin enjoyed their little flirting. It was making him feel a little lightheaded with the way his heart was beating against his chest. “If I would have known we would swim today, I would have come prepared.” He licked over his lips teasingly as he leaned onto Namjoon, amazed by how warm he still felt despite the cold water.

“Oh? And what would that preparation have entailed?” Namjoon was getting curious. He had been fond of the boy despite them being strangers, but it was easy to become attached to someone so honest and caring. Now that Jimin began flirting back though he wondered if there could be more to their teasing. He would definitely be up for it - but Jimin might just test the waters, play with fire a little while behind the village walls there were safety and a home waiting for him. “Swimming with naked strangers, hu? Aren’t you spoken for?”

“Just a pair of dry clothes and maybe a few more sit-ups, because I can’t keep up with you,” Jimin raised an eyebrow at him cockily, trying to ignore the new fact that Namjoon just revealed to him that he was completely naked when he could only see his upper half. He let his hands soothe over Namjoon’s chest, tracing the line of a scar when he whispered his answer, “It was never my choice to be spoken for, but it is my choice to be here right now. Shouldn’t that be all that matters?”

Namjoon’s eyes widened at that answer. He hadn’t expected Jimin to sound so defeated, as if his vow was a burden he would like to forget. Namjoon tightened his grip on Jimin and pulled him closer until they were almost flush against each other. He leaned in to whisper into Jimin’s ear. “The forest is my escape. It could be yours too if you want to. What happens here stays here if you want it to be a secret. You only need to try and be quiet because if you scream again someone might hear you.”

Jimin slowly wrapped his arms around him, hands soothing over Namjoon’s shoulder blades and down his back. “Thank you…I’ll try but…if you run around naked like this,” He sighed, giggling as he hid his face a little more, “It might happen again. You maybe just have to be fast enough to shut me up.” Jimin winked at him cheekily, before he finally pulled off from him and walked out of the water again. Halfway out of the water, Jimin took his shirt off, wringing it out before hanging it and his pants to dry over a branch.

Namjoon licked his lips like the predator he was, letting his eyes roam over Jimin’s form freely. The boy looked so soft, so delicious; only flawless, unmarred skin wherever he looked, and he silently wondered if Jimin would look as beautiful with love bites as he imagined. Sometimes wrecking a beautiful thing could be a pleasure - especially if Jimin wanted him to.

Jimin noticed Namjoon’s gaze on him immediately and it made him want to hide, cheeks dusting rosy as he walked back into the water. “Is it that bad?” He asked, pulling Namjoon a little deeper into the water with him.

“Bad? Oh no, quite the opposite. You’re pretty - too pretty for your own good.” He pulled Jimin back towards him and now that the other had undressed and came back into the water he saw it as permission to explore whatever this was between them a little further. “Do you like to be touched, pretty one?” His hand wandered downwards over Jimin’s back until it rested on the small of his back, just above the swell of his ass; perfect to pull him closer - or to let his hand slip a little lower if Jimin wanted him to.

The breath got stuck in Jimin’s lungs, when Namjoon so easily manhandled him. He didn’t push his hand away, liking the feel of the warmth way too much but at the same time, it made him nervous. No one ever had touched him like that, not even Hosung. His touches felt different in so many ways. “I…I don’t know?” Jimin had his arms wrapped around Namjoon’s neck, lips only inches away from his cheeks.

Namjoon smiled against the younger’s neck, placing a brief kiss against the warm, soft skin. So that’s why he had been so shy. “Do you want to find out then? How it feels?” He nudged his knee in between Jimin’s thighs to open the younger’s legs a little and give him more room in case Jimin would let him touch him.

A gasp fell from the youngers lips, followed by a soft smile. “I’m not sure anymore if you’re not the evil luring me in with your sweet talk.” Jimin whispered softly, before hooking a finger under Namjoon’s chin to make him turn a little more towards him. “But I’m already too deep, right?” His eyes flickered down to Namjoon’s lips as he leaned in a little closer.

“Well if you say so... then I better don’t disappoint.” Carefully he closed Jimin’s lips with his own and almost moaned at the sweet taste. A few hours ago, he had buried his fangs into flesh, ripping out bloody chunks to satisfy his hunger and here he was, getting the sweetest dessert after. His hand wandered lower, tracing the curve of Jimin’s plump ass before getting a good grip on it. When Jimin opened his mouth a little surprise Namjoon took this as invitation to deepen the kiss and he plundered Jimin’s mouth recklessly. The younger so easily got lost in it, letting Namjoon guide him and roam his hands all over his body. It drew a moan from him so quickly, that it had him surprised at the sudden pleasure that was pooling in his stomach and Jimin just kept on kissing Namjoon to keep him from seeing the blush on his cheeks.

Even when their lips parted and they were catching his breath, Namjoon’s hands were still on him, guiding him to the more shallow water, where he could lay Jimin down with the most beautiful smile the human had ever seen. A little shyly, Jimin let his hands soothe down Namjoon’s back to his bottom, while he let the other kiss down his neck. “Namjoon,” Jimin’s voice sounded out of breath and he closed his eyes as he arched his back into his touch. It send a shiver down his spine.

“Yes?” He wasn’t sure if Jimin was asking for something or if he was just calling out for him because he didn’t know what else to do. Making out with Jimin was an absolute treat because the younger reacted beautifully to everything he did, every little touch, every kiss drew a response from him and Namjoon couldn’t wait to see how the younger would act if he went further; if he would be able to play his body like that when he crossed the last boundary between them.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something ever since we parted,” He blinked his eyes open, when Namjoon pulled from his lips again, urging him on to talk. “About the wolf, if you heard from him…if…if he’s okay and…,” Jimin soothed over his cheeks, pushing a string of hair behind his ears. “Do you still have my cloak, maybe? You’re not mad at me, are you? That I left you? I just had to be at the village and…” He casted down his eyes, “I wish I would have gotten to see you sooner again.”

Namjoon propped himself up on his elbow to get some distance between them so that he could look at the other properly. Jimin’s plush lips were red and swollen and his eyes were gleaming. Namjoon smiled a little wolfishly, proud that it was him to make Jimin look like that. “Are you telling me you want to talk now? Instead of making out. I’m deeply wounded.” He wasn’t. And with a little kiss on the tip of Jimin’s nose he showed him that before entangling himself from Jimin. Nonetheless it took him a few deep breaths to calm his blood (and keep it from rushing south).

“The wolf is okay, don’t worry. I saw him last night, actually. Hunting. So, he is safe and well fed.” He watched as Jimin’s face lit up and shook his head with a fond expression. “You’re quite something you know that? Also, I do have your cloak of course but not here, obviously, I’m not mad at you and... what do you mean? Did they ban people from going out? Did they lock you in?” His eyes went cold and grey at the thought if someone keeping Jimin confined.

Jimin had rolled over onto his stomach, staying close to Namjoon who was basking in the warmth of the sun while still being very much naked (a fact Jimin still tried to ignore, though his eyes kept wandering down a couple of times).

“Not really locked in…,” Jimin hesitated, drawing little circles into Namjoon’s skin. “He was just...very mad at me for staying away and I said some stupid stuff. I should have seen it coming and not angered him more…” He quickly replaced the sad expression with a smile and added in a happier tone, “I’m glad that he is okay, though please tell him to be careful. The hunt isn’t over…” Soothing over Namjoon’s cheek softly, he made him look at him, hoping that the other wouldn’t ask more about him staying away, “I will warn you again if I know anything, I promise. And about that cloak. I really like to have that one back. I only have two of them left. I need it...or else the wolf won’t know who I am.”

“Him...” Namjoon didn’t push any further but he didn’t like the shadow that mentioning that person cast over Jimin’s eyes even though the younger tied his best to hide it. He could imagine that whoever it was who treated Jimin badly wasn’t just easily left behind. The village was small and Jimin only had his grandmother. He probably brought safety and security or respect from other villagers or all of it together. He had kind of done the opposite to stay safe: instead of staying with someone he didn’t love he had only allowed himself short encounters with other people, wanderers who passed through the forest, people who were looking for herbs that only grew in certain areas, people that he would never see again. And even though it wasn’t what really made him happy it was the safest option. He gave Jimin a gentle smile. “I’ll give you your cloak, don’t worry. But you shouldn’t think that the wolf won’t recognize you. He knows your smell. Cloak or not you are safe here during the day.”

Jimin nodded at that, biting his lip in thought as they got up and Namjoon reached for his shirt to give it to him. It hadn’t dried up completely, but at least it wasn’t soaking anymore. He eyed Namjoon from the side, who just stood there stark naked waiting for him. “Do you always walk around naked like this?” He raised an eyebrow, not able to hide how his eyes flickered down his body once more. Namjoon chuckled and Jimin felt a pinch of jealousy at how free he must feel, living in the forest and not feeling insecure. If he had the body of Namjoon’s he probably would feel a little bit more confident, too. Namjoon answered with an awkward shrug. He couldn’t just tell Jimin that when he changed he ripped his clothes, so he made sure to transform naked - which also left him with no clothes for his return.

Quickly, the younger hurried and caught up to him, his eyes wandering down his backside and Jimin almost gasped when he saw more scars on his back. Being so in his thoughts and worry for the other, Jimin didn’t see it when Namjoon stopped and bumped into him. Rubbing his nose, his eyes flickered up to see what made the other stop, when his gaze fell onto a small cottage. Jimin had no clue how deep in the forest they were, but it definitely was far enough so no one could find Namjoon’s hide-out that easily (not like his grandma’s house that was right by the path). Slowly, he followed the other inside, trying to take everything in from his surroundings and very much glad when he saw that Namjoon was getting dressed. It was a simple home, a few books stacked in one corner. A bed, a small fireplace. Everything that one needed and nothing more. “I like it,” Jimin said with a big smile, taking the dry clothes Namjoon offered him, before pointing at the kettle. “Can I?” He asked, “To make us tea? Not everyone is hot like you all the time. You really need to tell me your secret.” Jimin giggled, pulling the dry sweater over his head before he began to prepare the tea. “Or else I will spend my winters nights with you from now on.”

Namjoon felt a little pride when Jimin paid his home a compliment because he hadn’t been sure if it was strange compared to the houses in the village. There were dried herbs hanging from the wall and he had some stuff lying around that he thought pretty; a bird’s feather, a stone that was gleaming if you tilted him just right towards the light, a few snail shells…

“Sure, go ahead. Just... let me pick the herbs please. After watching you collect basically anything out there in the forest thinking it would help, I’d feel safer like that.”

Jimin easily made a little more room for Namjoon, letting him help set up the tea (although Jimin was sure he wouldn’t accidentally poison them). He liked it when Namjoon was close to him way too much already. “Namjoon? I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” He fumbled around with the hem of his sweater a little nervously, “About what you said earlier how it’s safer during the day. What happens at night? Is it true what they say? Not the wolf I mean…but something else.”

The question caught him by surprise, and Namjoon was stunned silent for a moment because he didn’t know what to answer. Telling him that the wolf was hunting at night and that some nights were more dangerous than others (full moon nights) would have been the most truthful version but he didn’t want Jimin to be scared of the wolf even though he should be. And he doubted that Jimin would really listen. He had almost run straight back to the hunters just to ‘warn the wolf’. He could tell Jimin about another beast out there, one that was tearing those village people up - but he didn’t want to lie so blatantly and he also had no idea what exactly happened so he just answered pretty vaguely. “It’s just that lots of predators are on the hunt at night. And even though most wouldn’t enjoy eating a human it doesn’t help you if they realize their mistake after they’ve hurt you. A forest is a dangerous place but during the day there are people every now and then or someone who might help or maybe even your grandma. At night you might bleed out before someone notices. Or just fall to your death because you didn’t see the hillside.”

Jimin nodded as he reached for two cups and filled them up with the hot tea. “So, it’s really just predators out there? Nothing evil? What is attacking our people then? Why isn’t it attacking you or my grandma? Not that I want them to…but, I just want to understand.” He gave the steaming cup to Namjoon, before taking a sip from his own, regretting his decision right away when he burned his tongue.

“I don’t know, honestly. Who or what is hurting your people. I can just assume. Maybe it’s an animal with rabies or something else that is hurt and hungry and insane.” He sipped his tea to buy himself some time, not caring about the heat. “I guess your grandma and me we are safe because we stay in our homes, which have door locks and sturdy wood walls. And because we don’t run around during the night. Otherwise we would be in just as much danger as you villagers.”

Jimin sighed. This weren’t the answers he had hoped to hear, but he thanked Namjoon, nonetheless. There wasn’t much to sit on, so Jimin just leaned against the counter, observing the other with a soft smile. “You look tired. Do you want me to go?” He placed the tea aside and walked over to him, pushing a few strands of his hair back from his face, cupping his cheeks. “It’s okay, I’ll come back again. I promise.”

“I am... pretty tired, actually.” He was torn between giving in to the aching tiredness that had settled into his bones and his wish to keep Jimin with him a little longer. They had just seen each other again and they had made out and it had been awesome, and he really wanted to do that again and... when the cup almost slipped from his fingers he leaned against the counter to make sure the next thing slipping wouldn’t be himself. Stupid transformation and the toll it took on his body. “Only if you promise that you’ll come sooner next time.” He finally said.

“Come,” Jimin’s voice sounded sweet like honey, when he held out his hand for him to take, pulling him towards his bed. He pushed Namjoon down on his shoulders, draping the blanket over his body easily, because the other was moving like a doll for him. “I will try, I promise.” Jimin leaned in, taking in his sweet scent, before placing a soft kiss on his lips. “Don’t miss me too much.”

Namjoon felt like he had already started dreaming before even closing his eyes. He let Jimin guide him easily and when he laid down, feeling the weight of his body settle against the mattress he sighed blissfully. “You should stay, next time. And sleep with me.. in the same bed… I’ll…warm you...” He managed to say half understandably before sleep took him under and his breath evened out, leaving Jimin the only one awake at his side.

“I know you will,” Jimin whispered, staying just for a little longer because Namjoon looked so peaceful while sleeping that he couldn’t help it. He kissed him on his cheek again, before getting up and collecting the dirty cups again to clean them up before he would go. Namjoon didn’t seem to mind the soft noises as he just kept on snoring and Jimin chuckled fondly. Before he went out, Jimin took out the apples he had gotten from the farmer and placed them on Namjoon’s table. He had wanted to share them with him earlier, but their lips had been occupied in a different way. Jimin blushed at the thought of kissing Namjoon again and quickly hurried outside, where the sun was already starting to set. Jimin pulled the red hood deep into his face before heading back into the forest and to the village again.

...

The village was in uproar again and most of the citizens were gathered on the great marketplace, discussing heatedly what to do next. As they didn’t find and kill the wolf some of them were afraid that the wolf would get revenge the next night when they were all asleep. Some others said they should hunt for another night and then another until they had him. The more religious people were telling anyone who listened that they would never find the wolf because it wasn’t a wolf but the devil itself waiting outside those doors and the only thing they had to do was praying and living a pious life. And the last fraction was adamant that they have to give the wolf a peace offering, something to feed his appetite so he wouldn’t need anyone else.

Jimin had made it just in time for the doors to close behind him and the smile that was still on his lips that he was tracing mindlessly with his fingers was quickly wiped off his face when he saw the gathering. His heart stopped; eyes wide as he searched the crowd.

“Did something happen again? Hosung!” Jimin hurried over to him, when he saw his figure appearing from the crowd standing amongst the hunters. “Did someone get hurt? In the daylight? Don’t tell me someone…” He snapped around, trying to see if anyone was in pain or bleeding.

“Oh, see who is joining us.” Hosung answered icily, gripping Jimin’s arm to pull him closer. He couldn’t do anything else, not with all these people around. Most of them probably wouldn’t have cared if he punched Jimin again but he didn’t want to drag his personal drama out in the open. He would discuss behind closed doors why it was so difficult for Jimin to stick by a few simple rules. “No one got hurt yet. But we might throw out the old bearded maniac from the red house as an offering to the best to make him forget we tried to kill him.”

“What?” Jimin’s voice toppled over and he stared in absolute disbelief at him. “What are you talking about and… I haven’t been far away, Hosung.” He opened the lid of his basket to proof to the other that he had just collected mushrooms (thankful that he had thought of that lie before as it came in handy now) not far from the village. “Are you completely out of your mind now? You can’t do that!” Jimin whined when the grip around his arm tightened, aware that Hosung didn’t like it when he spoke his mind so freely. “He is old, please. It’s not fair. He won’t stand a chance.”

Hosung looked at him as if he was a child that was to be lectured.

“That’s the whole point of it, Jiminie. When the wolf can feed easily he won’t have to hunt for others. We will start with that man and then maybe we can throw out some meat every once a week. But a wild wolf needs to hunt. So, we better give him something alive the first time we feed him.”

Jimin felt like he was about to faint at what Hosung was hinting at. “Y-you want to…make sacrifices?” His voice was barely audible and Jimin wavered, his knees feeling wobbly as he leaned against Hosung in a weak attempt to steady himself. “How many will it take to make this stop. I just want this to stop.” Jimin felt awfully sick to his stomach, visibly losing all color from his face.

Hosung eyed him again and then he let him go. “Maybe you shouldn’t be here. There are decisions to be made that aren’t for the weak hearted or those who can’t control their emotions. You should go home and rest a little. Or prepare those mushrooms you got? Let’s just forgot about this, I will come home in a bit and we don’t have to talk about this ever again. You won’t have to burden your consciousness with any kind of decision. Just go home, Jimin.”

Jimin absently minded only nodded his head. A barely there motion, because his mind was occupied with horror and screams. He stumbled a little, trying to block out the whispers. In all those years, the village had never sacrificed someone like that. Not without reason to believe he was danger for them. Just like they had done it just a couple of times, casting people out or... once with his own mother. There was a stab in his heart, tears dwelling in his eyes. But back then, they thought the wolf had been gone. It’s fur still being in the proud possession of Hosung’s father ‘till this day. They had burned his mother like a witch and her screams had filled the night.

Jimin pushed down the door handle, slowly closing the door behind him before he let himself fall against it. He couldn’t let this happen again. There shouldn’t be innocent life taken like that. Who would be next? For how long would they keep doing it? Jimin hid his face in the palm of his hands, shaking with the sobs. Something was so awfully wrong, and he still had no answers. He wished himself back to his grandma so badly, her embrace soothing him more than anything else. But he could hear her voice as well, telling him to go back, to do the right thing. She told him with every visit and each time, Jimin asked what the right thing was, that he didn’t know, and she had just brushed through his hair before laying back down tiredly.

It had taken a while until Jimin had calmed down and when the bells were ringing, signaling the people to lock themselves inside Jimin stood at the fireplace peeling the potatoes with puffy eyes. He didn’t move when the door unlocked and got locked properly again, startling a little when Hosung placed a kiss on his cheek and making himself a home. The other had been staying at his ever since he found him sneaking back in and Jimin hated every bit of it. Before he had at least some time for himself, being able to use the excuse of them not being married, yet.

Jimin barely ate from his plate, pushing the food around as he was deep in his thoughts, smiling and nodding whenever Hosung was telling him about something, while he wished himself to be back with Namjoon. “When will you send him out?” Jimin’s voice sounded small, but he dared to hold Hosung’s gaze anyways, “The old man. Did you decide?”

Hosung’s smirk made Jimin shiver and his eyes flickered down to where he reached for his hand around the table, motioning for him to come closer. Jimin followed easily, sitting himself on his lap as he soothed over his dark hair. His blue eyes were piercing through him, dark skin smudged by the dirt from their hunt. His nails were just as dirty, but he let him touch him nonetheless. Hosung was known for his ruthlessness, killing the animal with his own bare hands if he needed to. “Tell me,” Jimin’s voice caught Hosung out of his daze as he let his finger trail own his cheek and neck to his collarbone, pushing the fabric down just enough to place a kiss there.

Namjoon, Jimin thought. His heart and mind only thought of him.

“Tomorrow,” His rough voice made Jimin turn his head to look outside the window, where the moon was the only light in the night.

“But tomorrow is…” A finger on his lips made Jimin shut, before Hosung’s arms wrapped around his waist and he carried him over to his bed, placing him down rather roughly.

“A full moon, yes, Jimin.” Hosung breathed against his neck, “It’s when the wolf is the strongest.” As if it knew that they were talking about it, a howl broke through the night and Jimin’s breath hitched, eyes focused on the nearly full-moon. “Don’t worry, my love. I’ll keep you safe and nothing can break us apart. Do you hear me?” Hosung hooked a finger under his chin and turned his head, “Not even the wolf. You’re the safest with me.”

Jimin closed his eyes and let Hosung pull him closer to his body. It wasn’t nearly was warm as Namjoon’s. He felt awful for lying next to someone that his heart didn’t belong to. He had lost it somewhere in the forest already, somewhere with Namjoon.

Turning away from him, Jimin tried his best to hide the tears from him.

...

When the morning light broke through the village, Jimin felt awful. His head was pounding from the lack of hydration and from how much he had cried. He groaned, feeling Hosung’s weight halfway on him as he tried to wiggle himself free. A chuckle made Jimin stop. “Are you pushing me away again?” Hosung soothed over his cheeks with a smile and Jimin shook his head. “You’re crushing me,” Jimin tried to turn a little more so he could push himself up, “And I hope you know that your father won’t like to know that you spend the night with me again. We’re still…”

“You’ll be mine fully soon. I heard they are preparing the ceremony,” Jimin’s words had been cut off by Hosung, who leaned in so closely, whispering the words into his ear. “Don’t worry about him, my love. He will be happy to know that you’re staying in for your safety, listening well to me.” Something in his voice made Jimin hold his breath and his heart was beating just a little faster, a nervousness in his veins that he couldn’t shake off.

“But tonight...is the...shouldn’t I be there...with you?” Jimin reached out when the other got up from the bed, smiling at him as if he’d been too dumb to understand. He gotten his answer only seconds after when Hosung just left him in his room and the sound of a lock turning made Jimin jump up.

“Hosung!” Jimin called out for him, knocking at the bedroom door as he tried to push it open. He was kicking and screaming until his voice broke him off. “I told you to follow what I’d say but you can’t listen and tonight you won’t get hurt, nor will you get in between the village decision. You won’t embarrass me tonight. I will come back as soon as it’s done.”

Jimin cried out helplessly, begging and pleading for him to open up but Hosung was gone already. He sunk to his knees, knocking against the door until he couldn’t keep his arm up anymore. He had hoped to at least be there, to soothe the man, maybe slip in a note to tell him where he could hide, somewhere in the caves that Namjoon showed him. Jimin leaned against the doorframe, staring into nothingness for hours, only getting up to get some of the water that always stood by his bed, only to fall back into a daze. He felt so helpless.

And he couldn’t warn the old man, nor Namjoon. Jimin could hear the faint noises of the people celebrating, the full moon still covered by a thick grey cloud. He scoffed. It wasn’t a celebration, it was a god damn sacrifice and when he heard the scream of the old man, Jimin knew he was losing time. He needed to do something. Anything. It was then his eyes fell onto something shiny. A butter knife. Jimin sprinted over to retreat it from his bedside table and back to the door. With nervous hands, Jimin pushed the knife into the lock as deep as he could, wiggling it as if it was a key.

Another scream.

Jimin whined desperately, when it finally clicked and he pushed the small knife between the door and the striker plate, He slid it down until he could find the door’s bolt and finally slid it open. Hastily he grabbed his cloak, pulling it over and locking the door of his bedroom again. Knowing Hosung, Jimin would have enough time to return again as he would celebrate in the tavern until the morning. And even if he found his bedroom empty, then so be it, Jimin thought.

Running outside, he narrowed his eyes to see from afar if they had already brought the man into the forest, but the doors were already locked and the cloud that hid the moon was slowly move across. Turning on his heel, Jimin ran in between the alleys, climbing up a windowsill on top of a barn, at the house by the fence and jumped. Jimin had pulled himself up this wall many times. He knew exactly how fast he needed to be to make it and how he needed to slide down again. When he stood on the other side though, trying to catch his breath Jimin was frozen and only his eyes were flickering through the dark.

He had absolutely no idea where they could have brought the old man. Hosung hadn’t told him where and when Jimin looked up the moon was shining its light over the forest beautifully and if it wasn’t for the awful situation he found himself in, he would have thought of Namjoon and if he ever would love to look at the moon with him.

He bet his skin would gleam under the light of the moon, Jimin was sure of that.

A horrifying howl echoed through the woods, bringing him back and Jimin began to ran into the only direction he could think of. “The meadow,” He whispered to himself the only plausible answer of where they could have brought the sacrifice. The only open place that was close enough so neither had to stray too far from the village and it would be light enough from the moon for the wolf to see what they brought him. A perfectly presented sacrifice; Jimin was sure that he would find the man there and he could only hope he would be arriving before the beast or whatever it was could take him.

…

Namjoon had used to love full moon nights. When his mother was still alive he knew that even if he couldn’t remember exactly what he had done or what had happened he knew that he had been safe the whole time. His mother had been better at staying kind of conscious and she had told him that in a few years he might be able to do that too, that she would teach him, and he would grow up to be a powerful young wolf. But then she was murdered by the villagers and all the rage and pain that had been pent up inside of him turned him absolutely feral each month. Each day after a full moon he woke up, naked and cold, muscles aching so bad he could barely move and the iron, almost sickeningly sweet taste of blood in his mouth.

He had gotten better at it, if only a little but still he lost time each night the full moon drew the transformation out of him against his will.

…

Jimin was running like a maniac, the cold air was burning his lungs as he struggled for breath, praying to whatever deity there was that he would find the old man unharmed. His red hood ripped on branches, as he pushed himself through the thicket, trying to take the quickest way instead of the safest.

He only came to a halt when he stood at the end of the meadow, eyes wide, chest heaving with every breath he took. His mouth felt dry, but he had no time to think about it when he heard the man’s aching gasps. “No, please.” Jimin stumbled ahead to where he found him bound to the stump of a tree, blood oozing out of small cut wounds all over his body. They must have cut him on purpose to make the beast smell the blood. The man blinked up at him, when Jimin began to pull at his restraints. “It’s okay, I’ll get you out of here and then…and then you…you just run, okay,” Jimin was rambling, voice shaking with every word, “Up to the hills…to…to the caves and you hide there.”

…

Namjoon had found out that it was easier if he didn’t eat that much on the day leading to the full moon night because it was painful and exhausting to change and he had thrown up before, but he also couldn’t go completely hungry or else he would hunt too much. And he preferred to hunt when he was conscious enough to know what and how he was hunting. He took off his clothes and placed them neatly folded over the armrest of his wooden chair before stepping out into the moonlight stark naked. He could feel the pull of the moonlight already before the light even hit his skin. It was like an ache deep within his bones, something pulling at him, ripping on him in all different directions and he groaned when the first joint popped.

He cowered down onto all fours because it made it easier like this as his form was as close to the animal that he would become as he could muster while being human. He tried to loosen his jaw but at the next crack he tightened in involuntary again. He had mastered the art of breathing through his pain and yet it still took over, crashing into him like a wave and taking everything with it that wasn’t the agony he was feeling.

…

Jimin flinched hard when there was an agonizing scream howling through the night and his eyes widened. It didn’t sound human. Rather something in between and he was sure it was the beast. It could only be it.

The old man was whimpering and Jimin tried to soothe him as he cut open the restraints as fast as he could. When the ropes finally fell onto the damp grass below, Jimin almost fell as he hastily tried to whip around and help him up again. “We need to get you out of here,” Jimin’s gaze flickered down to the wounds on the man’s stomach and to his hand that was covered in blood now. “Why…why are you doing this?” The old man’s voice brought him back quickly and Jimin put his arm around his shoulder to steady him. He smiled at him despite the awful situation they were in. “I will explain later, now please…”

…

When Namjoon was finally fully turned he immediately jumped into motion. The animal in him wanted to get rid of the pain, to ease his suffering, let everything out that he was suppressing or trying to control when he was human. He felt anger and sadness and longing and hunger all at once and it was threatening to take over his mind so he did what he knew would help: letting his instincts take over and hunt.

This night he didn’t even have to search for prey as the wind already brought him a whiff of blood, fresh and mouth wateringly delicious. So he followed it, stretching out his limbs with each jump, straining against the boundaries of his new form to feel his new body in its fullest, to feel alive and free, running away from everything that normally kept his mind in any kind of confinement, be it modesty or social rules or anything really that kept him from his most primal, instinctual urges.

…

The man was almost fully leaning on him and Jimin had a hard time keeping him up, panting with every step. They were too slow, he had to realize that quickly when the howling sound was coming closer. “Shhh, please, be quiet,” Jimin hissed towards the man, trying to be as soundless as possible but with the man whimpering it was a useless task. For a moment, Jimin contemplated if it would be safer to bring the old man to Namjoon to let him take care of his wounds but something else had him completely stilling not letting him end his thought process. With wide eyes, Jimin carefully turned to look over his shoulder, while his heart was threatening to jump out of his ribcage any moment.

No matter how loud or quiet the two were trying to be Namjoon could smell them anyway and he was quickly closing in on them. When he caught a glimpse of his prey he stopped immediately, his heart making a little leap in his chest from the thrill of anticipation that run through him. He hadn’t one but two meaty pieces in front of him just waiting to be torn down and then ripped into chunks. They would make so many delicious bite sized pieces he would be sated for the next days. He growled threateningly, salivating at the sight of them and getting a thrill out of their fear.

Jimin fully reacted on instinct as he whipped around and pushed the old man behind him. His breath got caught somewhere in his lungs though when he saw the wolf stepping out of the shadows. He had recognized him immediately and yet, something was off. Jimin met the hungry stare with his own and backed off a little, lips trembling when he realized what was different.

They had lost all their color as if it the shadow itself had sucked in the warm brown eyes he had seen so many times in the woods as they crossed paths. This wasn’t his wolf. No matter how much he seemed like it and the threatening growl made it clear that he was here to rip.

“I’ll count to three and then you’ll run to the hills, hide there,” Jimin hissed to the old man, who was shaking so much that he felt it in every fiber of his body with how hard he gripped his shoulders. “I’ll be fine…t-trust me.” Very slowly, Jimin backed off a little more, pushing the old man to the side, while keeping his own gaze on the wolf.

“One,” He began to count, pulling slowly at the strings of his hood, holding onto it tightly, “Two…” Jimin took a deep breath. “…Three.” The moment the old man started running, Jimin threw his red hood towards the wolf, successfully covering its face and giving them enough time to run into opposite directions.

The delicious smell of blood came from the old man so when they both started to run his initial instinct was to go for that prey. He was glad they tried to run; it made the hunt more exciting because a prey that he didn’t need to chase wasn’t as sweet. He ran at full speed so he could almost jump at them when the other one threw his cloak over his face. The wolf howled in anger, his paws getting tangled in the fabric before he landed in a heap on the floor, blind and struggling. It didn’t took him long for his claws to rip the stupid thing to shreds but it slowed him down enough for his prey to put some distance between them - and it also changed his mind. The old one wouldn’t taste as sweet as the younger - and he had also just spiked his anger up so he would take definitely more joy in catching and devouring him. He stood for a second, shaking with anger before he ripped the last piece of fabric off of his claws and then picked up speed again.

He would get him. That much was sure.

Once again this night Jimin was running like a maniac, jumping over every root and trying to be fast enough to escape. He just needed to be faster, knowing the wolf would quickly regain his posture and be after him. Jimin kept yelling though, until he was sure the wolf was definitely after him and not the old man. Never in his life had he been so fast and never in his life had his heart hurt so much. Jimin didn’t dare to peak over his shoulder, the growls behind him enough to tell him that the wolf was closing in on him.

The boy was a pretty fast runner and even though it angered him a little that he was outrunning him for a few minutes (because of the head start) he quickly gained on him. No human could outrun a wolf forever especially not when they were so scared. He could hear the younger’s short gasps of breath and felt pride surging through him knowing that he was the one affecting the human so much. He stretched his body a little longer, kicked his paws against the ground a little harder and like this he could almost reach his prey, he was so close, so very close - until his prey suddenly sidestepped him and threw himself into the bushes like his life depended on it. Which it did. He slowed down to change directions and then jumped straight into the bushes after him.

Jimin knew it was too late, the moment he heard the wolf snapping at him for the first time. He could see the lake; the water was glistening peacefully under the moonlight. He had been so close. So, god damn close. His body moved on instinct as he turned around the moment the wolf jumped and Jimin tried to shield himself as much as he could.

Namjoon’s name was the last thing that came from his lips. He knew he was close, but no one in his right mind would come out into the forest on a full moon night. No one, but him.

With a splash the human threw himself into the water and the wolf happily followed. He didn’t have webbing between his toes for nothing so if his little prey had thought water would stop him he had just played himself!

It didn’t stop him one bit - something else did though.

The human yelled something, and it hit him like a blow even though he didn’t quite understand it. It was a word, a strangely familiar one, maybe a name. His name? The wolf growled at the human who looked like a wet mouse all small and dripping and squealing in fear.

A/N: Oh oh oh, Jimin is in a misery right now. Will Namjoon hurt him? Will he recognize his voice? Or will Hosung be near to find and get Jimin out of there to save him from the wolf. Hmm.......

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captain-joongz · 1 year ago

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Abraxas; Act 1, ch. 1

Pairing: mafia boss!Min Yoongi x police officer!reader

Genre: angst, humour and some fluff, investigative, dark themes, sloooooowburn, enemies to lovers, eventual smut

Chapter summary: As a new addition to the organized crime unit after a huge corruption scandal burnt through it, it definitely wasn't easy to seamlessly fill in and join the team. Tasked with menial shit and kept away from the actual investigation, my patience ran out after meeting the one man the unit was after, Min Yoongi, thus leading me to getting myself involved with one of the most dangerous men in the whole of Korea.

Everything is fair in love and war, isn't it? And this was war.

I would take him down, no matter what.

Word count: cca 26k

Warnings: reader is somewhat innocent and naive (in a sense that she's very idealistic), there will be brief reader x OC, but worry not, Yoongi is endgame, nothing much here, workplace sexism, some slight discussion of illegal stuff, description of the boys as criminals, reader is just a tiny bit obssesed with taking Yoongi down, some slight stalking (illegal tailing and stake out)

Series masterlist | Next Part

A/N: welcome to the first chapter of my new series! i have a ridiculously soft spot for mafia yoongi fics, so this is a child of me watching daechwita and haegeum too many times drooling over min yoongi himself, i hope that you stay with me throughout the entire ride and enjoy yourself as much as i did when writing this <3 i will attempt to update this every month, the semester is starting soon again but i'll be having less classes so i should be able to do it, take this love letter to long-haired yoongi <3

"That which is spoken by God-the-Sun is life; that which is spoken by the Devil is death; Abraxas speaketh that hallowed and accursed word, which is life and death at the same time. Abraxas begetteth truth and lying, good and evil, light and darkness in the same word and in the same act. Wherefore is Abraxas terrible."

- 3rd sermon, Seven Sermons to the Dead, Carl Jung

Winter, first year in the force

“Minjoon, for fuck’s sake! Move it!” the booming voice of Senior Inspector Park rang out through the station as the poor man in question scrambled to put on his jacket, grab his badge and gun and ran after him. When he was passing by my table, he sent me a little sympathetic smile and then hurried to catch up to our superior before he left to make the arrest without him.

I sighed heavily and then sulkily returned to filing away some old hand-written cases. It’s been 3 months since I’d been assigned to the Organised crime unit, fresh out of academy and full of hope to change the world for the better. The second I got my badge I sent in my application to SMPA, hoping to make it to violent crimes. Instead, I was pushed to this division. The official reason was because they were lacking manpower, which wasn’t exactly wrong, after what happened. But I knew what they were really trying to do – clean up after a huge scandal that broke through this unit just a few months before my joining, when several young policemen were caught tampering with evidence and reselling confiscated drugs. After a few tough rounds of investigation, three men were fired from this unit and several others from affiliated places.

That meant that when I walked through the door, all rosy cheeked and wonder eyed, excited to start my career, the reception was more than icy. Senior Inspector Park, who was in charge, barely ever spoke to me except for barking out orders, and I was almost never allowed to do any actual work, always confined to the office and left with tasks that no one else wanted to do. My colleagues were ranging from cold and reserved to actual full-blown assholes, happy to take advantage of young blood knowing I couldn’t say anything in return to my seniors. Except for Minjoon, who actually made effort to be cordial, everyone in this hellhole was insufferable. Thus, I pissed away my days filling out forms, cleaning out cabinets, cataloguing files and putting old files into the system.

I looked wistfully out of the window and just caught the sight of our team’s van leaving the parking lot of the station. It was an arrest pertaining to our current leading objective – an informant was finally able to gather enough evidence for us to be able to interview one of the higher standing members of a gang this unit was currently focusing on. They knew we most probably wouldn’t be able to keep him long, after all it wasn’t that substantial at all and his boss always found a way out of any arrests, but it was better than nothing – we’d annoy him at the very least. That’s what Park always said anyways – never let them forget you’re hot on their trail, even if it meant being a little petty.

I walked over to my computer and sat down. All I could do was wait.

It was a surprisingly short amount of time until Senior Inspector Park came barrelling through the door with three men hot on his tail dragging a tall, handcuffed man with them. Unlike what you’d expect from an arrested man, he had a serene expression on his handsome face to a point he almost looked smug, lazily walking and letting himself get pushed around by eager officers, not a hair out of place and his expensive suit looking absolutely pristine.

They briskly walked through the office space to the back hallway where the interrogation rooms were situated, not sparing a single glance to anyone still sitting by their computers. By the disinterested short glances of the present colleagues, it was obvious that this wasn’t that unusual here. I myself was a witness of similar arrests of members from this gang, but this was my first time seeing someone this high up. This wasn’t just anyone. It was Kim Namjoon.

With careful peeking around to see if anyone was looking my way, I made sure the coast was clear, and then curiously moved after them into the hallway. I walked to the very back and lingered for a moment by the door, gathering courage, before grasping the handle and confidently walking into the listening room. Park was sitting there with a senior detective by his side, watching as Minjoon and his partner prepared the computer to start their interrogation while Mr. Kim sat there looking bored. Park looked to the door and did a double take when he noticed it was me. A disapproving look etched itself onto his face and he was just about to say something when I beat him to it.

“Please, sir! I’d never been able to watch my colleagues during interrogations, I want to learn,” I pleaded with him, “I’ll be totally quiet, you won’t even know I’m here!” I clasped my hands together in a praying motion and gave him my best puppy eyes. He looked at me and it almost seemed as if he was considering my words, but then his face closed off again. My heart was beating against my chest as I waited for him to shut me down.

“Don’t you have anything to do?” he asked, and displeasure oozed out of him in suffocating waves. I shook my head. “I was just putting the files I’d been working on away when you returned.” He was just about to speak again when Minjoon in the other room suddenly cleared his throat and began talking to the eerily calm man, asking him basic questions about his personal information and occupation. That sufficiently claimed Park’s attention and he just waved at me and said “whatever, just be quiet”. I bowed to him even though his back was already turned to me but didn’t even dare to mutter a thank you in fear he’d throw me out for speaking.

When I was first assigned to this department, I was warned that this particular unit unfortunately was a sausage party – no female officers in sight. While my colleague’s distaste of me never really felt overtly sexist, I knew some of them doubted my capabilities as a female detective, and Park was definitely one of them. He didn’t shy away from speaking out about how he’d always worked only with men and male officers and how a woman in a unit full of men would only bring trouble and unnecessary drama. He never got over the fact that they pushed me on him and didn’t listen to his bullshit.

While none of them ever asked me to make them coffee or bring them lunch, I knew that they kept me occupied with work that they viewed as “softer” and “more suited for a woman”. It infuriated me to no end, but I just needed an opportunity to showcase my skills. I didn’t need their approval; I just wanted to fully do my job and not be stuck at a desk all day.

I knew one day I’d get that. No matter what it took, I would make it happen.

I was brought out of my reverie by a shockingly deep voice that struck me to my core as I was wholly unprepared for it. Kim Namjoon, who was completely silent until now and only nodded along or hummed, had finally started talking. I didn’t catch the question and I barely made out what Mr. Kim said in answer, but my attention zeroed in on him in a second and refused to let go. I knew who he was very well, after all, his picture along with several others was hanging on our wall in the meeting room, all connected to each other with strings, intel and many, many cases we were trying to push against them. I’d see him every morning when I walked in, every time I went to the toilet or for lunch and every evening when I was leaving.

But in his picture, he looked very different – hostile and angry, with a face full of fresh bruises from a recent fight, miles away from the suave self-assured man currently occupying the room in front of us. He had a domineering aura to him and even if he was supposed to be here as a suspect, he gave off the vibe like he wanted to be here more than anywhere else. In a sick twisted way, he fascinated me to no end. I’d seen mobsters before, petty thieves and drug dealers, tatted up, with foul mouths and hands dirtied by crime, but this man was a whole different class with his sharp eyes and sneering mouth, dangerous in a way that made the hair on my arms stand up. He knew how to mask his violence and that made him even more terrifying.

“I see that you have a law degree,” said Minjoon cooly and I saw Mr. Kim subtly roll his eyes, “Is the work you do for him pertaining to that?”

“We talk about this every time we see each other,” he answered coldly, “You know I have a degree. You also know that I currently work in accounting. You have my file memorised to a point that you probably know my measurements better than I do. Let’s not waste time with pointless bullshit.”

“Accounting is a very broad concept,” Minjoon didn’t let himself be intimidated and matched his indifferent attitude, “I want to know what exactly your line of work is.” Mr. Kim looked at him and put on the fakest smile I’ve ever seen.

“I’m sorry, officer, what is my arrest pertaining to exactly? Why are these questions relevant to whatever you brought me here for?” he said in a professional voice, his eyes glinting in challenge.

I stayed there and watched their back and forth for whole two hours. The whole time Minjoon drove hard questions about the exact nature of Mr. Kim’s work while the said man played hot and cold with him, teasing him with little remarks and then returning to cold professionalism or prolonged periods of confident silence. I learnt that the intel they’d been delivered this morning was a vague allusion to certain tactics of tax evasion that were closely related to his boss’s smuggling activities. But all these were easily deconstructed by Mr. Kim in a matter of seconds.

It seemed that everyone involved (even Mr. Kim himself) already knew that though and judging by Park’s intense focus on Mr. Kim’s mannerisms and speech, this was about something completely different. As I found myself splitting my attention between the lawyer’s fascinating dance and my own superior’s complete interest, I realised that he was studying him. He was learning him. And for the first time, since this was the first time I saw him in action, I felt real respect towards the older man and his dedication to his work. This wasn’t even about being annoying, it was a purely academic endeavour. I found myself lightly laughing at the revelation.

Behind the glass Mr. Kim was running the two officers in circles, never surrendering any new information and only regurgitating bits and pieces we already knew in different context, and I could see how exhausted Minjoon was becoming.

I was stepping around by the door, alleviating a certain leg to ease the pain and discomfort of standing for such a long time, also nearing my limit, when Park leaned closer to the mic, pressed the button and said: “take a 10, let’s talk”. Hearing that, Minjoon and his partner stood up and with unfriendly smiles thanked the clever lawyer for his cooperation. They left the room and in a minute they were pushing into the listening room.

When Minjoon stepped in and saw me, he looked surprised for a split second and then gave me a kind smile, which I returned, while his partner stared rather impolitely. Park didn’t pay attention to any of that, eyes never leaving the sole man in the interrogation room, who was now leaning back on the chair and picking his nails in a bored manner.

“As expected, as a lawyer he’s skilled at this,” Park muttered, “What a talented prick, if we didn’t know it already, I bet we wouldn’t be able to get even his name out of him.” The officer sitting next to him finally spoke for the first time.

“Still,” he argued, “this is the first time we’ve managed to actually get him to the station. It means something. Min’s gonna be pissed.” At the mention of the name, Park smiled animatedly and nodded quite happily. I tried to blend into the wall while I watched the men converse and try to come up with a new strategy.

“It’s clear questioning him leads nowhere,” Minjoon added to the convo, “He doesn’t even seem bothered by it. Just look at him. He has all the patience and time in the world.” He motioned to the glass and the man sitting calmly behind it.

“I’m not surprised, he’s had years of experience dodging the police like this. Fucker’s barely thirty and yet has already spent more than a decade covering up his boss’s mess. That’s more than I’ve spent in academy and the force combined.” We all turned to look at Minjoon’s partner, officer Hwang, who was dispiritedly leaning on the doorframe. He was right, but Park didn’t seem to be put off by that.

“That’s how it works here in this unit,” he said firmly, “You sometimes spend years just to get a chance at arresting someone. We’ve been working on this for almost a year and we’re already starting to get somewhere, but this is only the beginning. We need to learn how they work and that takes time.” No matter what my personal opinion was on him, I could see that Park was truly an experienced detective when it came to organised crime. I made a mental note to myself to pay attention to what he says carefully and learn.

They talked for a little while longer when suddenly a commotion was heard back in the office space of the station. We all looked at each other, some more surprised than others. Park got up and pushed his way out into the hallway. As he was passing me, I heard him quietly mutter “here we go” as if this was the main point of the evening. And I quickly realised why.

When I also pushed my way into the hallway and peeked over Minjoon’s shoulder, I was able to see a man confidently making his way through the station flagged by two others. Before I had a chance to gasp at the sudden appearance, he’d already stormed all the way to us.

Just like with Kim Namjoon, seeing his face on a picture on our wall every day could never prepare me for the experience that meeting Min Yoongi was. I was beginning to curse the people who chose the pictures, because they were clearly dangerously understating these men’s aura. With longer black wavy hair, sleek black jacket, black tee and ripped jeans, standing there looking both incredibly angry and incredibly bored, was one of the most dangerous men in this city and the man Kim Namjoon called master. As did half of the city’s criminals. To an ordinary person he was just a businessman, an owner of a few clubs and, recently added, a hotel in the posher area of Seoul, but to us he was a leader of a gang that rose in power and ranks so rapidly it was like witnessing a wildfire. The blink-and-half-the-forest-is-gone kind.

I’d never met him before, and judging by officer’s Hwang flabbergasted expression, I wasn’t the only one, but the man in question barely paid any of us attention. He walked up to Park as if they were old friends, cruel annoyed smile on his face.

“Here I am!” he proclaimed in a faux sweet voice and threw his hands into the air, “That what you wanted? You come into my house and steal my things when I’m not looking now?” Park returned his smile in a similar manner. He was extremely pleased at having pissed off the man to this extent.

“Mr. Kim was lawfully retained due to suspicions of illegal activity,” he answered the man, “He was arrested in one of your clubs.” Min Yoongi’s eyes minutely flitted over to me and there was a tiny spark of surprise and then interest.

“Huh, you’ve got fresh blood here?” he asked all jokes and games, “How come I’ve never met her, isn’t that like a rite of passage here? Coming to see Uncle Yoongi?” He waved at me and laughed like he was encountering a cute animal in the wild. I felt the anger coursing through me, but I knew this wasn’t the situation to lose my cool, so I just scoffed and turned away from him. He fake pouted and then put his attention back on my senior, suddenly turning all serious again. Watching his moods swing was like trying to keep up with a bouncy ball in an empty room.

“Whatever, just release my man,” he said firmly, “You know that anything you came up with to get him here is bogus, so just let him go and I’ll let this slide.”

“How gracious of you,” Park gritted through his teeth. Tensions were beginning to brew between them, and the more annoyed Min Yoongi was, the more teeth showed in his wolfish grin. Just when I thought the whole building was just going to combust, Minjoon stepped in.

“We are legally allowed to keep him here for eight hours at the minimum,” he said calmly, “It’s only been two and a half.” The man’s whole attention shifted to my colleague and, standing behind him, I saw how all-consuming it was to be at the centre of Min Yoongi’s focus. His intense stare and dangerous smile only deepened having noticed just how much he was throwing me off balance. I knew he was getting off on intimidating people and I tried to not give him the satisfaction, but suddenly coming face to face with him, I wasn’t prepared to withstand it, especially since he was so intimately familiar with our entire force that a new face stuck out to him like a sore thumb.

“I know that,” he retorted sharply, “But he wasn’t brought here to be questioned. He was brought here because he-“ Yoongi pointed in Park’s direction “-wanted to know how long before I showed up to bail him out. So, here I am. Release him.” Minjoon looked at our superior with questioning eyes, but he only nodded.

“Let Mr. Kim go, we got everything we needed from him,” he smiled pleasantly in Min Yoongi’s direction, “Have a nice day Mr. Min.” With that he moved back into the office. Mr. Min’s attention once again shifted to me and Minjoon, watching with rapt interest as he moved towards the interrogation room, and I followed him like a loyal shadow. The moment the door opened, Mr. Kim was already hallway outside, coming to his boss and giving him a half hug. Neither of them said anything, they just shared an amused smile at our expense and then turned around to leave with cheeky smiles. As Min Yoongi was rounding the corner, he winked my way. Absolutely flabbergasted by his behaviour, I couldn’t get the encounter out of my head for the entire rest of the day.

While much of Min Yoongi’s childhood was a mystery to us, we had a pretty good idea of what his life was like since around he was 16. So, a good decade of criminal life. As a young teen, he started an apprenticeship as an underling of one of the former ruling gang’s top men, and basically was brought up by him into the man he was today. While the old royalty was torn apart in succession wars after the old master died and his four sons all decided they should be the sole heir, Min Yoongi started up with his own few loyal followers, all who today are his most trusted closest subordinates. With cruelty, tenacity and violence, he took the city by the storm and before they knew it, he was ruling most of it. Too caught up in trying to kill each other, neither of them reacted fast enough to stop young Yoongi’s rise to power. Today, with the original gang wiped out, his was undoubtedly the one at the top of the food chain.

He started with one club and now he owned several of the most prestigious clubs in the city, making enough money to buy him a hotel and finally catapult him into the sphere of honest business. In hindsight, it was pretty stupid of me to show up to one of them to “scope it out”.

Peeved by our last (and first) interaction and driven by the need to prove myself to my unit, I’d decided that the way to go was start right on his turf and dig around. I’d believed that with how much business he had to take care of, both legal and not, there’s no way I’d show up at the right club at the right time to actually meet him there. How foolish. They did always say that he stayed at the top by working endlessly, stupid of me to not actually take that into account.

I didn’t even know how I managed to actually get into the club, considering the long waiting list and lines outside, it was a miracle one Friday evening I found myself sitting inside Dynamite, one of his clubs, watching everything go on like a hawk.

I knew this was something that was rarely accomplished by the people in our unit. Maybe a few months ago they had the liberty to sneak onto his territory, but currently he knew very well about our interest in him, and everyone associated with our unit quickly got blacklisted from half the establishments around the area, owned by Yoongi or not.

I knew that anything pertaining to illegal activity would definitely be taking place in the VIP zone with private booths and waiters, so getting there was the actual challenge. Somewhat foolishly I decided to just try my luck and think of the plan as it went. Little did I know just how easily I’d manage to get invited in.

I was just sitting there minding my own business when I felt a presence next to me. At first, I thought nothing of it, thinking they’re probably just trying to catch the barman’s attention, but suddenly I felt them press into my personal space. I sighed, annoyed, turning around to send whatever sleazy flirt that was trying to get into my pants to hell, when my breath caught in my throat. Sitting next to me, leaning on the bar with a million-watt smile was none other than the owner himself. I cursed every god in existence and three generations of their ancestors and steeled myself for what was coming.

“Didn’t expect to see a police officer letting loose in one of my clubs,” he drawled out playfully, “They all know which ones to avoid. I suppose you’re either stupid or up to no good.” I rolled my eyes to him and turned back to look onto the dancefloor.

“My friend insisted we go here,” the lied slipped through my lips easily, but by Yoongi’s smirk I knew he didn’t believe me one bit. “Oh, and where does this friend happen to be right now? As far as I could see, you’ve been just sitting here glaring,” he laughed at me lightly, as if we were just two friends teasing each other.

“Do you have a habit of watching partygoers like a creep?” I bit back at him, annoyed at being sniffed out so quickly. What are even the chances of him being at this exact club the night I decided to snoop? Something not of God was on this man’s side to arrange a coincidence like that.

“No,” Yoongi answered with a teasing lilt, “But I do happen to remember faces very well. Two weeks ago, you’d slip right by me, but now I know you’re an officer.” I cursed under my breath, and he laughed again. Then he stood up and turned to me. Suddenly a hand was offered to me.

“Come on,” he said, this time a little more serious, “Let’s talk.” I ignored his hand but stood up to follow him. He snickered and started in the direction of the VIP zone. We were currently on the ground floor, which was the general area with a dance floor dominating the centre of the room. The VIP zone was situated on a little gallery overlooking the ground floor.

The flashing lights, bass boosted music and mass of moving sweaty bodies made it difficult to orientate myself in the space, but I kept my eyes on the back of Yoongi’s head as he leisurely made his way through the crowd like he had no worry in the world. He led me to stairs that were cordoned off by red velvet rope, with two very big and very angry men standing on each side. When they saw Yoongi coming near, they both put on professional smiles and bowed wordlessly. He didn’t react to them in any way, just waited till they let him through patiently. As I walked in behind him, they both stared me down as if I was about to jump on Yoongi and stab him right in front of them.

I knew this was probably my only and last chance to get a look around this place, since after being found out I’d definitely get blacklisted just like all the other police officers, so I hungrily scanned the VIP zone and tried to take in all the details. It was very dark there; some booths were out in the open while some had curtains and it was surprisingly packed with people. Waiters were busily buzzing around, serving drinks and appetizers, hum of conversations and laughter carried through the space comfortably. At first glance, you couldn’t see anything wrong or illegal going on, just young people having fun, but I knew better than to trust that.

I followed Yoongi through the area all the way to the back, where one corner was similarly cordoned off. The couches and tables were situated in a way that allowed a little more privacy and separated the space a little from the rest of the people. This must have been his personal lounge.

He made himself comfortable smack in the middle of one of the couches and I timidly sat on an armchair right across him, with a small table between us. Immediately waiters descended onto the space, bringing in plates of appetizers, most probably assuming all kinds of crazy shit since Yoongi brought a woman to his personal zone. The man in question was nonchalantly asking for some cocktail and acting as if this was a completely normal situation and I wasn’t the police. I declined his offer for alcohol and just uncomfortably sat there, watching him settle in.

He gestured to the food and said: “Do you mind if I dig in? I haven’t eaten the whole day.” I gave him a polite smile and told him to go ahead. Yoongi started filling his plate, sharp eyes watching my every move while offering me various food items with annoying courteousness, smirk in place on his lips cause he knew just how much he was pissing me off. It was absolutely crazy – here I was, small-talking with a man I was trying to get behind bars.

Then I had to sit there while he enjoyed himself with his appetizers. When the silence stretched enough to become awkward, I started losing my patience.

“Have you brought me here to watch you eat?” I barked out annoyed, crossing my arms in front of my chest and leaning back into the chair. He looked up from his plate with a little amused smirk. Then he finally put it down.

“Why exactly are you here, officer?” he got straight to the point, “What are you hoping to accomplish?” He mirrored me and leaned back into the couch, his form slouching comfortably with hands laying on his thighs.

“Isn’t that obvious?” I answered, sudden insecurity taking a hold of me. Why was I supposed to explain myself to this guy? He smiled and this time it wasn’t as ferocious.

“I fail to see how this helps in your divine plan to put me under.”

Truth is, I didn’t know either. I was angry and frustrated that nobody was taking me seriously, the encounter with him last week only serving to push me further over the edge. I didn’t know how this was supposed to help, I just knew I needed to do something. Anything. It was better than just endlessly sitting behind a computer typing away. I had to do something that would put me on the radar in my unit and if it involved humbling Min Yoongi a little bit, I was all in.

Truth was, no matter how much I didn’t want to admit it, I was shaken by him. Seeing in flesh this fabled monster, having him stare and smirk at me while he shamelessly strutted around a police station as if he was untouchable, it took everything in me to hold up under his scrutiny. But now, sitting across from him and returning him the favour, I felt some control slowly trickling back into my hands and it calmed me.

He was watching me contemplate with rapt attention and suddenly I was reminded of the prickly feeling of having his eyes trained solely on you. They were dark, so much darker than in the bright daylight in the middle of a police station, and all-consuming in a way I’d never encountered before. It felt as if he was reaching straight into the centre of my being and pulling, pulling something out of me. I shook my head subtly and looked away.

When I failed to answer him or defend myself, he sighed.

“Look, I’m saying this, because you seem like a really naïve genuine person,” he started, “Take this advice to heart – don’t bite off more than you can chew just to stick it to some old guy. This is a dangerous place for people like you, don’t get pulled under.” Now that made me angry. Somewhere deep down I realised that my stubbornness actually was putting me in danger and that I was stupidly jumping headfirst into things that could be my end, but I was so done with getting treated as a fragile little thing.

“Whatever do you mean by that?” I answered him prickly and sat more defensively. Yoongi looked at me and for a moment I could see a glint of something almost melancholic there, but then he was all wild grins and suave demeanour again.

“Let me speak frankly for a moment,” he said and winked conspiratorially, “You decided to single-handedly take down a whole gang, allegedly, that controls half the city, allegedly, because your superior is a sexist pig, that doesn’t seem like biting off more than you can chew to you?” Every time he said the word “allegedly” he smirked a little and I could see he was having fun playing around with me like this. I smirked right back at him and leaned forward until I had my elbows resting on my knees.

“Who said anything about single-handedly? That’s what teams are for,” I whispered teasingly, “Why do you even assume it has anything to do with Senior Inspector Park?” I tried to mask the genuine emotion, but he still must have realised that one was actually spot-on.

“I’ve known Park for quite some time,” he explained and leaned forward as well, “Heard about him a long time ago, been seeing him here and there for years and then been in personal contact with him for about a year now. He’s an excellent policeman, no doubt about it, but even I know he’s a shit person. He lives for his work, but in personal life he’s a jerk.”

“He’s a jerk at work too,” I couldn’t help myself and muttered. To that Yoongi laughed lightly, eyes gleaming at me. “Should I be asking how you even know about his behaviour outside of work?” I quipped in quickly.

“I’d be stupid if I didn’t run some basic checks on people that are hell-bent on making my life difficult,” he answered me with a dangerous glint in his eyes, but quickly relaxed again. I found myself tensing up and relaxing alongside with him. The realisation that talking with him was like constantly walking on ice and hoping that even though you hear cracks you won’t fall in, hit me square in the face and put me off balance again. He kept effortlessly flip-flopping between joking and being serious and I was starting to get whiplash from it. I decided to leave this subject behind.

“So, what is your advice exactly?” I returned to the previous topic, “To just let you go and leave you to your little crime syndicate? Live happily ever after knowing you’re out there?” He snickered at that.

“No, you can do whatever you want,” he said, “I’m just warning you to be careful. This, this space right here, it has its own rules. It’s very easy to end up badly.” It didn’t feel like a threat even though it may have been worded like one, imagine my shock when I recognised actual genuine emotion behind his words. Instead of shying away from it, I bored my eyes into him just as intensely as he did to me.

“Rules or no rules, no one is above the law, not even you, Mr. Min,” I told him prickly. He smiled at me sardonically and then sighed again, but this time it was more amused.

“Since you’re someone that spent most of their life studying the law, I’m surprised you still haven’t realised that it’s quite useless,” he laughed and I could see the switch in him, becoming meaner and smiling cruelly, “The only thing that law does is fuck over those who are already in a bad place and benefit those who are already in a good spot.” He laughed mirthlessly and continued. “No one is above the law? Oh, my dear, many people are above the law. All you need is money and power and not even God can touch you on this mortal plane.” I took full offense to his words, feeling the anger overpower my instinct trying to tell me this man could potentially be extremely dangerous.

“Spoken like a true criminal,” I spit out venomously, “That’s a load of bull.” Yoongi’s eyes flashed minutely and then he relaxed into the couch again with a lazy smirk full of sharp edge. His hand suddenly pointed somewhere behind me. “You see that guy? That one in the striped shirt?” he asked.

For a moment I debated whether I should turn my back to him or not, but my curiosity overpowered me. Steeling myself for potentially getting attacked from behind, I turned and searched in the crowd of people. There, a little to my left, was sitting a group of young men. Each of them had a girl or two by their side, they drank and laughed and looked exactly like the kind of company I’d never want to find myself in. One of them, sitting on the far edge of the couch facing me, was wearing a horrible unfashionable striped shirt. I turned back to Yoongi with a queasy stomach.

“Yeah, I think I see him,” I told him suddenly quietly, unsure of where the conversation was going. Yoongi leaned forward to me again as if he was about to tell me a great secret.

“He could walk over here, steal your gun, then walk outside and shoot someone straight between their eyes in front of a street full of people, and you wouldn’t be able to charge him with anything. You wanna know why? His father sits in the parliament. Before you knew it, he’d be skiing in the Alps while you faced losing your badge because you crossed a politician.” Yoongi smiled at me triumphantly and my stomach swooped again.

“This kid comes here four times a week, each night breaking at least five different laws at a time,” Yoongi continued meanly, “and the most trouble he’s ever gotten into with the law was a parking ticket his father took care of for him.” He waited for a moment to see whether I’d react, but when I stayed silent, he went on. “Go ahead and arrest him, officer. Go over there and pull out your badge and bring him into the station with you. If you test him now, you’ll probably find every drug that’s available on the street in his system. But I guarantee you, you won’t be able to keep him there longer than two hours before you’ll be steam-rolled by his family’s lawyers.” He threw his arms into the air in a pompous gesture.

“Look around here. This place, it doesn’t work because I came here and brought crime with me, no. I sprung up here, because they needed a space to do rank shit in. You could bring me out back, shoot me in the head execution style, and tomorrow you’d be sitting back in that chair talking to the same clown in different clothes. The way this goes is that you find a spot that works, and you grab onto it, and you hold on for dear life until someone either kills you or puts you away. I’m like mold, darling, wherever there’s a place damp, cold and dark enough, there I will grow. I’m a product of the people. Not the other way around.” I felt bile in my mouth as I looked around the area and saw the little evidence of illegal activities. Girls too scantily clad and flirty to not be working, powdery smudges on the tables, prints of guns under jackets. Behind me, Yoongi kept going on in his spiel.

“You put me behind bars, and tomorrow there’s going to be the same guy doing the same shit in the same place. The people will keep coming here and they will keep doing their thing here, it doesn’t matter to them who runs it, as long as they can fuck and get high in here.”

I turned back to him, and he was just sitting there like a king of the underworld, sardonic grin on his face while he looked over his hard work. He was beautiful and terrifying at the same time and there was something demonic about him in this dark lightning with shadows dancing over his face and cruel lips curved around sharp teeth. I felt my throat close up as panic seized me, shaking hands gripping onto the armchair to attempt and get some stability. My stomach was protesting, and I feared I might throw up if I stayed there a second longer.

“You’re disgusting,” I whispered. He smirked.

“And you’re naïve.”

I got up, turned around and left without looking back. Still, I felt his eyes burning into me all the way home.

I was soullessly staring into the computer, hopelessly trying to focus on my work, but instead I kept coming up short. My mind was elsewhere, unable to comprehend anything that was written in front of me. The fateful meeting with Yoongi had already happened a few days ago, but I still haven’t shaken off the effect of it.

His words, as cruel and self-righteous as they were, I knew there was truth to them. And I knew I had to do something about it. I had to do something about Min fucking Yoongi and his empire. So, as shaken as I was by the encounter, it also served to make me more determined. I’d help to bring him down, no matter what.

I stood up from my table and made my way across the office to the meeting room. I wouldn’t be able to do any work anyway, not right now when I was too pumped with adrenaline to focus on anything. I walked in and bee-lined for the back wall, which was covered in pictures and papers. Dominating in the centre was a picture of Yoongi. He was younger there, with short, bleached hair and face still a little plump from adolescence, but I could already see the signature smirk forming on his lips. Under him there were six more pictures, one of them Kim Namjoon which I had met for the first time a little over a week ago. Those were those closest to him, his friends who each monitored a different part of the gang’s activites.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t much information on them beyond a few years back. Yoongi himself emerged out of nowhere when he was 16 and made a dent out for himself. At that time, he already knew Namjoon, God knows how. Together they quickly climbed the ranks of the Song gang, which was ruling over Seoul at that time. Back then, they were already notoriously known for their violence and determination, which made them favourites of the gang’s higher ups. They were also quite liked by the underdogs and quickly a group started forming around them. They were Yoongi’s loyalists and this… this was most likely the moment he realised he can soar even higher.

When the Song gang was falling apart, just like war strategy dictates, it was a matter of knowing whose side to take. Between four sons, two were on par, one knew he could only survive by hugging the thigh of the strongest and one was barely hanging on. If Yoongi chose his loyalties correctly, he could gain a lot. If he chose poorly…

But he didn’t. He took Namjoon and their dogs and together they stormed an “enemy” club – it was recently acquired by one of the brothers. He won the fight of course, and then brought the keys to Song Hwan, the weaker of the two winning brothers. He wormed his way in – offered his intel, his expertise and whispered poison in his ear. Every win he got for Hwan was actually a win for Yoongi himself and through Hwan he started laying base for his own road to power. Long before Hwan fell, most of the gang was already following Yoongi’s lead.

When the war ended and Song Hwan stood victorious, Yoongi murdered him and stole his throne. He went on a bloody rampage against everyone that didn’t support him and from the blood and fire emerged a new gang, a stronger gang, and at its centre – the devil himself with his six. That was seven years ago.

It wasn’t all sunshine and roses at the beginning though. His territory was contended often – others saw it as an opportunity to steal turf right from under his nose, and it took a long time before his gang was respected in the scene. They thought him to be a child that won by pure luck and love for killing, that he’d be easily taken down, either by one of them or one of his own. But he stood his ground and time and time again he proved himself, until there wasn’t a single person in this city that didn’t know he owned it. These were Min Yoongi’s streets, painted with blood, sweat and tears.

That’s when he started coming up on this unit’s radar until he gradually became the sole focus, the main purpose, the goal.

I stared intently at the mess of strings all connecting together people, events, news and crimes. Missing persons, corruption, arrests, murders, intel, dirt. It was all there, black on white. I reread the headers of the articles, the names of files and the accusations until I was dizzy and could barely make any sense of it.

After what felt like hours, I was brought out of my reverie by the sound of the door opening. I jumped a little and turned around quickly, an excuse hot on my tongue, but relaxed once I realised it was Minjoon.

“What’s up? Jae said you’ve been standing here just staring at the wall for whole 40 minutes,” he said in lieu of greeting and I blushed with embarrassment. So they saw me, I thought nobody here was paying attention to me. I peeked over my shoulder where some of our colleagues were curiously glancing our way. I frowned. Should have closed the blinds, I thought to myself.

“Just… catching up, refreshing the information,” I explained lamely and sat down at the table, still with a perfect view of the cursed wall. He hummed and leaned his back on the table. For a moment we just quietly existed there, side by side studying it.

“What’s with the sudden interest?” he asked a little hesitantly, “Not that I want to discourage you.” I sighed.

“It’s not sudden,” I muttered a little petulantly, “I’ve been coming here from time to time, I just mostly did it when no one else could see. Felt like I wasn’t really allowed to look at it.” He smiled a little at my attitude and went around the table to sit at my side.

“Why not? I think it’s great you’re outwardly showing interest.”

“Just- You know, it doesn’t feel like I’m welcomed here, I didn’t want to overstep.” He hummed again, but kept his eyes trained in front of us.

“So, what’s changed now?” he asked the question of the hour, fingers drumming a pattern into the table.

“I’m done with that,” I said firmly, glancing his way, “I am part of this unit, I’m staying and I’m solving this fucking mystery. I’m taking Min Yoongi down and I’m gonna be looking straight in his eyes the entire time I’ll be tearing his life apart.” Minjoon next to me chuckled, amused by the sudden turn of attitude.

“That’s quite charming,” he hummed again and finally turned to look at me. We both grinned at each other.

“You know… I understand,” he started hesitantly after a moment of silence. We both focused back on the wall and Yoongi’s picture in the centre of it was like a magnet – no matter what you did, you found yourself drawn to it. With slight reluctance I tore my eyes away from it to look at Minjoon questioningly.

“I mean… this, I understand this,” he stated more firmly and gestured between me and the wall, “I was also quite distraught the first time I met him face to face. He has a way of messing with you. It’s a mix of everything, I mean, you go months hearing about the atrocities of this one man, and then suddenly he’s there, right in front of you. And he just stares and stares and stares while talking calmly, too calmly for the crimes that he’s being investigated for. It’s unnerving. So, I understand.”

I knew exactly what he meant. It was the same feeling I had with Namjoon too – you know what they’re capable of, you’ve heard of their crimes and when you see them, you can almost feel the danger in the air, but the violence is hidden just beneath the surface. Sometimes you see it peek out momentarily in flashes of sharp teeth and slanting eyes, but then they reign it in and just play with you again.

“Well, yeah, meeting him was jarring,” I conveniently omitted having met him just a few days ago too, “but it’s not just about that. I just don’t want to be underestimated anymore.” He smiled at me, a real genuine smile, and it warmed me knowing at least someone here was on my side.

“But you joined the team before the whole Yoongi thing, no?” I asked suddenly. For a moment he was confused where this question came from, but then brightened up.

“Just barely,” he answered earnestly, “You joined like three months ago? In early September, right? For me, a one-year anniversary is actually coming up, I joined in December last year. It was just as all the shit was going down. They were investigating mainly this mid-size gang in Incheon that was wreaking havoc in the harbours and steadily rising in power. There was a lot of corruption in that area, and they managed to snatch control over some ports. The unit had been working on it for about two years and were super close to an arrest, but it went bust. The guy fled, a question about the corruption in the force rose and an investigation into our guys started. That’s when I joined.” I hummed in sympathy. That must have been extra rough. I told him as much and he gave me a thankful smile.

“It wasn’t easy. When I asked to be transferred, I thought everything in this department was okay, then I walk in and suddenly I’m in the middle of a botched two-year operation, forever lost suspect and a lawsuit waiting to happen,” Minjoon kept talking, “Within few weeks, the three guys had been suspended and a more in-depth investigation was promised. The case was lost, the boss had managed to flee somewhere south, most likely Malaysia, so it was put on a backburner and instead an open case that was sitting on someone’s table, slowly piling up more evidence, was brought forth. That was the Min gang. Two teams had already been tasked with looking into it and when it was confirmed that the previous case was dead, they made it a priority.”

I jumped in quickly to ask more questions. I’d never asked Minjoon about his time in the force before and till today I didn’t even know he was here only a year. He was always Park’s first choice to everything concerning Min Yoongi and he relied on Minjoon and his partner Hwang a lot, so I assumed he must be one of the more experienced members of this unit.

“Where were you stationed before?” I asked curiously and put my attention on him instead of messing with the wall.

“I was part of the drug prevention team,” Minjoon clarified and gave me a grin, “I was one of those fools they dress up nicely and send into schools to warn kids. It’s still a part of the force, but it’s a dead-end spot and you don’t actually do much, at most you here and there deal with some petty criminals selling weed on the street. It’s usually where older policemen go when they want to have some peace and quiet before retirement, it’s not the best place to start your career. But thanks to that I was able to make it here, cause my expertise on illicit substances was a big plus.”

“I see,” I laughed, “You’re right, that is pretty much a dead end. I didn’t even know they assigned youngsters there.”

“Well, they try to, because kids are nicer to them and they take it easier from someone closer to their age,” he explained, “Some graduates actually do ask for the position, but I was trying to get here and didn’t make the cut.” He was still smiling kindly and occupied himself by playing with the string on his hoodie.

“I was actually trying for the violent crimes unit,” I confessed quietly. I’d never told that to anyone here. Besides the fact that they absolutely weren’t interested in such information, I was also kind of scared they’d be acting even more hostile since I “clearly didn’t even want to be here”. “I got sent here because of understaffing problem,” I continued.

He looked at me and didn’t react in any way, just leaned back and said: “Oh yeah, we do work with them quite often. Can’t have organised crime without violent crime. If you survive it here for some time and make a little name for yourself, I’m sure it would be easier for you to transfer. But a lot of people strive for violent crimes, so it’s kinda cutthroat to get there.” I relaxed at his words and finally smiled back fully.

“Yeah, maybe I could make it there if I help with Yoongi,” I muttered and focused back on the wall, “I’m sure, considering his reputation, that violent crimes have their hands full with him.” Minjoon stood up and walked over to it. He raised his hand softly tapped on a poster of a missing man.

“Actually, unfortunately it’s more about missing people,” he said, “He has a great clean-up team, it’s super messed up.” His hand moved downwards and this time he tapped on a picture of two men. “You know these guys?” he asked absentmindedly.

On the photo, there were two incredibly familiar faces. One man a bit taller, with wide shoulders, dressed in a nice suit, his perfectly sculpted face in a neutral expression and framed by light brown hair. By his side there was the second man – a bit shorter but with much fiercer displeased expression. His hair was cut into a mullet and the hair just about touched his shoulders; he was clad in a fitted black turtleneck that gave away his strong lean muscles.

Of course I knew them. In this whole building there most probably wasn’t anyone who didn’t know them. Actually, I’d argue that in this entire city only a few people had the pleasure of not knowing.

“I’d be an embarrassment of a police officer if I didn’t,” I joked at him, “It’s Kim Seokjin and Jung Hoseok, they’re part of Min’s six.” Minjoon smiled approvingly.

“Tell me everything you know about them,” he challenged, teasing, “Shoot.” I gave him a wolfish grin as excitement coursed through me. He was giving me a chance to show I’d really been studying this case. I sat on the table and made myself comfortable.

“Kim Seokjin studied medicine and has a degree. He poses as the main seven’s personal physician, but the assumption is that he most probably deals with all wounds of anyone from the gang that were sustained during any illegal activities that cannot be taken into hospital. He owns a house up in Gangnam, just a few streets from Yoongi himself, and has a clinic there. He’s the second son of a pretty wealthy family, his record’s completely clear and it’s unknown how exactly he came to know Yoongi or became involved with crime.” I looked at Minjoon from the corner of my eye and he was just humming, but there was a pleased smile on his face. That gave me courage to continue.

“Jung Hoseok on the other hand, has been arrested several times for assault or causing bodily harm while getting into fights, but never prosecuted. Then he went off radar only to reappear a few years later as a part of illegal fighting rings. He quickly rose through the ranks and was a champion for three years straight. But that also means he most probably killed a lot of people, since these fights only end when one of the two fighters drops dead. It’s presumed that’s where he met Yoongi and became familiar with him.”

Minjoon nodded along and patted my shoulder. “Good job, newbie, you really did spend ungodly amount of time here,” he joked, but I felt the praise anyways. My cheeks heated up and I couldn’t help but feel intense satisfaction.

“It’s mainly Hoseok that’s in charge of clean-up, but Jungkook also participates. They do both clean-up of unwanted people and clean-up of unwanted evidence. Sometimes those two cross over. In other words, they both murder and get rid of it,” Minjoon spoke, his face serious, “I mean, that’s our theory anyways. If we were able to catch them murdering and disposing of a body, they’d already be rotting in jail. But the point stands – there’s a huge number of missing persons tied to this, mostly petty criminals or people known to be associated with enemy gangs. No bodies though.”

My eyes flitted to the picture of the mentioned younger man. Jungkook’s picture, for me, was really hard to look at, because unlike all the others, he was just a kid in his. It was an old photo, most likely taken from a yearbook, with his serious face still round and cheeks full of baby fat, dark hair cut short and styled neutral, but it still hit too hard. Especially when my eyes slid lower to a more recent photo, which depicted Jungkook standing on a balcony smoking, all hard edges on his emotionless face, long hair blowing around and blurring out his tatted-up fingers holding a cigarette and black shirt bulging with muscles. He was the youngest and it was also a mystery about how he became involved with Yoongi, the most we knew about him was that he came from a lower middle-class family and led an unproblematic school life as one of the top students. Where he met Yoongi, or even how he started to involve himself in illegal activities, no one except for them knew.

“The rest of them, as I’m sure you’re already well familiar with,” Minjoon continued talking, “are trying to look more legit. Kim Taehyung and Park Jimin oversee some of his clubs and help him with the hotel and restaurants too. They try to seem like stand-up men with no ties to the underground to grant him an air of an honest man. And Namjoon, well, you’ve already met him. He’s in charge of the finances and that’s exactly where most of the crime is the most visible.” I nodded at him and gestured for him to continue.

“Yoongi’s smuggling in insane amounts of goods, everything from luxury items and artifacts to alcohol, exotic foods and ingredients, to drugs. He sells it to himself, supplies it to his own clubs and restaurants for dirt cheap and then makes crazy money on selling it to clients. If you ask for VIP treatment, you get it deluxe – you don’t have to lift a single finger, Yoongi supplies everything. You want a unicorn? He finds a way to smuggle it in. You ask, he delivers. Namjoon’s job is to make all this look legit, so that he can’t be busted.”

It was so much to take in, but I was finally starting to make sense in it all. Even though I’d been reading the files and trying to catch up on the happenings, there were things I was confused about, things that were lost in context or just lightly referenced without more information, and I had no way of fully understanding it until someone properly explained it to me and filled me in. I was waiting for it to happen in the first few weeks, even asked about it once, but I was shut down and quickly realised that no one was planning on talking to me about it. They rather kept me busy with petty stuff and didn’t let me get in on the operation. I was eternally grateful to Minjoon for taking the time to properly explain what they’ve been doing the past year.

“So that’s why you’re currently breathing down Namjoon’s neck,” I mused out loud, “You want in on whatever magic he’s working to make Yoongi appear as an honest businessman.” Minjoon nodded and added: “And that’s why Yoongi appeared immediately when we brought him in. Park wanted to get a feel of the man. See how he’d behave when interrogated and to test out how strong of a bond they have.” I hummed.

“They’re tight,” I stated, “And Namjoon’s impenetrable.”

We both sat there for a moment, taking in everything that’s been said. I was wracking my brain for a game plan. There had to be something I could do.

“Are you doing stake out missions?” I wondered. He looked at me a little surprised which quickly turned into embarrassment. “I’m sorry, I had no idea you were this much out of the loop,” he said quietly and rubbed the back of his neck. Now it was me who got embarrassed. I was about to stutter out some excuse or an apology, but he started talking again.

“Not currently no, there used to be some in the early stages, before Yoongi caught wind of the efforts. Now that he knows us and knows that we’re interested in him, it’s practically impossible to do stake out missions, unless you just want to annoy him and show him we're there. Not to mention it takes a lot of manpower which we do not have. We’re trying to crack down on the lower levels of the organisation. You know, take in some common mobsters selling substances, threaten them with a sentence and then try to get intel off of them. Some do agree to talk, but somehow Yoongi always manages to sniff them out and they don’t tend to end well. He has a tight hold on everything, despite the size of his empire. Mainly what we gathered is that he is an incredibly paranoid man, he most probably does very frequent inspections and doesn’t hesitate to get rid of anyone just slightly suspicious.”

“Well, in some way, it’s to be expected,” I pondered out loud, “A man that has accomplished this much, it doesn’t surprise me that he’s basically become omniscient.” Minjoon hummed in agreement and flicked some of the pictures around absent-mindedly.

“There was even an attempt to infiltrate,” he said quietly, “We did manage to get in, but it went bust pretty quickly.” I could feel it was definitely a sensitive subject and I didn’t want to pry, but the implication here was absolutely devastating.

“Did he…?” I couldn’t even bring myself to finish the question, but thankfully Minjoon understood. He smiled sadly, shook his head and said: “Thankfully not, but he did end up in a hospital for like two months. They messed him up. He didn’t even return to the force, wouldn’t be able to anyway due to some injuries. When I went with Park to confront Yoongi, he just straight up laughed in our face and told us we’d better feel grateful that he wasn’t interested in becoming a cop killer, because rats in his organisation usually end up much worse. It was the most we’d ever heard him admit out loud, but we didn’t even manage to record it or anything, we were too upset to think straight and missed an opportunity.” He sighed again. I was just glad that the officer ended up okay. At least Yoongi was aware that if he’d killed a cop, he’d become the most wanted man in the eyes of the entire force. There wouldn’t be a moment of rest for him.

Somewhere deep down I felt a little bit of shame though, because I did the same mistake just a few days ago. Yoongi didn’t end up saying anything even remotely that damning, but he still talked to me pretty openly.

I was just about to open my mouth to try and dispel the awkward silence that took over, but Park chose that moment to burst into the room loudly. He didn’t even spare us a glance, too focused on a folder in his hands. I’d jumped off the table in panic and straightened up, but he barely paid attention to anything else. Slowly our colleagues started filing in and taking seats. When after a while no one said anything about my presence, I sat down next to Minjoon, who gave me a reassuring smile.

Park closed the file and slammed in onto the table, then made his way over to the most interesting part of the room – the wall.

“Alright, emergency meeting,” he started, “we just got new info from violent crimes about the disappearance from two weeks ago.”

As I sat there and half listened to the information presented, a plan was starting to hatch in my head. Although Yoongi knew about me, could even pick me out from the crowd, I had to figure out a way to tail him. And when I did, I had to find out more about what Hoseok did. And where. And how. While my unit focused on Namjoon and worked from the bottom, I had to learn about the most criminal aspects of this gang to cover all the grounds. I had to catch a killer.

I’d never been on a stake out mission before. That was one of the few things they didn’t teach at the academy, and I had to figure it out all on my own, while trying to tail a man that probably knew even how many pieces of ham I put on my toast that morning (it’s always two).

Once I pulled information about Min Yoongi’s probable whereabouts, all I had to do was jump in my car and go find him, which was easier said than done. I’d decided to do this in my free time, since asking for the permission to tail him would most definitely not be met with much excitement in the department, especially since they themselves have given up on it.

Now, here I was, sitting in my car at 4 am on a Friday, intently watching a posh house in the middle of Gangnam, hoping that Yoongi is either already in there or soon to return. Since through my snooping I was left with several addresses all ranging from clubs, restaurants and a hotel through factories and warehouses to offices, I figured my best shot would be to catch him while leaving his house rather than running through half of the establishments in Seoul. I also pulled information on the other six, but quickly found out that we had working addresses only for like four of them, so no luck staking out Hoseok’s house or anything.

I was desperately trying to keep myself from falling asleep, the fact that I only slept 3 hours catching up to me, my head drooping and my eyes barely staying open. The house was dark, and I figured at this time he either had to be getting up soon or coming home to rest.

The next three hours were absolute hell. I was so tired, fighting sleep and frustration, I had gotten extremely hungry because I ate through my snacks in boredom, and I was losing my mind. Nothing was happening. Not even a shadow moved on his property. The fact that Yoongi was now probably sleeping happily in his bed, not a care in the world, was pissing me off beyond belief. And another thing – I was freezing my ass off. Duly noted – tailing for dummies: don’t do it in winter.

I had just begun losing hope that Yoongi’s even home, when suddenly a light came on somewhere in the house. My heart jumped with excitement, and I was so happy I could cry actual tears. It seemed that he started his day around 7 am. I wrote it down into my journal and ignored the rising feeling of being a total creep, keeping records on someone like this. This was a professional endeavour. I was doing it for the greater good.

I watched as the lights slowly moved downstairs to the ground level where Yoongi must have been messing around in the kitchen. At 8 o'clock the door opened, and a lady walked out, turning around presumably to say goodbye only to be narrowly missed by Yoongi immediately slamming the door shut behind her. She started shouting something and banged on the door for a little bit, screaming expletives and other interesting comments, before calling it a day and sulkily walking away. I took a look at her as she was walking by and winced. Damn, I definitely didn’t envy her the walk home in those heels. Godspeed, sister.

When the clock hit 8.30 am, a car rolled to a stop in front of the house and Yoongi himself walked out in all his glory. This time he was wearing a classic black three-piece suit with a white shirt, hair slicked back behind his ears, phone in one hand and a to-go cup of coffee in the other. He didn’t look around at all, just sped all the way to the car, got in and in a second, they were on their way god knows where.

I took a moment to check my own reflection. Compared to the sleek mafia boss, my hair was messy since I barely even brushed it that morning, my face puffy and unkept and I had an old, stained hoodie on. I was almost embarrassed. Almost. After a moment I’d decided I gave them enough space and pulled out of my spot.

I had the list of potential addresses sitting out on my passenger seat and as we began weaving through the city, I was trying to guess where they could be going. My mind was constantly on keeping enough of a distance to not look suspicious but be close enough to not lose them in the morning traffic. With my heart beating out of my chest and damp clammy hands tense on the steering wheel, I managed to follow the car up to one of the clubs.

The car had just stopped when Yoongi briskly jumped out and jogged to the entrance. He disappeared inside for about 20 minutes and then he emerged again, a briefcase in hand and a smile on his face. I jotted it down into my journal and then we were on our way again.

I spent my day like that. Yoongi had always rolled up to a club, for a moment went inside, then came out again, sometimes holding something and sometimes empty-handed. Once I even managed to catch a glimpse of one of his six seeing him off. Based on the head full of soft blond curls, it must have been Park Jimin.

Gradually as I went after them, I relaxed, setting into my new role. My journal was getting packed with information, mostly useless things about where we stopped for now. I would be able to put it to more use once I had more stable and reliable info about his routine.

Around 2 pm he went into one of his offices and stayed until 9 o'clock, after that he went back to the club where he met Jimin. I was all cramped up from sitting in my car the whole day, my back absolutely killing me. I was hungry out of my damn mind, and I’d run out of water an hour ago. I just wanted him to go the fuck home and stay there, but he stayed until midnight. When I finally saw him walk back into his house, 1 o’clock in the morning, I was done and tired, but regretting nothing.

That’s how my life went on for a few days. I’d spent full three days tailing him, showing up at his house at around 5 am (I’d given myself an extra hour, but I didn’t want to risk missing him leave) and then drove around the city jotting down all the places he went to and all the things he did. Currently my journal contained everything from the various items he carried around his clubs to his order in Starbucks (which I wrote down very reluctantly, but I figured since I’m already there, I shouldn’t half-ass it). When it was time to go back to work, I’d taken the journal with me and discreetly wrote down any kind of new information that my team brought in.

It was my fifth day of stake out when it all crashed down. I was feeling good about myself, thinking maybe I’ve managed to actually dodge his attention, but I also realised I knew nothing about the kind of scoping out his bodyguards did. When Yoongi moved about, he either had some stone-faced strangers I’d never seen before with him or there was Jungkook by his side, and I quickly came to the conclusion that his job must have also entailed keeping Yoongi safe. It seemed that I never actually popped up on their radar, I’d never noticed any suspicious glances around, no one from Yoongi’s squad had ever even looked in my general direction, so I thought I was good. I wasn’t.

I was sitting in my car, leisurely eating a subway sandwich. It was 4 pm, which meant Yoongi was going to be in his office for another few hours at the very least (that’s how it’s been for the past four days). My car was parked a little off to the side some distance from the main entrance, monitoring who came in and who came out, while the car in which he came few hours earlier was still parked in the same spot and some of the guys were standing around, smoking and talking. Jungkook was with Yoongi today and they went in together, so they most probably had some free time until Yoongi needed to go somewhere again. It had begun snowing a little while ago and everything felt quiet and peaceful.

Then suddenly my passenger door opened, and a person filed in, settling on the seat with a loud exclamation of “god, it’s so cold outside, isn’t it?”. In a split second my hand went for my gun, but I ended up grabbing empty air – I wasn’t on duty, I didn’t have a gun currently. Panicking I turned to the side, prepared to fight, only to come face to face with a smugly grinning Yoongi. The fear immediately all drained out and instead frustration burst through me like a grenade.

“Fuck!” I screamed and hit the steering wheel. I managed to get the horn and in the distance I saw Yoongi’s bodyguards perk up at the sound, immediately checking their surroundings with hands on what one could only assume were their concealed guns. Out of the corner of my eye I also saw a face peek in through the passenger door window to check on the situation, and realised Jungkook must be standing outside the car. Yoongi was just sitting there, completely unfazed, watching me with amusement.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I growled and glared at him.

“I could be asking you the same thing,” he drawled out, playing with his fingers unbothered, “Though I do have to praise you, we didn’t know about you for full two days. Guess we’re not used to having to worry about that anymore.” I closed my eyes and attempted to calm myself down. I didn’t need to embarrass myself further by throwing a full tantrum in front of them.

“How did you find out about me?” I gritted through my teeth and willed myself to relax more into the seat, stubbornly keeping my eyes in front of me and not looking over at Yoongi.

“You’ve been tailing me for days, of course we’re going to notice,” Yoongi replied cheekily. Then he gave me a once over. “No gun and no badge,” he hummed, “not on official business, then? Am I so charming that you just have to see me all the time?” He smirked at me playfully when he saw me peeking over, now starting to play with my little journal. It was closed, but I was still tensely watching him whether he’d decide to open it. By his smug expression, I had a feeling he knew what he was holding in his hands, and when he decided to put the journal down with a little playful wink, it was very pointed.

I cleared my throat. “It is official business,” I said, and really, I wasn’t even lying.

“Oh, is it?” he hummed noncommittally, “Because right now you just seem like a crazy stalker.” I looked over at him annoyed and he seemed to be very amused. A disembodied hand knocked on the window. Yoongi looked over and suddenly became more serious. It only lasted a second though, and then he was smirking at me again.

“All I can say is, I’m quite impressed, Y/N,” he winked at me, “Good job. Try a bit harder next time, though.” With one last amused smile he opened the door and clambered out. One hand leaning on the open door, he bent down at the waist to look in and contemplated for a moment what to say. Behind him I could see a hulking black mass as Jungkook immediately moved closer to safeguard Yoongi.

“See you around, officer,” Yoongi settled on in the end and then finally moved away from the door to slam it shut. I was left in there alone with all that cold air he let in and an unsettled feeling. I watched him cross the street to his own car, watched him as he turned around one last time and waved to me, then got in and sped away.

Only when I was left staring at an empty curb, I realised he’d called me by my name.

So… a change of tactic it is. Even though he didn’t say much, I didn’t think Yoongi had gotten into my car to threaten me. Quite the opposite, he seemed almost suspiciously encouraging. He most likely wanted to know whether I’d been assigned on this task or not.

Well, I learnt a few things at the very least. First, tailing everyday with the same car when you don’t want to be discovered is a big no-no (honestly kind of stupid on my part not to have realised that). Second – Jungkook was like Yoongi’s shadow and Yoongi’s bodyguards were all most likely under him too. He must be doing some intense scans of the surroundings, given the fact that after two days they realised a car was tailing them. After that they most probably just entertained me to see what I was doing and took the time to run a background check on me.

So, I had to find a way to be more inconspicuous. I was on their radar now; they would look out for me, and they knew more about me. Renting cars would get too expensive too quickly, it would also make me look very suspicious. My car was out of the question since they already knew it.

Honestly, I was surprised they let me tail them for that long when they already knew about me, but this might be the one time someone underestimating me would actually play into my cards. Because my goal wasn’t to aimlessly shadow Yoongi. It was to get closer to information about Hoseok. And I got a little tiny snippet.

When I sat at my computer at work the next day and stared mindlessly into the wall, I was wracking my brain on how to recuperate from this fumble. The previous night I had been going through my journal for hours, trying to come up with a way to keep a surveillance on Yoongi without letting him know I was following him, when I realised it.

Through the five days, I’d been catching glimpses of the other six. Of course, I saw Jungkook the most, but here and there I’d see Kim Taehyung’s shoulder as he was chatting with Yoongi outside of a club, Namjoon calling someone and smoking in front of the office building, Kim Seokjin coming out of Yoongi’s house, Park Jimin’s profile in the darkness of an alleyway by Yoongi’s car. They were all extremely close to each other and their lives were intertwined rather finely.

And I’d seen Hoseok too. It was for a split second, just a flash of the man’s face through a crack in a warehouse door, but I’d seen him. I had written it down, just mindlessly jotted down “door might have been opened by Hoseok”, and that was my chance. All I had to do now was start investigating that warehouse and move from there. Tonight, I had to go there and scope out the surroundings to see whether there was a place I could comfortably watch the area from.

The door to Park’s office suddenly slammed opened and I jumped in my seat, heart almost lurching out of my chest. I glared at my superior’s back and cursed his habit of storming into rooms as loudly as possible. He walked over to Minjoon’s table and started quietly telling him something. My curiosity won over and I couldn’t help glancing their way. Minjoon caught my eye for a moment and smiled, but mostly kept his attention trained on Park.

After a while of mumbling and several hushed okays, Park briskly walked through the station out to the parking lot and Minjoon and his partner both stood up and started gathering their things to follow him. I mournfully watched them get ready and grumbled behind my computer, but as I was about to petulantly grab some files and put them back into the cabinets, Minjoon came over to me and asked: “You wanna come with?” I stared at him for a moment, completely flabbergasted. He waited patiently until I got my wits about me again and then smiled when I started very enthusiastically nodding. The others in the station were also surprised, but I wasn’t about to give them my attention as I also grabbed my badge and a jacket and followed Minjoon out.

“It’s 7 pm on a Saturday, which means Yoongi’s at the Pied Piper,” he explained while leading me to the service car. Pied Piper was Yoongi’s most successful club, one that sat smack dab in the middle of Itaewon and drew attention with its fancy exterior and sleek interior. It was a hotspot for both locals and foreigners, and young trust fund kids often bragged about being on the VIP list, having the privilege to just come and walk in instead of having to wait endlessly in the line. “That also means that Namjoon’s currently sitting alone in the office. Park’s been tirelessly working on obtaining some insider info and he wants to go have a chat with the lawyer while he’s on his home turf.” I nodded along as we filed into the car and started on the journey.

I was a little nervous around the mysterious calm man. I could handle Yoongi’s endless banter, but Namjoon unnerved me with his silence and sharp eyes. It was as if he was slowly uncovering every little dirty secret you had deep within you just by looking into your eyes, he didn’t even need to say a word and you just wanted to spill all your sins. He was a dangerous man, an intelligent one that knew how to use it to intimidate others.

“Our job,” Minjoon suddenly spoke up after focusing on the road, “is to go to Pied Piper and annoy and distract Yoongi, so Park can have a peaceful uninterrupted moment with Namjoon. He doesn’t want Yoongi to even text him anything, so we have to put on a proper show.”

“I see…” I replied finally, the reality of the task setting in. I was a little relieved I didn’t have to confront Yoongi’s right-hand man, but unexpectedly I felt embarrassment flood me. I’d been having some truly awkward encounters with the man, and he seemed quite fond of teasing me. I was a little afraid he might blab about what I’d been doing in my free time and put a mark on my back within my own unit. I knew he definitely wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to put me in a difficult position.

The whole ride over I was preparing myself for dealing with the jokester again and potentially having to stop him from spilling some secrets. So, when we walked up confidently to the bouncer and Minjoon showed him his badge, I was full on panicking, nervously picking on my scarf with shaking hands. While we waited for the bodyguard to relay to Yoongi the police were here, Minjoon must have misunderstood my nervousness as fear of facing the mafia boss again.

“Actually, this is why I wanted to bring you with me,” he said quietly so nobody could overhear, “I wanted you to get over the first meeting, so you could continue with this task. Once you meet him a few times, the novelty wears off and he’s just an annoying dude that commits crime in his free time.”

No, yeah, I already knew that. I could cry inside, that wasn’t why I was nervous at all. But it was better he thought that than knowing I’d actually met Yoongi twice more already and he seemed to be getting quite interested in making my life difficult back. So, I just nodded and smiled at him gratefully, thanking him for bringing me along.

“Alright,” the bouncer suddenly came back to us, “right this way.” With that he turned around and made his way inside the club. I scrambled to follow after him through the crowded area, wading through partying youngsters. I could barely hear anything over the pumping bass of the music and with the flashing lights and crowds I couldn’t even really see what the inside looked like. I saw some dark grey walls, some mirrors and flashy patches of silver met with dark stone, but the rest was covered up with smoke and dancing bodies.

Similarly to the club I’d been to some week and a half ago, we were led to a staircase and up onto a gallery overlooking the ground floor, but it seemed that Pied Piper offered completely private rooms that were in a corridor off to the right, while left side was occupied by a bar. Surprisingly, it seemed that the VIP area also served as a sort of a restaurant, as I saw several couples and groups enjoying a dinner. The sound of the music wasn’t as overbearing up here and it created sort of a constant hum in the background, lending the space some added privacy from eavesdropping.

I expected getting led to a cordoned off little corner somewhere like before, but instead we walked through the entire area all the way to the back, and then up another, albeit a little smaller, staircase to a sort of a half balcony hanging over both the ground floor and the VIP area.

There on a velvet red couch, was sat Yoongi, greeting us with an amused smile. His pitch-black shirt and dress pants were popping with contrast to the vibrant red, just as his pale skin and long black hair was. For a moment I was so consumed by the vision that was Yoongi, that I didn’t even realise there were two other men present.

On a couch to our left, Kim Taehyung sat in all black suit, all spread out with legs wide open and arms resting on top of the couch, wavy dark hair framing his curious face, mischievous expression slowly taking over as he watched us grow more and more restless. And finally, leaning on a wall behind us, was Jungkook. He was expressionless as always and almost blended into the wall with his also pitch-black t-shirt and cargo pants. What was visible of his arms was heavily tattooed and definitely served as make-shift camouflage in this dark space.

I snickered and before I could stop myself, I was speaking. “Did we crash a funeral or what? What’s with the fits?” I glanced at all three of them amusedly. Taehyung started giggling while Yoongi full-on laughed. His face was coloured by surprise at my words and once again, I’d managed to catch his full attention. The nerves I felt combined with my annoyance at the man helped me put up a more confident front than I was feeling and I needed to take full advantage of that.

“Well, personally I think I do look quite ravishing in black, darling,” Taehyung drawled out seductively, righting his posture to lean closer to me, “Don’t you agree?” Minjoon looked between us confusedly and I made a mental note to make some excuse about why I wasn’t a complete wreck in the face of the three men.

I ignored Taehyung’s words and instead sat down on a chair straight across from Yoongi and Minjoon, who finally came out of his stupor, sat down next to me.

“So, tell me, officer,” Yoongi asked noncommittally, “What are you here for this time?” Even though he aimed the question at Minjoon, he was looking at me the whole time and I knew he was also experiencing the same déjà vu as me.

“You know, just checking that everything’s fine here,” Minjoon replied cheekily, watching me out of the corner of his eye, “Weekends can get pretty rough. We wouldn’t want a fight to break out.” Yoongi just scoffed and gestured to the general area.

“You don’t have to worry that head of yours, Mr. Jang,” he replied with a snark that I’d never caught from him before, “We have quite the few very strong and very professional bodyguards and bouncers around here. People know not to mess with them.” He looked back at me and then added: “Would you like something to drink or eat? I must say the appetizers are absolutely stellar today.” With a swipe of his arm, he gestured to the table between us that was decked with food. From my left, Taehyung giggled and leaned in to grab a few grapes.

To be honest, it felt like we were two stupid little lambs that wandered straight into the wolf’s den. And the fact that they were all around us didn’t help. It was finally starting to catch up with me and I nervously rubbed the top of my thighs with my clammy hands. I gulped and looked at Minjoon, expecting him to lead the conversation. I wondered how Park was fairing at the office and whether he’d already met Namjoon.

“Well, it’s our duty to look out anyway,” Minjoon shot back, “Serve the public and all that. Just making sure nothing naughty is going on. People tend to get a little crazy on Saturdays after all.” He was rewarded with a toothy wild smirk, all sharp edges and dangerous glints.

“Yes, they do tend to do that. If I see anyone being naughty, you’ll be the first one I’ll tell,” Yoongi laughed and gestured at the bodyguard at the stairs. He immediately turned around and left. I was on high alert, trying to track him from the balcony and see where he was going. The conversation between the men continued as they traded thinly veiled insults and passive aggressive remarks, while I was frantically searching the crowd.

I only relaxed when he returned to the balcony – a tray of drinks in hand. Each of the men took one – to my horror even Minjoon accepted a glass that was clearly meant for him and took a tiny sip. I gave him a pointed stare. He was the one that drove us here, for fuck’s sake! Not to mention there should be a golden rule about not eating or drinking anything given to you by a gangster in a club he owned.

The bouncer made his rounds, and the last glass was suddenly thrust in front of my face. It was a sex on the beach. It was the single cocktail I ordered and sipped on not to look too suspicious at Dynamite the other week. I shot the man in question a half surprised half horrified look. He was watching me from behind the rim of his own whiskey glass, eyes dark and curious for my reaction.

In the end, I took it because I’d started to feel awkward with the bouncer just standing there with his arm outstretched, but I immediately sat it down on the table, intent on not drinking it. I shot Minjoon another look, trying to signal to him he should do the same, but he was cooly sipping on his and only subtly shook his head at me. I pointedly ignored Yoongi’s gaze hungry for attention. I would not give him the rise he so wanted to get out of me.

“You see, right now I’m only trying to figure out in what club is your partner currently wreaking havoc, to have you here distracting,” Kim Taehyung suddenly joined the conversation, his silky deep voice catching me off guard every time. I jolted, but Minjoon kept his cool.

“You guys know us too well, this is getting a bit repetitive, isn’t it?” he joked back and drained his whiskey glass in a single big gulp, “Guess you’ll have to find out yourself. But entertain me here for a moment, otherwise you’ll just embarrass me in front of my boss and the newbie.”

Suddenly, four pairs of eyes were on me, and a wave of goosebumps ran through my entire being. I met Yoongi’s black eyes again and this time didn’t divert the eye contact. He leant forward, until he was leaning on his knees, and even though there was an entire table between us, it still felt dangerously close.

“You have been quite uncharacteristically quiet, officer,” he said and drawled out the nickname with a deep voice. I was afraid of what else might come out of his mouth, so I quickly butted in.

“What do you mean? You don’t know me at all,” it was both a warning to shut up and warning that we’d just begun, and he really did not know what I was capable of. My eyes were throwing daggers at him, but I tried to keep on a fake polite smile.

“Well, for someone who waltzed in here calling it a funeral and dissing our clothes, I was expecting some more smart comments out of you,” Yoongi explained, and I was relieved he was entertaining my threat to keep our previous conversations secret. He was looking thoroughly amused though.

“You’d have to be saying something smart, for me to have smart remarks.”

Kim Taehyung laughed out of surprise and pointed at Yoongi, who was fighting back his own grin. “She got you, hyung, you’ve gotta admit that,” he teased him good-naturedly and it was almost surprisingly wholesome to see them interacting as friends.

“There’s rarely anything smart said when talking to cops,” Yoongi retorted and it was more of a dig towards Minjoon than me, who stiffened next to me. It must have been a sore subject coming from Yoongi, which I understood with how hard he was making everything for us. Unfortunately, as a cop you sometimes did feel like the criminals outsmarted you… and then hearing them tease you about it, I’d be mad too.

“Okay, okay, we can sit here and call each other dumb the whole evening,” I mediated the situation before it went sideways, “Tell me then, Yoongi, what smart things do you want to talk about?” I spit out his name as if it was a curse, but I saw his entire being perk up at hearing it, a smug smirk tugging at his lips. I ignored it and waited for him to answer.

“Oh, I’ve got many things to talk about, one more interesting than the other,” he said dangerously, and I quickly realised we were nearing a no-go zone again. I suddenly understood why he was so interested in this, in letting me so near and never reprimanding me, playing with me like a cat does when it’s hunting for mice. He was getting off on knowing there was something I desperately needed him to stay silent about. At that moment, he was holding something over my head, something that could get me in a lot of trouble with colleagues that already didn’t like me, and if he threatened to press charges for harassment and stalking, he could most likely even boot me out of the force. But to him, it wasn’t about destroying my life. It was about amusing himself knowing I’m depending on him for something so important when I’m hellbent on taking him down. That way, he still remained in control of all of our meetings.

But I didn’t think he had the intention to truly rat me out. It was too much fun for him, and he seemed the type to let things play out. Ultimately, he must have believed once I became bothersome, he could shoot me down no problem, so why not amuse himself while the opportunity was there? So, I took a gamble. He wanted a challenge, maybe I’d give it to him. Maybe that’s why he encouraged me to do better and chase after him more.

“Yeah?” I said and trained all my attention to him, just as he always did to everyone around him, “I’m all ears.” He looked me straight in the eyes and I fought myself not to flinch away. The longer we stared, the more prominent the amused smirk grew on his face. He tested me, how long it would take me to break the eye contact and back down, but I steeled myself, squeezing the armrests with my nervous shaking hands, keeping the fear at bay by attempting to look as fierce as possible while falling apart with panic on the inside. Finally, it was him who looked away, but it didn’t feel like he ceded. It felt like we both won.

I released a breath I didn’t realise I was holding in and slumped a little into my chair, the tension suddenly draining out of my body in one fell swoop, leaving me almost boneless. Only now I started noticing the tense awkward silence the whole space sunk into, the other three men watching us with very different expressions. Jungkook as stoic as ever but with a hint of something in his eyes, Taehyung hungrily taking in the exchange with open curiosity and a playful grin, watching me as if I successfully tackled some kind of a challenge, and finally Minjoon, his face both confused and alarmed. I really had to think of some good excuse on the way back home.

Yoongi’s phone was buzzing on the table, but he barely paid it any attention. Instead, he gulped down his whiskey and gestured for the bodyguard to get him more, before turning to Minjoon once again.

“I’m sorry, but you seem kind of boring compared to the balls on this lady,” he mocked him, “this is the most fun I’ve had dealing with you guys.”

“I’m not here to amuse you,” I growled through gritted teeth. He flashed me a smile and said: “Oh, of course not, I know that. You’re here on a super secret, super important mission. But I am having fun, which normally doesn’t happen with these guys.” Minjoon snickered next to me, and his next words somehow felt like a punch in the face.

“I should have known that a pig like you would get off more on having a female detective grill you,” he muttered, fully aiming to insult Yoongi, but I stiffened next to him. I couldn’t figure out why, but his remark really didn’t sit well with me, putting me out of my comfort zone way more than anything the three gangsters did the whole evening, and Kim Taehyung’s first words to me were shameless flirting.

“Only a pig like you would only see the fact that she’s a woman and not that she’s just more interesting than you,” Yoongi retorted almost instantly, spitting out the whole sentence in a single breath, leaving Minjoon speechless with the quick comeback. Then he rolled his eyes, trying to stay as calm as he was when he came in.

“That’s not what I said, stop trying to spin this on me,” he said, clearly annoyed with the turn of the conversation, “We’re talking about you here.” I stayed silent and for the first time that evening yearned for taking a swig out of the now melting cocktail still standing on the table in front of me.

“Right,” Yoongi drawled out, running out of patience dealing with the officer, “And I’m a pig why exactly? Last time I checked that’s what people called the police. Not me. And especially not after I’ve just-“

“Shut up, both of you,” I jumped in, annoyed and not interested in whatever Yoongi wanted to say, “You can measure each other’s cocks when I’m not around. Act like adults.” Taehyung off to the side giggled again, thoroughly enjoying himself watching this all go down. I chanced a glance at Jungkook, who was attempting to hide an amused smirk by looking out of the balcony. I didn’t want to look at either of the men I had just reprimanded, but my attention was drawn to Yoongi when he cleared his throat and said: “Of course, I let myself get carried away. Sorry ‘bout that.”

I had been afraid he’d take it badly, but he was laughing when I looked at him. Minjoon looked angry, but stayed silent, instead he petulantly looked to the right, away from all of us. I guess I’d be reaping the consequences of that later.

The awkward silence was broken by the man I was least expecting to speak up. “They’re with Namjoon hyung at the office,” Jungkook briskly informed Yoongi from behind us. When I turned around, he was just putting his phone to his ear walking out of the space.

“Well, I guess the cat’s out the bag now,” my attention turned back onto Yoongi, who still wasn’t checking his periodically buzzing phone. I also pulled out mine to check the time. 7:43 pm. We’d been there for a little longer than half an hour, but it felt barely like ten minutes to my shock.

I looked at Minjoon again, seeking his advice on how to tie up this situation. He finally shook out of his embarrassed silence and was more or less back to his previous self.

“Well, thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Min,” Minjoon said, still a little strained and refusing to look at him for too long, “It was truly a fruitful evening.” Yoongi chuckled.

“Right, I feel like we all learnt a lot of things about each other,” he retorted mysteriously, giving me a grin and then turning to Taehyung, “It seems we both lost the bet. I said it would be The Rose and you betted on the hotel.” The Rose, another one of Yoongi’s clubs, was currently managed mainly by Park Jimin and situated on the other side of the city centre. It was another one of his high-profile entertainments, but most of the time it hosted the filthy rich and honed in on the feeling of privilege and prestige. That was definitely a club you couldn’t just get into from the street, no, you had to be invited in or taken by a member, that’s why the police were so interested in it.

“You were betting on us?” I asked surprised. Minjoon looked at me and grinned. “They do that quite often, actually. We do our best to try and keep them on their toes.”

I glanced at Yoongi, who as the entire time, was watching me closely. I hummed and pretended to think about it for a moment, and finally said: “Honestly, The Rose is a pretty good guess. Keep ‘em coming, I’m sure with an intuition like that, you’ll get it right once.” He laughed heartily and leaned in.

“I know it’s a good guess,” he whispered, “I get them right most of the time. I know you people, more than you think.” I shuddered and pulled away, hitting the back of the chair. With a slight flush of embarrassment at my earlier comment, I scrambled to get up and go on our merry way. That had made him even more amused, and I cursed both him and myself. I should really learn to keep my mouth shut sometimes.

Yoongi didn’t bother standing up as we were leaving, he didn’t even bother to check his phone, that had gone suspiciously silent. He just stared at me from across the room as the bouncer started leading the way back out and Taehyung waved at us with a little wink, looking annoyingly pleased and relaxed. I rolled my eyes at him one last time and then disappeared down the stairs. If I strained my ears, I could almost hear him laughing loudly at my antics.

Outside of the club, back by our car, Minjoon suddenly stopped in the middle of the empty quiet parking lot. I staggered to a stop as well, looking at him confused and slightly worried something happened. What if Park hadn’t managed to have that talk with Namjoon and was waiting for us mad at the station? Panic flashed through me, but I was surprised when Minjoon looked at me with worried sad eyes and started apologising.

“Hey, I’m really sorry about before,” he said and I could finally see the full extent of his embarrassment, “You’re right, we were bickering like a couple of little boys. It’s just- He always gets such a rise out of me. I try and not react, but he always does or says something that just pisses me off.” I softened a little at his genuine shame and a little awkwardly patted his shoulder.

“It’s okay, I understand,” I replied quietly, “He got a rise out of me too. Don’t worry about it.” He smiled at me, a little lighter and less sad, and I returned it. When we returned to the station, Park didn’t say anything about us or our mission and just launched right into his spiel about Namjoon’s behaviour at the office. I considered that a win.

Later that night, sitting in the empty meeting room, Minjoon turned to me and said: “I didn’t get a chance to say it earlier, but you fared surprisingly well tonight. I wasn’t expecting you to be like… that. It was amazing.” I blushed both from his words and his gentle embarrassed gaze and played with the edge of my sleeve to escape his eyes.

“Thank you… When I get nervous, I just start blabbing out the first thing that comes to mind,” I replied with a half-truth half-lie. He didn’t need to know I’d been getting some practice with dealing with the infuriating man in my free time. That would stay between me, Yoongi and the devil.

The next time I saw Yoongi was actually a few weeks later – in January of the new year. As I promised to myself, I took the time to scope out that one warehouse where I caught a glimpse of Hoseok. I had been staking it out carefully for almost a week, losing my mind with boredom just watching harbour workers milling about, when I came to the conclusion that he actually wasn’t there. The one time I’d seen him there clearly must have been a fluke, because he didn’t come at all the entire week. It was a pretty easy to scope out location, and when I continuously didn’t notice any evidence of Hoseok’s presence, I had to face the reality that this just wasn’t one of his spots.

So, that sent me back to following Yoongi around. And I had to figure out how to outsmart the literal king of snakes.

One day, when I was walking through the station, it hit me in a form of a single simple leaflet pinned to a noticeboard. I stopped so fast I almost tripped over my own feet and then hobbled back to the board to take in the huge bold FREE MOTORCYCLE TRAINING FOR OFFICERS FROM THIS PRECINCT. I had to stop myself from laughing maniacally right in the middle of the station and immediately saved the contact information into my phone. It was time to learn some new skills.

While I started taking lessons to be able to get a license for a motorcycle, I had to hold off from tailing Yoongi. Rolling up to his house in a car he already knew would be just embarrassing to me and explaining to someone else why I needed to borrow their car to drive around Seoul for 24 hours straight would be too difficult and, not to mention, extremely weird. There aren’t enough excuses in this world to borrow a different car every night and I didn’t even know enough people to achieve that.

Sometimes I would snoop around his office building or clubs when I knew he either was there or wasn’t, depending on what I was trying to achieve. I also still periodically dropped to the warehouse, just to chance whether maybe Hoseok showed up that time. But no luck. It was like he got swallowed by the earth itself. It did make sense for Yoongi to keep him in the shadows, considering what we suspected he did in the organisation, but I didn’t expect for him to be this hard to spot.

Here and there I would go through the other buildings Yoongi owned and tried to figure out where he could be spending most of his time, but there were just too many. Thus, one night I ended up buying a huge and very detailed map of Seoul that took up almost all of my bedroom wall and got to work on that. First, I marked all of Yoongi’s properties including his house in red, then I added properties that were known to be in possession of his six each with their own colours, and then marked with different colours who I spotted where. Finally, I added post it notes with details of when I spotted them or when Yoongi went there.

As I stood in my bedroom, proud of my hard work, a realisation of what I was doing hit me. There was no going back now, and whoever entered my house and found his way into my bedroom would be positively creeped out. I myself had to admit that sleeping next to a huge map detailing the whereabouts of a certain individual that I acquired through illegal means wasn’t ideal, but I had to do what I had to do to help catch him.

And like that, Christmas came and went and suddenly New Year was here, and I found myself sitting in the meeting room, first thing in January, going over new findings and strategies. I was barely holding my attention to what was said, itching to supervise Yoongi again and trying to come up with ways to check on what he’s doing.

“We’ve made contact with a new informant,” Park said suddenly, “He’s willing to pass info to us, he’s fairly confident that he can dodge the safety checks since he’s seen people fail them quite often. He knows very well the consequences he faces if he gets caught and agreed to help anyway.”

“Which faction does he belong to?” one of the officers present asked him. Faction, that meant under which member of the six he worked. Since they all had such different areas of coverage, a lot of the time the personnel under them was directly employed to them and not necessarily to Yoongi himself, though he owned the umbrella corporation. These groups of employees directly belonging to a certain member of the gang we called factions or squads.

“He works around the clubs and the hotel, so he’s Taehyung’s, but he mostly gets into contact with Jungkook,” Park answered readily, “But, and that’s most important, he gets his fare share of time with Namjoon. He runs a lot of errands for him and Taehyung when they’re together. Which is often.”

Suddenly Minjoon leaned closer to me and whispered: “Namjoon spends most of his time at the office building, but he does go to the clubs and checks on their offices and bookkeeping periodically. Taehyung’s and Jimin’s responsibility is making sure that everything is ready there for him.” I nodded at him and gave him a grateful smile. I thought back to the five days I spent sitting mostly in front of the office space and I did see him a lot. He seemed to be an avid smoker and spent a lot of time standing by the side of the building smoking and shouting something into his phone. Maybe he was like Yoongi and went to the clubs in the morning and then spent the afternoons there.

I leaned to him and whispered back: “It’s almost unfair how much information we have on them and still can’t legally even give them a parking ticket.” Minjoon smiled sympathetically and patted my shoulder.

The meeting droned on and as I sat there, I decided that parking tickets actually didn’t sound half bad. Next time I went out after him, I should take some just in case. I vowed myself to be the most annoying menace he’s ever come across and I fully intended to hold up to that.

About a week later I was once again sitting at my table punching some useless information into the national police database, trying to stay awake as I’d been spending the nights crawling around the industrial parts of Seoul checking out warehouses and the surveillance around them, when Park, as was his habit, stormed into the room letting his door bang loudly into the wall. I’d stopped flinching at this point, no one in the room was even fazed, all of us have heard it so many times it wasn’t even surprising anymore.

As usual when something happened with Yoongi, he went straight to Minjoon and Hwang, his partner, gesturing for them to grab their things and follow him out. I tried to catch Minjoon’s eye, hoping he’d take me with them again, but he just shook his head at me gently. When both of the other men left, he made a stop at my table and in a hushed voice explained: “I’m sorry, not today. Something happened at a warehouse that’s on Yoongi’s turf, probably some kind of fight with a rival gang or something. The police officers from the area are already there, but they’re waiting on us to see. It’s a pretty ugly and bloody scene.” With that he ran out of the door, barely managing to wave goodbye as he rushed to the scene.

I looked at his retreating back in disappointment, not understanding his reasoning behind leaving me out of it. What was he worried about? That I’d be upset if I saw a little blood? That I shouldn’t witness violence? Determination rose in me as I got angry at the perceived discrimination. I checked the clock. 4 PM, Wednesday. I scrambled out of my chair and quickly grabbed my badge and jacket and ran out as well.

As I gripped my steering wheel like an insane person and drove through the centre, I was hoping that his schedule was as solid as I assumed, even though I didn’t follow him for long. In a few minutes, I was parking in front of his office building and charging my way inside like a storm. There was a lady sitting at the reception and when she first saw me walk in, she attempted to talk to me, but quickly gave up and lost interest when I just brushed past her.

I’d never been inside but I hoped that all the movies and series didn’t lie, and his office would be on the top floor, so I flagged down an elevator and pushed the highest button. Now finally standing here, I started getting nervous. I once again acted before I thought about it and standing in an elevator taking me to Yoongi’s office, I didn’t even know what I’d say to him. If he even was here. I had nothing to talk to him about except for inquiring about the disturbance at a warehouse, but I doubt he’d ever tell me anything about it, not that I even had any closer information to ask about. This was reckless and stupid.

The elevator slowly rolled to a stop and the door opened. I self-consciously walked out and took a look around. It was a nicely furnished hallway lined with dark wood and deep scarlet details. At the end a huge vase with white lilies stood, right next to an abandoned desk of who I assumed must be Yoongi’s secretary. To my left, straight in the middle, was a black double door, no doubt leading to the man of the hour.

I loitered outside for a while, gathering courage and thinking about how I should explain my sudden appearance. Right as I moved to the door, it opened and a black-clad figure backed out, both of us colliding between the open doors. With surprisingly quick reflexes he turned around and grabbed onto my elbow, stabilising me before I embarrassed myself in front of Yoongi again.

“Oh! Sorry about that!” a cheerful high voice rung out through the corridor, “I gotta watch the road more.” He ended it with a melodic laugh and his other hand grabbed onto my shoulder, finally shaking me out of my stupor. I looked up to thank him, the cheerful personality putting me at ease a little more, but as soon as I laid eyes on him, the words died in my throat on an embarrassing half choked sound. I froze up and just stared at him for a moment, until I could see confusion paint his face.

It was Jung Hoseok. Hoseok was standing in front of me. Laughing and joking around, hands still holding me upright.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked, suddenly a little more serious, watching me with concern.

“She’s fine,” a voice from the inside supplied, “Maybe she’s just stunned with your beauty, with finally meeting you in person after staring at your picture for months.” All confusion and concern disappeared from the man and he started laughing again.

“Oh, so you’re the police officer,” he announced with a smirk and something a little more teasing crept into his voice. He finally released his hold on me and watched me with amused eyes as I stumbled away from him with red burning cheeks. So much for not embarrassing myself. It didn’t help that he most definitely was beautiful, almost unfairly so for someone who was allegedly a stone-cold killer. Damn these men to hell, what was it about being a mobster that attracted the good-looking guys.

“Thank you for catching me,” I gritted through my teeth, already staring daggers into Yoongi, who was leisurely sitting behind a huge dark desk in the room behind us, watching us with a lazy smirk.

“Don’t mention it,” Hoseok replied almost instantly and winked, “Well, I gotta get on my merry way. Have fun you two! Bye bye~” He waved at me cheerily and walked out. Then he backed into the room again and pointed at Yoongi in a teasingly reprimanding manner and added: “Not too much fun though.” With that, he was gone.

I walked into the room, completely flabbergasted by his surprising character. Yoongi watched me like a wolf, waiting for me to sit down on a chair on the other side of his table, as was our tradition by now. I could see the anticipation rolling off of him in waves, so I took the time to properly soak in the room. There was a lot of dark wood and grey tones with splash of colour here and there, but the darkness was offset by a huge three-piece window in the wall behind Yoongi. Right now, I could see the beginnings of what would soon turn into a sunset.

I knew I couldn’t win in a battle of will against him, so once I dragged it out enough, finally I moved over to the table to take a seat. Immediately, Yoongi had a cordial smile on his face, as if he was greeting an old friend and not a police officer. Speaking of that, I remembered something – I took the time to bring it for the sake of our second meeting.

Yoongi wordlessly watched me rummage in my pockets until I finally found what I was looking for. A second later, my hand slapped my badge on the table between us. I nodded towards it and muttered: “That official enough for you?” He looked at it shocked for a split second and then he was laughing.

When calm enough to speak to me, he said: “I see that whatever I joke about with you, you’ll take it to your heart. I’ll have to think about my words a bit more carefully from now on.” He stared at the badge for a moment and then thoughtfully hummed.

“Now, that reminds me, I should probably check whether you’re recording this talk,” he joked with me, “I won’t stop you of course, just watch my mouth.” Annoyed, I reached into my other pocket and this time I slapped my phone on the table. I went the extra mile of showing him it wasn’t calling anyone or recording anything, and then glared at him in challenge, all under his amused gaze.

“So, can we talk?” I bluffed, pretending like I showed up here for something specific. He made himself comfortable in his chair across from me and motioned for me to start. I took a moment to think about how to start. With no idea what I wanted to achieve here, it was hard to just start up a conversation. But it seemed I was worrying for nothing.

“Actually, I don’t need you to start,” he stated matter-of-factly, “I know why you’re here. With your colleagues currently running around in the docks, it doesn't take a genius to put two and two together. But it’s not their usual MO, they’ve never sent here someone while they were investigating.” I stuttered under his piercing eyes, and he smirked. “So… not that official, is it.”

“It still is, though, I’m here during work hours regarding an on-going police investigation,” I defended myself somewhat petulantly, following his figure with my eyes when he suddenly got up and moved to a small bar in the corner behind me. With his back to me, mixing up cocktails, I realised I’ve never seen him from this angle, always had to face him head on and fight for everything I was and everything I did. This felt as if we were supposed to be relaxed in each other’s company and I didn’t like it.

He hummed again and turned around, whiskey in one hand and pink gin and tonic in other. He motioned for me to move and sit at a small green sofa in the other corner of the room, and I mindlessly listened to him. To my surprise, he situated me on the sofa and pushed the gin into my hand, while he himself made himself comfortable on the fluffy carpet, leaning on the table. The sofa wasn’t super high, but I still found myself looking at him from above for the first time ever. It was putting me off – he had to be planning something. Why else would he behave this way?

I put the glass on the table and gave him a reprimanding glare. “I told you, I’m on duty and I drove here.” He scoffed and sipped on his own drink, ignoring my words.

“And the things you’ll learn here, you’ll share them with your colleagues? You’ll go back to the station and divulge your findings?” he asked seemingly innocently, but there was a dark glint in his eyes. It was the most serious I’ve ever seen him. I didn’t know whether I should lie to him or not. I knew I wouldn’t share it, at least not until a little later, when there was an opportunity for me to showcase my knowledge in the most impactful way. And it seemed that he was aware of that as well. And the longer I took to answer him, the more obvious the answer was. So I chose to be honest.

“When the time comes for it, yes,” I said, and the words felt like ash on my tongue. I could barely look at him in that moment. I was doing something wrong, I was aware of that, I was putting my career on the line and bartering the information for my own gain and putting it out into the universe somehow felt like a curse. But Yoongi didn’t seem to care. He nodded and took a sip again, humming. I regarded him with suspicion.

“Is that why you came here to find out the information your own colleagues wouldn’t tell you?”

His question hung heavy in the air, and I froze completely. I was embarrassed that I couldn’t even disprove it, even though I didn’t think that’s why I came there. They really didn’t tell me anything. I would find out eventually when it was important for me to know. Or if I was lucky, I’d pull it out of Minjoon when he’d come in tomorrow. But I was angry and frustrated. I spent a lot of time studying Yoongi’s warehouses trying to find Hoseok, and he didn’t even give me a chance to tell him and ran. Didn’t even tell me a reason why exactly I wasn’t supposed to be there. So, I went and did something foolish.

But I still had to play my cards right.

For some reason, Yoongi seemed to be suspiciously eager to let me in on some of his dealings, from speaking to me openly that one time in Dynamite, to letting me tail him and even entertaining my clumsy attempts at distracting him or getting information out of him. Whether it was because he didn’t see me as a threat or because he was trying to play a game of his own with me, I had to use this to my advantage. As long as he was this willing, I had to try and milk this situation.

“Just trying to get all the points of view,” I answered cooly and tried to put up a strong front. I hoped that Yoongi had enough decency not to point out my obvious frustration and would take my words at face value. Which, thankfully, he seemed to do. He flashed me a smile and said: “Ah, I see. Just being a good cop.”

He looked at me for a moment and then suddenly got up. I was about to also get up, but he gestured for me to stay seated. He walked over to the table and leaned on it with his hip.

“I can’t tell you much more than what you’ll eventually find out about it,” he said, and it felt both like a ceding and a challenge, “But whatever happened there, we had nothing to do with it. A petty criminal allegedly affiliated with a group attacked another petty criminal allegedly affiliated with another group and it didn’t go as well as he hoped.” I wished I knew more about the situation to ask additional questions, but I knew this would be all I’d be getting out of him either way.

“Well, that’s not much,” I couldn’t help the dig and he scoffed. “Don’t complain when I’m being this gracious,” he retorted jokingly and pointed a finger at me much in the same manner as Hoseok did to him earlier.

I was about to retort too, when the door flew open. For a moment I almost thought it’s Park and my heart jumped into my throat, but the panic disappeared as quickly when I recognised the man as none other than Kim Taehyung. He waltzed in straight to me, paying Yoongi no mind and sitting down on the sofa next to me.

When I moved to stand up, he quickly caught my hand and gave it a swift kiss. “We haven’t been formally introduced yet,” was the first thing that came out of his mouth, “My name is Taehyung, but feel free to call me Tae.” I raised my eyebrow at him as he gave me a million-watt smile and slowly settled back into the couch.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Kim,” I replied, deadpan, and pulled my hand free. Somewhere in the room Yoongi laughed, but before I could turn to look at him, Taehyung spoke to me again.

“How mean,” he fake pouted and slumped into the sofa, only to spring up again immediately, hands going for the pink gin and tonic, “Is this free?”

“Yeah, knock yourself out,” I replied, stunned. I could have stayed silent though, as the glass was already halfway to his lips and there was no stopping him. He gulped down half the glass in one go and then offered me to take a swig too. I was so surprised by his erratic behaviour that I subconsciously grabbed the drink thrust into my personal space and froze.

“Come on, just one little sip,” he goaded me, seemingly all in good spirits, but I knew listening to whatever gibberish he had to offer me was a one-way ticket to hell. I pushed the glass back into his hands and said: “I’m sure you’ll enjoy it much more than me.”

Taehyung suddenly leaned into my personal space and seductively whispered: “If that was right, then I would be doing it wrong.” With his suggestive words hanging between us, obviously no longer talking about alcohol, I blushed so aggressively I might have combusted on the spot and pushed him away until he was squished into the other corner of the sofa.

Alarmed at his words I instinctively searched for Yoongi, holding out hope that he would sort out his friend and school him on how to act in front of a detective and a woman, but I found him half sitting on the armrest of the chair I previously sat on, attentively watching us with a light amused smirk.

“Sorry about that,” he muttered cocky, “He still hasn’t been house trained.” There was a whiny “hyuuuung” coming from somewhere behind me, but I was done with this conversation. I had just had enough of interacting with these lunatics, so I got up and started getting ready to leave.

“Oh, don’t be embarrassed,” Taehyung teased, “I’m just joking around, I always try this on new people to see how they react.” I huffed, slightly angry but more humiliated. “You mean new women.”

“Actually, he doesn’t care about that at all,” Yoongi answered for him, “You should have seen him when he first met your boss and the other cop, Jang. He almost got arrested for public indecency cause he made them so angry.” I turned to look at Taehyung to gauge the truth to this statement, only to find him properly embarrassed and almost as red as me. The image of Taehyung shamelessly flirting with a seething mad Park while Minjoon watched completely horrified entered my mind. I snickered at him and relaxed again.

“I should have known that cops have no sense of humour,” he muttered for himself, but then quickly shot me a wink and added: “No offense.”

“Don’t worry,” I replied, “That’s the least offensive thing you’ve said to me today.” Taehyung only smiled at me sweetly, as if he was the picture of sainthood and not whispering naughty words to people he barely knew on the regular.

I went to check the time and with a start realised I’d left my phone and badge just laying on the table when I earlier moved to the sofa. After quickly grabbing them, I walked over to the door and turned around. Both men in the room were looking at me curiously. I gave them my own wolfish grin and said: “Thank you for your cooperation.” With that I was gone.

So, that wasn’t the most fruitful thing I’ve ever done. I found myself even more confused about the strange behaviour of a man with such a reputation as Min Yoongi. For a moment teasing, for a moment dangerous, for a moment honest and genuine? I had no idea what he was doing, what he was trying to do and why was he letting me get away with so much, but everything about him and every one of our encounters was extremely suspicious.

Well. Even though it disappointed me a little, I knew that it was most likely because he kept underestimating me. So, I had to change that.

A week later I’d finally gotten a license for a bike. I was spending so much time there that I even became somewhat of a running joke between the lectors, but I couldn’t explain to them I was in a time press because I had a gang to dismantle and a mafia boss to humble. That would have made things real awkward real fast.

But now, with a license and slightly used black bike, I was virtually unstoppable. At least in my mind. From there I slowly got back into my routine of tailing Yoongi. During the month and a half I was out, I had been spending a lot of time staring at a map of Seoul and embarrassingly enough, I’d started to remember the streets to a point I could have become a cabbie. Maybe one day when I’ve inevitably lost my badge because Yoongi snitched on my unprofessional misconduct, I’d give it a shot.

I was absolutely sure to him I was just some cute little animal that sometimes barked and growled a little but would never do much worse than piss on the floor, but the moment I’d actually bite a nerve, he wouldn’t hesitate to get rid of me. I had to work quickly, before I became too much of an eyesore to him.

Speaking of which, Yoongi didn’t stray from his routine too much. In the mornings he would alternate between visiting the clubs, restaurants and his hotel, then he would either stay at the hotel’s office or move to his office building. In the afternoons he sometimes went to certain warehouses, but from what I could gather, it was mostly Hoseok, Jungkook and surprisingly Namjoon, who came to him with information about these places. The weekends he’d spent in his office until the clubs opened and then went either to Pied Piper or The Rose, both in which I wasn’t able to enter again.

Sometimes I would let Yoongi sit in the office and move to the warehouses. I alternated between them, checking on them to see who was where, and saw Jungkook and Namjoon very often. Hoseok stayed ever so elusive he might as well have been a ghost, but I was absolutely sure he must have been actively communicating with Yoongi.

I even tried to tail Jungkook, but the man was impossible to track down. No matter what I did, I’d always lose him after a few minutes, and I never managed to stay on him for longer than a few streets. I’d become so good at taking all kinds of back streets and alleys to keep out of sight that his ability to just disappear was truly mind-boggling to me.

While when I tailed Namjoon, I quickly realised that he moved in a very constricted area between the offices, some of the clubs and some of the warehouses. He never lingered for long when he was out but was capable of sitting for hours upon hours in the office building, so that ultimately also went nowhere.

The map in my room was quickly becoming crowded with differently coloured strings and post-it notes, in the evening (or sometimes early morning) I’d come home and add another new little thing and I was feeling like an obsessed stalker a little more every day. From Yoongi’s point of view, I most likely was. But it had to be done.

It had to be done.

It was one regular Tuesday when I chanced upon gold. I was sitting on my bike, bored out my mind, stuffing my face with fast food watching Yoongi laugh about something with Jimin and Taehyung outside of one of his clubs, when a black car with tinted windows pulled up. It was a car I sometimes saw with Jungkook, so I more or less knew to expect the young man, but when Hoseok in all of his glory jumped out and walked over to hug the two youngsters, I was so surprised I almost choked on a hot dog and fell off my bike.

Jungkook came out of the car right after him and immediately started looking around, so I ducked and started pulling my bike a little more behind a corner. The five men conversed for a moment and then Hoseok waved and started walking towards a different car. I watched him full of anticipation, my fingers flexing on their own, eager to try my best at tailing Jungkook if it meant I’d get to find out where Hoseok worked. But to my absolute elation, Jungkook wasn’t following. Hoseok was leaving alone. Fucking jackpot.

I was so happy I almost passed out. I didn’t know what sort of luck this was, but I wasn’t about to complain.

Hoseok walked over to a sleek silver sports car and sat in the driver’s seat. I was getting ready as if I was about to run the marathon, my sweaty hands nervously fidgeting with the handles of my bike, body taunt as a bow. He stayed still for a moment, a moment that felt like hours to me, but then I heard the faint sound of a running engine. He waved to the others again, and then he was off. I pressed myself into the building as he was passing me and then quickly followed.

I’d never been that nervous about tailing someone, not even when I first went after Yoongi almost two months ago at the beginning of December. This was most likely my only shot for a long time, there was no telling when I’d be able to spot him again.

He drove to one of the many docks that were under Yoongi’s control. In this particular area, they owned a whole three warehouses that looked over some of their ships and imported goods. I was here a lot when I was trying to find Hoseok on my own, I figured this was such a hotspot, if he went somewhere, it would probably be here, but I never caught sight of him. Now I was proven right but felt annoyed that I missed him so many times.

The reason for that turned out to be quite simple. The biggest warehouse, situated closest to the water, had another door that I haven’t noticed. It was in the back and blended into the wall so well I almost thought for a second Hoseok’s just loitering in the back banging on the walls. When a patch in the wall suddenly opened and he disappeared inside, it was like unlocking a whole new world in my mind. No wonder I’d never seen him, the whole time he was coming in from the other side.

I admit, it was a bit reckless to pour my attention here after a single sighting, but I was willing to risk it. I took the time to scope out the area while Hoseok was inside (if he was anything like the others, he’d be spending hours there anyway).

A little ways to the left was a small building, but right behind it I saw an abandoned half constructed concrete monstrosity, most likely a leftover of attempts to redevelop this part of the capital city that crashed and burned on the involvement of gangs in the area. I made my way to it.

It was fenced off, but a little probing here and there, I was able to break into one of the fence gates. Inside I apologised to whoever owned this building, but it was very obviously uncared for, so I justified myself in that way. I probably wasn’t even the first person that broke in, I told myself as I made my way up the stairs. I swallowed the sour sensation that left me with and trudged on.

Within an hour I found a perfect spot to stake out. It was high and secluded enough to see the warehouse and its surroundings without a problem if I used a telescope, while I wouldn’t be risking being seen by the people on the street. It faced the second exit, which must have been used by Hoseok enough to escape my notice the first time around. In two days, I’d return here and watch.

It almost felt like things were looking up, like I could finally stop mindlessly following Yoongi around and move forward with this case, and for the first time after a long time I felt some sort of joy and relief.

I reached into my pocket to take out my phone and take a photo of the number on a nearby column, so I’d be able to find it easily again, but found it missing. For a hot moment of panic I thought maybe I had dropped it somewhere around Yoongi’s club, which would mean he now no doubt had it and I’d have to go get it from him, and it would be extremely embarrassing. But then I realised I must have left it at my table at the station that morning when I stopped by to hand deliver some documents to Park. I looked around to find something that would immediately catch my eye upon entering, but in the end I decided to just luck it out and left.

On my way home I’d stopped by the station for the phone and ended up having a coffee with Minjoon. For a brief moment, when I sat in a cafeteria, drank that shitty coffee and laughed at some story Minjoon was telling me about his first few months in the force, I found myself thinking I wish all my days were this nice.

I should have known it wouldn’t last, though.

Due to the fact that it was still January, I was absolutely freezing my balls off on stake out the next few days. Sitting in an open room in minus temperatures staring into a telescope the whole day turned out to be a pretty bad way to spend one’s time and quickly I was turning very cranky. I was hungry, cold, thirsty and even though Hoseok turned up and took the back entry, he just sat there for the whole day and didn’t come out until evening. I was mostly just watching some of the low-tier mobsters mulling about, moving about crates, caring for the ships and continuously walking in and out of the warehouse. Which was something I had already seen when I was staking out here before.

It seemed that the reason Hoseok was so hard to find was because he spent literal days holed up in that metal building, doing god knows what.

On my fourth day I was absolutely losing it. I spent the morning at the station and then went straight here. Hoseok’s car was already present, but other than that there was no other trace of his existence, just like the other days. He didn’t even come outside to smoke like Namjoon would. Not one of the other boys came here either, which was weird since they always seemed to be in close vicinity of each other. I was tired and frozen and I could feel the beginnings of a nasty cold and I was getting nowhere.

My day got exponentially more interesting though, when Yoongi’s black car rolled up to the back exit. It was the first time in the four days he came here, and the first time since I’d started tailing him that he came to this exit. That should have been my first warning.

I watched as Yoongi walked around free of all troubles, wide smile on, and if I wasn’t currently more than 100 metres away from him, I’d punch him in the face. The door opened and Hoseok stepped out to greet him. I could cry with happiness at the first appearance of the man in days. And also punch him in the face. Together they disappeared inside, and I was left with the same sorry view as before.

Impatiently watching the clock, I saw the minutes drift away into two hours of silence and no movement in the back. Just when I thought about just slipping into a coma to escape this hellhole, I heard movement outside my little spot. Instantly alerted, I quickly stood up and pressed myself closer to a wall where I wouldn’t be immediately noticeable from the entrance into the room. My whole body was stiff from coldness and hours of just sitting, my muscles protesting and painfully pulling until I was barely able to hobble away.

The steps got closer and closer until a figure clad in all black stepped in. For a moment I thought it was Jungkook and was a second away from wailing in frustration, but it wasn’t him. It was a young man, based on his clothes he must have been part of Yoongi’s security, but I didn’t remember his face from before.

He located me in a second – after all, there weren’t many places I could be hiding in a completely bare concrete room. Without a word he thrust his hand to me. My eyes slid down to see a take-out coffee. When I wasn’t taking it, he impatiently moved his hand, trying to get me to relieve him of this definitely extremely bothersome task.

I did take it, mostly because I didn’t want to annoy him more when Yoongi was already doing such a good job of it and sighed in defeat. How the fuck did he even sniff me out here? The guy looked at me and then said: “Boss wanted me to tell you that he truly thinks it’s admirable how hard you work in such cold weather.” His face was completely unreadable, but I knew he must have thought this was such a laughable situation.

I wanted to feel angry, I really did, but I didn’t even have the strength to do it. Instead I sighed and pinched the root of my nose between my fingers. Frustration coursed through me and now I was annoyed with Yoongi too. Did he become omnipotent or what?

I returned the poor guy’s gaze and said: “Please send a message back. Tell him that he’s annoying and I hate him.” He nodded and left, no expression on his face. A true professional.

From then on, whenever I got closer to them, Yoongi would send me a subtle message that he knew about me. Either he would send me food or drinks or just stand in my line of sight and wave in my direction. Sometimes when I knew he could see me too I returned the gesture by flipping him off, to which he always laughed. Taehyung also caught on and to any birds sent their way he sent back a kiss and a wink.

It took me embarrassingly long to figure out that they planted a tracker on me. One night in a mad fit to find it I turned upside down most of my apartment. At 3 am I was standing on the street, pawing at my bike like a crazy person, attempting to stuff my fingers to all the nooks and crannies. A passing woman looked at me as if I was sexually harassing my own vehicle and after that I rather returned back home, not interested in getting the cops called on me.

Every time I went to stake out, I would leave home an item, just to try and narrow down where it could possibly hide. I decided to trust that my bike was tracker free and I bought myself a set of completely new clothes even though I thoroughly checked the old ones. I would wear different shoes, even if I knew there was no way they got to them. One day I even chanced moving about without my wallet. They still found me. And that’s how I realised what the only thing that I had on me all the time, no matter what was. My phone.

I thought back to the day I stormed into Yoongi’s office, distraught and upset, how he acted strangely nice and comfortable. Taehyung’s strange behaviour and my phone. Lying on a table, away from me, but close to Yoongi wandering around. He was messing about that table even when I stayed sitting on that damned couch.

All I could do was laugh at his craftiness. At how easily I fell into a trap of his softer demeanour because I was surprised he sat on the floor and talked seriously, how I let Taehyung completely consume my focus by flirting and teasing me. I had to applaud them, really. It was brilliant and I walked right into it. I was so stupid, I let him fool me even though I was suspicious of him the entire time.

At first I feared he was tracking me through the phone itself, but when I inspected it closer, I noticed a little bump under the case. When I took it off the phone, there it was. A tiny little tracker attached to the plastic.

I wondered what Yoongi was trying to accomplish. He put a tracker on me, but then also made it obvious that he knew more about my whereabouts than he was supposed to. He was quite literally giving it away. Therefore, knowing about the tracker didn’t necessarily put me at an advantage since I had no idea what his goal was. I decided to keep it there until I made up my mind about what to do.

But I was petty. Really petty. And as impressed as I was with my ability to fall for Yoongi’s cheap tactics, I was also peeved. That’s how one day I found myself at our station, loitering around an office where the IT guys had their stuff. When one of them rounded the corner, I immediately took my chance. It took a lot of persuading and lying. A lot of “I’m from this department” and “I was tasked with getting one for the next mission” and such, but twenty minutes later, I was leaving the room with a tracker of my own. Was it technically illegal? Yes. Would Yoongi find the tracker within the first 24 hours and then triumphantly return it to me while telling me to try better next time and I would return it right after before anyone noticed I ever had it in the first place? Also yes. No harm done, just a little revenge.

After that, every day for a week I went straight to Yoongi’s office. Whether I was on duty or not, every afternoon I was sitting on his stupid little sofa, grinning at him mischievously and sipping on tea that he started offering me instead of stiff drinks. I would find anything to talk about, I joked and played and asked stupid questions I knew he’d never answer.

And I could see it on him, he was trying to figure out where this was going. He would look at me, intrigued and confused, his head just whirring with ideas of what my new plan could be, and I was enjoying it so much. Sometimes he’d just stare at me in that way he did to people, and I’d stare right back at him and I was able to laugh. For the first time it felt like we both were trying to catch the other off guard, and not as if I was just mindlessly walking straight into his traps. For a few brief moments, the scales were balanced, and I liked that I was able to keep him in suspense. But I also had to move on from this.

At first his eyes would follow my every move, sharply watching me interact with things he had in his office, but once he'd become used to my presence, become used to how I hovered over things and examined the décor and played with the little trinkets he had on display, I was sometimes able to slip his attention. And then, on the seventh day, when he left the room for a split second to call for Jungkook down the hall, I slipped the tracker into a little tear I had noticed on his jacket, along with a little surprise for him, when he found it (which would be soon).

I walked out of there without saying much, wearing a mysterious smile on my lips when both men turned to watch me leave. Once outside, I took the tracker off my phone and slipped it into the bag of a random guy passing me by on the street. Let’s see how long before they figure that one out.

The game was on.

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A/N: thank you so much for reading this! i hope you enjoyed yourself, feel free to interact, i will be grateful for comments or asks of all sorts :)

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