#park jimin x reader

[ctrlhope]

Love Thy Neighbour (m)

synopsis: Jimin is a patient man, at least, he thinks he is. But you test him so much. Can’t you just be good? Be so pretty for him? He knows you want to be. Knows you can be so perfect, just for him.

p.jimin x f.reader

𝜗𝜚 ݁ ˖┊: wc: 4.5k

𝜗𝜚 ݁ ˖┊: genre: yandere/dark, smut, dark content

𝜗𝜚 ݁ ˖┊: content: yandere/dark!jimin, noncon, dubcon, implied non-human!jimin, kidnapping, use of a sex doll, cruel and unusual punishment, mindbreak, fear play, blood, biting, marking, minimal prep, cervix bruising, dehumanization (?), creampie, rough sex, jimin is lovesick and delusional and also a gross perv, lmk if i missed any <33

𝜗𝜚 ݁ ˖┊: notes: hello!!! the demons won and i finally decided to post this after it was sitting in my drafts forever <33 i wrote this about a year ago with jimin in mind, but then i posted it to my anime blog instead. if you read it over there… no you didn’t AHSSKSH it’s still probably my favourite thing i’ve ever written tbh <33 im back into the swing of writing so nightlight coming soon!! as always please read the warnings <//3

18+ -> minors / blank blogs dni -> dark content

Creak.

Footsteps. Footsteps right in front of you. Right in front of your hiding place.

Please don’t stop. Please don’t stop. Please keep walking. Please. If there’s any god out there please make him keep walking.

Bang.

His fist hits the desk right above your head. Fuck. Fuck. Shit. Why the fuck did you even hide? It was dumb. So dumb. You can’t get away. Maybe if you ran, kept running forever you could get away. But you can't. Not anymore. It’s too late for any of that.

“There you are, pretty doll.” His sick smile is all you see as he leans down, face coming into view. He’s crazy. He’s fucking crazy. You know that. You do.

You knew from the moment he knocked on your door in the middle of the night. He was practically buzzing as he rocked on his heels. His speech was weird, manic. He’s never spoken like that before. Not whenever he would come knocking on your door asking for sugar, at least.

You tried to be polite, you really did. You tried to make small talk, to politely excuse yourself, your hands shaking. You tried to close the door on him but it just wouldn’t shut as he kept rambling. His foot was shoved in the way, preventing your escape. His dirty fucking sneakers– god even now you remember them so clearly. You remember so many things you wish you didn’t.

How he fucking smiled when you looked back up at him.

It makes your stomach churn to think about it now.

You remember clearly how he grabbed you. He forced his way inside, slowly backing you against the wall. You remember how he grabbed your wrists, talked about how tiny they were in his hands. Showed you only a moment of warmth before harshly biting into the skin, red rising to the surface, coating his tongue. A sound of pain was retched from your throat, trying to pull away while his grip only got tighter. His hips forced you into the wall, trapping you. Keeping you as prey.

He said you taste delicious.

It fucking echos in your head. Makes you go insane with how it repeats over and over again. Exactly how he said the words. The lilt in his tone, the smile that made him look like he just saw the face of god. How excited he sounded at the first taste of blood.

The way you could tell that he craved more.

Craved everything you had to give.

You didn’t think demons were real before that night. Ghosts, angels– anything that goes bump in the night was just a figment of one's imagination. Maybe hallucinations. But this, this was real. How you wish this was all just some stupid hallucination.

Nothing is paranormal before you face the devil himself.

Nothing is more terrifying than when the devil wants you.

You learned that that night.

He dragged you next door, throwing you to the ground. He looked like a shadow, only a silhouette as he stood in the doorway. The moon casting a glow from behind him. You couldn't see his face, none of it was legible as you scrambled backwards. Trying, trying so desperately to put some space between yourself and the beast.

His shoulders heaved as he panted. Like a fucking monster that just got his kill.

He had.

He closed the doors. Locked them with what felt like a million keys. He started fucking giggling. Giggling like a goddamn lunatic as his demeanour changed completely. He was smiling like an innocent little kid. He was happy. The happiest you had ever seen a person before.

“Ahhh~” He sighed, glee laced in his all too cheery tone. It was like nails on a chalkboard. Speaking, churning in your ears so it's all you can hear. It mocks you. Mocks your very being. Mocks you for trying to live a normal life away from him.

You remember how he clung to you that night as you sobbed. Whining about how you shouldnt be sad, that you were home now. He’d coo, playing with your hair as he tried to ‘soothe’ your trembling body. His arms wrapped around you in a vice. It felt like he was choking the air out of your lungs.

Maybe he was trying, maybe he wanted you dead. You really had no clue. You just wanted to get away– be as far away from him as you could. You’d do anything, you told him as much. Change your name, leave the country. You promised you wouldn’t tell anybody! You would tell him anything if it meant you could leave.

But he kept you in place. Tucked in his arms. His entire body wrapped around yours, keeping you close. Keeping his face nuzzled into your neck. Smelling you. Smelling your fear.

He loves that smell.

If you let him he would breathe it in all the time, treating it as the very thing that keeps him alive. Well, until you die anyway. But he knows that won't be anytime soon! You’re strong. You're tenacious. He knows you are. You’ve dealt with so much in your life, you can deal with him too. He just knows it.

He wonders what all of your other emotions smell like.

Hmm.. What about love? That would be an interesting smell. Maybe it would be sweet like honey? Maybe bitter like chocolate… Humans are so interesting. They're so fun.

You are especially. And he knows you’ll like him too. He’s sure of it as you finally tire yourself out, falling asleep on his beat up mattress. Mmhmm crying for hours must really hurt your soul. Poor thing. He would fix it. Fix you up all nice and pretty. Yeah, he knows just how to. His pretty experiment.

Well, he thinks that’s all you are. A nice human experiment for him to play with. To learn everything about. Learn what makes them tick, what makes them laugh, what makes them cry. Seokjin told him as much. He could keep a little human as a pet, dispose of them when necessary. But… he doesn’t want to let you go! Just the thought makes him want to cry!

You are already better than he ever imagined!

Bang.

The chair blocking your body is thrown back, assaulting the wall with a deafening crash. Your hands come up, covering your ears. Shit Shit Shit! Fuck, what are you going to do, what are you going to do?! Your body forces itself as far as it can into the corner of the desk. All you can hear, all you can think about is the sound of your heartbeat ringing in your ears.

Why are you so dumb?! You knew you couldn’t win! You never win any of his games!

He squats in front of you, blocking your only means of escape. You hear him, watch him inhale deep before letting out a sick laugh. One that makes you want to cry. One that makes you feel like trying to run– trying to hide is useless. Maybe it is. You don’t see how you could possibly get away.

The pictures covering his walls tell you everything you need to know.

“Found you.” He smiles, crawling towards your body, crawling towards your last bit of safety. He looks like a monster– he is a monster. He can’t be human. He can’t. You refuse to believe it. Your legs kick, they try to get away. They try to be your last line of defence but his face only shows that of an owner looking at a puppy having a fit. He looks so fond of you.

You want to scream.

He grabs your ankle. It hurts. Everything hurts. You should’ve become numb at this point, you wish you had. You feel your body slip out from under the desk, dragged against the hard floor. Pick you up with ease, lay you down in his bed. His gross disgusting bed.

He pouts. He fucking pouts at you. Sits in front of you..

“Don't tell me you’re jealous.” His frowns, tilting his head at you. “I didn't mean to make you! I swear! I just wanted to show you. How much I love you…how good I could make my pretty doll feel.” You could never be jealous. Not of anything involving him.

Especially not involving the putrid fucking sex doll that lays next to you in bed.

How he fucked it last night, making you watch. Made you hold his hand while he thrust into the thing. Made you cup his face as he came inside.

“How I’ve been practicing just for you.” He coos, a smile gracing his lips as he moves to his knees, crawling towards you in the bed. “Humans are just so hard to understand…And I really couldn’t wait for you any longer.”

You don’t hear his words. Your eyes fixated on the doll that looks just like you. Every freckle the same, every mole. Every fucking tiny detail mirrored yours in a lifeless, hollow core made of silicon. Filled up with his cum. You don’t want to think about how many times he’s fucked it. How many times he’s pretended having sex with you while holding it close. How much he had to have spent to get such a thing.

How deep whatever he feels for you runs.

You swear it probably coats his veins. Running under every inch of this skin. Giving it colour. Giving it life. It's all you’re able to think about when he leaves you alone in the apartments. It’s hard for you to swallow. To believe for yourself. You wish it is a lie.

You let him get close. You let him into your bubble for only a second. You allow his face into your neck. Biting your skin, drawing blood once again. He loves the taste. You think he's probably obsessed with it. You wanted to recoil away, disgusted with how he hums, lapping at the skin. But you don’t. You need to let him have this. Even if it's just for a second.

You close your eyes tight. You feel him relax. He thinks you’re giving in. You know he does. You can do this. You can do this. You may have only made this decision a moment ago as you stared at the doll, but you had to do this. You had to do it for yourself. It may be the last chance you get. You can’t stop fighting.

You can do this. You can do this.

The mantra chants over and over again in your head like a prayer. You feel his hand reach up, covering your clothed breast with his palm. Massaging it carelessly, without any thought or respect for you. In his head you’re probably the same as that fucking sex doll.

Your knee shoots up. Right into his crotch. Right where it hurts the most. Your hands shove him with all the strength in your body, getting him off of you. Getting him away for only a moment while he recovers. Maybe. Maybe you can make it out of the door. Or maybe you can make it to the bathroom and lock yourself inside. Maybe you have a chance. Just maybe.

Your body scrambles off of the bed, moving faster than you ever thought was possible. You race towards the door, arm reaching out for the handle. You’re so close. You’re almost there. You’re almost able to get away.

Freedom is within your grasp, it's so close you can taste it. He forgot to lock the door, you know he did. You didn't hear any of them click back in place when he came inside. He was too caught up in the moment with trying to find you. If you make it there then maybe, just maybe you can get outside. Run as fast and as far away as you can. Call the police and escape from him. Spread the wings he’s tried to clip.

You land flat on your face.

Not even your arms are able to cushion your fall.

A hand wraps around your ankle, pulling you, dragging you again. Backwards. Back into the cage. Back to him. His chest heaves. His shoulders hunch. He looks dishevelled. Crazed.

He has that fucking smile plastered on his face.

“I love it when you run. It's so pretty.” He giggles, “You know me so well.”

You kick at him, thrash your body as he pulls you closer and closer. “Get the fuck away from me!” You yell, though it falls on deaf ears. All the strength in your body is being used to get away. To try and escape from him. He can’t be human. He’s too strong. Even with your struggle he still lifts you easily, like you’re just some fucking little kid having a temper tantrem.

“I’ve been so patient…” He sighs, placing– rather, forcing you onto the edge of the bed. Your knees on the floor as your torso is pressed against the mattress. Your arms pinned behind your back with one of his hands. Your hips pinned in place with his own. You can feel his cock against you. He’s hard. “I really am patient, you know?”

He hums, gently rocking his hips against you. His entire length pressed against your cunt. Taunting you. Words are not needed for you to know what’s to come. “It’s really too bad you know? I’ve run out.”

The simple statement makes your blood run cold.

“I’ve been so gentle…so caring…” He purrs, forcing his sweatpants down his legs. Just enough for his cock to spring free. Just enough for him to be able to stroke himself. For him to press the fat head where he wants– no, no. Needs to be. “I’ve really been trying my best to be good for you.”

You wish you could see. You wish you could see everything– exactly what he is doing. What he is planning to do to your wrecked frame. If, if everything wasn’t such a surprise then maybe… maybe you could make it a little better. But like this… you’re helpless. You’re trapped. You hate it. You can’t stand it. You wish you still had more tears left to cry. But you know it’s over. You can’t do anything now.

Exactly how he wants it– wants you.

You feel him stop moving, an excited gasp resonating from his throat. His entire presence changes in a flash, giddiness taking him over as the cogs in his brain turn. Making up his own story, his own reality changing all over again. “Unless, you don't want me to be good for you? You want me to take what I want? That’s why you’ve been trying to run and hide?”

His frame towers over yours, his full weight pressing against your back forcing you deeper into the bed as he mumbles into your ear. “All you had to do was say so~”

All you can do is whimper in response. Whimper like a wounded animal that's been forced to accept their fate. Your head is blank, devoid of all thoughts and feelings. There is nothing. Nothing you can do.

Maybe he’s right.

Maybe a small part of you does like it. Who knows. You certainly don’t.

He blows gently on your ear, teasing you before he leans back. Your bottoms are forced down, exposing your cunt to the entire room. You can feel him practically buzzing with excitement. With some sick pleasure found deep within his gut.

“So pretty!” He whines, spreading your cheeks to get a full view of your pretty little cunt. You hate that you’re already wet. You hate that the feeling of his cock did it to you just moments before. You hate that he can see it. You hate the way pride bubbles up in his gut. The way you can hear him lick his lips like a starved man.

Hate what the other little voice is saying inside of your head. Hate that even maybe a little bit of your soul wants to feel him. The quiet fucked up voice that you always try to silence in the dead of night when you’re left with your thoughts.

“Mm… I wanna taste you so bad but… I really can’t wait anymore… what am I supposed to do!!” You can practically hear the pout plastered on his lips. “Ah~”

The fat head of his cock finds its way back to your cunt, dragging itself up and down your lips. Milking every last bit of wetness out of your hole. Your nails dig into your own hands— maybe his. It’s hard to tell where you stop and he begins. When he’s this close it’s hard to tell much of anything.

“We have forever together don’t we?” He chuckles, his head stopping at your unprepped little hole. Attempting to push into it with just enough pressure to have you squirm. Have you bite down on the sheet to silence any sounds that might try to come through. He’s too thick. “We can try out all sorts of fun things together~”

His thumb aids as he tries to push the head of his cock inside. Prodding, trying to force his way inside without a care in the world for how it might hurt. How it might feel for you. He’s too big— you’re, you’re too tight. You can’t take it! It won’t fit you just, just–!

“Mmmm!!” A muffled cry breaks free from your throat as the head of his cock buries itself in your cunt. Your ears ring, pain taking over your senses as he lets out a mouth watering, near pornographic moan from above you.

His grip on your wrists tighten, eyes staring at where he’s fucked himself into you. Wow~ it’s so pretty. He never expected a human to feel this good! It’s incredible! Magnificent! And this is just the first inch of him? Oh my… he can only imagine what bottoming out with feel like— how it will feel when his cock is pressed against your cervi—

Wait wait!! He’s getting ahead of himself again. A gasp leaves his throat as he pulls out, a muffled whine leaving your own. Your hole clenches around nothing. What a cute little thing! It’s calling him back in!! He knew you wanted this, he knows all about you huh?

He drags his cock back and forth through your lips again, red mixing in with the pretty white. He dips his cock head over and over again into your entrance, thrusting himself deeper and deeper every time. Stretching you just perfectly around his length.

Hmm, humans like prep right? He figures that this is close enough. His doll doesn’t need it. She just takes him right away— someday you’ll be the same! He just needs to break you in! But until then, he needs to savour this… who knows when you might come around again?

Mmm… you’re too mean to him. Yeah, that’s all it is.

Ah, it’s too bad he’s too lost to notice you’re already falling apart. Your back is arching on its own. Working without permission to give him a better angle. Your hips bucking, leaning back ever so slightly as he presses into your cunt. Urging him just a little deeper. Your pussy is too wet to think about anything, your head in a daze as he teases you, taunts you relentlessly.

You don’t want this— at least you think you don’t. But, it’s so hard to know what you really want when your head gets like this. When it’s actually feeling good. When the pleasure mixes with pain to concoct something dangerous. Something that makes you unsure of anything, really. Maybe you’re dumb, maybe you’re stupid. Yeah. You probably are. But that’s okay. He likes that.

He likes you.

He slides his cock inside of your hole, his hand moving to your ass as thrusts his hips. Forcing his cock deeper and deeper with each stroke. Your walls clenching around every inch that pushes its way inside. God, you’ve never felt so full. You’ve never felt anything like this. Anything like his cock, anything like him.

Whimpers, whines, all sorts of sounds escape your throat as you let him do what he pleases. Give into whatever twisted pleasure is being given to you. It’s hard to stop them when he’s even louder— panting like a fucking dog as he feels you. Feels every inch of you. Makes you two become one.

He fucks into you so hard it hurts. So hard that your entire body is being pushed into the bed, spine curving up to meet him with every demonic thrust of his hips. Every time the skin of his thighs meets your ass, every time the head of his cock meets with your cervix, pain racks through your body. You can’t take it. You feel like you’re going crazy. You feel like you’re the insane one.

The sound of skin against skin penetrating the sound of your ears like some sort of sick, twisted song. A song he plays so well. One you don’t want him to stop. No matter how much it hurts, how it stings you, you just can’t find it in yourself to push him away. His moans feel like a siren’s voice, luring you closer and closer, pushing you so close to the edge.

“Why’s she so mean!” He whines, his thrusts frantic and hurried. Only caring for his own pleasure, only caring about him. “Won’t let me in any deeper doll! Can you believe that?” He groans, pressing his cock so hard against your cervix you nearly scream in pain. Your body thrashes, trying to get away from the sensation.

He shushes you quietly, leaning his torso against your back as he coos. “Shh… shh… it’s okay… we won’t try that today okay? Must be too much for you… poor thing.” His hips relent, slowly rocking into your battered cunt to give you a little bit of a break. To rest before the main event.

You want to cringe at how wet you sound, how messy you’ve become due to his cock and his cock alone. How greedily your pussy takes him, urging him back with every thrust. Wanting it. Wanting him.

You see his arm reach past your head, grabbing onto your mimics hair. Pulling the doll closer. Holding its head so it’s staring right into your eyes. It’s so lifeless. So hollow.

“It’s okay.” You can hear the smile in his voice. “Someday you’ll take me just like she can, yeah? You’ll be sooo~ good for me.” His hips start to pick up their pace again, thighs slapping against your ass so hard you might see stars. So hard you actually want to listen to him.

“I had to break her in too, real good.” He pants out, losing himself in the feeling of your tight, warm walls.

You flinch away. You can’t look at it anymore. Can’t look at a face that is exactly your own yet so cold and distant. So lost. Used for months on end. Maybe a little sense comes back to you, a small part of reality seeping back into your skull.

He tsks. Fucking tsks and shakes his head in disappointment. “That won’t do… I need my girls to like each other…” He grabs your jaw, forcing you to look up at the thing. The creature with your hair and eyes.

“Kiss it.” His voice changes in a second, morphing into something commanding. Something scary.

Fuck reality. Living in whatever dream you’ve created for yourself is better. Better than facing this. You don’t want to disobey. You want to listen, want him to let you cum. Want to be good. Maybe want his praise, even if it’s just a little.

Your lips meet with the cold, lifeless silicon. Tasting whatever disgusting leftover cum can be found on its lips. He pushes the head against your lips, forcing you to lick your tongue inside. “Adorable!!”

He likes it. He likes it too much. You can tell.

Tell by the way his hips pick up speed, forcing your used hole to take him over and over again. Forcing you to accept him into your body. Forcing you to fall for his cock. Make sure no one else will ever be able to use it. Use you like the way he wants to.

Can tell by the way his cock twitches, his thrusts becoming sloppy. His pace completely out the window as he searches for nothing but his own release.

Maybe you like it too. Like the way his cum tastes. Like the way he took this, took all of you for himself. All of you flesh as his. The coil tightens in your stomach, white specks start to form behind your eyelids. You’re close, too fucking close you just can’t take it anymore.

A loud moan leaves your lips, muffled by the silicon held against your mouth. Waves of pleasure crashing through your frame like a tidal wave of ecstasy as white paints the inside of your walls. Ears ringing, vision gone white as endorphins fill your brain making you forget— forget everything about this moment. How fucked up it is. How you want more.

Your walls clamp around his cock as it jerks in your cunt, milking every last drop of cum from him. Filling you up until you’re stuffed. Until you can’t think anymore. Until you’re so tired you just want to collapse.

He drops the doll letting you pull your head back to finally be able to breathe again fully. Your frame slumps against the bed. Tired. Drained of everything it has to give.

He slowly pulls out of your abused little hole, watching the way it flutters around nothing. Watching the white mixed with red slowly drip out of it onto the rug. “Humans are such incredible little things…”

He smiles, shallowly dipping a finger inside your walls before popping it in his mouth. Just a little taste. “You did so good doll…” He pets your hair, gives you some sort of comfort after everything he’s done. It’s the least you deserve.

He moves your body into the bed with ease, pulling a blanket over your shaking form. A nap would be good right now. It’s always good to give humans at least one nap a day! Mhmm… and you seem like you could use one.

He moves behind you, wrapping an arm around your body from behind. Pulling you close to his chest. Making no mind to fix your clothes. This is good. This is right. It’s how it’s always supposed to have been!! Ah, and now he has all the time to make you understand that too. He’s so lucky. So lucky to have found such a good human.

“Night night dolly…” He whispers in your ear, brushing your hair gently. Coaxing you to sleep. “Let’s have a great day tomorrow too, yeah?”

Right. Tomorrow. Cause this is forever.

You can’t help the small smile that creeps to your lips at the thought. Forever. ♡

⋆𐙚 if you enjoyed this fic, please consider buying me a kofi!

© all rights reserved to ctrlhope 2019-2024; do not copy, plagiarise, or translate.

[yoongleboonglepie]

Pechsträhne Chapter 13

BTS x Reader

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Word Count Approx: 21k

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A/N: Here is another lore-heavy chapter-but more modern lore if you catch my drift. My inbox is open, and I'm ready to chat while I write chapter 14!! As always, if you want to be added to the taglist shoot me a message! Sometimes I don't get notified of comments.

Love you all!~Delyn

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Recap

“Yes. Now have mercy on my soul, reaper. I have done no wrong.” 

Jungkook swallowed, his head tilting to the side in a taunting jerk. “Nothing wrong?” He cast his eyes in Y/n’s direction, taking in the damage Clay had done. Clay’s own gaze finding her gave her the privilege of watching the light of hope drain from his expression like a squashed bug. 

Jungkook shifted his weight back so he could lift Clay a few extra inches off the pavement, coiling his muscles up for his final blow. 

“Go to hell.”

Jungkook slammed the man into the ground, and Y/n felt the rumble of it within her, but not against her skin–the rumble was not of this world. The man shrieked with misery as his body crumbled into dust within Jungkook’s hands, the particles falling to the road and disappearing beneath the surface. 

Silence overtook them. 

Namjoon was stuck, hovering over Y/n’s shoulder–slack jawed and still and his face maculated with stripes of black ooze. A comforting hand suspended on her shoulder blades where he had used it to help her up.  Y/n was paralyzed with an overwhelming sense of awe–staring at the place where Clay had been only moments before, the space now empty save for Jungkook’s hands that splayed out on the asphalt to support his weight.

 The hands that had just slaughtered a demon in front of their very eyes.

Jungkook was the only body that held motion; his shoulders undulating with each inhale and sweat dripping from his brow. He looked beyond exhausted–his face colorless and steadfast–for he himself was still processing what he had just done. 

The woods that flanked them on either side trickled back to life from their fearful silence. The birds that had gone quiet returned to their glorious songs and symphonies, and the trees swayed in a peaceful dance of bark and leaf, like they were thanking them through the whispers of the breeze. 

Jungkook steadied himself on his heels and tipped his head back, his eyes falling shut while he focused in on bringing in breaths of fresh air through his nose and exhaling them through his mouth in small puffs. He dropped his head down, and with trepidation, brought his pitch black eyes to spear through Y/n and Namjoon. Neither of them spoke to him first, unsure of what to say after what they had witnessed–their silence landing uncomfortably with Jungkook–who took their speechless reverence as anything but. 

“Are you…” Jungkook started hesitantly, coming to stand where he was once seated. “Are you scared of me?” 

Y/n let her eyes wander from his dark eyes that held the inhuman power to see, and the hands that had just committed feats she would have never thought possible two months prior; and shook her head resolutely. She struggled with pulling herself to her feet and took staggering steps with a level of coordination that’s only fair competition would be a newborn giraffe. 

“Jungkook, that was single handedly the most badass thing I’ve ever seen.” Y/n stumbled forward to meet him, the blow to the back of her head messing with her equilibrium, and her adrenaline left her muscles shaking against her will in its efforts to release itself from her body in waves. 

Namjoon made a noise of protest in the back of his throat, coming to his own senses and scrambling to his feet to stop her reckless venture that was doomed to end in some kind of fall. He brought an arm around her shoulders and used one of his hands to guide her forwards. 

“Agreed–Though I’d prefer if you didn’t just walk willy nilly all over pavement of all things with your second injury of the week.” Namjoon apprehended her with a disbelieving shake of his head, making a ‘come here' gesture with his chin. “Jungkook, come to us before she eats rocks with another fall.” 

Y/n scoffed, rolling her eyes to the side while she tried to escape his hold to walk on her own. “I’m not a grandma Joon, tis but a flesh wound.” 

Neither of them cared for her delusional attempt at humor, Jungkook joining in on the smothering by coming up along her other side, wrapping her arm over his shoulder and maneuvering most of her weight onto him. 

“I can handle her–bring the car closer.” Jungkook grit his teeth, the hand he dug into her waist fighting to keep her still from her incessant tugging.

Namjoon obliged, running a few yards back to hop into the driver’s side door of Yoongi’s jeep that had been left ajar, turning the engine and putting the car in a slow and controlled roll towards them. 

“You’re trusting him to drive?” Y/n winced from the headlights that cut through the misty fog and seared into her eyes. “I thought you wanted me alive…” 

Jungkook let out a small humored exhale. “It’s only for like…two minutes.” The car stopped, the passenger door coming to welcome them with open arms with the metal edge only inches away from colliding with them.

Y/n gave him the best deadpan stare she could, the sound of Namjoon jumping from the front seat blurring into the surroundings as her eyes fixated on a droplet of black blood splatter on the corner of his lip and cheek–bringing two of her fingers up to immediately wipe it away knowing it was a futile effort. They all looked like they had stood on the other end of a wood chipper after sending a can of black paint through it, one drop was hardly going to change the outcome of their appearance. 

Jungkook’s brown eyes followed her movements, giving her that same cloudy and indistinct expression that shrouded his face from her discerning eyes that specialized in picking him apart. He loved to wear this look as of late, plucking it out of his mind and dressing it up with apathetic distance at the strangest of times.

Y/n didn’t know if it was the double head injury, or the adrenaline that made her act so brazenly, but as Namjoon rounded the front of the car she smiled up at Jungkook, her thoughts coming out a simple and plain from her lips as though discussing the weather. 

“Pretty.” 

Before Jungkook could respond to her compliment, she was whisked towards the car and his words were swallowed by Namjoon ushering him to help hoist her in the passenger seat. Buckled and tucked safely into their seats, the three of them rode in a loaded silence back to the Estate. All of their minds completely blasted to smithereens from the last 24 hours of events. 

Y/n let herself sway lamely with each bend of the road, the few thoughts she did have tumbling out into the space between them. “How did you know to come find me? And where?” 

“I saw you running. Alone.” Namjoon turned the car onto the bumpy side road that led to the front entrance, his voice bouncing in tandem with the rocking motion of the car that he drove just a bit too fast in.  “I went to get the car and called Jungkook on the way–figured it’d be easier to cross your path with a car that can go off road than on foot.” He coughed, and gave her a half smile. “Plus I figured it was a ghost, and I don’t have any powers to defend us against that kind of thing. I was hoping that while they might outrun us on foot, there was no way they could outrun us going eighty up the main road.” 

Y/n chuckled, letting her forehead fall onto the cool glass of the window. “I hope not.” Y/n watched the estate come into view. Its tall walls, countless pristine windows now dotted with spring and summer flower boxes, and majestic atmosphere looked like both a safe haven, and a prison at the same time. “You couldn’t see him at all?” 

“Not until Jungkook lifted him off of you.” He stole a glance to her from the road ahead.

 “Eyes up please!” Y/n used two fingers to turn Namjoon’s face towards the windshield. “That doesn’t explain how you knew where to find me so quickly.” 

“I could sense you.” Jungkook spoke up from the back seat, his head wobbling side to side in a parallel manner to Y/n. “I’ve spent enough time with you…spiritually…to have a feel for your energy.” He creased his brow in slight distaste, nibbling on his lip. “I’m still working on longer distances.”

Y/n looked taken aback slightly, unsure whether to feel flattered or uncomfortable knowing that her whereabouts were always perceivable. She concluded that for the time being, it was a comforting kind of thought to know that if she were to be in another life or death situation that he would take little time to locate her–that thought alone was enough to placate any feelings of discomfort. 

Namjoon pulled the car to a slow stop on the gravel path in front of the Estate, the engine rumbling softly beneath them.  The trio sat there for a few minutes, trying to muster up the courage to complete the trek back to their rooms.

“You know, we are getting really good at handling this stuff. I think we should make a career out of it.” Y/n chimed in through their heavy silence. “Same time next week?” 

Namjoon gave her a flat look, his eyes unamused. “We shouldn’t be treating your near death experiences with the same severity as a child falling off their bike. It’s not something I’m personally interested in making a habit.” 

“I’m not treating it lightly! I’m just commending our stress management skills compared to the first time.” Y/n held her hands up in surrender. “Because let’s be honest–it probably won’t be the last–so it’s good that we have a bit of a system.” 

“You are taking this lightly. Y/n, I think you might actually be in true denial. Shock even.” Namjoon turned the ignition off, the keys jingling together as he stuffed them in his pocket. 

Y/n swatted his words away with her hand. “Pfft–No way. I’m just handling this like a champ. After all,” she turned to give Jungkook a lopsided grin, “we have a secret not-so-secret weapon now. Why should I even get upset? I’m alive and that’s all that matters.” 

Namjoon’s jaw clenched, and he looked at her with wide incredulous eyes. “How hard did you hit your head this time? Now you're really starting to worry me.” 

Y/n gave him an unimpressed shrug. “Not sure. He did give it a good whack.” 

Jungkook made a noise of disbelief from the back seat, while Namjoon dropped his forehead to sit against the steering wheel to take much needed dragging inhales to keep the fragments of his sanity together. 

“So…” Y/n pursed her lips and side eyed the front door, pulling Namjoon out of his silent prayers. “How the fuck are we getting past the cameras when we look like this?” She gestured to the lovely abstract rendition of their skin and clothes the spirit had so kindly embellished them with. 

Namjoon clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth repeatedly while he turned ideas over in his head, bringing his gaze up to stare blankly up at the front doors while one of his long fingers tapping against the wheel to the beat of his thoughts. His eyes lit up, and he turned in the car seat to regard them both with a sheepish smile. 

“I have an idea–but you guys may not like it…”

_________________________________________

“Alright, other side.” Namjoon ordered Jungkook to spin so his back would face him, his clean front half dripping water onto the concrete floor below his now bare feet. Jungkook blew water from his nose as he did so, bringing his hands to wipe the water from his eyes with his fingers while he shook out his now soaking curls. 

Without warning, Namjoon opened the nozzle of the greenhouse hose to spray the back of Jungkook’s clothes and legs, earning a low cry of objection from Jungkook, the ice cold spray startling him.  Y/n giggled from her spot on one of the wooden stools Namjoon had pulled up next to him for her to sit on while she waited her turn, taking joy in a moment that felt so light hearted and in reminiscent of their youth while her brain rushed to process yet another near death experience–thank god for dissociation was all she could say. 

Namjoon’s plan was the only one good enough to stick to: spray off in the green house and enter through the back separately–if anyone asked they would say that Y/n had come to visit him at work and the hose nozzle burst. Jungkook’s clothes were dark enough that if he moved fast enough, the camera’s would just pick him up as extra sweaty from his gym session. 

The water cut off again, and Jungkook was free to take his seat while he dried off a bit to supervise Y/n’s birdbath. Y/n rose to her feet, peeling off her destroyed socks and discarding them to the side, then taking her spot where Jungkook had just been over the drain. 

“I’m going to lower the pressure in case anything is tender from your fight. Let me know if you need to take a break.” Namjoon commented, turning the dial onto the setting he thought best and ignoring Jungkook’s offended grunt at not being offered the same pleasure. He flicked his warm brown eyes up to her, his dimples making an appearance with a small smile. “Ready?” 

“Yup.” Y/n held her arms up, and squeezed her eyes closed to brace for the impact. She still yelped when the stream pelted her skin and clothes–the water much too cold for anyone to really prepare themselves for–and scrunched her entire face to protect her eyes and mouth from ingesting any of it. 

Namjoon got his just desserts when Jungkook was incharge of rinsing him off–the younger making sure to turn back up the dial to the higher pressure Namjoon had used on him. All the while, Y/n couldn’t help but lean up against Jungkook’s wet side from her seated spot, enjoying the feel of his laughter vibrating against her forehead; they had curated a small pocket of peace  in an otherwise terrible weekend. 

After their impromptu baths, they were able to scurry themselves back to their rooms for real showers and dry clothes. The trickle of warm water left room for her to think up at least a dozen reasons and excuses for her overprotective friends as to why she should still be allowed to go through with their afternoon plans of traveling into the Paralrealm. If they were to truly get anything done, they couldn’t keep stopping every time some demon reared their ugly head–something she knew Yoongi would at least have her back on. She hoped they could see past her current reckless tendencies enough to still treat her with some autonomy. Sure at the moment she might not be processing what had just happened healthily (if at all), but she couldn’t force herself to do it any other way either–her emotions had been muffled in some subconscious act of self defense. They were still definitely there, just hidden behind metaphorical draping velvet that muted the presence of their existence. 

She could deal with the piled up boxes of thoughts and feelings later, she decided, taking the dampened impact as a gift to keep going about her day. So what if the pile exploded through the curtains later when they got too big to manage? That was a later Y/n problem. 

Right now Y/n had someone to find–sort of.

Grabbing the leather tube of her family tree from its hiding spot in her closet, she made quick work of the lid and slid the thick paper out from its confines and onto the floor. The strong jaw and angled face of the mimic was still fresh on her mind, and the name was familiar enough to draw her to the conclusion that she must’ve seen it somewhere before. 

“Clay…” She tested the name on her tongue, running her finger along the branches in search of just who she was looking for, the paper tickling the edge of her finger underneath each drag of it across the surface. And it was like her hand knew exactly where to go–pulled by some unseen force like a magnet from within:

Clarence Wörner. 1900-1989. One of her very distant cousins. 

Y/n snapped the QR code on her phone to open the website portal, marking an X near his name and offering a small description of her own. 

“M.A.D: Calls himself Clay, and can shapeshift into people at will.” 

Then she tapped the small stack of photos beneath his name that Jimin had so graciously tried to include for each family member, cycling through the three of them that were available. It was undeniable when looking at his picture to see the resemblance–this was without a doubt, the man that had been blasted to dust scarcely over an hour prior.

The same strong jaw and neatly kept hair, his eyes clearly a lighter shade in the first black and white photo instead of pools of inky black waste. A woman sat close to his side, staring blankly at the camera in a similar fashion to him, neither one showing any sign of physical closeness or affection. Like they were acquaintances sat together at the party of a mutual friend, caught off guard and disinterested in having the moment be captured for eternity. However the description insinuated quite the opposite. 

“Clarence Wörner and Wife Hazel.” 

Y/n looked into their hollow eyes for a few extra beats before she exited \ from the photo, unable to keep staring into their gray expressions any longer without feeling her stomach churn. Her thumb went to hover over the button to close the portal entirely, when something had her eyes retracting back to the description she had just written–for something new was added to it that she definitely hadn’t put there. 

“M.A.D: Calls himself Clay, and can shapeshift into people at will.

-Was an actor at the Wörner Hotel Theater. Took a particular liking to Shakespear, most notably A Midsummer Night’s Dream. He often played the role of Puck: a shapeshifting fairy; claiming the role as his own at any theater in the state that would let him.  His mother was Polish, thus he and his brother were fluent in both Polish and German as well as English. 

The Mills Brothers, Elton John, show tunes, and Elvis Presley were his favorites–clears him up for a bit if you know what I mean. 

I suppose this information might be of use at the moment. 

Sorry for snooping. 

Y/n looked at the new addition, blinking down at the pixels with befuddlement.  Was this Jimin? He would be the only other person that could possibly have access to her website portal–he created it after all. 

Y/n took little time in adding her message below the mystery persons, something soft and fuzzy stuffing her ears and mind when images of Jimin fluttered by. 

“Jimin?...” 

She waited, elbows propping up her upper body from its reclined position, eyes staring at the blank space beneath it, willing something to appear before her eyes. But nothing happened. Y/n heaved a sigh of disappointment–she couldn’t deny the small flicker of hope that had sprung up into her heart of getting to speak to him again even though their last interaction had left her less than content–to know that above all else he was holding his own with her parents. 

Yet there was nothing.

She took that as a sign to move on, sticking a pin in the interaction for her to remember to share what the mystery person had written with her friends while she rolled the family tree back up and away. The slide of leather and paper against her hands was a cruel reminder of the fresh scrapes along her hands that she had forgotten to address. 

Y/n had just finished applying the last band-aid to her palms when she heard the telltale sounds of Yoongi’s boots descending the hall–the gentle thuds stopping her in her tracks. The Mimic really had even perfected the way he walked down to the cadence, and it made her feel sick with the thought of how long it must’ve been watching him to be able to master so many little details of what made him Yoongi. The steps stopped outside his door and she was jolted from her stupor. During all of the commotion, she hadn’t even thought of contacting the real Yoongi about what had happened–what if he had been hurt? 

Y/n scurried over to the door and wrenched it open with so much force Yoongi looked up at her in surprise from where he was reaching for his own door handle, his eyes wide and his mouth pulled into a flat line. 

“Can I help you?” He asked, one eyebrow raised into his hairline while he pushed his door to swing open. 

Y/n’s mouth opened and closed like a fish in water. Seeing his real face, and his real eyes looking at her with such life and vitality it left her speechless. Sure, the mimic had done a great performance, but with him standing in front of her now, she couldn’t believe she had fallen for whatever show the puppet was putting on. He was wearing the red workman's uniform, so she would give them that, and they had managed to master the way he walked. But there were differences they couldn’t fake. Like a small bandage wrapped around one of his fingers, twinged with red spots of blood instead of black, or the swing of his boots already crossing the threshold into his heavily warded room. 

Oh fuck, Y/n commented internally as her throat began to burn. She had barely spoken to him and he was already blasting open the curtains shrouding her emotional state with just his mere presence. The day comes to her in a rush–terror, humiliation, gratitude, anger, relief–all baring themselves out for Yoongi to see. 

“Yoongi!” Y/n didn’t think for the second time that day–the only difference being that this impulsive action was fueled by the need to feel the real Yoongi alive instead of fear and self defense, and launched herself to him without hesitation.  Arms wrapped around his slender neck and pulled him close, the thud of his heart beat in his chest and the faint whistling sound from his nose an unsuspecting consolation. Yoongi, although confused, returned the hug with the unsure placement of his hands on her shoulder blades.  

“That’s my name, yes.” His voice was wavering between sarcastic and concerned, like he was uncertain which emotion he was supposed to feel yet. “Are you sure you should be doing this in the middle of the hallway where someone could see?” 

Y/n shook her head, her words muffled by the collar of his uniform, finding herself unable to stop the flow of repressed tears that seemed to always find their escape around Yoongi. “I don’t care.” 

He grunted softly at her response and shuffled the two of them into his room, nudging the door closed behind them with the toe of one of his boots. Y/n couldn’t let go of him–not yet. She wanted to keep feeling how warm his skin was, and how the way he breathed sounded natural instead of forced. His touch left warmth instead of static tingling in its wake, its intentions clement and forgiving; not even a lick of the vicious and bloodthirsty clutches of the imposter.

“Okay really–did something happen? You’re lighting up like strobe lights on a wedding dance floor. Are you hurt?” Yoongi rattled off his questions, but didn’t push her away. Y/n knew he could sense her mood crashing down from denial to whatever it was she was storming through her with high winds and crashing waves. 

Y/n retold her experience to him in shaky breaths, refusing at any point to let up the tight hold she kept around his shoulders–an unfounded belief nipping at her conscious that if she did, he would turn into the dead and graying demon from the woods and her hug was the only thing protecting him from that same fate. By the time she got to the physical altercation she felt like there was not enough air in the room, and Yoongi tucked his chin over her shoulder and leaned the side of his head against her own with a heavy sigh that was saturated with a million reactions that he withheld internally for the time being. 

“Just can’t catch a break, huh?” He mumbled, his voice vibrating against her chest. 

Y/n let out a watery laugh and wiped her face on one of her hands that rested on his shoulder. “Nope.” Y/n exhaled sharply, and continued on with one of her prepared talking points. “I’m not going to rest tonight. I can’t. I can’t keep letting them win. Not after whatever is happening with–” Y/n her voice gave out, but forced herself to find it once more. “–with Jin and Hoseok. Not after what those bastards did, using you like that. I won’t let anyone get away easily.” 

“Okay.” Yoongi stated softly. 

“I know you think it’s risky but–” Y/n cut off her own further defense, pulling back from their hug to look Yoongi in the eyes with shock. “Wait–Okay?!” 

Yoongi nodded, licking his lips with his subconscious tick–not some fake attempt at it. “Okay. You know your limits, and at the end of the day it’s your choice. I don’t have any interest in controlling you or giving you rules to follow.” 

“So you’ll have my back against Kook and Joon?” She asked hopefully. 

Yoongi scoffed lightly, squinting his eyes at her with a small smirk. “Now you’re asking too much.” 

Y/n let the tension fall from her body with a tear-sodden laugh turned sigh, sinking back into his awkward embrace and giving him an extra squeeze. “You truly are the best, you know that?” 

“I…” Yoongi swallowed audibly, his throat bobbing with the sound and his words coming out muttered. “You’d be the only one that seems to think that way.” 

Y/n tore herself away from him with furrowed brows, her mouth open to scold him for thinking such thoughts blocked out by a knock at his door. Yoongi hastily made sure to create more distance between them, and coughed into one of his fists before opening it for the two aforementioned men–both properly washed and dried. 

“Speak of the devil and he shall appear.” Yoongi let out a tsk sound, the moment of vulnerability he had let slip through his walls now gone, vanquished by his prickly persona. The two of them pushed through the door without question, nudging Yoongi out of the way to find their designated spots around his room. 

Y/n didn’t even bother giving them a moment to breathe, starting forth with her best strong face and pretending she hadn’t just crumbled into Yoongi minutes before. “I’m still going in. It’s my choice, and I’m tired of waiting. We are giving them exactly what they want by waiting around–if Jin and my mom have some kind of idea of what we are doing or whatever the fuck is happening with the ghosts, we need to keep pushing to stay ahead.” 

“Y/n–” Namjoon started, his face saying more than his words could–that he strongly disagreed and was revving into his own counterpoint. 

“No. You can either help me, or take the day off. You guys have the privilege of walking out of here on your own anyways–I don’t.” Y/n dropped to her knees besides Yoongi's bed, pushing Jungkook’s legs aside to make room for the wooden chest beneath it. “And I for one, would not like to be strangled, hunted or have my head smashed into the nearest surface every time I want to get a snack from the kitchen. Rest helps me in the moment, and I appreciate your concern–I really do–but I need more than concern. I need action.” 

Yoongi came to her side, helping her to unlock the chest and start stacking the items behind them wordlessly. 

“What if Jungkook needs rest? After what happened with him–” 

“Wait,” Yoongi’s head snapped up to narrow his eyes at Namjoon, “What happened with Jungkook?” 

“I haven't gotten to that part yet.” Y/n grunted, slamming the lid closed and pushing the chest back under the bed and out of the way, directing her next comment to Yoongi. “ Jungkook went full psycho and exploded a ghost.” 

“I’m sorry–” Yoongi cut himself off with a disbelieving scoff, “–What did you just say?” 

“He grabbed him–Clay–and forced him to show himself, then he just…” Y/n looked to Jungkook for help, but the man in question was avoiding everyone’s eyes to stare off into the patterns of Yoongi’s rug. “...He just grabbed him and made him disappear.” 

“Fucking hell guys–Open with that next time maybe?” Yoongi looked from person to person, shaking his head. “Some old man’s A/C breaks and I miss everything…” 

Y/n ignored him, unable to think of anything other than her task at hand. “So you two–are you in or out?” 

Jungkook fixed her with a stern glare, his eyes so heavy with fatigue Y/n almost felt bad for asking him. Almost. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

“Perfect.” Y/n chirped, raising an expectant brow to Namjoon. “Joon?” 

Namjoon hollowed out his cheeks and pursed his lips, his eyes downturned towards his knee that bounced through his tension. The room was teetering on his response, the three of them waiting on the edge of their seats.

“Fine.” Namjoon stood abruptly, wiping his hands on his pants and groaning in frustration. “I’ll go grab the tea and some cups.” He pointed a finger menacingly at the three of them. “Don’t do anything until I get back, and you,” His finger landed on Y/n with more emphasis, “Let the two of them set it up at least. I’m going to go gray with all of this stress.” He mumbled the last part mostly to himself as he slipped from the door, leaving Yoongi and Jungkook to do as directed. 

Yoongi cleared his throat, and gestured with his hands lazily to the pile of candles and cloth and a small laugh. “How does he expect us to ‘set it up’ when we have no idea how he wants things for the tea?” 

“Maybe we should set up the session wards wider? Maybe just each corner of the room and lay out the cloth. Then he should probably be back by then.” Y/n had barely finished her sentence before Jungkook was up and on his feet, brushing her hands away from the pile and picking it up, looking expectantly at Yoongi for instruction. 

Yoongi took the change in stride, guiding Jungkook to place a grid of stones, sprigs of herbs, and smears of essential oils in each corner of the room as an improvised ward. Y/n let her eyes close, heeding Namjoon’s instruction to take what little time she had to rest before she was to be thrown into whatever awaits her on the other side. The moment of peace didn’t last long, for she was leaping to her feet with an abruptness that startled the two men away from the bag of dried lavender Yoongi was giving hushed instructions over. 

“I need to grab something from my room! I completely forgot…” Y/n padded to the door, pulling it open and taking large and quick steps into her own. 

Too quick to miss Jungkook’s panicked grunt and Yoongi’s snapped “Focus here, she’ll yell if she needs us for the three steps it takes to get to her room.” 

She sped to her closet, sifting through the jewelry box left abandoned on one of the shelves for the necklace Yoongi had given her, slipping it onto her neck and clasping it after a few failed tries. Her eyes stayed laser focused on the mess of jewelry–both old and new–prodding through each chain and pendant for one of the pieces she was looking for. 

When her Oma–Margaret–had died, she had been sure to bestow both her and her two sisters with pieces from her own collection; pearls, brightly colored beaded necklaces, dainty rings with gemstones of all colors, and crystal earrings. One set of earrings, gold and three-tiered, glinted from the back of the box for Y/n to find with ease. 

She snatched them into her fist, swiping a pearl necklace from one of the hooks for good measure. Y/n inspected the pieces, laying them over her palm and running a gentle finger over the surface of the glittering gold. She could remember the very last time she had seen her Oma wear them, the crystals reflecting orange and purples from the ballroom lights during that year’s Halloween party. Her legs had been too weak to stand by then, so she had designated herself as the one who held the candy bowl out to children as they passed by the ballroom doors on their way to their next activity. A simple witch hat sat crooked on her head that her Grandfather Johan had forced her into, some excuse of having her get into the holiday spirit tumbling out of his mouth while he snapped countless photos with a digital camera. They all had known it would be her last Halloween that year, even if no one had possessed the guts to say it, so she kept the hat on and didn't protest the hundreds of photos family would stop to take with her.

 Namjoon’s baritone voice sounded from the hall, the sign she needed to hurry back over to Yoongi’s room. She tore her eyes from the earrings and met him at the door, a large plastic pitcher of grayish green tea in his hands and a stack of small plastic cups shoved into the pockets of his pants threatening to tumble out onto the floor. 

With the wards up and the tea in hand, Y/n felt the first jitters of nerves buzz beneath her skin–for this might be something completely new–it could either work wonderfully, or go terribly wrong. But what was new for them? That spectrum of possibly had been their new baseline. 

Nonetheless, Y/n held hope. Hope, for Namjoon was one of the smartest people she knew, and she had immense faith in his capabilities and thoroughness. Namjoon was finishing up his directions: Drink, lay down, and close her eyes; and if she felt anything off or odd, to let them know immediately so he could administer a few drops of a tincture he had made to counteract the ingredients in the brew. 

“Any questions?” Namjoon asked, scanning over her face for any sign of resignation–a crease or a shift of her eyes to let him know she wanted to back out–only he didn’t find any. 

Y/n shook her head, but Jungkook spoke over her movements with a question of his own. 

“Can we go in with her?” 

Namjoon chewed on his lip and tipped his head to the side with a shrug. “We can try–but I can’t promise it will work. I tried my best.”

“I think we should make sure it works with her first before sending all of us in. What if she falls asleep and doesn’t wake up for a couple hours? We don’t want to rush in empty handed and have us all compromised.” Yoongi drawled, already in the process of moving the candles from the center to different spots around the room to make space for where she was to lay. 

“Then let’s just get to it.” Namjoon poured the first cup, and Jungkook helped clear the rest of the space. “Ready?” 

The small cup of lukewarm tea was pushed into her hands, and Y/n seated herself down where the candles had once been, cradling the liquid to her chest. Her eyes closed as she imagined her trusted vines of vibrant green blooming out from within, wrapping around the tea to infuse it with her own intentions and energy. She pictured one dipping a delicate spiral through the surface, a buzz of lethargy sweeping over her mind at just one touch. Small tendrils of the vines were tasked with poking into the bowl to her left where the jewelry lay in a neat pile, a gust of her rose scented perfume pluming up from them where they were resting on top of a scrap of paper with her grandmother’s name scribbled on it. 

Thoughts of Let me in quickly safely, and I wish to see Margaret Wörner please bring her to me, repeated like a mantra within her mind.  

She steadied any nerves with a deep breath and stole a glance around the room to each of her friends, nodding to herself when she found each of them offering their own reassuring stare.

“Bottoms up.” 

The tea slipped down her throat in one go, bitter and earthy with the after taste of something sharp that had her face scrunching in distaste–her sinuses opening with the pungent flavor. “Jesus Namjoon, what is in here? An entire spearmint plant?” 

He shrugged, a small smile curving his lips. “I thought you were the mint connoisseur, you tell me.” 

Y/n scrunched the plastic with a roll of her eyes, tossing it towards Yoongi’s trash can and missing. “Oops.” 

She barely registered Yoongi’s judgement on her aim, for the room already started to blur at the edges and her eyes coming to a blink so slow she had to deliberately make sure she was still completing the action. Her torso teetered forward, her weight supported by her hands on her knees. She vaguely understood the words being said around her– 

"Move the pillow over-"

“Lay back!” 

No one would have to tell her twice, two gentle hands guiding her to lay back onto the black cloth where her head found one of Yoongi’s pillows. The distant feeling of Jungkook’s fingers slotting between hers, and Yoongi’s hovering face dissipated into nothing. There was no lapping water, and no scruff animal slinking around the darkness that enveloped her–the only two things she missed. She did not miss the burn of the rubber band that didn’t pull at the back of her eyes this time, nor the feeling of having her soul sucked from her body like a magnet. 

There was nothing but the welcoming arms of sleep. 

_________________________________________

This was so much better, Y/n decided, the room coming back to her in a smoky haze.  She was in–and this traverse through the veil was all the more bearable. 

Even though her ghostly hand held nothing, she could still feel a warm tingle upon its surface where Jungkook’s was attached to her physical body, and it gave her the push she needed to come to a seated position. Her eyes met his completely black ones, zeroing on the way his mouth moved in silent words that she assumed by Namjoon’s excited reaction that he was sharing her victorious transition.

She rose to a crouch, keeping her eyes trained on the door for any sign of movement beyond it. 

“Oma?” She whispered, but no response came. 

Y/n pressed her lips together and came to stand, giving Jungkook a point towards the door and a thumbs up. Though they had run through this a thousand times over the past week–that she would be looking for her grandmother, which meant she’d have to leave the room–Jungkook still looked perturbed. She could see him fighting the urge to follow after her, stuck between holding her hand and trailing after her ghostly form. Y/n pointed to her body and made an ‘eyes on me’ , hoping he understood the message to listen to it. Her head popped right through the surface of the door, peering out into the hall to check for any signs of danger.

The hallway was empty save for the same misty haze that blanketed the entirety of the realm, her head swiveling from one end of the hall to the other, looking for her grandmother. She heaved a sigh, toying the idea of searching further out into the hall and the landing when the clinking of metal and glass stole her attention back into the room. 

“I gave these to you to keep, not to offer back to me.” Margaret lifted the string of pearls to dangle from her finger tips, her sleek pink skirt and blouse a stark contrast to the blues and creams of Yoongi’s room. 

“How did you–the wards–” Y/n stuttered, her grandmother pocketing the pearls into her skirt as she rose to stand. 

“You invited me in. That’s how this works as I’m sure you knew.” She gave Y/n a sly, knowing look that shifted into one of stone. “I thought I told you to stay out of this place.” 

“I can’t Oma. I–no–we need answers, and things are only escalating for us. I’ve survived my fourth attempted murder as of just this morning, there’s no ‘staying out of it’ for me anymore when they insist on dragging me back into it by the throat.” Y/n wildly waved her hands about as she spoke, tired of having to explain herself to each and every person she came across. “I’m here because I need any answers or information you have to give me.” 

Margaret hummed, and Y/n could hear the pearls click against each other from her pocket as her elegant hand tucked itself into it to roll them between her fingers while she listened.

“The answer I have to give you may not be the one you really want.” Margaret brought her other hand to pinch at the bridge of her nose, her brow creasing with a sharp exhale from her nose. 

“Any answer is better than none.” Y/n threw her hands up into the air in exasperation, and let them fall to her sides with a whispered, “Please.” 

Margaret dropped her own hands and gracefully stepped over towards the door to stand beside her, flashing her a rueful smile. “We are outnumbered. That is all I have to say to you.” Margaret pushed past Y/n, stopping when only her head remained in the room. “It’s over. Go back to your body.” 

Her head disappeared beyond the door, adding an extra layer of finality to her words.

Y/n had fought too hard to get in here and there was no way she was backing down yet. She gave Jungkook one last panicked glance before taking off after her. 

“What?” Y/n sped to her side, imitating her hunched form and creeping steps, dropping her voice to a whisper after a stern look from her Grandmother. “What does that even mean?” 

“It’s exactly as I stated.” Margaret held a hand up to signal a pause, and Y/n stopped to peek over her shoulder at the small black blurs of motion that darted from the foyer and down the hall beneath them, disappearing in a fit of warbled childish giggles. She waited until certain they were gone before speaking once more. “We can’t stop them anymore. They have taken too many of us–it is only a matter of time before we are all infected. And your mother has done nothing to help us.” 

“Infected with what? What is my mom doing?” Y/n hissed back, keeping her steps light as she followed Margaret to the top of the steps. “Start from the beginning–I’m missing something big here.” 

“It’s not just about what she is doing, but what she isn’t.” Margaret huffed, but conceded with a low voice. “For decades, the women of this family married into the family name–doomed to watch and never lead at the face of anything. However, between the lines, we all had one very important job: keep all of this,” Margaret gestured to the house and then to herself, “under control. Because none of the men were brave enough to face reality.” 

“What reality? What job?” They were halfway down the stairs now, and Y/n’s chest began to tighten with anxiety the further she went. 

“The reality is that something is horribly wrong here. This legacy–do you really think it’s as sparkly, or as cut and dry as your father, and his father, and even his father before him let everyone believe?” Margaret turned to land a scathing gaze on Y/n. “That everything was perfect? That everyone loved each other and held hands around the table in prayer each morning? That you and Adelaide were the only women who tried to fight for the crown, and that they all just peacefully made way for their brothers and sons?” 

Y/n didn’t know what to say, any further questions ripped from her throat. 

“Since Johanna Wörner, we’ve had one job and one job only: Clean up after the mess our husbands made. Whatever that mess looked like.” Margaret continued their trek, reaching the bottom of the steps. “And that was a full time job in that of itself–the cleansings, the prayer, the mitigation of feelings and emotions to keep things from blowing out of proportion, protecting the living from the enemies they have made along the way. We had a truce with the others as she called them–a truce that Adelaide started.” 

“With who, Oma?” Y/n implored, letting herself be whisked into the study by her Grandmother’s steady hands. 

“Now that I don’t know the answer to–we were never allowed to ask. All I do know is that your mother broke that truce, and now we are all paying the price for it.” Margaret slid the doors closed behind them, a breath of relief tumbling from her chest once they clicked into place. “I tried to hold down the fort–I really did–up until the day I died, Y/n. But your mother had no interest in listening, and now here we are. If I didn’t know any better it's almost like she wanted this to happen: for if the devil is on one's side, then it’s easier to raise hell.” 

Fury bloomed through Y/ns ribs, weaving in and out of the crevices and burning everything in its path. “She’s doing this for what? To spite me? I can’t even begin to think what she would do this for.” She paced furiously about the study, hands gripping at her sides for some sort of stability. 

“Y/n, think clearly now.” She spun on her heels, her hands coming up to rest on Y/n’s cheeks in a comforting manner and halting her frantic pacing. “Your brother is far too young to inherit the hotel in time, especially not with Anselm–your father’s predicament. My guess would be that she would step up to…hold his place until Roland is of age. And I think she made new deals and broke some old with the wrong people to make that a possibility.”

Y/n couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t speak. She could feel her soul trembling with rage so hot it threatened to consume her entirely. 

“Of course, this is all speculation…” Her grandmother continued forth, sliding her hands down Y/n’s shoulders to hold both of her hands. Her face and voice were defeated and tired. “All we do know is that at this time, she has won. And there is nothing we can do about it.” 

“No.” Y/n seethed through her teeth, unwilling to accept that answer. “We haven’t lost because I’m still here. What is the infection? Who is ‘we’? Who are you working with?” 

Cruel was an understatement–a word that didn’t fully encompass the true nature of fate itself; the whip it holds gripped in a tight fist cracking down on anyone and anyone how they see fit. 

The study doors to their side slid open with an audible bang, fate cracking its whip down on the two of them, rattling the stained glass on either side of the doorway and leaving them exposed and vulnerable to the prying eyes within the foyer. 

Small and frail, the mystery little girl from the hutch stood in the gap. The only change in her appearance was that her normal eye had begun to sink into its socket even further and her skin was more discolored than it had been the couple weeks prior. She looked just as startled as the two women in the study, her own actions eliciting trembles from her hands and a quiver at her lip. 

“Y/n, you must get back to your room.” Margaret’s voice shook, and she used one arm to shield Y/n back from the child. 

The child wept bulbous gray tears, their feet fighting with every step to cross the doorway into the room, like each step tore her apart from the inside out. 

“You don’t have to come in here child–Do not hurt yourself any further.” Her grandmother breathed out, pressing Y/n further into the study with each encroaching step of the child 

“I h-have to.” The girl cried, her voice a cross between human and evil, folding and lilting around her vowels with the residue of an almost forgotten accent. “I’m scared!” 

“You don’t have to do anything,” Margaret continued, leading Y/n to round the edge of one of the couches to put more distance between them and the child. “You can leave this room and let us pass.” 

The girl shuddered, her chest rattling with each sob, staggering forwards to follow them around the loveseat. “I can’t. If I help them they told me it would stop–that the pain would go away.” She heaved in a gasp, but still found her breath unable to quell the rising waves of her emotions, her next words coming out in a wail. “I don’t want to feel this way anymore!”

Margaret pushed Y/n around the back of the sofa once the girl was deep enough to the study to give them an advantage, rushing the two of them out of the open door and towards the stairs to take them two at a time.  

“I will answer all of your questions I promise–we just need to get you out of here first.” Her grandmother urged Y/n to move faster, her eyes unable to pick one spot to look in their panic-stricken search for any additional threats.

“Who is she?” Y/n called back to her, her own feet meeting the landing and turning sharply to the right. “I’ve seen her twice now and have no idea who she is.” 

“I don’t know whose child she is, she is a mystery.” Margaret grabbed Y/n’s hand and led the way back to Yoongi’s room on quick feet, “All I do know that she is fast, and calls herself Ani. The poor girl has been fighting the turn for quite some time now. She is the one who took Patti.” 

A snarl echoed from the foyer, and shoes struck the floor in such rapid succession it sounded like they were dragging across it instead of lifting up with each step; fast was an understatement–she was an animal closing in on her prey.

They arrived at Yoongi’s door, and Y/n tried to tug Margaret in after her–only for an invisible force to stop her from entering. Fingers dug into her wrist and yanked with more force, though whatever she had wasn’t enough–the ward always resisted with just enough force to counter whatever strength Y/n used.

“Oma–please.” All of Y/n’s anger decapitated, replaced with raw panic as each attempt to tug her in through the door was denied. “You were just in here!” 

She tossed her head back to look at Jungkook, who was silently relaying what he was seeing to the other two, her hand still tucked snuggly in his own. 

“Jungkook–help us please! She needs to come in!” Y/n begged, and she saw tears start to track down her own face that was still beneath him as the child’s growling grew closer. The hopelessness pooling on Jungkook’s face was enough of an answer to know that he couldn’t hear her. 

Y/n stepped back out into the hall, grabbing her grandmother’s shoulders and pushing with all of her might. 

“Y/n stop!” Her grandmother shouted, “You’ll just have to leave me behind!” 

“No!” Y/n set her jaw together, with determination. “I won’t do that. That’s never an option.” 

The child was at the end of the hall, whipping as fast as wind and just as unforgiving. Her teeth were bared in both fear of the women in front of her and the drive to rip their throats out with their jagged edges.

“Y/n get in there now.” Margaret choked out her words, and when Y/n made no move to flee, she spun around to grab at her wrists desperately. “Get in there now! Do not make me ask you again!” 

Margaret’s eyes filled with tears, shining a smile drenched in despondency that quivered at her lips and broke Y/n into pieces. A tender hand caressing Y/n’s cheek with shaking fingers crumbling her resolve. “I love you, Entlein. Do not waste your life to save those of us who are already dead.  I wish you great things.” 

Her world tilted, for her grandmother shoved Y/n through the doorway with one final touch of her hands.

Y/n couldn’t see what happened next, though she could hear it. A wet squelching sound coupled with the echoing screams of her Grandmother, loud enough to penetrate through the door and rattling into her bones. Sewing itself into every fiber of her being as sound she would never be able to unhear. Y/n wouldn’t–she couldn’t let her be alone. 

“Open the door!” Y/n shrieked to the clueless men in the room, her finger pointing to the blockade aggressively, unsure how to make her point any clearer. “Please just open the door!” 

That seemed easy enough for Jungkook to understand and relay, Namjoon kicking into motion and running through her to rip the door open for her to see what was left of her grandmother. 

Her eyes were gone. Dripping black pits of tar took their place, cascading down her cheeks and onto the carpet below her. The planes of her face were tilled and torn, decaying in front of her eyes at the serrated edges. Her mouth was did the most damage to Y/n–gone was the lovely curve that danced about her memory over shared children’s books, plates of mac and cheese or dusted with flour from their baking escapades. Now set as though carved in stone, was an overly animated frown that resembled a theater mask in size and shape. Cavernous and unnatural. She was motionless, the young child now splattered with the remains of her eyes standing above her with a look of terror, her body shivering in involuntary convulsions as she looked to Y/n. 

“I didn’t mean to. I can’t help it. They made me do it!” the girl blubbered through her words, wiping her soiled gray hands onto her tattered dress like it would erase what she had just done. 

“Who.” Y/n whispered, unable to force her eyes away from the horrid sight in front of her–the ghost of her grandmother stirring, its movements jagged and sharp. Salt pooled in Y/n’s eyes, blinding her with rage and desolation at what she has become. 

“The evil one. She is wicked. She makes me hurt. She makes us kill.”  

The reality in front of her flickered in and out like a lightbulb screwed a bit too loose, thrusting her senses into periodic flashes of nothingness with the spread of a floral and saccharin taste across her tongue. 

“No!” Y/n tried to spit the flavor from her mouth, her exclamation startling the girl in front of her to retreat. “Not yet!” She called after the child desperately, but she did not listen. She lunged to face her friends behind her, catching Namjoon’s nimble fingers screwing the lid of a dropper back into place as her own human face scrunched at the taste of its contents. 

Y/n spent the last few moments she had observing the twitch of Margaret’s ghost with each stretch of the rotting veins that spread down her face and into her neck. The way her youthful complexion pulsed with a corruption that spun its webs deeper into her skin, eating away at the remains of the woman she loved. 

The unnatural curve if her mouth moved, barely so; a haunting whisper. 

“Find Bear. He is all that is left.” 

The darkness won its battle for control, and she welcomed it.

Y/n knew she was awake now as the echoes of her grandmother's voice faded, and that her eyes could move if she wanted them to. She could hear Yoongi prodding at her with gentle words, feel the subtle tug of Jungkook’s hand on her own, and taste the herbal tincture Namjoon had dropped between her cracked lips. She didn’t want to hear any of that–she wanted to stay with her grandmother and to find Bear like she wished. 

To sick Jungkook on that pitiful little girl that had so brutally mutilated her grandmother. 

To sink the teeth of her own wrath into her mother’s existence and call her out for what she was: a Liar, a thief, and an enemy. A manipulator. Thus by proxy flinging herself violently onto her two friends that had betrayed her trust–betrayed her everything to side with something so monstrous and cruel. 

She eventually did move, forcing her experience from her mouth with carefully maintained monotony onto awaiting ears. There would’ve been nothing more she would have wanted to do than give them something to celebrate, but she had nothing good to share. Just more questions and more tension. 

It’s a strange, and indescribable experience to mourn the death of someone who has already died. This wasn’t grief she could go find a therapist to work through it with, or even any sort of comforting slew of nonsensical words like “She will always be watching over you,” or “She is in a better place.” 

Because she wasn’t–not anymore. She was rotting for eternity with nothing but violence and misery to keep her company. There was no heaven or hell to pull her from the damnation someone else had bestowed upon her, no exit from the dark seep of her soul into otherness. 

By the time night had come to weigh them all down with uncertainty of what tomorrow held–she was alone. Jungkook wasn’t laying on her floor this time to keep all of the phantom images from pervading her senses with the scent of death and images of torn flesh and hulking beasts, or the rough and inexorable hands reaching out to claw at her throat and chest. After her trip into the Paralrealm, he had been avoiding her. Whether it be from sheer exhaustion of what had happened, or if he felt some kind of shame for the way he wasn’t able to help her. Perhaps both of their minds were writhing in their own prisons of self inflicted pain that night. 

She was tired, but not just the kind that thirsted for sleep. 

Her feet dragged across the floor of her rug, back and forth in deep treading patterns and lines. She wanted to reach out to someone, but couldn’t bring herself to text them–she had shoved her problems on them enough. 

Maybe if she would’ve just stayed away, none of this would’ve happened. Maybe her being here on the property made it worse, made it harder for them to fight it. 

Y/n was standing at her bedroom door before she could gather what she was doing, the door pulled ajar and her back pressed to the doorframe. She slid to the floor, bringing her legs up to rest her chin on so she could stare undisrupted with cold unblinking eyes at the spot outside Yoongi’s door where her grandmother had been last. Willing the image into fruition and then molding it in her mind in some childish game of make pretend, picturing a million different endings to her memory. 

That maybe if she had waited, and Jungkook hadn’t been so tired he could’ve grabbed her grandmother and saved her; or brought the hands of a reaper down to punish the child for their actions. That they would be still sitting in Yoongi’s room and protecting her grandmother from the others and the curse that plagued them. 

In a mirror image of that morning, Taehyung ambled from the end of the hall towards their neighboring rooms; though this time his feet were much slower, and his eyes much heavier. His dark hair was sticking to his neck and forehead with dried sweat, and a glittering royal blue jacket was draped over the crook of his elbow from tonight's show. He hadn’t noticed her yet, for his head was kept low and his eyes downturned to watch each methodical step. 

To Y/n’s surprise, he stopped right outside Yoongi’s door–right where her grandmother had been–and chewed at the inside of his cheek. In a sweeping motion, he brought his chocolate brown eyes to her door where they widened once he found hers staring up at him from her spot on the floor, having clearly not expected her to be there. They stayed that way, frozen in place while sizing each other up. 

“Shouldn’t you be asleep?” He deep voice rumbled from his chest, heavy at the ends with lassitude. 

Y/n picked at the threads of her shorts, keeping her puffy eyes downturned and out of sight. “Shouldn’t you?” 

It was quiet again, but not the kind of quiet solitude Y/n wanted. This one was tense and uncomfortable. She felt exposed with the way his eyes raked her figure, seeing a side of her she didn’t want him to see.

Taehyung jerked the sleeve of his black button up higher on his forearm to get a read on his watch, turning to regard her with a weary frown. “Cafe opens in twenty minutes. Wanna go for that coffee?” 

_________________________________________

Coffee or not, there was some kind of peaceful reverie to be found in the Edelweiss cafe that morning. Sunday mornings weren’t as busy, only one worker carrying themselves around the counters and taking inventory for the day while the sun was still down. Y/n hadn’t even bothered getting dressed–and how that must’ve looked to anyone that happened to be walking by.

A beat down woman in cotton shorts and a crewneck sweatshirt, and Taehyung Kim, still dressed in his finest from his sold out show the night prior–quiet and brooding over steaming cups of tea. Under any other circumstances, Y/n would have enjoyed picking apart the version of Taehyung that sat in front of her: reserved, fatigued, and jaded. This version of himself intrigued her more than the flirty showman he put on, for here he looked real–a conundrum of mysterious yet lax, like if she asked one question he would unravel in her hands.

“Bad day?” Taehyung rasped first, watching the steam float from his untouched tea. 

“You could say that…” Y/n mumbled, disinterestedly twirling a straw in her own brew. 

Taehyung tilted his head to study her response, one of his long fingers tapping the smooth table beneath it, and his mouth quirking to one side as he pondered whatever it is he found so interesting in the way she looked. 

“You know…” He began, his voice deep and airy. “I’m not unfamiliar with this–” He gestured to her with a pointed look, “ –My uncle often had bad days when he lived with me and my parents. I’d end up staying up late with him to keep him company through them. I know it’s uncomfortable or embarrassing, but you can always talk to me about it.”

Y/n furrowed her brows together and cocked her head to the side. “I’m not sure what you mean.” 

Taehyung anxiously licked his lips, his hand coming to twist his cup from side to side. “I’m not trying to overstep, and you don’t have to tell me anything–I just can’t not check in to make sure you’re okay.” 

“Tae,” Y/n let out a heavy sigh, setting the straw to the side to rip at her napkin instead. “I really can’t grasp what you’re putting down here.” 

“How about this.” He raised one unimpressed brow, clearly taking her confusion as a cover up for something he thought he saw; he took a tiny sip of his tea to clear his throat, letting his voice come out smoother after the honey and chamomile coated his tongue. “I’ll tell you something about me first–anything you want to know. Then in return, you tell me something about you.” 

Y/n weighed his offer, finding it interesting enough to humor. “Fine.” Y/n sucked her bottom lip in, staring across at her table mate while she racked her brain for a question. 

“Favorite color.” 

Taehyung snorted, and gave a baffled shake of his head. “That’s what you want to know?” 

Y/n shrugged timidly, the napkin in her hands now a pile of brown confetti.

“Emerald green, cadmium red, violet.” He listed off easily, slipping right into his own question. “What’s three things that make you happy?” 

“Plants.” Y/n shot back without thinking. “My friends.  Music.” Y/n settled on her last answer after some thought. “What drew you to performing?” 

Taehyung blew his breath through his lips in a burst, “That’s a loaded question.” He untucked his shirt from his dress pants and undid the cuffs on his shirt as he spoke. “It’s always been what I’ve been good at, and it was easy to practice from home. Being able to sing and dance made people I cared about smile, and I liked that.” He lifted his cup to chew at the end of his straw, and leaned against the back of his chair with his attention only on her. “What is something you’re looking forward to? Something you can’t wait for it to happen? Planned out already or a daydream–doesn’t matter.” 

This question stumped her. She hadn’t thought about anything other than the shit she was knee deep in with the hotel and her family–every move she made and any plans had been circling around unraveling whatever ball of knotted yarn this was. She chewed on her lip while she thought of an answer. 

“I’m not sure. I haven’t really been thinking very far ahead lately.” She admitted, averting her eyes back to the table at her confession. 

“Nothing at all? Not even a dream vacation or some bucket list item you have?” He pushed further. 

“Well I guess I’ve always wanted to go on a really long road trip–like weeks long. I want to go around the country and really see things; take my time. Because of the hotel, we never really took long vacations, we always had to be back home after a few days.” Y/n shook her head at the ridiculousness of her next statement. “All this money and they don’t really use it for what people would expect us to: I’ve never left the country because my trip was canceled once my apprenticeship was tossed in the trash, and we only went to nearby beaches maybe a handful of times. This place has always been everything, it was all we ever needed.” 

Taehyung hummed pensively, taking a swig from his cup and making a ‘come here’ motion with his hand. “Hit me.” 

“They said you were from California–surely there were hundreds of opportunities out west. Why come here to Pennsylvania?” A safe question, Y/n suspected.

“Family,” Taehyung stated matter-of-factly. “My mom knew Jimin’s grandmother, and so we started visiting him occasionally to check in on him, and my mom absolutely fell in love with all of the trees and just how green it was by chance. Plus, if I can be blunt for a minute?” Taehyung looked up at her from the liquid in his cup. 

“Be my guest.”  Y/n motioned for him to continue. 

“Money. My family wasn’t very well off growing up. My grandparents had fled to the United States looking for a ‘better life’ like a lot of people did during, before and after the war. They never learned English, and struggled to really find their place here–to feel welcomed–but they were determined to make it work.

 My parents ended up taking care of both of them once they physically couldn’t work anymore, and my uncle full time while I was growing up.  It put a big strain on them financially though they’d never admit it. I grew up watching them give everything they had to each other, and I just wanted to do the same for them.” He shook the cup in his hand, listening to the liquid slosh from side to side. “My mom really encouraged my creative side, but even as a kid I knew that the chance of that making me any money with it was mute. That was until we had spent a few weeks here in the winter, and I just knew I had to be here.” He smirked over the rim of his cup, pausing before his next sip for his next remark. “That and I knew you guys paid well after I heard some whispers through the grapevine from one mischievous tour guide.” 

“Hmm, I wonder who that could be?” Y/n exhaled from her nose in place of a laugh, taking in his answer and letting it sink slowly into her brain. 

“What’s a memory that makes you smile every time you think of it?” He was ready with his next question, like he had prepared these for an interview, and she was the shaking and sputtering potential employee trying to come up with the right answers. 

“You keep making me think.” Y/n held a hand up to her forehead and let out a few nervous chuckles, squeezing her eyes closed to think.

“That’s the point.” Taehyung joined in on her soft laughter. 

“You sure you guys will be alright here by yourselves?” Misuk asked for the fifth time, her hand coming up to fiddle with the elegant beaded necklace she wore over a sunset orange sundress. 

She was eyeing up the gaggle of children nodding their heads eagerly back up at her with apprehension and up to the lawn in front of the guest house that was dotted with four brightly colored tents. The shapes of canvas and metal had been put together with the help of their dads, with multicolored sleeping bags and pastel stuffed animals piled inside to make them more homely. Y/n’s mother cut in, the sound of the old screen room door slamming pulling Misuk’s fretting towards the house.

“I packed real food, plenty of water bottles, and stocked the kitchen up with precut fruit and cereal for the morning.” Mariah stepped anxiously down the steps from the sunroom, an empty cooler bag in hand. “Please for the love of god, try and eat something other than s’mores tonight, and be asleep before the sun is up–capiche?” She walked up to all three of her children, planting large overexaggerated kisses onto each of their heads. 

“Don’t hover–they’ll be fine!” Jeonghan, Hoseok’s father wrapped an arm around Misuk’s waist and jostled her to his side. “It’s just one night, and we are right down the road. Plus Hilga will be sleeping upstairs in the house in case of emergencies.” He gripped his wife’s shoulders with an encouraging shake. “We have to let them learn to grow!” 

“Will there be bears? There’s no bears here right?” Misuk could still be heard fretting all the way to the back of the house where their car had been parked, a few of the parents already piled inside. 

“Stay safe, little birds!” Y/n’s father Anslem saluted them as he sauntered off to the car to join them. “Y/n–keep an eye on your sisters!” 

“You’re in charge, Seokjin!” His mother, Hana pointed at him with slightly narrowed eyes. “If Hilga is asleep you watch out for them!” 

The children were a giggling mess the moment the first car left the dirt driveway. Of course the first thing on their agenda was tearing through the warm summer grass with bare feet. After bubble wands had been waved and tossed aside; three tumultuous rounds of freeze tag; badminton rackets and wiffle balls trampled on and discarded;  and one round of duck duck goose to appease Matilda; there was a lull in their activities that the earth found a way to fill with its own wonders.

Under the sky’s coat of twilight, they cantered through the rolling hills and weeds to chase after the pulsing lights of lightning bugs as they began their drooping and lethargic bounce over the scene to say their greetings to the ones twinkling like string lights in the trees. 

Without fail, what started as innocent play turned into a competition: the first metaphorical stone tossed by Y/n declaring she could catch the most at one time, and the rest ferociously lining up for the challenge. 

“Here.” Jungkook would softly whisper to her as he passed one here and there to her palms against her will, looking across to her with blank eyes that blotted with softness at the edges. 

Hoseok struggled the most–torn between winning and freaking out each time the insect’s tiny legs moved along the ridges of his hands. “I hate it!” He would shout, shaking them off in a frenzy before furrowing his brows in determination to try and pick up a few more. 

He ended up running alongside Y/n, who would scoop up the ones he threw each time, her hands overflowing with the movement of effervescent lime, black and orange. Y/n only faltered once she heard the first sniffle from Matilda, her sudden absence from their side jarring her to a stop. Y/n found Matilda a few paces back, her face downturned to her empty hands where one bug had just lazily lifted off of their surface to soar out of reach. 

“What’s wrong Gänse?” Y/n scampered back to her side, out of breath with both hands clamped closed around her treasure. 

Matilda’s lower lip jutted out, her chin wrinkled with dejection as she watched its departure. “I can’t catch any.” 

Y/n frowned, surveying the rest of the kids' strategies. Yoongi was seated in one spot, his hands coming up to cup around the bugs that floated idly by with calm control; Hoseok was lingering besides them, his body taut with discomfort from the three bugs he had successfully carried for longer than two minutes; Jin was leading Jimin on a blazing trail through the grasses to unsettle all of the bugs that had landed at their feet into clouds of light for them to swipe into; Namjoon was sitting around the unlit campfire as the volunteer to keep Amelia company, who vehemently despised lightning bugs but was also too anxious to be by herself. 

Y/n leaned back into her sister’s face that had started to bulge with how hard she was keeping in her tears. “How about I show you some tips? We just have to find how you catch them best.” Y/n wiggled her brows and giggled. 

“Okay!” Matilda immediately lit up with childlike eagerness, her hands flapping in excitement, 

“Tip number one,” Y/n gestured to Hoseok with her elbow. “Hobi always drops them, so stick by him.” 

“Hey! I’m not going to this time!” Hoseok defended, though the way he bristled as one buzzed against his cupped palm said otherwise. 

Y/n ignored his complaints, her steps picking up speed towards Yoongi. “Tip number two, if you’re not fast, try doing what he does.” They approached his seated form with slow steps so as to not disturb his methods. “See?” 

“I can be fast if I want to be.” Yoongi scrunched his face, keeping his voice low. “I just don’t want to be.” 

“Not as fast as me!’ Hoseok stuck his tongue down at him in a taunt. “I’m the running champion!” 

Yoongi glared up at him, his face pinching together in irritation then releasing with a wide grin of realization. “You have one on your face!” 

Hoseok screeched out in terror, his hands splaying open to release the few bugs he had trapped to swat at his face while Yoongi bellowed with laughter, his face lit up from below by the glow of his palms. 

“Get them Gänse!” Y/n shouted through her laughter. Matilda only added to Hoseok’s panic, her smaller hands jumping to grab at his hands and face to sweep them into her palms while he hopped about to free himself of their tiny feet and fluttering wings before taking off to streak across the grass in his escape. 

Unfortunately for her, Hoseok's flailing sent them all scattering out of reach, and another pout made its home on her mouth. 

“I’ll never catch any.” The tears sprung back into her eyes and she crossed her tiny arms over her chest, kind of assumed absolute only a child was capable of.

“Here,” Yoongi sighed, sensing the oncoming meltdown and tapped the ground next to him with his bent knee, “I’ll show you how I do it.” 

The girls sat on either side of the boy, and he demonstrated his sure fire way of scooping them up into a small hole he made with his fingers like the mouth of a whale–making Matilda giggle when he made low exaggerated gulps with each bug he caught. It took a few tries, but after a few minutes Matilda finally made her first successful catch.

“I did it!” She leapt into the air with a shout of victory, sending some of Yoongi’s next victims in all directions and tossing her clasped hands around his neck in gratitude. “Thank you Yoongs!” 

“You did congrats. Now scram before you make me lose all of mine!” He tried to shove her off, though he couldn’t hide the way the corners of his mouth lifted with pride.

The two girls ran off to find Hoseok where he had joined in on Jin and Jimin’s stampeding, his ‘champion run’ stirring up the most bugs; his lithe form darting in wide circles with his arms spread out while Jimin and Jin ran about within its borders to catch as many as they could.  

“Can we join?” Matilda tapped at Jin’s shorts with her fist, looking up at him with big pleading eyes.

Jin smiled, warm and inviting, and without hesitation. “Sure!” 

Jungkook had joined in from where he had disappeared into the treeline to grab the stragglers, and  five of them leapt about the grass while Hoseok took pride in his job of disturbing them with his lightning speed, Matilda doing her best to keep up with the older children.

 Y/n took off to help Jimin, who had taken a bit of a fall after he jumped to catch one that was too high, leaving Matilda under Jungkook’s supervision, his quiet voice droning to her: “You want some of mine? I have a lot…” 

“You okay Jimin?” Y/n asked him, but he was already rising to his knees. 

“Yeah I’m fine.” Jimin blushed crimson, avoiding her eyes with a shy tug at his shirt. “I just tripped, that’s all.” 

Y/n gasped, her eyes widening at his now empty hands. “You lost your bugs!” 

“Oh.” Jimin frowned down at the place they used to be, then smoothed it out with a melancholy smile. “It’s alright. I probably wouldn’t win anyways.” 

Y/n pressed her lips together, tightly with a shake of her head. “You can take some of mine.” 

“You don’t have to–” 

Y/n had already opened her palms to the wriggling mess of insects within, rushing Jimin to scoop some into his own. “ Nobody left behind here with us, remember?” 

Jimin grinned softly down at his now glowing fists. “Yeah, right.” 

“Did you just give him some?!” Jin sputtered out from behind her. “That’s cheating!” 

“You can have one of mine then!” Matilda chirped, coming up to his side. “Jungkook gave me hundreds of them!” She grinned up at him, the small handful of bugs she held nowhere near such an enormous number, but to her she felt just as rich. 

“O-okay…” Jin flushed as Matilda passed him two of her own, unable to turn down such a kind and innocent face. 

In the end, everyone ended up passing each other bugs in some wild contrast between caring for one another but still wanting to win. Though it came as no surprise when Jungkook still reigned as the final champion, somehow his reserved yet resolute manner had his hands overflowing–even after giving up so many of them to Matilda, Y/n and Jimin. 

The conclusion of their competition was celebrated by her aunt Hilga carrying out a bucket of roasting spits, a jumbo bag of marshmallows and a bulk pack of chocolate bars. She stayed only to help them light the fire pit, before giving them one final warning to be careful and disappearing into the screened-in sunroom with her feet up on the table and a glass of sweet tea. 

Within thirty minutes, the bag was ripped open with over half of the confections devoured, all nine of the children sprawled on chairs and log benches with sticky faces and fingers coated with melted sugar. The worst of it being on Matilda’s, and Jin had designated himself to grab a wet paper towel to rub at the smears of chocolate and marshmallow on her cheeks and between her fingers with a parental nature while Jungkook over saw holding her braids out of the way for the cloth.  

“You got some too, Ducky!” Hoseok chortled from the side Jungkook wasn’t on, using a separate napkin to swipe at her cheeks.

Y/n smacked his hands away, grabbing the towel from his hands. “I got it–you’re going to take my face off!” Hoseok just laughed, pressing his knee against hers in his usual manner–he was known for his lack of spatial awareness, his knees and elbows taking up more room than he needed. 

Jimin was still fidgeting across the flames, the only people he was the most comfortable enough to sit between being Jungkook and Jin for the time being. Though he looked like he wanted to join in on the closeness and banter (though unbeknownst to him he would, in almost no time at all), but for now he was content just watching, offering sweet smiles and laughter when expected of him. 

The night dwindled to a close, Yoongi extinguished the fire and they all lent a hand in dragging their tents into a tight circle, the doors left open for them to chatter idly with one another as they all trickled off to sleep to the sound of fluttering bats, singing crickets and distant hoots of owls. 

Y/n's tent consisted of her and her three sisters, Amelia having already nodded off in the back with an arm around a snoring Matilda, facing away to block her eyes from the lanturn they had turned on in the middle of their huddle. Next to them was Jin and Jimin, the younger one of the two passed out with his head out of the tent. Having said that, Jin wasn’t faring any better–his head jolting forward into the clutches of sleep while he fought to keep watch over the stragglers.

 Hoseok and Namjoon were next, the latter tucked into a plant encyclopedia and the former half out of his tent propped on his elbows, mirroring the way Y/n was (and Jimin had been) so they could keep whispering nonsensical tales and spooky stories to each other across the gaps. Yoongi was in his and Jungkook’s shared tent with the door half closed, while Jungkook kept his head propped on his elbow, his dark eyes zeroing in to silently listen to whoever spoke next, never offering up any conversation of his own but simply enjoying being included. However his own head had dropped minutes before, soft snores escaping his mouth against the skin of his arms.

Hoseok had gone silent and Y/n assumed he had fallen asleep, finding herself listening to the soft puffs of all of her friends breathing that surrounded her. 

“Hobi?” She whispered, her thoughts already resigning herself to being the last one standing besides the evidently struggling Jin. 

“Hmm?” Hoseok slurred, turning his head to gaze over her with red rimmed eyes from sleep, his head still laying flat against the entrance of his tent. 

“Are you awake?” 

She heard shuffling of cloth against canvas, and saw him pick his head up to look at her with hair that stuck up in all directions. “Yea.” 

Y/n giggled, he had clearly fallen asleep. “Do you think we will be friends forever?” 

“Of course I do.” Hoseok gave her the best serious face he could muster. “You can't get rid of me that easily. You’re stuck with me.” 

Y/n smiled, letting her head fall onto her folded arms as they looked across from each other, Hoseok letting his head fall back against his arms to mime her position. Their faces cast with a dim yellow glow from the lanturn and the moths that spotted its surface to throw shadows over the children. “Good. Because I want to do this forever and ever.” 

“Me too.” Hoseok sighed out, succumbing to the slumber he fought so hard to stay out of. 

Y/n drifted in and out of consciousness, only remembering the looming shape of Jin as he went around to lift her head into her tent and secure the door closed, repeating the motion with Hoseok and Jungkook before turning out the lantern and sliding into his own tent. The last thing she heard was the zip of their tent door, and Y/n let herself finally drift off to sleep. 

“That sounds like it was a good time.” Taehyung remarked, his eyes amiable and easy-going. 

Y/n gave a tight lipped smile, her throat suddenly feeling tight with the visions of the past. “It was.”

That was one of the memories she had replayed over a thousand times during her time away at school, like an aged VHS tape that had gone frayed with how many times she had rewound it just to watch it again. She had thought that she had worked through all of the feelings it brought on in crushing waves of grief–and she had–until a new layer was added from the night prior. The image of Hoseok’s sleep-muddled face as he whispered words of commitment to her left a sour taste in her mouth. 

“Crazy to think that Jimin used to be shy.” Taehyung chuckled, sensing a shift in mood and trying to redirect her thoughts back to something pleasant.

That managed to pull a snort from Y/n, and she brought her own lukewarm tea to her mouth for a tiny sip. “It only took him a few months after that for him to really find his place with us. Then he became just as shameless and clingy as he is now. Goodluck trying to find that old Jimin now–if you want to see him you’ll have to find some witch to put a spell on him or something–find a private investigator. That man is gone.” 

Taehyung let out a full bellied laugh, the sound cutting through his exhaustion and lighting up the room. “Oh completely gone.” 

Y/n cracked a small smile, trying to come up with her next question for the man in front of her, finding herself lost in his alluring aura and the true unfiltered image of him she was seeing at an ungodly time of night (or day depending on your perspective of things). 

“Out of questions already?” Taehyung recentered himself, letting out a fake sigh of disappointment. 

“Am not,” Y/n rebuked, taking a risk with her next question, “In fact I just thought of one now.” Y/n leant across the table, sliding her cup closer to his. “What makes you a skeptic? Religion? Upbringing?” 

Taehyung cleared his throat and squeezed his lips together,  and it became apparent to Y/n that the question was much riskier than she had expected–his face taking on a shade of discomfort she had never seen from him before. 

Y/n felt shame fester beneath the surface of her subconscious, the extended silence between them growing stifling. “Sorry if that’s a sensitive topic. You don’t have to answer if it makes you uncomfortable–I can think of a different one.” 

“It’s fine.” Taehyung gnawed at his bottom lip, drawing in a heavy breath. “Do you want my real answer or do you want an easy answer?” 

“Real.” Y/n breathed out before she had even realized she had opened her mouth. 

He nodded, and leaned his weight onto his elbows at the edge of the table. “I could give you an answer about science or data or whatever–but it’d be a lie. And I don’t feel like lying today.” 

Y/n swallowed, looking up at him with unwavering curiosity–one of her fatal flaws. 

“My uncle–as I’ve previously mentioned–lived with us full time when I was growing up. I’m really close to him, and he became like a second father to me. I think about him a lot when I’m practicing or playing music.” Taehyung recalled, his eyes taking on a more distant appearance as if watching his own memories fly by. “I used to perform for him all of the time because it helped calm him down. Every show—every recital I had–he was there, front and center.” 

 “He really struggled.” Taehyung shook his head, bringing himself back to the present. “Mentally I mean.” He clarified, his eyes scanning Y/n’s face for any signs of how she was responding, but she gave none–just patiently waiting for him to share whatever he wished to. 

“We could never afford to get him an official diagnosis when I was younger, but we knew something was troubling him. He’d talk about being watched and his moods would flip dramatically–he was completely unpredictable. One moment he’d be how I knew him best: caring, supportive, great at telling jokes, and a kickass chef. The next he would go into these,” Taehyung brought his hand up to wind in aimless circles, “episodes. He would become irrational and talk of seeing people watching him from behind doors and curtains, that there were people coming to get him, or accuse my dad of stealing something of his or lying. Things he genuinely believed were true. Things that genuinely distressed him. 

“It was scary sometimes. Not him–he never scared me really–but the situations he could put himself in were scary. On multiple occasions he would disappear overnight, and we wouldn’t be able to find him until morning once we were able to get some neighbors involved. We couldn’t call the police whenever it happened because we didn’t know what state he would be in at any given time, and we didn’t want them to think he was a threat when he was actually just probably scared and upset. 

“After the first instance we had to install cameras around the house and trackers into his phone, and we did our best to learn what helped him manage and cope with these episodes without medical intervention. Pretty much all of my paychecks from the first six months I worked here went to getting him into a psychiatrist, and putting him on medication after he checked all of the boxes for Schizophrenia–and I wouldn’t have had it any other way. I get to see him be more at peace with himself now. And while he still has good and bad days,  it’s much easier on him and that’s all I could’ve ever asked for.” Taehyung licked his lips and brought his eyes down to avert her gaze. 

“Wow. Tae that's…” Y/n breathed, unsure of what to say. 

“A lot, I know. Not as simple as being a man of science.” He let out a dry chuckle “But let me circle back to the original question, because all of that was relevant–I swear I’m not just dumping on you for no reason.” He shifted in his seat, his demeanor becoming more confident. 

 “I’m a skeptic because I think the human mind is vast, and complicated. I think it can be dangerous to feed too much into the idea that there are mystical things we can’t see or explain, especially seeing first hand how many people tried to ‘pray’ for my uncle or suggest that what he was going through was good because he was talking to angels or some other bullshit.” His head cocked to the side quickly in a short burst of irritation. “I know they mean well, but if that was the only people he had been surrounded by, he would’ve never gotten the care he needed and would still be struggling. I personally prefer to keep my feet grounded in reality as much as I can.” 

“I’m sorry I asked–I should’ve just let it be.” Y/n deflated, feeling like she had forced him to be too vulnerable too quickly. 

“Don’t be sorry, I’m proud to talk about him.” Taehyung fixed her with an honest look. “He is one of the best people I know.” 

Y/n looked at him, taking in the way his eyes flashed with love and passion at the mere mention of his uncle and felt warmth bloom in her chest with admiration. “What was your favorite thing that he cooked?” Y/n inquired.

Taehyung looked at her blankly, before his face lit up with understanding and mirth. “He made a mean braised short rib when we could afford to buy it.” 

“Sounds delicious.” Y/n smiled at him over the lip of her cup. “What else?” 

She spent a good half hour getting lost in the way Taehyung described all of the wonderful foods his uncle (who Y/n learned was named Yeongjae) used to cook for him. Y/n could almost taste each dish with how well Taehyung depicted the texture and flavor, and felt as though she was sitting at the table with them as he retold his favorite memories that surrounded each dish.

 After a while, a few guests that were begrudgingly awake had wandered in and out of the cafe to leave with tired eyes and hands full of food and drinks to take up the elevator to their families–though it felt like they were on a different plane entirely. The two of them were lost in a world of scratched wooden tables, ugly overhead lamps from the seventies and a story about when his uncle had made too many dumplings–her hands aching in phantom pains from the laborious efforts Taehyung had gone through to help him fill and fold them all. 

She enjoyed the small bubble her and Taehyung had created. It felt safe. 

Safe from the horrors that everyone else was wrapped up in, like he was a breath of normalcy that helped her forget that there would be things she needed to face when she returned to her room.  And she relished in it, going as far as to slide her hand across the table and let their fingers engage in a delicate dance of just barely ghosting each other as they fiddled with their cups. It felt normal, and she liked it. 

“I guess it’s my turn to ask you another question.” Taehyung crushed his empty cup in his hand and played with the crumpled ball. 

“Oh shit–yeah I guess so.” Y/n laughed lightly. “Go right ahead.” 

“Are you feeling a bit better now?” 

Y/n’s breath caught in her throat, her eyes locked with Taehyung’s prodding yet beautiful ones, a knowing look dancing within their brown confines. She swallowed, a new type of warmth spreading throughout her chest and into her cheeks. He had done this for her. 

“Yes. I am.” Y/n nodded, enjoying the boxy grin that spread across his face in response. 

“Good.” He let the hand resting on the table start to play with her fingers. “If you ever have any other bad days, I’m just across the hall. Whenever you need me.” 

 _________________________________________

Y/n had spent almost her entire Sunday in and out of sleep (save for the ten minutes she took to watch the live stream sent to her email of Jimin walking across a stage in his cap and gown). Thoughts of finding Bear, her grandmother, and her friends leaving her unable to get any restful sleep. 

There was still no word from either Hoseok or Jin–and a small voice at the back of her head even wondered if they knew she was still alive. That voice was one she had to squash each time it tried to weasel its way into the forefront of her mind, because it was something she couldn’t even begin to humor. 

To make matters worse, whenever she had seen Jungkook that day, he looked like he was split down the middle–constantly oscillating between looking at her expectantly, brows knit and eyes piercing; or like he couldn’t bear to look at her at all. Y/n had to tell herself that it had everything to do with how he was handling his own processing of his jump in power, or else she was worried about what any other reality might possibly do to her mental state at that moment.

At long last, Yoongi called her into his room with a simple text message. Though it struck her as odd that it was a private text and not to their group chat–she still obliged–grateful to have any excuse to escape the confines of her room without having to cope with Jungkook’s confusing stares. 

[Zoltar]: Hop on over when you have a minute. No rush if you’re sleeping.

The sun had gone down by now, and she readied herself for another session by already having Yoongi’s necklace clasped around her neck, and one of her own pillows tucked under her arm. She couldn’t look down at the carpet as she quickly rounded the corner to find his door already cracked open for her to walk right in–the courtesy of knocking forfeited. 

“Yoongi?” Y/n poked her head in, itching to get out of the hallway and into his room and closing the door gently behind her. 

He was seated at his desk, a pair of headphones shoved over his ears and his pencil working to shade a section of his paper. Y/n wasn’t sure if he could hear her, or if he had even expected her to come over so quickly–he had probably assumed she was still sleeping anyways. 

“Yoongs?” She tried again, her hand coming out to tap his shoulder. 

“Jesus fucking Christ!” He leapt almost a foot off of his chair, ripping his headphones from his head and looking up at her with wide eyes. 

“You’re the one that invited me here!” Y/n couldn’t help but snicker at his reaction, earning a very flat glare from him. “I called for you but you didn’t answer.” 

“Yeah and I thought you were asleep!” He clutched at his chest to calm his racing heartbeat, scrambling to pause the music that pulsed through his dropped headset. His eyes caught the pillow in her hand, and he paused, flicking them up to her quizzically. “What’s that for?” 

“For when I drink the tea again.” Y/n stated as if it were obvious. “Isn’t that what I’m here for?” 

“Not exactly.” Yoongi sighed, dropping his pencil into the cylindrical holder at the corner of his desk and turning his chair to face her. “I wanted to talk to you about something.” 

“Jeez, don't sound so grave.” Y/n grunted from the back of her throat, but the look on his face told her he wasn’t in a joking mood. 

“It’s about the psychic stuff.” He started slowly, taking his time to ease the words from his mouth and gauging her reaction with each one.

No, she thought to herself, don’t you dare. She settled for a quick “What about it?” instead, feeling it was more appropriate. For now. 

He quickly brought his hands up in surrender. “Before you bite my head off, I’m not telling you to quit. So get that out of your head because I can see it swimming there.” 

Y/n released a breath she didn’t realize she was holding, and lowered herself onto his bed, drawing out the end of her words to raise into a question. “Okay…?” 

“It’s about the next steps. About who we see next.” He swallowed thickly, and started to pick at the skin of his arms as he folded them over one another. 

“Bear, obviously.” Y/n stated, unsure of where he was going. 

“Yes–I know Bear.” Yoongi nodded a bit too quickly, wetting his lips twice in succession. “But I think there’s someone else we need to see first. That I need to see first.” 

Y/n tried to wrack her brain for who else could be as important at the moment, but couldn’t come up with a reasonable answer. “Who? Matilda?” 

“Well yes but not yet.” Yoongi looked everywhere but her, his foot tapping aggressively at the floor. 

“Yoongi I swear to god, just spit it out.” Y/n begged, her hands squeezing the pillow in her hands. “You’re being weird and it's freaking me out.” 

Yoongi finally looked at her, his eyes spearing through her to get a read on how she was feeling–a look she was beginning to recognize on his face. “I want to see my grandfather. I need to see him. There was something really important that he had tried to tell me before he died but I didn’t listen–and I think it’s relevant now.” 

Y/n scrunched her face up, blinking in bewilderment. “Why were you scared to tell me that? I wouldn’t be mad or anything.” 

Yoongi heaved a sigh, dispersing some of his anxieties into the air between them, his mutterings so low she almost couldn't hear it. “It’s not you I’m worried about…” 

“Who are you worried about?” Y/n tilted her head, giving him a once over. 

“The kid–Jungkook.” 

Y/n wanted to laugh–she really did–the idea of Yoongi being scared of Jungkook was too funny of a tease to pass up. But any sounds that had started to bubble up from her lips were silenced by the way his legs shook with agitation, and his eyes turned icy, shutting her up immediately. 

“Why would you be scared of him?” Y/n breathed out, now at a loss. 

“Because I fucked up.” Yoongi ran a hand through his hair, leaving it more wild than before. “I fucked up with him a couple years ago after you had left.” 

“I can’t imagine it could’ve been that bad…” Y/n tried to ease into the conversation, but even she couldn’t quell the spirit of inquiry that livened within herself. She knew something must have happened between the two of them for Jungkook to be so volatile when she had first returned–she had just assumed it was her mom’s wedge that she had put between them and never thought to ask any further. 

“Well you weren’t there.” Yoongi whispered. 

“Then explain it to me.” She instinctively brought one of her hands out to lay over one of his own, feeling the way his skin flexed over his knuckles when they tried to pick at his skin with more fervor. “I think my turn to be your therapist is long overdue anyways.” 

“After you left–like I said before I knew something was wrong. Your mom wasn’t breaking, and I was only just diving into the occult. I needed help to get answers and I knew where I wanted to go for it first.” 

“Jungkook.” Y/n affirmed, letting her fingers curl around his palm to stop their nervous onslaught. 

“Yeah. I asked him to help me find G-min–to go into the spirit realm and find him so I could ask him questions. Ask him about all of his nonsensical ramblings and the messed up ink drawings he would lose himself in every day. And selfishly, I wanted to just see him one more time like Jungkook got to.” Yoongi stared daggers into his desk like it was the most despicable thing in existence. “He trusted me. Maybe even a bit too much. 

 I was so blinded with rage at your parents, and residual grief that I pushed Jungkook harder even when he asked me if we could stop. And he listened. Followed me blindly because that’s just who he is–and I abused his trust. Pushed him too far for my own gain and wish to prove your mom wrong and catch her in her lies.” 

“What happened to him?” Y/n whispered, now twining her fingers one by one in between his own. 

“I was an amateur with this stuff and in over my head with it all. I didn’t use the right combination or the right wards for what I was doing, and was only able to get myself just to the precipice of the other side when he collapsed into a heap. His eyes were stuck black and open, and he couldn’t see anything but ghosts. I couldn’t get him out and it scared the shit out of him–rightfully so.” Yoongi’s voice grew muddy and wet. “And then I had the audacity to ask him again. Then we fought and called each other some nasty shit. I had to switch rooms with Hoseok because we just couldn’t bear to see each other for a while. Only added fuel to the fire of pointed fingers and rumors your mom threw at me, and everyone just started assuming I was some devil worshipper or necromancer and that I’m the one causing all the crazy shit.” 

Y/n let out a shaky breath, letting him have a few moments after his confession to settle his mind. “Did anyone still talk to you after?” 

Yoongi barked a humorless laugh. “That’s funny. What do you think? You’ve seen how everyone acts around me. Namjoon was kind enough to actually listen after a year or so, though I could tell until you got here that he was doubtful of my true intentions. I think he listened more so for his own benefit, so we could join heads when it came to protection and stuff.” 

“If no one else believes there’s something to be worried about, why would they care? ” Y/n gripped his hand tighter within his own, hoping to convey the sympathy she felt for him in her bone crushing hold. 

“Because knowing something is happening and believing something is happening are two very different things. Knowing is passive. You can move on with your day when you just know something, pretend that merely dismissing it into the back crevices of your mind with the rest of the trivial facts you know means it’s not a problem. Whereas believing means you can’t deny it, you can’t avoid it. You don’t sit by and look away when things get sticky, you stand up and you push back–because you believe it’s the right thing to do. But because I was the only one, I was the odd one out. I was the enemy they chose to focus on.” Yoongi radiated waves of indignation, the heat smothering Y/n with their fury with each word he seethed through his teeth. “It’s a lot easier to just blame me than to stand up and face the reality that they are enabling. They would rather rot in a place of comfort than fight through something that could make them uncomfortable.” 

Y/n didn’t know what to say. There was nothing she could say to undo the mess that had been made, or the lines that had been crossed. Y/n just let herself say what she thought, and hoped that something from it would stick. 

“I for one, believe you. I believe that you are good.” Y/n used her other hand to trace comforting shapes on the back of Yoongi’s. “I wish I never would have walked out, I would’ve been able to help you from the start of all of this so you weren’t alone in all of this.” 

“You came back. That’s what matters. ” Yoongi let out a puff of air, doing what he could to limit any anger from seeping into his words. “I had started doing this all mostly for you anyways, so I can’t be angry with how you handled it. And unfortunately if I hold grudges and keep everyone out, I’d have no one left.” A small melancholy smile curved the edges of his mouth, his last phrase coming out in an attempted joke. “It’s better to have them on my side now even if that means swallowing my pride sometimes.”

Y/n wanted to join in on the jest, never turning down an opportunity to tease Namjoon—but she couldn’t move past something he had slipped in in the middle of his response that had something unfamiliar, something new curling under her skin and flowing through her blood stream. Something suffocating and freeing at the same time. 

“You did all that for me?” 

Yoongi’s head shot up to meet her gaze, his eyes unwavering and his ears twinged pink. “Of course I did. What they did was unfair to you, and if we all just stand by and let it happen to one person it's only a matter of time before they get comfortable enough to do it to us. No one left behind and all that bullshit.” 

Y/n felt tears well in her eyes, and for the first time in the past few days they weren’t because of something tumultuous–it was because she felt utterly amazed, loved, and supported. She felt seen. 

“I don’t care what nonsense they say about you. You are amazing, Yoongi Min.” She launched herself forwards, holding him close for the second time that weekend–probably the most they’ve hugged in almost a decade. “I’ll talk to Jungkook for you. He could never hate you–not forever anyways. We will figure out how to get you to G-min.” 

He didn’t fight it this time or falter, he let himself melt into her hold and grip her around her middle with just as much enthusiasm as she held him. She wondered when the last time someone had held him like this would’ve been–probably the Christmas she had left, or whenever his parents had been in the country. They really did have more in common than it had seemed, she noted, letting the small shudders of his shoulders and the single tiny sniffle that slipped out of his mouth just loud enough for her to hear go without comment. Rather focusing on carding one of her hands through his dark hair, and holding onto him tightly with the reminder that she did care–that she would still love him even if no one else would. 

 _________________________________________

[Morning Glory 🌼]: <image>

[Morning Glory 🌼]: I forgot to send this on Saturday. Look at this message that popped up in my family tree portal. Suspicious? 

[Jungkook ⚫⚫ 🔪]: Jimin? 

[Joon 🌱] : Are you sure you didn’t write that and forget? 

[Morning Glory 🌼]: Of course not Joon 🙄 I would know if I wrote something like that. 

[Morning Glory 🌼]: That’s what I’m thinking, Kook. 

[Joon 🌱]: 🤷Sometimes you forget things. 

[Morning Glory 🌼]: Not anything like that, dingus 😑 Why would I apologize to myself for snooping???? 

[Joon 🌱]: I’ve heard you have full conversations with yourself at the greenhouse, how am I supposed to know? 

[Morning Glory 🌼]: Ugh. Yoongi, anything insightful to offer? 

It had been almost two hours since she had sent the last message, and she couldn’t help but check her phone every second she could in between taking care of the gardens and greenhouse plants. Although still tormented by waves of headaches that now just become a part of her everyday, she couldn’t just say she might have worsened her concussion without raising any eyebrows. Thus she found herself tasked with easy jobs like watering and pest checks, or organizing the collected plants for the upcoming Spring pop up event the coming weekend into tall vases as they came in. 

It wasn’t like Yoongi not to respond. Maybe he was actually caught up in work for once? Y/n chortled at the thought the moment it rounded the corners of her brain, knowing that while he was a hard worker, he didn’t love his job enough to get lost in it for longer than thirty minute increments. 

A light tapping on the glass of the green house door pulled Y/n from the hunched shape she had taken to trim off any of the suckers that had sprouted from their tomato plants. She shucked off her gloves and tossed them onto the wooden table in the entrance room, unlatching the door to face who she suspected to be one of the high school kids here to help pick flowers dropping off another load. 

A small slip of paper was thrust into her face, fluttering down for Y/n to scramble to catch as it flipped in somersaults. No one stood at the door (no one she could see at least), but a faint whiff of gunpowder and dirt drifted from the paper, leaving her with only one guess at who the messenger could possibly be.

“Tree man?” Y/n beckoned, craning her neck out of the door. 

The grass rustled a few feet to her left where two boot prints indented into it, stilling at her call. 

“Thank you for the other day.” Y/n grimaced at how awkward she sounded and how crazy she must’ve looked talking to nothing, but didn’t let the feeling get to her too much. “I appreciate it.” 

There was no verbal response, but the boot prints lingered for a few seconds longer before taking off in a sprint towards the woods. She took that as a sign of acknowledgement, and shut the door hastily to keep from bringing in attention from anyone else. 

She thumbed the small rectangular slip in her fingers, flicking it open with her thumbnail and reading the neat scrawl on its surface. 

“Can we talk? Historical society, 2pm. Please bring more of the stuff Namjoon had given me if you can.”

~Jimin

Y/n kept the note tucked in her apron the rest of the morning unless she was taking it out to show Namjoon, the pads of her fingers constantly running over the flimsy edges and the divots made from the pen. She restrained herself from texting him, for if that had been a safe option that would’ve probably been his first choice.

2pm couldn't have come at any slower of a pace. Jungkook came by that afternoon to escort her to the building, still giving her the same whirlwind of stares and brooding lip bites as the day prior–she was going to lose her mind if he didn’t just spit out whatever was bothering him and soon.

One thing at a time, she told herself as the front door to the historical building came into view, steeling herself to be ready for whatever was to come. 

“I’ll call you when I’m ready to leave. I’ll try to make sure it’s still within your lunch break, so I wont dilly dally.” She adjusted the plastic bag of dried herbs Namjoon had gathered for her on her arm, turning to give Jungkook one last look, one last chance to pull himself out of whatever funk he found himself in. 

He cast his gaze up into the trees, floating his eyes to follow the bees and dragonflies that zoomed overhead. “Okay.” 

Y/n exhaled sharply from her nose, but didn’t push it. If something was bothering him, he would only run further if pushed, and she would just have to wait until he was ready to confront it in his own time. She didn’t even make it to the awning, her boots barely scuffing the surface of the cool stone in front of the door when it was thrown open and she was yanked through it with a yelp. 

“Jimin! Are you–” 

He whirled on her, a finger pressed to his lips and his eyes imploring her to listen. Y/n swept her gaze over his face–rested, yet intense–his dirty blonde hair swept up from his forehead with how many times he had run his hands through it. He lowered his hand and used it to push open the second door once he was sure she understood his request for silence.

Jimin steered them forwards through the entrance room and weaved them through the main exhibition dome–the art that lined the walls of the lengthy hall that led to his office passing by in blurs of color and lines. He had yet to speak a single word when they stumbled into his office, though he turned to face her again the moment the door was closed with an outstretched hand, his fingers making a childish ‘gimme’ motion towards the bag. 

 Y/n thrust it into his arms and watched as he tore through its contents, frantically grabbing handfuls and stuffing fistfuls of dried lavender, rosemary, basil and garden sage into a stone bowl waiting at the center of his table. 

He rounded the table with purpose, swiping a pack of matches from the opposite end and fishing one out with quick-moving fingers. Striking it across the lip of the box, he dropped it into the pile of foliage until their edges started to singe with orange embers and weep wisps of smoke. He snuffed the end, lifting the bowl into his hands and wafting the smoke around the room until the scent enveloped them in its earthy and fragrant aroma. 

He set the bowl down back at the center of the table, letting it burn away unbothered. Y/n took it as her moment to speak up. 

“Can we tal–” 

Jimin held up one hand, his eyes blown out wide and frantically mouthing a ‘Wait!’ He jutted his head in all directions, patting down his pockets in search of something that he appeared to have misplaced. 

With newfound enthusiasm, he skipped over to one of his lounge chairs, snatching up something from the crack between the cushions and shaking about with vigor. 

After a few seconds of ear splitting jangling, Y/n was able to see that it was a golf ball sized round bell that he was shaking as though his life depended on it in each corner of the room. He discarded it into his pocket, and flicked on his record player to drown out the way his dress shoes clacked against the floor all the way to his desk. One of his drawers opened with a groan of aged wood against metal, and he clenched his teeth together with the effort it took to remain silent while he fumbled a small stick of frankincense into a ceramic holder, lighting it the same way he had done to the bowl of leaves. 

The scent recognition was immediate–the familiar smell that had been wafting about his office that she hadn’t been able to place during her last visit was the incense he was burning–the same incense Yoongi had given her to burn in her room as needed. 

Jimin stood taut, hovering over the burning twig with visible impatience. He was practically shaking–his brow irked and quivering, and his hands gripping at the edge of his desk with white knuckles. Only when the smoke curled up into relaxed whisps did he glide across the floors to engulf her in his arms, pressing his face into her shoulder and knocking the air from her lungs.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t say goodbye–I wanted to. They came to get me way earlier than expected and I knew it’d be too risky.” Jimin finally broke the dam, rocking them back and forth in a small circle. 

“It’s okay! I figured as much.” Y/n struggled to pull herself away enough to gesture to the herbs with her chin. “What’s all this? Jimin please tell me you can tell me something.” 

His amber eyes turned resolute, and he nodded eagerly. “I can. But I only have until they burn out to talk. Once they are snuffed, we have to go back to normal discussion or silence.” 

“Then you better start talking Jimin Park or god so help me–” 

“I can hear them. The spirits.” Jimin’s words spilled from his mouth like a weight had been lifted off of his chest. “I can hear them all of the time–all day every day. It never stops. I got used to tuning them out so long ago that I never bothered listening to anything they were saying until it was too late.” He took both hands to cradle her face in his hands, his eyes scanning her eyes. “They lie a lot. Saying anything they can to try and keep my attention for anything longer than a few seconds. Usually it’s vulgar or violent nonsense–but after I saw the bruising on your neck, I couldn’t help but start to crack. Then with what happened in the kitchen I just-” 

“You know about Hadwin? And what happened in the kitchen?” Y/n gasped, her hands sliding up to grip at his forearms.

“I do now, yes. I’m so unbelievably sorry for not listening to them sooner–maybe I could’ve helped you.” Jimin shook with emotion, pressing their foreheads together. “I’m sorry for being so cryptic–but a telephone works both ways. If I can hear them, they can hear me. Word travels incredibly fast to people you don’t want to be involved with when there are hundreds of ears waiting to ingest everything you say and spit it out to whoever can listen. It’s why I tried to get you to talk to me first, at the very least I could keep my responses vague and unassuming if you were the one doing all of the talking.” 

“Holy shit Jimin.” Y/n pulled away from him, her mouth blubbering with what to say next. “I don’t even know where to begin. I have so many questions I don’t know what to ask first.” 

“Any of them. Ask me any of them and I’ll do my best to answer.” Jimin grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the small plush loveseat near his reading area and tugged her down to sit next to him. 

Y/n had so many questions fighting for dominance in her mouth, that she ended up blurting out the first one that stuck–though it wasn’t one she cared for. She just needed to break the ice. “What were you saying about Taehyung when we were on our date? What was that?” 

Jimin bellowed out with melodic laughter, tucking her close to his side with a timid swipe of his tongue across his lower lip. “It was a lousy attempt at trying anything to get you to understand that I can hear things. The night at the Adelaide, you came out of the greenroom looking like you’d seen a ghost and I figured it was Bea–she calls Taehyung the new egg anytime she brings him up.” 

“The name’s Bea.” The woman stood far shorter than Y/n, and took graceful strides towards where she stood, stopping a few feet away and holding out a gloved hand. “The bee’s knees of the Adelaide. Though the new egg is quite the snazzy showman if you ask me.” 

“Taehyung is a good egg, isn’t he?” He blurted out, cutting her off and regarding her heavily over his shoulder. 

“Oh my god!” Y/n jumped against the cushion with excitement, jostling the two of them against each other while her brain connected the dots. “I never would have put that together!” 

“Sorry…”Jimin sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. “I did the best I could in the moment.” 

“On Saturday, was that you in the family tree portal?” Now that she had asked the first question, the rest were barreling from her mouth before she could think.

His face flushed pink, and he shook with a weak chuckle. “Yes, that was me. I really apologize for snooping when I said I wouldn’t–but after looking over your cute little hand drawn tree with all the x’s, I started to piece together information of my own that I’ve been gathering from them. Figured you could use a hand. Did you see Clarence around the property, or what triggered that?” 

Y/n sunk into the couch with a powerful exhale. “ Do you know what happened this weekend yet or have you not caught up?”

Jimin’s brows furrowed, his eyes turning steely. “I haven’t gotten the chance to debrief between coming back to work and setting up time with you. What happened?” 

“I was at the guest house with–” 

The doors to Jimin’s office burst open, Namjoon stood bracing it against the wall to keep it from closing in on them with the force that Jungkook had shoved it open with. Both of their chests were heaving with their efforts to catch their breath, having clearly run through the building to get here. Jungkook’s jaw was clenched so hard she could see the muscles of his face twitching, and Namjoon’s eyes blazed with a fierceness she hadn’t seen since he had first found out about Hadwin. 

“Why didn’t you answer your phone?” Jungkook demanded sharply, stepping further into the room, his eyes trained on the smoldering bowl. 

“Sorry, I didn’t hear it go off–but everything's fine! I'm safe!” Y/n jumped from her spot on the couch with a spirited grin, pulling Jimin up with her. “Guys, Jimin can–”

Namjoon cut her off, his tone uncharacteristically short. 

“Yoongi is missing.”

_________________________________________

_________________________________________

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taglist: @rkive-joonie @kokoandkookie

[mytaegiheart]

Give Me A Good Ride: A Dirty Shorts Fic

Park Jimin x Female Reader

Rating: 18+ (minors DNI)

Prompt: Hearing him moan while going down on him has to be the most satisfying sound ever.

Author Note: I may be slightly unhinged. Lol!

Story notes: Just Shameless Smut

A low groan slipped from his lips as his body sank into the cushions on the couch.

”That feels good.” he whispered as you massaged the muscles in his shoulders.

He had come home from working in the studio all day, feeling like a lead balloon. It had been a particular grueling session and he just wanted to sleep and forget the day ever happened.

You arrived home from your own work about a half hour after and spotted him sitting on the couch, head back, eyes closed. You knew he wasn’t asleep.

”Bad day?” you asked, slipping up behind him and placing your hands on his shoulders.

”Long day.” he mumbled, not opening his eyes. You started squeezing his shoulder muscles and he groaned at the feeling.

”Let me help you relax then.” you replied, moving one hand to the muscle at the back of his neck.

”Okay.” he agreed, sitting up slightly to remove his shirt. It never failed to make you hot and bothered, seeing his muscled and toned frame in all its naked glory. Jimin was a fine specimen of man and he was all yours.

You stepped away while he turned over and laid himself flat on his stomach. You made your way around the couch and straddled his thick thighs, staring hungrily at his naked back, his moon phase tattoo calling you like a beacon. You can’t count the number of times you traced your tongue over that tattoo, driving him to distraction to the point he would grab you and make fierce passionate love to you until you were both exhausted.

Shaking those thoughts from your head, there would be time for that later, you ran your palms hard across his back and shoulder muscles, making him groan in pleasure, the sound shooting straight into your core and making you throb. You bit your lip.

You continued your ministrations before you scooted backwards down his legs, your hands moving to his fantastic ass and squeezing those globes hard. He gasped in surprise, not expecting it and making you smirk. You tugged on the belt loop of his jeans.

”Take these off.” you requested, sliding completely off his legs. He didn’t argue, didn’t complain, just got to his feet and quickly removed them, revealing the fact that he had decided to go commando that day. “Fuck, Jimin!” you moaned, unable to help yourself.

A naked Jimin was a danger to your sanity Jimin… and he knew it, the grin on his face attesting to that.

You couldn't control what you did next if you tried. You stepped into his personal space and yanked him into a kiss. He gave as good as he got, biting your bottom lip before dipping his tongue into your mouth, making you moan. You ran your hands over his naked and toned chest before shoving him back, breaking your kiss as he landed sitting down on the couch.

Before he could catch his breath, you were on your knees between his muscular thighs, mouth wrapped around his cock. You relaxed your throat muscles, taking him all the way down and the moan that fell from his lips was the most satisfying sound you'd ever heard in your life.

Just knowing you could reduce him to that sound? It always made you hot.

Saliva coated his skin in a thin layer as your head bobbed up and down on his thick and pulsing flesh and his hand slid into your hair, grabbing on tightly and forcing your head down. He always did try to choke you – but he could never accomplish it, your gag reflex was non-existent.

“Fuck!” Jimin cursed, head falling back into the couch cushions as you sucked harder. You freed a hand from one of his thighs to gently caress his balls and he bucked up into your mouth.

His moans and gasps of pleasure were music to your ears as you let him fuck your mouth, chasing his own pleasure.

“Oh f-fuck!” he groaned loudly, tightening his grip on your hair as he thrust hard one last time, flooding your mouth with cum. You didn't waste a single drop, swirling your tongue all along his thickness as you slowly pulled away. He shivered from oversensitivity while you pulled off with a soft pop, licking your lips. You sat back on your heels, watching him struggle to catch his breath as he came down from his high.

He slowly raised his head after some time and pinned you with the darkest look he'd ever given you and you knew you were in for a wild ride. You got to your feet and stripped out of your clothes a few seconds before he yanked you into his lap, kissing you hard...

-End-

Read other shorts in this series: Seokjin | Yoongi | Hoseok | Namjoon | Jimin | Taehyung | Jungkook

[the-djarin-clan]

When you look for a fic on Tag Reader and the main character already has a name and social security number...

[jincapableoflove]

A Recipe for Love [JIMIN MOODBOARD]

LINK TO THE SERIES MASTERLIST

Pairing: Jimin x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: baker/chef! jimin, baker/chef! reader, forbidden romance, angst, fluff, potential smut

Series summary: As their town announces its first-ever baking competition, Kim Y/n and Park Jimin find themselves pairing up to participate. However, the generations-old feud between their families prevents them from doing so. In order to avoid stirring up further animosity between their families, Jimin and Y/n must be secretive. Will Jimin and Y/n be able to be stealthy enough to navigate their days practising and testing out recipes for the competition, without their family members finding out?

[ruerecs]

fanfic writers NEVER contemplate or apologise for your fic being over 3-5k words long, we readers LOVE longer fics!! anyways have a good day/night 🙂‍↕️

[seokjinsonlyone]

even more niche boyfriend things i think bts would do

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

namjoon:

not a newborn baby but is a big proponent of the kangaroo care concept; like loves to cuddle you while he’s shirtless; him on his back you laid on top of him, skin touching skin at every possible contact point; it does it for him every time

sends you pictures of animals he finds wandering around when he’s out and about 

takes soooo many pictures of you; don't get me wrong there's a fair share of couples photos like you're definitely taking selfies together whenever y'all go out but he takes twice as many off guard pictures of you as posed ones; definitely has a pic of you during golden hour forlornly looking out a window as his lockscreen

asks you to make him a playlist and listens to it whenever he misses you even if it's really disjointed and doesn't fit his mood simply bc you made it and he's always in the mood for you <333

learns to be more gentle around you so he becomes 5-7% less clumsy when you’re around

if you went to a party together i think there’d only be like one hour max where you’re separated from each other any more than that and y’all both start getting fidgety from missing each other bc if you’re in the same space you absolutely have to be together; when you do meet back up he tucks you up underneath his arm and kisses your temple and y’all are sickly cute for the rest of the night; like enough lovey dovey pda to make someone nauseous

always amazed at the amount of stuff you manage to bring out the house; like you'll come out after him and he sees you walking towards the car, arms stuffed to the brim with water bottles and lotions and umbrellas and whatever else you deemed necessary for the day's outings, so he has to rush to help you before you drop everything; eventually gets hip to the fact that you're a a girl and you're always gonna have bunch of things and starts pre-loading your belongings so you won't have to struggle

Oblivious Boyfriend™; as smart and emotionally intelligent and mindful as he is, he's not a mindreader; like he be so focused on his feelings for you, his passions, and his work that he lowkey don't know wtf going on outside of that; so if there's something going on around you or something wrong with you or you have a problem with him you're gonna have to spell it out lest he be none the wiser

doesn't like when you watch him work out because you're more of a distraction than anything but he does like going to you straight after working out; he gets a real kick out of the way you ogle him and feel up on his biceps while he's all pumped up 

he really likes when you call him cute nicknames; joon, joonie, joonie boonie, namu like it lowkey make his heart soar; his personal favorite is joon bug you call him that and he would literally steal the moon if you asked 

seokjin:

tests out all his new recipes on you; feeds you bites to taste along the way so you're not too hungry because he's a perfectionist and it takes him extra time for him to plate it; "the presentation is just as important as the taste!"

likes when you’re in the same room as him while he plays his games; not necessarily watching him but just your company is enough; switches between focusing on the game and engaging you in conversation so you won’t get bored; would actually love it if you did take an interest in whatever game he was playing; would take his time explaining the back story of each character and their strengths and weaknesses; would start a separate game so that you could play and have you sit between his legs while he helped you with the controls

has to kiss you at least 3 times before leaving the house; once when you wake up, once while you’re going through your morning routine, and once before you leave; more kisses may be shared but any less than three and he swears his whole day is thrown off

he’s going to pick at you; there’s just no way around it it’s in his nature; he won’t do it enough to make you actually annoyed but enough that you wanna smack him around a little; which… he likes things like that

has no problem singing and dancing whenever y'all are casually listening to music but if you actually wanted him to sing for you he'd get all shy, red in the ears and neck and would have to take a couple days to practice before following through

begs you to join him for tennis practice bc he wants you two to become the next venus and serena

y’all will do that one couples trend on tiktok where they paint each other and then reveal the pictures at the end and it’s not like yours is fantastic or anything but you can tell that you at least tried; meanwhile when you see seokjin’s painting you can’t tell if you’re looking at a distorted walrus or a possessed squirrel either way it is NOT you no matter how much he insists it looks like you

stays sending you thirst traps; like whenever he looks good whether it's bc he's all dolled up for some event or he's fresh out the shower with his hair slicked back or he just sees himself in a mirror and remembers he's worldwide handsome, his phone is out, he's putting a sultry look on his face, snapping a pic, and sending it straight to you

you binge watch animes together; no one will see or hear from either of y’all for like 5 days straight, complete radio silence; and when someone finally knocks on the door they see that y’all been camped out in the living room no phone in sight on season 6 of whatever anime y’all started last friday night  

must feed you every time you meet up; like if he has not seen you eat something in the time you spend together he has not completed his boyfriend duties; even if he comes to your place he has to make sure you have at least eaten a snack; doesn't matter how much you weigh he absolutely can not have you wasting away on his watch

yoongi:

gently tucks your hair behind your ear

always offers you his arm to link when it’s cold out so y’all can share each other’s warmth; he absolutely will still be wearing slides with no socks tho and you fuss at him about it every time

lets you play in his hair; just sits there nonchalantly while you give him the most ridiculous hair styles; pig tails, corn rows, mohawks; as long as you don’t cut nothing he doesn’t care fr; takes a picture when you’re done with that big gummy smile on full display bc of how silly he looks

says he's not a big social media person but one of his favorite past times is sitting down with you scrolling down your fyp for hours; makes you send the funniest videos to him so he can watch later

you’re one of the few people that he gains energy from being around so he likes your presence even when you’re not particularly doing anything; like you just be sitting next to each other or like be hand in hand on a walk around the neighborhood not even saying anything but in his head he’s thinking about what a great time he’s having 

if you're up late at night and start feeling peckish he'll make you some snacks even if he doesn't plan on eating; still scolds you about how eating late at night is bad as he's enabling you; ends up eating with you too

he doesn't like watching dramas with you; he'll claim it's bc of the plot but really he just doesn't like how you be kicking your feet and giggling at the male leads

not the best with verbal affirmations so whenever he does go out of his way to compliment you he ends up just as flustered as you are; “you look pretty today” and his cheeks are flushed more than yours 

always preps you to bargain and gathers together all coupons before y’all go grocery shopping; “just bc i’m rich doesn’t mean i like to be ripped off” 

he's always listening to you even when it seems like he's not; you could be rambling on about something and you think he's not paying attention so you stop midsentence and be like "are you even listening to what i'm saying?" and he looks up from whatever he was doing and then repeats back to you everything you said; has a great memory in general so he remembers everything you say and do even the small things that you forget about

hoseok:

sends ‘thinking of you’ texts just to let you know when you’re on his mind

if you start dancing to a song he gets all hyped up and he’s joining you immediately; hands on your hips moving you as he pleases; it’s a club wherever you and the music are

makes you one of his little beaded bracelets that says “ur my hope”

if you fell asleep in a position that looks uncomfortable he’d gently rearrange you until he got you in a more normal position; 100% the type to carry you bridal style to bed if you fell asleep for the night on the couch 

the type to pop up at your crib with an insane amount of the most exquisite, top tier take out and you gotta try to figure out who he think eating all this; doesn't even try to fight the boujee allegations when you tease him for bringing out caviar and truffles 

always takes pics of you when he thinks you look good; like you could be running late and you’re rushing trying to get out the door but hoseok is just gonna spend a good 30 seconds checking you out while you’re fussing at him and then be like wait a minute and starts posing you; has several organized folders of you because of this labeled by genre of your look; it’s easier that way so when he’s showing people pictures of you they won’t accidentally get a peek of something meant for his eyes only

loves the idea of you becoming his family so he really likes bringing you home; warms his heart to see you getting along with his parents and his sister; sets up a group chat with you him and his sister to help y'all talk more but lowkey gets pouty when y'all do get closer and be chatting and hanging out without him 💀

if you're not already together he'll facetime you in the morning; he won't have much to say at first other than a groggy good morning; but after he comes to terms with the fact that he has to be awake and takes a couple sips of his iced americano he's his usual ball of energy sunshiny self; will have you up doing morning stretches and light calisthenics at 6:30am

every couple weeks y'all go to the nail salon together and get mani-pedis; he leaves the acrylics and jewels and glitter to you but the overall color scheme and design aesthetic for your nails match; takes like 17 pictures of your hands together to show off

loves cuddling up to you on the couch so you can play in his hair; like each time his head is resting on your chest and your hand is running through his hair lightly scratching at his scalp he swears he’s reached nirvana 

jimin:

will drag you out the house in the middle of winter to drive down to the beach and watch the sunset together; you’d be huddled up together you sat in between his legs leaning against him his arms draped around your neck pulling you into him; you’d stay there sitting in the sand even after the night settled in just talking until you were shivering and sniffling then he’d take you to a cafe to get some hot cocoa to warm up 

randomly calls you in the middle of the night bc he misses your voice; smiles the entire he’s getting scolded for scaring you bc you thought something was wrong bc he called you at 2am

kisses your forehead, nose, and lips in that order every time you part ways 

hates knowing there's other people staring at you so like if you're out together and wearing like a hoodie or something and he notices you're garnering attention he zips it all the way up and pulls your hood over your head and tightens the strings so no one can see you; in turn knows you hate the thought that other people even think of him so he pretends they don't even exist; like you can literally point somebody out and be like "omg aren't they so pretty" and he's gonna avert his eyes in the opposite direction won't even look and just be like "you're so pretty. there's only you"

number one advocate for a lazy morning; snuggles into you, his head on your chest trapping you in; looks up at you with a goofy smile and preens when you press a kiss to his forehead

squishes your cheeks in both his hands when you're being too cute for him to handle

like the true feminist he is, he supports your rights and wrongs!!; like you get into it with somebody and then tell him the story afterwards he's hyping you up the entire time telling you that you were right and what you should've done and what he would've done if he were you; he's just always gonna be on your side

riles you up just bc he likes the reactions you make when you’re irritated 

it’s tea city when it comes to you two; like whatever you know he knows and whatever he knows you know; gossiping is actually one of your favorite bonding activities; he likes to play it up and drag it out whenever he finds something out; like he’s gonna text you and be like UR NOT GONNA BELIEVE THIS!!!!! and you’ll be like WHAT and he’ll be like I HAVE TO TELL YOU IN PERSON OMG!!!! 😱 when it’s like noon knowing darn well he not getting off work until 10pm at the earliest 😭

likes to go with you when you have to “run errands” bc it’s usually just you doing girl things like getting coffee and then going to the store to buy snacks and skincare and he thinks it’s really adorable how you light up when you see small things in cute packages

taehyung:

has a series of like 12 hour logs in his phone recents list bc he stay falling asleep on facetime

makes it a point to hang out with your male friends just to assert dominance; doesn't matter if they have partners of their own or are completely uninterested in you he still wants to look them in their eye, shake their hand, and then put his arm around you to tie up any loose ends that may be dangling around

helps you pick the eyelashes out of your eye whenever one gets stuck

asks you to come over with the sole purpose of convincing you to take a nap with him; will straight up lie on the phone and tell you he wanna hang out and do this and that and then when you get over there he like let’s nap first; your cuddles just gon do it for him every time

uses kisses as bargaining chips; like if you need him to do something like idk take out the trash he's only gonna do it if you give him 3 kisses so you give him one as a down payment and the other 2 after he completes the task; (he was always gonna do what you asked but kisses make everything better)

likes to keep his hands free when he's out and about so he's always adding extra stuff to your purse; because he's always in your bag, he knows its exact content; you'll be frantically searching for your lip gloss and he'll ask what you're looking for and when you tell him he'll pull it out of some random side pocket he moved it to so he could make room for his stuff

will randomly wake up out of his sleep and call you just bc you crossed his mind; takes like 30 seconds to respond to anything you say bc he only half awake; the call lasts for like three minutes before he hangs up to go back to sleep 

as a big fan of roleplay at least once in your relationship he's gonna make y'all get all dressed up and go to a bar separately and act like strangers and he's gonna pretend to pick you up

if you sent him out to pick up period products last minute he’s the type that ask if you wanted lemon or lime flavor bc one package is yellow and the other is green 😭; alternatively would ask what’s your coochie size when he noticed the numbers on it

he’s not gonna let you win at any game you play; doesn’t matter how much you whine and pout he likes winning too much; god forbid you’re actually good at something he’s gonna try his very hardest and will even practice so that he eventually beats you; will give you all the prizes tho

jungkook:

if he gets bored while you’re asleep he’s gonna start messing with you; his favorite go to games are flicking your bottom lip until you tuck it in or start to gain consciousness and stacking cheerios on your forehead; his personal best is 9 of em 

hooks his chin over your shoulder to be nosy when you’re watching something on your phone that catches his attention

he understands that you’re not as nocturnal as he is but sometimes when you stay over at his place and he feels restless he can’t help but crave your attention; will wake you up at 4am gently with kisses so you can try some of the food he made; you’ll be half asleep with him kneeling in front of you feeding you some spicy noodles; he’ll patiently wait for you to finish chewing before he asks you if it’s good; makes you take at least one more bite before kissing your forehead and letting you go back to sleep; tucks himself up next to you about an hour later after he finishes cleaning up after himself 

you make funny tiktoks together; they never leave the drafts of course except for when he finds it particularly hilarious and sends it in the group chat 

threatens to beat up anyone who upsets you; like you tell him a story about someone who was upsetting you at work and his first response is "bring them to me. i'll take care of it"; and lord don't let someone get carried away at a club or something like if a guy starts hitting on you and won't take no for an answer before you can even tell them off he's already at the scene one shove away from being breaking news on every media outlet in the world

gets pouty when you have a night out without him but he understands the need for balance so doesn’t put up too much of a fight; his only stipulation is that if you can’t make it home on your own or your friends can’t drop you off that you always always call him; the thought of you getting into some randos car late at night when you’re not even mentally there all the way sends chills up his spine; he can’t sleep unless he knows you’re at home safe and sound anyway 

doesn't consciously have a preference for how you dress like he thinks you look good in whatever but you in a dress or a skirt itches a particular part of his id that would have carl jung doing backflips; like whenever you pop out in a dress or a skirt he's coming up to you and giving you a kiss on the lips while his arms wrap around your waist and 10-30 seconds later they're dropping down and his hands are toying with the ends of your garment and grazing your thighs underneath it; it just does it for him every time

you're his safe place <333; he goes through periods where you're the only person he wants to see; he will scare you half to death like you'll get off work and go home and you hear all this noise and whole time it's him in your kitchen making sandwiches for lunch; will make up for scaring you by tucking your face into his neck while his arms are wrapped tightly around you so he can breathe you in and then cupping your face and giving you kisses; you're his baby

you have matching hyperfixations; like one of you will get into something and won’t shut up about it and then being the supportive partner you are whenever you’re on social media you send the posts you stumble across to them; but then the algorithm picks up on it and the content keeps popping so often that you actually start being entertained by it too; then y’all won’t shut up about it and have inside jokes and no one ever knows what y’all are talking about bc it’s so deep down into the referential millennial dadaism

gets offended if you’re walking side by side and not touching in some way; like if you start walking ahead of him or something he’s gonna clear his throat very pointedly and when you look at him like ???? he’s gonna look at you like you’re stupid and pull you into him where you belong 

a/n: as promised she is back 🫡 thank you to everyone who encouraged me to repost 💕 pls continue to be kind my mental state is probably worse than it was before LOL

[yoongsriverandme]

✩︵ 주문 — MIROTIC!

❝ You want me, you've fallen for me You're crazy about me, you can't escape me I got you under my skin (Ooh) … ❞

⤑ pairing: like crazy!park jimin x shy fem!reader

⤑ genre: smut, fluff, angst, rom-comy vibes, friends-with-benefits, s2l2f2l (they did some things out of order), idiots to lovers, college!au, fuckboy!au, reverse harem, mutual pining, "unrequited love," she fell first but he fell harder.

⤑ wc: 9.3k

⤑ summary: sleeping with your long-time crush was not how planned to confess your undying love to him, but if it was the only way you could be close to him then so be it. jimin's had a lot of lovers, and you're one of them, but why the fuck is he so bothered by the thought of you being with someone else?

⤑ rating: nsfw/explicit - proceed with caution!

⤑ warnings: fuck boy!jimin, popular "it" boy!jimin, shy "loser" girl!reader, lowkey toxic!jimin (i'm not sorry!), making out, bathroom sex, public sex, exhibitionism, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, A LOT of dirty talk, kinda shitty aftercare sorry, protected sex (pocket condoms 😓), JEALOUS jimin like holy shit, possessiveness, angst for a min, heavy pining, feelings realization, miscommunication, arguing, emotionally constipated!jimin, love confessions, angst with a happy ending (sorry nammy :/), not everyone gets a cameo this time sighs sadly.

⤑ date posted: march 9, 2025

⤑ authors note: HEY HEY HEY!!! bet you guys didn't expect this one!!! (i didn't either, random inspo struck me), but literally every single idea i've ever posted about IS sitting in drafts, and this one has been halfway done for weeks, so i figured i'd put it out there as i work on some of my other bigger pieces!

i ALSO just wanted to pop in here and say WOW, thank you so much for your support like... the feedback for my account has been phenomenal, and i want you all to know how touched i am!

with that out of the way, i hope you guys enjoy this fwb!au because wow was this a big one!

𓈒 ꪆৎ masterlist

⁘ preface: i only use bts as face claims! they are my muses, so anything they say or do, do not reflect their real life character!

The first time you ever talked to Jimin was when you had sex with him.

Now you know that sounds bad! 

But you had no idea what to do when he had come to you as you hovered awkwardly against one of the walls in the house party you had been forced to attend.

You were the designated driver for all intents and purposes, so the red solo cup that you had clasped in your hand was nothing but plain sprite, which was used as a mixer. 

‘Quite the devilish combination’ You couldn’t help but think as you swirled the carbonated liquid around boredly.

The room was stifling, filled to the brim with inebriated, sweaty bodies.

You were surrounded by sex, drugs and alcohol, some couples impatiently groping each other in the corner closests to you, and you forced yourself to look down, your cheeks warm at the blatant show of… affection.

It stunk, the music was too loud, and there were so many places you would rather be than here, like back home in your dorm studying, or watching an episode of your favorite show.

You didn’t fit into places like this, and you were one-hundred percent sure you had that fact stamped to your forehead.

The only pleasant part about this whole experience had been being able to see Jimin.

He was quite popular, and worlds away from you, but you couldn’t help but harbor a school yard crush on the pretty boy. 

He was just… tantalizing, with the way he spoke to the way he always held himself with a slight air of seduction. Boys and girls alike were ready to drop to their knees with so much as a word from the man, and you’re ashamed to say that you’re no different.

It was embarrassing, really, with how hard and fast you fell in love with somebody you barely knew, but he shared so much of himself, you felt as though you knew enough.

You know he’s funny, and kind, despite the… whorish, reputation that precedes him.

You’re in no place to judge, truly, because if he were to come up to you right now asking you if you would like to have sex with him, you would say yes.

“Lame party, right?” Sounds a voice from beside you.

You jump ten feet in the air, a bit of your drink spilling out over the edge of the cup as you fumble to keep the damn thing still in your hand.

“Uh – yes?” You answer with a slight grimace, your stomach drops to your ass when said host appears next to you.

Park fucking Jimin.

This was not what you meant! Not so suddenly! Not like this!

You stare at him dumbly as you spiral, and a small smirk tugs at the corner of his plush lips.

“You think?” He asks teasingly.

You instantly stumble to recover from your mistake. “No! Yes, no, I… I just –” You’re blubbering like an idiot, and Jimin seems to take great pleasure at reducing you to a flustered mess, but he relents with a laugh.

“”M just kidding.”

“No! I just… I’m not used to going to this sort of thing.”

“Oh?” Jimin questions with a raised brow. 

You put your drink on the small refreshment table next to you so you can wring your hands together as a nervous tick.

“I’m my friend's designated driver for the night, and they knew I wouldn’t be doing anything, so…”

“That’s selfless of you.” He compliments, and warmth spreads from the roots of your hair all the way to the tips of your toes. “Ah,” You try to wave him off. “It’s… it’s nothing. I don’t mind.”

“But also that makes sense.” Your brows furrow. “What makes sense?” You ask.

He bombards your space, hooded eyelids giving you a once over.

You’re suddenly very aware of how dirty and scruffed your converses are, and you fidget a bit under his scrutinizing gaze.

“That you haven’t come to one of my parties before, because I’d recognize your pretty face anywhere.”

Your eyes widened.

Holy shit. Was he hitting on you?

“Oh!” You laugh nervously. “That’s… that’s very sweet of you.” You gulp.

His smirk only gets deeper, and he leans closer so that his breath caresses the shell of your ear. If his intention is for you to be able to hear him over the music, he’s doing beyond a wonderful job at succeeding.

Your eyelids flutter rapidly, and your hands shake, and you have no idea where to put them as you lean back slightly.

“What do you say we go somewhere else?” He asks with a purr, pulling away just enough to gauge your reaction to his proposition.

Now, you’re not an easy girl. Jimin may sleep with anyone he wants, but you’re just not into that sort of thing, and you know better than to –

“Yes, please.” It comes out as a slight whimper, but he hears you nonetheless, because he takes you by the hand and pulls you through the throngs of people.

Your stomach is tied up in knots, and you’re not even sure if you’re still connected to reality.

Instead of taking you upstairs and into his room like you thought he would, he redirects you into the hallway and into the door, and your stomach drops slightly when he turns on the light to reveal a bathroom.

‘It’s nice’ You try to convince yourself, but your train of thought is cut off when a pair of heavy hands lay themselves on your jean-covered hips, pulling you closer to his body and trailing his lips up the side of your neck.

Your breath hitches and you let out a small, “Oh.”

“Do you still want this?” He murmurs into your ear once more, and you find yourself nodding rather enthusiastically, much to your embarrassment. Jimin just chuckles.

He spins you around, and your eyes land on the slope of his neck that disappears into his leather jacket. Fingers tuck themselves under your chin and force you to look at him.

“You’re a shy one.” He coos, and you shiver when his thumb caresses the corner of your mouth, dipping into it just a bit.

“I’m not used to this.” You admit with a self-deprecating grimace. “What a shame.” Is all he says before tilting your head back and connecting your lips.

The kiss is soft, softer than you would have expected from your soon to be hookup.

You’ve heard through the grapevine that he’s rather ferocious with his kissing, with spit and teeth, but somehow still making sure it's nice for his partner.

He cups your wrists and guides your hands to tangle themselves in his black mullet, and you’re relieved to be able to do something with your hands.

A whimper escapes you when his palms press you to him by the lower part of your back, turning you to the nearest wall for balance.

Soon, the kiss turns hungry, and you can feel the strain of him against his tight black pants, and you tremble, like putty in his hands.

You try your best to keep up with him, kissing back with a lot more fervour than you’ve ever done before.

You’ve had sex once, and that was just because you wanted to lose it before college, just so you could say you did it.

It was awkward because it was with one of the guys from your English class, and he looked like he didn’t know what he was doing either. It was stiff and it burned, and you weren’t sure if you were even turned on enough to participate in penetrative sex.

Well, the same can’t be said for you now, because you can feel the material of your panties grow damp with arousal, sticking to your folds and causing slight friction.

It’s when Jimin finally rolls his hips into yours is when you finally let out a true, loud moan.

“Thought you were going to be quiet all night.” Jimin teases, and you flush. “I - I’m sorry.” You mutter against his lips. 

He pulls back and strokes your cheek with the back of his knuckles. “Relax. ‘M just teasing.”

“Right, right.” You laugh demurely.

He lowers his head to the skin of your neck where he takes the skin of it between his teeth, and your hips buck into his on accident.

“Shit!” You curse, and you slap a hand over your mouth. “You like pain.” He says almost to himself. “Definitely noted.” 

You’re not sure what he means by that, but your mind seems to blank when his hands sneak their way to the button of your jeans, fiddling with the metal. That cursed thumb presses into the skin above the hem.

“Do you still want this?” 

“Yes, please.” You whimper. Jimin grins and you can feel it, because he places a gentle kiss on the surface. “How polite.”

You swallow a whine at his praise.

He pops them open with practiced ease, and pushes a hand into your pants, hissing when he comes in contact with your wetness.

“Fuck, you’re this wet just from kissing?” He asks in awe.

Jimin finally finds himself in your panties and you gasp when the tips of his fingers press on your clit.

“There it is.” He says to himself triumphantly.

He’s quick to flatten his hand, replacing the tips with the pads of his fingers, drawing quick but fast circles over the pleasurable bud.

“Jimin!” You cry, and your nails rake themselves through his hair, drawing him into you.

You hold him close as he rubs at you, and his free hand keeps himself balanced on the wall just above your hand, completely enveloping you with his body.

“Feels so good.” You mewl, and he nearly growls.

“God, you’re so cute.” He groans.

He takes his hand away and your eyes furrowed in confusion. Was it something you said?

You don't have much time to think because you’re being spun around and bent over the counter, and you’re face to face with your debauched features. 

“Jimin?” You ask, but you’re cut off by him snatching your pants and underwear down your hips and they pool at your ankles. 

You threaten to turn a scarlet red when he spreads your legs as far as they can go and just stares at your sex.

“Such a pretty pussy.” He rasps and you shiver.

He looks up and meets your gaze in the mirror, making to take his leather jacket off.

“‘M gonna fuck you with my fingers, then I’m actually gonna fuck you. Sounds good?”

“Amazing.” You squeak.

He presses his hand on your lower back to keep you anchored to the marble counter, while the other slips a finger in till he reaches the knuckle.

Your jaw drops in a silent moan, the slight stretch of it hurts for a moment, but your body soon adjusts to it, because he draws it out, no wonder noticing how it glistens in the dim lighting.

Then, he thrusts it back in, over and over and over again until a second one finds its place next to it.

The sounds that escape your cunt are disgusting, and you cross your arms to bury your head in them. 

You’ve never felt pleasure like this before, and when he curls his fingers just right, you all but wail.

“Found it.” 

He abuses your g-spot with a certain kind of cruelty, and an arm slips out from under you to scratch at the surface of the counter. Of course you don’t leave any marks, but the bluntness of your nails make it a makeshift anchor to this earth.

“Just listen to you.” He huffs. “She’s so sloppy.”

“Don’t – don’t say that.” You whine in humiliation. 

“Why not?” There’s amusement in his voice, and you hate how it makes another of arousal leak around his digits.

“‘Cause that’s dirty.” 

Jimin laughs. He actually fucking laughs and all you can think about is crawling into a hole forever.

“There’s a lot about me that’s dirty, sweetheart.”

You shake at the nickname, and he notices.

“Oh? You like it when I call you that?”

The condescension in his voice pushes you closer to the edge, and you can feel that familiar knot form in your stomach, the one you’re only able to create by yourself.

You clench around him and he gawffs.

“It seems like I’m not the only one that’s dirty.” He remarks. “What else should I call you?” He acts like he’s thinking as he twists his wrist into you without mercy, your legs shake.

There’s tears threatening to stream down your face.

“Hm. What about babe, or baby? Oh! Better yet, how about darling? Hm? Would you like that darling?”

Hearing him call you such sweet names does something to you, because before you know it, you’re catapulted over the edge. You spasm around him, and he just hums.

“There you go, good girl. That’s it.”

You shake as you come down from your high, and there are hands stroking the outside of your thighs, up your hips, and back down again.

Your eyes flutter open from where they squeezed themselves shut to find he’s already looking at you. His gaze is dripping in dark black molasses sticky with lust and want.

“Can we keep going, or are you at your limit?” Jimin checks in ever so gently. 

It makes you feel good knowing that he likes to make sure you know you’re still in control, and despite just having orgasmed, you find yourself painstakingly empty.

“‘M really good.” You slur, and a proud smile takes over his face.

He fumbles with the back of his jeans, and retrieves his wallet where he pulls out a condom from it. You eye it warily.

“I just put it in there yesterday, I promise.”

He makes work of his jeans, and you notice that he’s so so hard, and you almost feel bad for the poor man. Almost being the keyword, because when he releases himself from the confines of his boxers, you gape.

He’s averagely long, maybe even a little moreso, but god, is he thick.

He catches you staring and winks.

“Think you can take it?” He pokes and you huff. “Of course I can.”

He raises a brow at you, but rolls the condom on in a tortuously slow pace.

“Hurry up.” You whine, and he swats your ass.

“Be patient.” He chides with a hiss, but you’re still reeling from the sting of the slap to even comprehend what he just said.

Jimin settles a hand on your shoulder, the other helping him line himself up to your sopping wet entrance.

“Ready?” 

“Mhm.”

You both watch each other as he splits you open on his cock, and his head falls back as he groans through his clenched teeth.

“Oh!” You quiver on his length, reaching back to grab one of his hands and breathing out a sigh of relief when he meets you halfway.

He’s twitching inside of you, and you appreciate the few moments to gather your bearings.

“Move, please.” You mewl, and he doesn’t hesitate to listen to you.

Jimin drags himself out, breaking your eye contact to look down at where you’re wrapped around him. You’re so wet, the velvet of your gummy walls are making him feel a little faint.

Then, he thrusts back in until his hips are to your ass, and then he repeats, just for a few slow moments before picking up the pace.

The hand on shoulder pulls you down to meet his thrusts, and you cry out.

“Shit, Jimin!” 

“I know, I know – Fuck, you feel so good.”

His plowing is brutal, the tip of his cock spearing and bullying your g-spot with a pace that you can’t quite keep up with.

He releases your shoulder to grab each arm to help his leverage, and your eyes roll into the back of your head. You’re sure you’re drooling, but you can’t find much shame in it because it feels so good.

You know that Jimin has ruined you for anybody else, mind, body, and soul, and you’re not sure how you’re supposed to escape him now.

His grunts and groans are guttural, and you know he’s close. You encourage him by clenching around him.

“God – what happened to the shy girl I met in the living room, huh?” He pants. “All I see now a cock hungry slut.”

You let out a surprised moan at his words.

“Oh, yeah? You like when I call you that? Like when I let you know exactly what you look like?”

“Y-yes.” Is your garbled reply.

“Aw… is my baby too cock drunk to even respond?” Jimin tuts meanly. “That’s okay, because I’ve got you, right?”

He’s giving you whiplash with the mix of his words, and you miss the way he calls you his baby.

“Oh, shit I’m close.” He announces. “You gonna let me cum in this tight little cunt of yours?”

“Mhm! Mhm! Gonna –” You hiccup. “Gonna let you do whatever you want.

That seems to soothe something possessive inside of him because he finally cums, and the pulsing of him against that spongy spot inside of you grows to be too much, because you follow right behind him.

It’s quiet in the bathroom as you both stop to catch your breaths, but he pulls out after a few moments of silence, tying up the condom and tossing it into the trashcan next to the toilet without a care.

“You okay?” He asks as he makes to pull up his jeans, and you’re kind of just… stunned.

Is that it?

“Uh… yeah, I’m alright.” You try not to let the disappointment show on your face as you reach down and tug your pants on as well.

Your arms ache from the strange position they were forced into, as well as your stomach from where it had been digging into the ledge of the counter.

“Good.” Gently pushes you out the way so he can wash his hands.

You just stare at him flabbergasted, kind of at a complete loss at what to say.

Do you ask what you are now? Did this mean anything? Were you just another hookup? Were you –

You’re cut off by soft lips meeting yours, and your stomach flutters something pleasant.

Maybe he did like you back and this was a complete misunderstanding, maybe he –

“Call me if you’d like to have some fun again, yeah?”

He speaks against your mouth.

Somehow he’s managed to scribble down his number and hand it to you, which you take somewhat blindly.

He’s already out of the door before you can blink, sending you a cheeky wave as he disappears into the crowd once more.

Your experience with him already feels like a dream when one of your friends drapes themselves over you.

“Finally found you!” She says with a giggle. “Where were you? Me and Sana have been looking everywhere.”

You cringe as you remember your duty, but before you can respond, her nose scrunches up.

“God you stink. Did you have sex?” She asks in disgust.

“No.” You say with a few blinks. “It’s probably because of the party.”

“Oh… okay.” She giggles.

You’re ashamed to say you’ve met up with him a few times after that, finally having the courage to give him a call after a particularly hard day of finals.

He sure did fuck the stress out of you.

This wasn’t how you imagined yourself finding your way into his world, but if sex was the only way you could have him then so be it.

But that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

He still met up with other girls, still blew you off, still kept you as a secret from his friends. You were just another notch on his bedpost, and it made you almost sick to think about.

Time spent with him after sex was just… confusing.

Someday’s he would allow you to stay over afterwards, maybe even asking you to watch a movie with him, or sometimes he would talk around you leaving until you eventually caught the hint.

It was such a push and pull relationship, and you had no idea what all of this was for.

Were you friends? Acquaintances? Fuck buddies? Friends with benefits?

You had no idea what you were or who he wanted to mean to you, but it was slowly ripping you apart.

He had invited you to another party after a particularly long session, and maybe it was just the sleepiness in him talking, but it almost sounded as if he wanted you to be there.

He nuzzles his face into your shoulder, the black of his hair sticking to his forehead due to the sweat.

You nibble on your lip, tugging the duvet up to cover your bare breasts.

The tips of his fingers graze your arm gently even though his eyes were closed, and goosebumps rose under his ministrations.

It was moments like these that you grew fond of because of how few and far in between they were, when Jimin allows that vulnerable side of his to peek through. You found him beautiful.

You couldn’t stop staring at him, even when the muscles in your neck protested the awkward angle.

You could count every freckle on his cheek, every eyelash he had, and you had to bite back a smile at the sight of his crooked front tooth peeking out through his swollen plump lips.

“Mm.” He groans, and forces himself to crack an eye open. 

Your eyes flutter in embarrassment at almost being caught, but he seems none the wiser. 

“(y/n).” Jimin mumbles. You find a way to wind your arm around his neck, settling a hand in his hair, rolling the ends of the damp strands between your fingers.

“Come to this party ‘m throwing.” Jimin slurs.

You finally allow yourself to smile then. “Why? I’d like to think last time was a bit of a mess.” You tease. He just grumbles. “Never feels like a mess when I’m with you.”

Your smile quickly falls.

It was crowded once again, but you felt a sort of superiority at your fucked up relationship with him.

You went searching around for him; maybe you guys could actually talk this time! Maybe share a beer and talk about your favorite music!

Your body thrummed with all the different types of things you could do when you found him, but not in the way you wanted.

He had another girl pushed up against the wall, just like he had you in the bathroom on that fateful day.

‘But he wasn’t kissing her how he had kissed you’ You tried to reason with yourself, even as tears began to form in your eyes.

This was embarrassing. So fucking embarrassing.

You were so much better than this. You were a smart girl, you had things going for you, your life shouldnt revolve around a man who could not give any less of a fuck about you.

You find yourself stumbling away - backwards might you add - and you accidentally bump into someone, their liquor spilling over and down the back of your shirt.

You yelp, and it’s loud enough to catch Jimin’s attention, but you don’t notice because of how fast you spin around to face the person. 

“Oh God, I’m so sorry!”

“Sorry, sorry!”

You and the stranger speak at the same time, and you look up to find that he was quite… handsome.

He was tall, broad shouldered and obviously thick under that sweatervest he was wearing - which fuck it was too hot for that, even for you - and dimples settled into his cheeks and glasses that were raised high on his face, perched on his nose.

“No, no!” You wave away his apology nervously. “It’s fine! It’s my fault, I didn’t see where I was looking!”

“I shouldn’t have been carrying so many open drinks at the same time when I knew how crowded this place was, so it’s okay.”

You just watch as a genuine smile seems to spread on his face.

“How about this: we're both at fault, and we're sorry. Does that sound good?”

You find yourself nodding with a small smile. “Yeah… that sounds good.”

He stares at you, and you stare back, but then your eyes fall on a dark stain on his vest. His eyes seem to follow your gaze because he tries to wave you away this time.

“Hey, listen, it’s fine, it happens all the time! I’d say you took the brunt of it. How about you come with me, and I’ll get you a new shirt?”

Going with a guy that you’ve never met before to “get a new shirt” doesn’t seem like a good idea, but the image of Jimin plastered to that girl is all but tattooed on the back of your eyelids.

“Okay, yeah.”

The man’s smile gets bigger, but then falls as his gaze flickers to something behind you. Your brows furrow in concern, but before you can turn around, an arm slides itself around your waist.

“I think I’ve got it from here. Thanks man.”

You’re surprised to see Jimin next to you all but glaring at the tall man’s face, and there’s a prickle of irritation in your gut. The weight of his arm on you feels like a hot iron with the way it burns, and you step out of his grip just slightly.

The guy seems to notice, because his gaze narrows right back at him.

“Is this guy bothering you?” He asks.

Your eyes widen at the sight of the dog fight that might happen before you, and you just sigh.

“No, it’s fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure…” You let your voice die out, and the guy seems to make the connection.

“Namjoon. Kim Namjoon.”

You grin slightly. “(y/n).”

“Great. Bye, Kim Namjoon. Thanks for ruining her shirt.”

Jimin tugs you along behind him, and he’s silent the whole way to his room, and you’re half tempted to snatch yourself from his grip.

“What’s your problem?” You ask once you’re finally safe behind closed doors.

“What do you mean what’s my problem?” Jimin’s voice is hiding a thin layer of anger that you can hear clearly.

“You were such an asshole to him! And he didn’t “ruin” my shirt by the way. It’s just beer. It’ll get out.”

“That doesn’t matter. You were about to fuck off and go with some guy you didn’t even know!” He throws his hands up in the air like it’s obvious.

“Okay? It’s my business on who I go and “fuck off” with. The guy looked nice, so I trusted him.”

He scoffs. “Oh yeah, so you just trust any guy that asks you to leave with him? It’s so obvious he wanted to fuck you, and you were just going to do it with a smile on your face.”

You stare at him in disbelief. “You can’t be serious right now.” You breathe.

“Very.” He says flatly.

You encroach in his space, getting in his face and settling him with a glare.

“I came to look for you at a fucking party you invited me to, and then I find you with your tongue down some random girl’s throat.” You sneer. “So forgive me if I’m a little peeved that you’re bothered by who I might go fuck.”

Jimin doesn’t know why he’s so bothered. ‘Doesn’t know why seeing you laughing and smiling with that guy makes something in his gut twist in disgust.

“I don’t like him.”

You lean your face away from his.

“That’s what you’ve taken away from this.” You let out an incredulous laugh, and the amusement behind your eyes is fake.

“I…” You shake your head. “I can’t believe this.”

“You are not who I thought you were.” Something in you wilts. “You are a grade A asshole, Park Jimin.” You spit his name like it’s a slur, and something inside him dies.

“What?” It’s his turn to scoff. “Don’t tell me you like me or something?” He knows he’s being mean, but he’s hurt, and he feels as though he has nothing else left.

“Excuse me?” You look like a kid who got caught with their hand in the cookie jar. Guilty.

There’s a sickening pleasure that takes root in his heart knowing that you want him like that.

“You’re doing this whole weird, possessive girlfriend thing.” It’s his turn to step in your space. 

“Well, sorry to say, but were just fuck buddies. I don’t want to be with you. All I want you for is a booty call, nothing more, nothing less.”

His words are like a knife to your heart and you deflate.

The tears burning behind your eyes finally fall, and your hand twitches at your side.

“I fucking hate you.” Is all you can say.

You push him out your way and he lets you, watches as you leave.

‘Good’ He thinks.

He tries to convince himself that the quicker he cuts this thing off, the easier things will get, because he doesn’t like you like that.

Right?

Right.

Your head was pounding by the time you had found your way back to your dorm, your shaking hands made it near impossible to get the key in the lock, but you managed it.

You hadn’t expected Sana to be there, bed engulfed by books and different studying utensils.

“Hey.” She greets mindlessly, flicking through papers in a certain folder before huffing and closing it when she clearly doesn’t find what she needs.

Your grip on your keys grows weak and they clatter to the floor, and she looks up in alarm, just as you take in a loud, pitiful sniffle.

“Oh, (y/n).” 

She scrambles to get up and you fall forward, trusting her to catch you, and she does, even if she’s extremely confused.

You’re sobbing into her shirt, and your chest twists and everything just hurts.

Jimin’s words feel like a slap in your face, and your heart burns like you had actually been slapped. You would have preferred that if you were going to be honest.

“(y/n), please. You have to tell me what’s wrong.”

“I liked him.” You sob. “I liked him so much, and, and, and –” You’re close to hyperventilating at this point, and Sana just seems to grow more anxious, because she pulls away from you and cups your cheeks.

“You need to breathe for me.” She says with a nervous albeit reassuring smile. 

You attempt to take a deep breath. 

“Good, that’s good, just keep trying.”  

Eventually, your breathing evens out, and she leads you over to your twin bed, seeing as hers is a bit of an organized mess right now.

“Now, can you finally explain to me what happened?”

Your hands shake as you make to pick at your cuticles, but she catches the habit before you can get to it, encasing your hands in hers.

“There’s a lot of things that you don’t know.”

“Okay…”

“But you know I like Jimin, right?”

“Mhm, like… big time.”

“Well, do you remember that party that you and your friend forced me to?” 

“Mhm.”

“Well… while I was waiting for you guys to be ready to go, Jimin approached me.”

“Oh my god?” She says excitedly, but you give her a sad smile.

“Don’t get excited just yet.”

“Anyways,” You continue. “He talked to me, then invited me to… you know, sleep with him.” Your cheeks burn as Sana stares at you dumbfounded, but you keep going. “The sex was great, don’t get me wrong, but he was so distant after everything was done.”

“He gave me his number and asked me to call him if I ever wanted to hook up with him again.”

“Douche.”

“Sana.”

“Sorry not sorry.”

You laugh a bit and she grins, relieved.

“Well, I did.”

“(y/n).” She sighs, releasing one of her hands to rub at her forehead.

“I know, I know! I also know I’m gonna sound really stupid when I say that I thought he actually liked me, but he… but he said some things to me tonight that really broke my heart.”

“Before we get to that, what made you think he likes you back?” She wasn’t trying to be mean by asking the question, you knew better. 

“Because there’ll be moments after we are done hooking up where he’d be super sweet. Like, sometimes he would cuddle me, or ask me to watch a movie, just things outside of the common hookup aftercare.”

“But then tonight,” You sighed. “I went to the party he invited me to, and caught him making out with some other girl, and so I went to leave but then I bumped into this guy.” You smile a bit at the memory.

“His name is Kim Namjoon, and he was super sweet – spilled a fuckton of beer on my shirt though.”

“So that’s why you smell like that.” 

“Yep.” You laugh. “And then Jimin came up and acted all… jealous and possessive and shit. Took me up to his room, we argued, he accused me of liking him and laughed in my face and called me just his fuck buddy after I didn’t deny that I did.”

You look up to find Sana seething.

“I’m going to call Taehyung.”

Taehyung was one of Jimin’s best friends, and he was currently groveling at Sana’s feet trying to be with her. Though she likes him, she wants to make him work for it just to see if he’ll lose interest, even though you know it’d kill her if he actually did.

“Why?”

“To break it off with him in solidarity.”

“What?!” You asked incredulously. “No, absolutely not. Taehyung is a good guy. You don’t need to do that for me.”

She regards you with a raised brow.

“Are you sure?”

You find yourself nodding. “Kinda need some roomie time right now.” Your eyes fall to her studying materials. “But if you’re too busy, I –”

“Nope. Let’s go.”

You laugh joyously as she begins to put her things away, and you make for the small fridge in your room where your sweet treats are held. 

Maybe things are going to be okay.

The next week is like a living hell.

You’ve basically made it your life’s mission to avoid Jimin as much as possible. You had already blocked him after a few encouraging words from Sana.

She still ended up calling Taehyung in the end, putting him in the dog house until his friend got his shit together. You could almost hear his pout as he begged her not to. She hung up on him.

The weather was nice, with early spring wandering around, you could finally start to wear flowier clothing, as well as study outside again.

Your head is so immersed in your book that you don’t see someone approach your table until a finger gently breaches your line of vision and taps the page.

You startle a bit and look up, and you're greeted by Namjoon’s sheepish face.

“Sorry, I didn’t know another way to get your attention, you looked really focused.”

“That’s sweet, but it’s okay. You could’ve interrupted me.” He gestures to the seat across from yours. “Can I sit?”

“Yeah, yeah! Go ahead!” You begin clearing things out of his way, and he smiles gratefully.

“I didn’t see you again after you left.” With that guy, is what’s unspoken, but you caught it anyways. “Yeah… uh – something came up, so I had to leave early.

His mouth forms an ‘o’ shape and he nods. “I see.”

“Yeah.” You grimace.

“Well I –” Namjoon swallows nervously. “I wasn’t able to tell you, but I think you’re beautiful.”

Your eyes widen. “Oh.” You breathe in surprise, and the man visibly deflates. “Unless that guy was your boyfriend, then I’m sorry! Oh, God, I should have asked first.”

“No, no! He’s not my boyfriend.” You reassure him. “‘M surprised, is all; and very, very flattered.”

You know you should reject his advances, but you’re hurt, and he’s just… so sweet. A complete contrast to Jimin, and you think he’s the change of pace that you needed.

“I think you’re handsome if that makes you feel any better.” The words feel wrong coming out of your mouth, but you grin nonetheless when his cheeks warm an admirable red.

“I…” You meet each other's eyes, and look down at the same time, laughing shyly.

Maybe Namjoon could be good for you.

“You look pathetic, man.” Taehyung speaks through a mouthful of instant ramen disgustingly.

Jimin hits him upside the back of his head, and the poor boy winces.

“Ow!”

“Don’t forget you’re in the dog house too, idiot.” Jungkook mumbles from his side of the table.

“So what you’re telling me is that you want me to beat your ass?”

“I’m just saying.” He shrugs. “Hyung fucked up, and now you’re being punished by association. No (y/n) means no Sana.” 

Jungkook’s right.

Ever since that night, Jimin’s desperately been trying to forget about you, about how hurt you looked. He almost feels sick thinking about it.

He admits that he could have handled that situation a lot better, but it was like something had taken over him. As soon as he’d seen you with Namjoon, and how willing you looked, something inside him just… snapped.

“I’m just waiting for hyung to admit that he was jealous and go and fix it.” Taehyung says simply. “It’s obvious that he’s in love with her, and I have no idea why he won’t just go and tell her.”

“I’m not -” Jimin hissed, “In love with her.”

“Yeah man, you are.”

Jimin’s eyes narrowed, but his attention was stolen by your laugh.

You were laughing because of him.

You looked so sickeningly demure talking to him, wringing your fingers together and kicking out your legs as a nervous tick. You usually only ever did that when you were with him.

Jimin liked the effect that he had on you.

He liked how your eyelashes fluttered when he complimented you, how you held on to him when he fucked you, how you kissed him back like you meant it. Sure, your body was nice, but so was your personality.

You were kind, studious, selfless, and he wasn’t sure what drew you to him the first night he had met you.

He thought that your hidden affections were all for him, but it proves that he was mistaken. That’s fine. You could be with anybody that you wanted to.

‘Just not him’ Is supplied unhelpfully.

The thought shouldn’t bother him as much as it does.

It’s just… Jimin doesn’t do the whole commitment thing. The last time he had a partner, it blew up in his face, so he just finds that casual one night stands was just the easier way to go.

But things between you and him were never casual to begin with, huh?

“Listen,” Taehyung starts once more, and points his chopsticks at Jungkook. “Jimin-hyung, he'll realize what he wants when it’s too late. Girls like (y/n) don’t come around as often as they should.” Then, he dives back into his noodles.

Jimin’s eyebrows furrowed. Were they right?

He turns his head to look at them. “Was it ever casual between me and her?” He can’t help but ask.

“No.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Wow, okay.”

“I mean, you let her sleep in your bed, hyung.” Jungkook basically scoffs. “You’ve never let any of your hookups stay the night, or cuddle with you; yet somehow she’s different.”

Different.

That was the key word here.

You were different.

The last few weeks with Namjoon have been nice.

The man was smart, and kind, and overall just a sweet, gentle giant that deserved everything in the world; but you knew deep down in your heart that you couldn’t be the one to give him that.

You saw it in the way that he looked at you, starry-eyed on his worst day, and heart-eyed the best. You can’t find it within yourself to feel flattered by it anymore, because you know that you don’t deserve it.

You don’t deserve his chivalry, his affection, and maybe - hopefully not - his love.

You’re ashamed to say that this whole rebound business blew up in your face like you went ahead and personally strapped the bomb to yourself.

You didn’t know how to tell him you didn’t like him like that, just how you had no idea how to tell Jimin you loved him after months of sleeping with him; exactly how that fateful night you said yes instead of no.

The words on the pages in front of you bled together like a big blob of ink, and Namjoon’s large foot snuck over to yours under the table and trapped it playfully.

You tried not to allow the grin you gave him to look like a grimace, even as he acted like he was reading as well. You were sure both of your reasons were entirely different.

You needed to put a stop to this, you needed to tell him you didn’t see him that way and you just wanted to be friends.

“Hey, Namjoon –”

“Do you want to go on a date with me?”

“Of course.”

Fuck. 

The look that Namjoon gave you was beaming, and you felt tears sting at the back of your eyelids.

You said yes to a date like the stupid, idiotic, selfish, terrible person you are. 

Namjoon had offered to walk you back to your dorm after your study session was over, but you couldn’t look at him anymore, the guilt crawling around in your stomach becoming something almost too much to handle.

“No thanks, Nammy.”

“Okay.” He pouts a bit. “But you be safe, alright?”

For the first time today, you gave him a true smile. “I will!”

The walk back to your dorm was slow, and heavy hearted, and you were so lost in your head, you couldn’t see that you were about to walk into someone until their hand shot out and caught you.

“Oh!” You squeaked, your head shooting up.

Your eyes widened at a very disgruntled looking Jimin.

He didn’t look as put together as he used to; his black mullet ruffled out of place and his black leather jacket rather wrinkly. 

“(y/n).” He spoke.

It had felt like forever since you heard his voice, and it took you everything in your power to not shut your eyes and bask in it.

You swallowed heavily. “I have nothing to say to you.”

“But I do.”

“That’s not how this works.”

“(y/n) please.”

You stare at him before huffing and crossing your arms. “Fine.”

“Thank you.” He breathes, and you finally notice how close you are, because you stumble back to finally put some space in between the two of you. If Jimin’s hurt by the action, he doesn’t show it.

You hate how much that bothers you.

“I fucked up.”

“No.” You instantly put a hand out to stop him. “You don’t get to say that to me.”

“What?”

“You started this whole thing, Jimin! I… I admit that I do like you, and I’ve liked you for a long time, but you don’t get to be the one to say you “fucked up” and regret everything you did.”

“Why not?” He asks, almost offended.

“Because you’ll never change!”

Jimin looks taken aback by your outburst. 

“You’ll tell me you’re sorry, we’ll fuck, and then it’ll be this process all over again. You don’t get to just do that! I need full commitment, and that’s not something you’re able to give me.”

“Plus,” You continue, taking in a deep breath. “I’m seeing someone right now.”

Jimin fucking snorts.

“Don’t tell me you have a date with the Namkim guy.”

“It’s Namjoon, and yes, I am. He’s nice.”

“Oh, is that it? He’s just nice?”

“And… and he’s smart too!” You exclaim almost petulantly. “He gives me flowers and tells me how much he likes me all the time, unlike you, who’s so emotionally constipated that not even laxatives would be able to help you!”

“Wha –” Jimin laughs in disbelief. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me! I’m gonna go on a date with a guy who actually likes me!”

You straighten your tote bag on your shoulder and brace yourself, straightening your posture.

“Now if you excuse me, I have a date to plan for, and homework to do.”

“What? (y/n)! Come back, I’m sorry!”

“No!”

You’re not going to lie and say you didn’t replay your entire interaction with Jimin for the rest of the week.

There was something about talking to him that gave you the energy to get through class, the haunting realization that maybe he was worth a damn. 

Wondering what would have happened if you had allowed him to apologize instead of cutting him off, of accepting his apology and allowing yourself to be with him in that way.

But you know, you know that if you were to go back to your old routine with him, it’d kill you. It’d kill you to watch him flirt with other people, or watch him take them home.

You fiddled with the strap of your dress, staring at yourself in the mirror and feeling awkward at the fact that the material only looked good if you didn’t wear a bra.

You were going to a restaurant with Namjoon; it was a nice, original first date idea. You’d talk over food, and get along just fine!

Namjoon was a nice guy. He was sweet, and he wouldn’t try to fuck you on the first date.

Oh, God, would he?

You really hope not.

“Damn girl.” Sana whistles from her spot on her bed. “You look sexy! You’re gonna blow that nerd’s socks off!”

“Sana.” You warned. “Be nice! He’s not a nerd. He’s just studious.”

“Sure. Every Philosophy major is studious.” She giggles to herself.

“Oh! Do you think he’s a virgin?!”

“Sana!” This time it’s a whine, but your arguing is interrupted by a couple knocks on the door.

“Oh, God, it’s him!” You whisper in a panic. 

You continue to mess with the front of your dress, pulling the hem up at the top to try and hide as much boobage as possible.

“Stop!” Your roommate hisses. “You look great!”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah! Now go!”

You waddle over to the door and pull it open, your heart melting at the sight of a good looking Namjoon in front of you.

His hair was tastefully rumpled, a button up shirt tucked into a pair of slacks that hugged his thighs deliciously.

Wow, you were really hogging this man for yourself.

There was another stab of guilt when his eyes fell on your figure and he swallowed, his cheeks painting themselves an adorable pink. 

“W – wow, (y/n). You look amazing.”

“Thanks.” You say shyly. “Should we go?”

“Oh! Of course, of course!” 

He offers you his arm and you take it.

The conversation between the two of you was kept light, even as you got into the Uber that he had paid for.

“I uh – I don’t have my license.” Namjoon had sheepishly admitted to you one day.

He usually rode his bike to places, so you were surprised to see that he had splurged for today.

Shame burns in your gut once again.

(y/n): 0, Guilt and shame: the winner.

The restaurant was nice as you were led to your table, and very quiet.

You shuffled around in your seat, sheepishly ordering water as Namjoon looked over the menu.

“I’m so happy we're doing this.” Namjoon says after you get your drinks, and you sip on the freezing tap water.

“Yeah…” You speak after a few hefty gulps of your drink.

“I meant it when I said you looked gorgeous tonight.”

“Ah…” You fluster. “Where did all this confidence come from?”

“It comes from me wanting to ask you a question that you’ll answer truthfully.”

Instantly your heart falls into your ass, because you know exactly what’s coming.

“I might be a bit of a stick in the mud, but that doesn’t mean I’m blind, (y/n).”

“I can see that you haven’t really been in any of… whatever we have going on. And I’m not even going to lie, I don’t even think we’ve had anything to begin with.”

“What gave it away?” You ask with a grimace. “That.”

“That?”

“That thing you do with your face when you lie.”

You blink at him in surprise.

“Oh.”

“And you’ve done it every single time I’ve tried to flirt or compliment you. I’m surprised you even agreed to go out with me.”

“I…” You feel like you’re going to throw up. “I swear I didn’t mean to lead you on! There’s just been this thing, and I can’t tell you what it is –”

“Yes you can.”

“Pardon?” You ask in surprise.

“You know exactly why you can’t commit fully to this.”

“I…” You deflate in your seat, fiddling with the napkin. “You’re right.”

“It’s that guy, right? The one from the party?” 

Namjoon’s words aren’t hurt, judgemental, or angry, they’re just factual. Like how he gets when he breaks down a piece of difficult text in one of his ancient little books he likes to read.

“I should start from the beginning shouldn’t I?”

“We’ve got all night.”

So you do. You start from that night at the party, over how you’ve felt these last few weeks, even as the food had come and gone, you two hadn’t stopped talking.

You had refused to let him pay at the end of the night, and you literally almost had to fight him over splitting the bill.

“This was supposed to be a date.” He speaks with a pout, and you just laugh. 

You two worked well as friends, because you nudged his foot. “Yah! We can go on another date soon, okay?”

He just laughs with a shake of his head.

When you guys leave, you offer to pay for your shared Uber when you spot someone you weren’t expecting.

Jimin’s in the parking lot, leaning against his car and looking around. When his gaze lands on you, his slouched position straightens, and your heart stutters in your chest.

“This guy is like the fucking boogeyman.” You murmur, and Namjoon laughs once more.

“I uh… may have sort of called him here.”

Your head whips around and you stare at him in betrayal. “What?!”

“Listen. You and him have some shit to work out, and - bless your heart - we both know you don’t have a backbone, so I think it would be better if you both fixed this, or ended it for good.”

You can’t help but just stare at him. “Where did you even get his number?”

“Taehyung. The poor man’s been practically begging me to leave you alone and let Jimin fix this because he’s been sexiled.”

You sigh, glancing over at a waiting Jimin who’s watching you hopefully.

“You won’t be here for solidarity, will you?”

“For both our sakes, I think you know the answer to that.”

You swallow, turning your attention back to him. “I really am sorry about how everything went down between us. You’re a great guy, and I’m sure one day another person will be able to see that. I’m sorry it’s not me.”

He shrugs his shoulders. “It’s alright, I need to worry about my studies anyways.”

You smile sadly at him, and he just chuckles and shakes his head, pulling you into his warm embrace.

“I mean it (y/n),” He starts when you separate, “It’s okay, but you need to go, because Jimin looks like he’s about to throttle me, and I’m not really interested in fighting someone tonight. I have a test in the morning.”

Your smile is a little less sad this time, and he waves you off.

The walk to Jimin feels like a walk to doom; it’s silent, tense, and you’re unsure about where you’ll end up at the end of the night.

“Hi.” You breathe awkwardly. You grasp onto your clutch purse like a lifeline.

“Hey.”

“Uh…” You begin, but Jimin just sighs, opening the passenger door, and gesturing for you to get in. “We need to talk.”

Your shoulders deflate. “Alright.”

Even though he said you needed to talk, the car ride is silent, even as you watch yourself being pulled into a parking lot, the man stopping and turning his car off.

“So, are you going to let me speak this time, or are you just going to cut me off again?”

You scowl. “Is that really how you want to start this conversation?”

“No, no, fuck I’m sorry. I’m already fucking it up.” His hands grip the steering wheel, twisting them around nervously.

“I’m not used to this.”

“Used to what?”

“Dating, feelings, that kind of thing. And I thought that if I hurt you, and never had to see you again, that those things would just go away, but they didn’t.”

He slumps back in his seat, casting his gaze out the window before turning his attention towards you.

“When I saw you with him –”

“Namjoon.”

“Yes,” He all but hisses, “With Namjoon, I felt sick to my stomach. Like something was wrong, like he was taking something from me.”

“But I was never yours to begin with.”

“Yeah,” He sighs. “I know, and that’s the issue.”

“You were right about me being an asshole, because I was. I projected all of my weird, little possessive feelings onto you and totally flipped out when I should have just talked to you.”

“But instead I pushed you away, said things I didn’t mean, and you still went with that guy, and I felt horrible.” Jimin hesitantly reaches out a hand – an olive branch of sorts – and waits for you to take it.

He hopes you take it.

You look at him and back down to his hand, before lifting yours and intertwining your fingers.

“What are you trying to tell me, Jimin? Because… because if we do this friends-with-benefits bullshit again, I think it’ll actually kill me.”

“I don’t think I could handle that even if I tried.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that seeing you with the other people that aren't me makes me feel sick to my stomach, and I’d rather have you all to myself like the nasty, greedy bastard I am.”

“Like a boyfriend.”

Jimin finally smiles.

That beautiful, eye closing smile that makes your heart skip a beat too many.

“Yeah, (y/n), like a boyfriend.”

“Does that make me your girlfriend?”

“I would sure hope so.”

You grin as well, happiness painting over your features as you watch him.

“What does this mean for us now?” He leans forward into your space, and this time you don’t move back, just gazing up at him with wide, curious eyes. “This means that you’ll hopefully let me kiss you.”

“Well lucky for you, I’m feeling nice tonight.”

He snorts and rolls his eyes, yet connects your lips together. Your eyelids flutter shut.

Euphoria. That’s the only feeling you could describe after feeling the plushness of his mouth after so long. It’s felt like centuries since you’ve touched him, and every nerve in your body lights aflame.

You tangle your fingers in his hair, and his hands cup your jaw, tugging you to him over the center console.

“I can’t go that far.” You pant with a chuckle, and he huffs a small smile.

“Backseat?”

“Please don’t tell me you want to have makeup sex in the backseat of your car in the middle of the park.”

“You want to have makeup sex?” His eyes glimmer. It’s your turn to snort. “I thought that was obvious.”

“Then no, we're absolutely not doing that here.”

“Then let’s get out of here.”

“Yes ma’am.”

© yoongsriverandme 2025-26

[wildestdreamsblog]

Might as well be drunk in love: 1 of 3

Pairing: OT7 x Reader (CEO AU)

Summary: In which your friend thought it would be funny to give you a love potion, and in which seven CEOs accidentally drank it.

Warnings: Love Potion, Yandere behavior, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Violence, Mention of death, Disability, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: This idea came to me when I went to the mountain and saw a love potion wine thingy being sold there. I think it's just the name of the wine, anyway! I really, really tried so hard to finish this in one post but it's already almost 8kish and we aren't even near the end sksks Happy New Year, my loves! I hope you'll like my gift for you <3

“Am I that hopeless?”

“What?” your friend asked in faux innocence, blinking her eyes owlishly at you. “I don’t know what you’re getting at, sweetie-“

You glared at her as you pointed in an exaggerated manner at the expensive pink tumbler she handed you mere seconds ago. The tumbler was too fancy, something that you wouldn’t buy for yourself and something that a certain handsome but infuriating CEO of yours was fond of carrying around.

However, what was insulting was the content of the said tumbler.

“I just gifted you that because you mentioned that it was beautiful-“

“Do you really think I’d end up alone?!”

“I don’t understand-“

“You literally just said that you put the love potion you bought in the mountains here!” you hissed lowly, keeping your eyes around the conference room as your department waited for the seven CEOs to arrive. You attempted to smile which more or less came out as a grimace at one of your colleagues who looked at you weirdly because of your mini-outburst. You weren’t exactly meek in nature, nor were you shy. However, you weren’t really keen on letting anyone overhear that your close friend bought you a love potion just because she thought you would end up alone.

That was embarrassing, even for you. So nope, you would for sure keep this under wraps.

Her brows furrowed harmlessly, although you could see a hint of smile on her lips, “You’re welcome?”

“I’m not thanking you-“

Just then, all the seven CEOs walked in the conference room, their presence commanding and silence reigned through the whole room. The first to enter was Min Yoongi. He was strolling in the room with his hands in his pocket. He was said to be the ace of the group who could smell bullshit despite it being miles away. He honestly looked like he would rather be anywhere else than here right now, though. It was the complete opposite of Jung Hoseok, also known as the sunshine of the group. He was smiling widely as he greeted the department and some employees by their names, yet you weren’t fooled by his beautiful smile. He was the strictest of them all. He was perfectionist down to the core and he was the last to forgive any mistake. The last of the hyung line to enter was the Kim Seokjin, the most beautiful man you have ever seen. It was like the room literally lightened up when he stepped in, like the birds sang melodically the moment he opened his eyes. His tall form and his movement were precise as he confidently sauntered to his seat which just so happened to be beside yours. He placed his pink tumbler on the table, so eerily similar to yours sans the engraved of his name on his tumbler. The beautiful asshole didn’t even spare you a glance. Your back unconsciously straightened when the lead CEO, Kim Namjoon, locked eyes with you for a moment when he entered the room.  He was said to be one of the most intelligent man in the whole country. You didn’t even doubt it one bit. He was capable, and his leadership was on another level. Should he decide to run for a political seat, you would undoubtedly vote for him. He had what it took, you thought. He was charismatic, calm and he knew when to listen.

The CEOs were dubbed by the employees to be divided by two: the Maknae and the Hyung line.

Finally, the maknae line entered. The three of them could always be found together. Park Jimin, the eldest of the line, who had one of the most beautiful smiles you ever saw. In fact, you once overheard your colleague that he interacted with her once and it left her thinking of what they really were. He was followed by Kim Taehyung and also labelled as his soulmate. He was expressionless as he entered, only cracking a smile when he turned to Jimin. You always thought that he could be a model or an actor if he wanted to. He definitely had the looks for it. Last to enter was the muscular Jeon Jungkook, also known as the golden maknae of the group. There were no contracts, mergers or acquisitions that he couldn’t convince the other party of signing. Not only was he capable of everything, but he excelled in everything. Thus, his nickname. However, despite the way he held himself during the negotiations, you observed him to be shy and highly reserved. All of a sudden, he looked up from his seat as though he could feel your eyes on him, his doe eyes curious as he took you in. He held your eyes for a moment until he blinked owlishly and looked down at his hands in curiosity.

Kim Namjoon sat in the middle, the others sitting beside him as they regarded the room with a powerful look.

 “Shall we begin?” Kim Seokjin asked, his eyes focused on the slides reflecting in the projector. 

Several headaches, passive aggressiveness from Namjoon, Hoseok and Jimin, disappointed sighs from Jin and Yoongi, difficult revisions ‘suggested’ by Taehyung, and corrections of miniscule errors of calculations by Jungkook later, the meeting finally ended.

You were weary as you trudged out of the conference room the CEOs were still in. They dismissed the department, expecting revisions within the day after tomorrow before discussing among themselves. It was honestly not a lot of time and you could already feel the lack of sleep you and the department would further experience under their tyranny. You willed yourself not to fall asleep as you walked to your desk, your close friend who was equally tired as you sat down on her seat beside your desk.

“I’m so tired. It’s like my soul and all the happiness I was able to experience in my young life were sucked out of me,” she lamented, her head resting on her desk. “If only the pay isn’t so greaaaat. ”

You nodded at what she said, already likening the CEOs to dementors in Harry Potter. Interacting with them made you aged several years. Additionally, meetings with them made you reconsider whether you needed a roof over your head, whether you needed to eat at least twice a day, whether you needed to drink clean water-

Speaking of…this wasn’t your tumbler. 

The horrifying realization made you stood up abruptly. You lifted the pink tumbler to your widening eyes, and by that name there was no denying that this wasn’t yours. Your sudden movement awoke your friend from her own misery, yet you didn’t have the time to explain. Without any further thought, you ran back to the conference room, screaming and crying about how you were definitely going to get fired.

Of course, the elevator was under maintenance.

Of course, you had to run numerous flights of stairs.

Of course, it was just your luck that you ran into your manager just when you reached their floor.

And of course, the moment you opened the door, there they were, innocently drinking from a glass, the tumbler emptied as it sat in the middle of the table.

“Don’t drink that!”

Taehyung was the first to turn to you, his dark expressionless eyes meeting yours with intense stubbornness. He kept his eyes on yours as gulped the contents wholeheartedly.

Oh heavens, no.

He put the glass down with a resounding thud which felt like a nail to your coffin. You turned to look at the other CEOs with shaky eyes and it was apparent that they definitely drank their fair share of whatever was in the tumbler. You, on the other hand, weren’t sure if it was really safe for consumption. You were going to kill your friend for her prank!

Their eyes were focused on you. You couldn’t even blame them. You shouted at them all while looking like a lunatic with your disheveled hair and huffing breaths like you did a marathon. Oh wait, yes you probably did by the amount of running you did today. They were probably thinking that you were mentally unfit for this job and oh my God you were going to lose your job.

“May we help you, Ms. Y/N?” Hoseok asked you politely, his eyes never wavering from yours which was…unusual. Despite him being the image of kindness and approachability, he never looked at his employees for longer than necessary. He was a man that possessed such discipline when it came to his time. This… was absolutely an unnecessary length of time for eye contact.

“T-that’s my drink,” you finally said after tearing your eyes from Hoseok’s. You pointedly looked at the empty pink tumbler, not minding the intense look Namjoon was giving you.

“We apologize, little one,” Namjoon broke the silence, his deep voice awakening you from your stupor. “Yours looked like hyung’s.”

Little one???

 Jimin smirked before running his hand through his blonde locks. His eyes were on yours as he looked up at you. “Yours undeniably taste better, though.”

Before you could even blink, Yoongi pointed at you with a rare smile on his lips. “You looked thirsty. Would you like to go to my office and drink with me?”

Was that…an invitation?!

You felt a hand tugged your sleeve. You turned, only to find beautiful doe eyes looking up at you from his seated form. “Hi! What year were you born?”

“199x-,“ you answered absentmindedly, you eyes roaming around the room when he tugged your sleeve again for your attention.

“You’re older than me!” he gasped; his excitement palpable as he stood up. He towered over you, his grin pleasant and you thought at that moment that he looked a lot like a bunny, or a kangaroo with the way his chest muscles were bulging over his office clothes. “Then you’re my noona! I can call you ‘noona’, right? Come on, take a seat here!”

He pulled the chair closer and tapped on it eagerly.

This was wrong, you thought. Was that thing really effective?! You dreaded to think that it was and you had a certain someone to torture once you get out of this room.

You were shaking your head before he could even pull you and you watched as his expression fell. Suddenly, he looked like a child that lost his toy with the way he was pouting. And nope, you couldn’t deal with that today. You looked at the man who hadn’t spoken one bit before smiling sheepishly at him. You placed his pink tumbler in front of him.

“I apologize. I must have switched yours with mine-“

His jaw tightened as he leaned in. Heavens, he was even more handsome this close. Kim Seokjin looked up at you with his ethereal eyes before resting his chin on his hand. “I’ve been drinking yours since the meeting, my love. It’s absolutely not your fault. Mine was coffee. This-“ he lifted the empty tumbler, “-is, I presume, a juice.”

Confusion further painted on your face, “You knew? Then why did you keep on drinking-“

He shrugged his broad shoulders, “It’s…addicting.”

“O-okay, then I’ll just leave yours here-“

“Tell me, my love. Do you like your job?”

Welp, here it was. You were so going to get fired. Oh my God, how were you going to feed your cat? He had such an expensive taste!

“I-“

“Because there’s an opening in my office. Would you like to be my secretary-“

“But hyung, you already have one-“

“Shut up, Taehyung,” he hissed at the now pouting man before turning to smile at you as though he didn’t berate his co-CEO in front of you. Chaos ensued as the boys fought and bickered for who would be your direct boss as you inched closer to the door.

“I’m just gonna go,” you whispered and before you could even reach the door, Taehyung looked up at you with his sharp eyes.

“Where are you going!”

“I-I have to finish the report this week, right?”

Namjoon stood up before declaring that he would finish it for you. And when you shook your head, “I am officially moving the deadline to next month! No need to stress, my little love!”

You blinked owlishly before doing what was best for you and your sanity- you ran away.

“So, they drank it?”

“Are you even listening to me?!” you shrieked over the phone, walking back in forth in front of your cat that was now looking at you as though he wanted to be adopted by a sane person and not you. “I just told you. They all drank it. All seven of them!”

You could hear the laughter in her voice which was not helping your panic, “I thought you didn’t believe love potions?”

“I-I didn’t! You didn’t see how they were acting! It was so peculiar!”

“Well, honey, how did they act?”

“Kindly! And it’s so weird!”

She paused, her silence making your heart beat faster. “Holy shit. It’s definitely effective. I need to go back there and buy another one for myself-“

“Focus! Is there an antidote or anything?”

“I’m not sure. I’ll have to ask my grandmother that lives there. I’ll let you know, but for the meantime, hold on very tight, okay?”

“What do you mean?!”

“Uhm. She said it’s very potent? I thought she was kidding. We’ll observe them tomorrow, okay? I’ll fix this.“

You were only able to sleep for two hours last night for two reasons: your work that you accomplished at eleven in the evening, leaving you six ample hours to sleep, and second, them.

Your phone didn’t stop ringing last night. You didn’t know how they obtained your number, and you dreaded to think that they used their position to direct the Human Resources department to give your personal number (yup, they definitely did).

You were about to fall asleep when your phone wouldn’t stop, and when you opened your eyes, you wished to all that was holy that you threw away the tumbler as soon as she handed it to you. Or that you didn’t choose the sit next to Seokjin.

You wished to God that your phone wasn’t blowing up now, but it certainly was.

Kookie: Hi, noona! Welcome to the Bangtan groupchat!

You squinted your eyes as the glaring screen illuminated with several messages from them.

Jwehope: Darling, are you a sprite? Because you've got the right amount of fizz to make my heart pop!

Jiminie: That’s so corny. I, for one, think that little one is a magician.

Jiminie: Because everytime I look at her, everyone just disappears.

V: Do you want to disappear, Jimin? Because I can arrange that.

Joonie: Ms. Y/N-shi, do you have a moment? I asked because I would like to discuss something.

At that, your trepidation grew. Among five, the lead CEO definitely held a serious tone. Did they find it as weird as you did that they were paying you attention? Did they trace it to that drink? Were you now in an even bigger mess than you initially thought?

You replied tensely: Yes, I am available, Kim Daepyonim.

WWH Jin: Why are you still awake? Beauty sleep is essential, my love!

Joonie: Great! I’d like to discuss the exponential growth of my feelings for you.

What.

The.

Fuck.

Suga: You’re all so hopeless. My Y/N would never fall for that.

Suga: On the other hand, would you like some Samsung stocks?

And that was why you never got to sleep peacefully last night. You sighed as you got on the bus. You opted to leave at an earlier hour because you wanted some time to think without the noise of the world and the buzzling movement of people commuting. You could feel a headache coming, but you prayed that it wouldn’t come through.

You should have known your prayers were seldom heard.

A vacant seat on the backside of the bus greeted you, and you were only too elated to finally sit throughout your commute. Peace, finally, you thought. You had barely settled in, barely breathed a sigh of relief when the once empty chair beside you was filled in by none other than him

“Fancy running to you here!” Taehyung noted in a deep voice as though this was not part of his plan, as though he didn’t wake up at a godforsaken hour just to ‘run’ to you.

You blinked, astonished by his presence. This was the last place you expected him to be. Hell, you didn’t even sure he ever experienced riding a bus! What the fuck was he doing here? Where was now your peace?!

“You-You’re here…” you trailed off, your eyes widening in shock as your brows furrowed in disbelief. You had foolishly thought that maybe, once they slept it off, then it would slowly be flushed out of their system. Oh, how wrong could you be. “Why?”

Taehyung smirked at you, his dark eyes taking you in. His dark hair was gelled up, his suit impeccable and without any crease in sight. He was somehow manspreading and you weren’t stoic enough not to notice the way his thick thigh was touching the side of yours. “I wanted to see you.”

“You’re so…honest.”

He didn’t even look embarrassed by his honesty. It didn’t displace him; what did was the annoying pain in his heart as the hours passed by and you weren’t in his arms nor his sight. He hated it. It felt wrong!

The other boys weren’t fairing any better but oh well, to each of his own. He may or may have also drained their cars of gas so they couldn’t leave. He thought that no one needed you as much as he did.

“I surmised that you wouldn’t believe if I say I frequent this path just for the hell of it, correct?”

You nodded dumbfoundedly as speech eluded you. His candor was definitely out of this world, and he seemed to not care as he only stared right at you.

“Now,” he whispered before tucking your hair behind your ear. “Now I feel at peace. The annoying pain finally stops.”

What pain?!

Before you could even ask him to elaborate, his head leaned on your shoulder.

“Daepyonim Kim-“

“Just stay like this for a while. I didn’t get to sleep, my love,” he answered in his hoarse voice, his eyes already closed as he dozed off. You didn’t know why you let him. It absolutely was not due to the fact that you felt your heart skipped a beat when he laid his head on your shoulder. Nope.

You managed to run away from Taehyung once the two of you arrived at the company, simply by practicing your non-existent ninja moves and awkwardly slipping out of the elevator just as the doors closed, his face an image of betrayal and panic. You breathed a sigh of relief before running out of the building. You still had an hour before you were needed, you for sure wouldn’t spend it inside that establishment or you would end up crying.

You were focused on your phone as you read real life stories of love potions. The sharing of stories kept on increasingly became more serious and scarier. You had yet to find a post about antidote. You weren’t 100% set on it being real, but the way Taehyung acted today was not right.

For heaven’s sake, the man barely said any word to you for the whole year you worked in their company. He had only looked at you before, and now he was outright going to you. But maybe, the other CEOs weren’t affected?

It was a hopeful thought, and you felt yourself smile a little- which of course vanished just as quickly when you looked up from your seat in the coffee shop to see Park Jimin sitting in front of you. You didn’t even know how he moved so smoothly and quietly. He was smiling at you, his head tilted to the side. His blonde hair stood out as the sunlight hit his hair perfectly.

“Good morning, beautiful!”

“Daepyonim Park,” you gasped both at shock and well, his beauty. His smile turned wider before he tried to hide it as he sipped from his coffee cup.

“Just Jimin, little one. I presume Taehyung- the bastard who will soon be six feet underground for what he did, by the way- already went to see you?”

You nodded, “He did…”

He scrunched his nose before resting his chin on his hand as he leaned into you. His pouty lips were protruding even more as he looked over his long lashes to you. My God, this man was so charming and his movements seemed so sensual. You didn’t know what it was about him, but you finally, finally understood your coworker who had a major crush on him for years based on one interaction.

“He’s so bad, my love. Did he tell you that he drained all our cars’ gas tank at two in the morning?” he asked in a conversational manner as though it didn’t faze him. His other hand reached to yours, slowly entangling them together and giggling a little at the slight size difference. He found them perfect and cute.

God, you were so endearing, he thought to himself.

“He did what?!”

He nodded slightly, holding your hand up to inspect further before quietly taking a picture of your clasped hands. You were so out of it that you just let it be.

“What Taehyung failed to account for was the existence of taxis. He only managed to anger six men, so good luck to him today. But enough about him,” he stated before looking into your eyes. Being the sole focus of Jimin was just too much, you thought. He was bigger than life, and his inherent appeal was palpable that even girls around the coffee shop kept on stealing glances on him. “I miss you so much today that my heart and head hurt so much, yeobo. I thought that I was going to die if I don’t see you.”

Your brows furrowed in concern before pulling your hand from him and you could have sworn you heard him whimpered. You laid the back of your hand on his forehead, trying to see whether he had fever today. He felt fine, you concluded, as you looked closer to see if he looked sick.

Maybe the ‘love potion’ caused these symptoms? Taehyung did mention experiencing pain.

You managed to escape from Park Jimin when he insisted on buying you pastries, and you in turn ran to the exit like your life depended on it. And perhaps, it did because you were running late. You only had fifteen minutes and the coffee shop you went to was not fifteen-minute away from the office. You were running like a lunatic, waving at the taxi that finally took pity on you. You were about to open the door when a large and tattooed hand slammed it shut.

You looked up in anger, ready to berate the man who did such a rude gesture when you recognized who it was.

Right then and there, and despite it being barely eight in the morning, you already met the entirety of maknae line. Jeon Jungkook looked like a badass with his all-black getup, his hands wrapped in motorcycle gloves, and his hair carelessly falling around his face. Despite all that, he looked innocent with the way he grinned at you, his nose all scrunched up when he greeted you.

“I’ll give you a ride, noona. Come on,” he stated as he gestured at the black motorcycle haphazardly parked on the side. You had never ridden one, and you didn’t want to start now. On the other hand, the taxi was already driving away and you could only look at it with longing.

You decided that you could afford being late just this once instead of riding with him. You were shaking your head.

“But you’re going to be late. I’m going there, too, so it’s no bother if that’s what you’re thinking-“

“No it’s just… I like to walk during the mornings…really.”

He frowned at you as he removed his gloves, “Didn’t you read the memo about tardiness, Y/N?”

“What memo?”

He was typing rapidly on his phone, “About how there would be 50% deduction of the salary should there be any tardiness this month…didn’t you know?” he asked innocently as he finished typing, his doe eyes trained on yours. Coincidentally, the moment he pocketed his phone was the moment your phone dinged.

“I don’t think that’s legal, though. I haven’t received the memo-“

You looked down at your phone, and there it was, an email about that. How could it only reach you now?!

You looked up in panic, and he looked at you with a hint of satisfaction before covering it with an innocent smile. “Shall we? I promise I don’t bite.” Yet.

He drove like a lunatic and you thought that you would really rather be late than experience a thrill such as this. Of course, it was only natural that you didn’t want to put your arms around him. You technically didn’t know him at a personal level and Jungkook did know that.

So, of course, like the intelligent man that he was, he only did the thing that made sense. He sped up, and he chuckled as your adorable screams reached his ears. Your equally lovely arms were now wrapped around him as they should always be and for once since yesterday, the ache in his heart eased. He felt at peace.

He giggled when you finally realized that this was not the path to the office, but in his mind, his other hyungs already got to spend time with you. Shouldn’t he too?

Jungkook helped you get off his bike, his eyes closely watching your expressions as you took the scenery around you. It was quiet despite the busy world below. The overlooking garden he brought you to was enchanting and it remained untouched by the quick-pacing world below. Jungkook couldn’t help but mirror your smile.

“It’s even more beautiful at night, noona. I come here when things get quite overwhelming.”

You turned to him as the two of you sat down. He had laid his leather jacket for you to sat on, a true gentleman you would think if only you weren’t aware that he drank the potion. “The golden maknae gets overwhelmed, too?”

He scrunched his nose at you before softly pinching your nose, “Of course, I do. I’m only human. I was trained when I was only thirteen…it gets too much sometimes. But it’s okay. I like it, and I like the hyungs, too. That’s why I cannot get mad at Tae.”

“He didn’t just empty the gas tank, but he also hid the keys. For added measure, he deflated my tire. He only did that to me. Should I be mad, little one?” he asked with the perpetual charming and shy smile on his face. “Ahh, but I cannot stay mad at him. I do understand him.”

“You do?”

He nodded eagerly, “I would have done the same thing if only he didn’t do it first. You do make us crazy, little one. Why is that?”

It was an eventful morning, and you weren’t foolish enough to think that the rest of your day would be any different. You friend was still yet to be found as she was preoccupied with researching for further information about that potion, which she should have done before giving it to you!

You sighed for the million time as you stared at your food. You were sitting alone in the company’s cafeteria as you were eating your late lunch. The workload was just too much today despite Kim Namjoon’s departmentwide directive that the revision would be presented the following month. Your superiors did find it peculiar and thought that the head CEO was simply playing with them and that he would cruelly demand the output the next day. See, even his reputation preceded him, you thought. It wasn’t in his nature to be lenient when it came to deadlines.

The sudden gentle thud of food a lunch box made you jumped from your seat, your eyes widening as you saw that it was none other than the eldest of the CEOs, Kim Seokjin. Disbelief held you captive. It was an unexpected sight – the CEO, whose tailored suits and polished demeanor spoke of boardroom authority, now standing before you with a container of something that smelled absolutely delicious.

He smiled at you as he took the empty seat in front of you. He busied himself with laying and opening the numerous food containers in front of you. Your eyes widened at all the homecooked meals in front of you.

“I got up at four in the morning to prepare all these. I still don’t know what your favorites are, but we’ll figure it out as we go, right?” he asked, busying himself with putting food on your plate. “Always eat on time, little one. It’s bad to skip meals.”

“W-why did you cook all these?”

He blinked owlishly at your question; surprise written on his face. “Well, my love, I couldn’t sleep and I felt this stabbing pain by the mere thought that you weren’t eating enough.”

“You don’t have to do that-“

“So from now on, I decided that I’ll always cook for you,” he declared strongly before lifting his chopsticks with vegetables to your mouth. Suddenly, you felt eyes on you.

How could you forget that you were in the company?! Your head turned, looking at the employees who were all watching your interaction with the unobtainable CEO. They were whispering and you knew by the end of the hour, everyone in the company would know of this. How could you live once they had the antidote? You could already hear the rumors about how you were just for their entertainment once they tossed you aside.

You were about to stand up when Seokjin gently gripped your chin. He turned you to him, his beautiful eyes willing you to listen to him. “Don’t mind them, little love. Pay attention to me only. Nothing and no one matter outside us, okay?”

It wasn’t okay because none of this was real. On the other hand, the meal tasted heavenly…

---

If they weren’t going to get sick, you definitely would. You felt like you would collapse any moment.

The amount of stress was taking a toll on you. You felt like you needed to be on your guard, lest another CEO would ambush you. You were just human! And they all looked like they stepped out of a photoshoot, or that they were ethereal beings that decided to go down on the mortal realms. The way they were showering you with attention and declaring their attraction to you and the way they said that not being with you felt like a stabbing pain in their hearts were all getting to you, damn it!

You were just a girl.

And once this all ended, you were dreading to think of what would be left of you now that you saw them on a closer and more personal level. You wanted to think that this couldn’t get any worse, but it did as you read the most elusive of the CEOs’ email to you.

Hi, my little one,

I hope this email finds you well. I am writing to request your presence at a meeting in my office to discuss my growing feelings for you today at 2:00 pm. Your insights and expertise on this matter would be highly valuable to the discussion, and I believe your input will contribute significantly to our objectives of being together forever and ever.

Thank you in advance for your cooperation, and I look forward to our discussion.

Best regards,

CEO Min Yoongi

He had this faraway look on his face when you were led by his secretary in his office. His hands were in his pocket as he looked at the bustling city from his floor to ceiling window. His black long hair was sleeked back, revealing his stoic face. The dark suit he was wearing did nothing but compliment his form. You had never noticed how broad his shoulders were until now.

He looked like he was not paying attention, yet he turned around the moment that the door closed behind you. Min Yoongi looked at you for a moment too long that you started to shift uncomfortably. His attention was just too much, and you couldn’t act like you were no longer affected by any of it.

And from the looks of it, the moment you blushed was the exact moment his face softened. He gestured for you to take the seat in front of his desk. He mirrored your movement, now sitting on his expensive swivel chair. He clasped his hands and rested them on the mahogany table.

“Daepyonim Min-“

He held his finger up, asking for your silence before spilling what you thought to be both outrageous and the most beautiful and heartfelt thing anyone had ever said to you in this life. “You’re beautiful, and not just in the way that you look. No. You’re beautiful in the way that the sun finally shines after a month of storms; you’re beautiful in the way that the waves keep on going back to the shore even after they were pushed away in the desire to kiss the sand; you’re beautiful in the way that flowers bloom after the unforgiving winter coldness. And that is why I’m giving you Samsung stocks.”

Confusion settled over you like a fog. You had almost melted from what felt like a poetry when he once again brought up his stocks idea from last night.

“I-I really don’t need Samsung stocks, Daepyonim Min…”

He looked aghast at your statement, before reaching over the table and holding your hand in his particularly large ones. “Call me Yoongi, my love. Or better yet, call me your other half,” he implored you and he only let go when you nodded in confusion.

“Also, nonsense! Everyone needs that stock, little one. Besides, nothing speaks more about my love for you than giving you all my Samsung stocks. And above and beyond, it filled me with this immense pain knowing that you’re just out there not owning any of their stocks. I couldn’t breathe with the mere thought of you going without.”

“Excuse me?”

And with a stoic face, he said, “Congratulations, little one. You’re now a millionaire."

At six in the evening, the head CEO finally made an appearance. You did find it peculiar that you had a fairly quiet afternoon after meeting with Yoongi. Your brows were pinched together as you were lost in thought when the elevator opened, revealing the head CEO. He had yet to notice you, his large and imposing form leaning against the side of the elevator. His eyes were close. You noticed that his white sleeves were already folded, his tie already loosened as his black suit laid on his thick forearms.

Kim Namjoon was the image of weariness, and you thought he looked quite pale. Your growing concern for him was what made you stepped inside the lift rather than running away yet again. The sound of your heels as you stepped in was the only sound in the elevator. You pressed for the ground floor and you saw that the floor for basement three was already pressed. Perhaps, the head CEO was going home now. Now that you were standing almost next to him, you only further affirmed how small you were next to him. He was already larger than life, and the way he always held himself exuded confidence made him more striking…and manly in your eyes.

The ride was fairly quiet, and through it all, he had his eyes closed. You kept on stealing glances, thinking that maybe among the other CEOs, he took in the least amount of potion. You felt lighter with that thought. At least you only had five men you needed to find the antidote for. Come to think of it, you hadn’t seen the sunshine of the group, Jung Hoseok yet.

The elevator dinged, signifying your floor. You had taken merely a step when you felt a large hand completely encircling your wrist, effectively stopping you from leaving. You automatically turned, startled to find him with his eyes trained on you. He looked way too alert for someone who had his eyes closed for the past minute. You gasped when he pulled you closer to him as he pressed the close button.

“Daepyonim Kim,” you called him as you craned your neck to look at his draconic eyes.

“Leaving so soon?" he asked, his deep voice carrying a subtle mix of amusement and curiosity.

You hesitated, the words tumbling out of your mouth as he caught you off guard. “I... uh, yes. I was heading to the lobby. I’m about to leave for the night," you stammered, attempting to regain composure.

A playful smile curved his lips as he completely blocked the exit. leaned against the elevator frame, effectively blocking your exit, which sounded successful as the door closed. “I missed you,” he breathed as he took you in, his thumb gently running over the inside of your wrist as though touching you brought him immense comfort. “A lot. It was hell without seeing you the whole day.”

You blinked owlishly and you wanted nothing but to hide your face from the intensity of his gaze, but he wouldn’t let you. Instead, he smiled so gently at you, the dents on his cheeks making an appearance which made him more charismatic that you couldn’t say no when he told you that he would take you home.

But he didn’t exactly say which home because you ended up in what turned out to be the CEOs’ huge ass mansion. Your eyes roamed around the mansion, the high ceilings and the fancy marble flooring all screamed wealth that you didn’t even dare of dreaming to have. He confidently led you to what appeared to be a grand dining room. The room bathed in the soft, flickering glow of candlelight, casting a warm and intimate ambiance. The delicate flames danced gracefully, creating patterns of light and shadow that played across the table. The air carried the subtle fragrance of the candles, a mix of vanilla and subtle hints of lavender.

The dining table was adorned with crisp, white linen, and the flickering candles were nestled in elegant holders, their glow reflecting off polished silverware and crystal glasses. Each flame seemed to dance in harmony with the gentle melody playing in the background, creating a soothing symphony that enveloped the space.

He pulled a chair for you, and instead of sitting across from you, he sat beside you. He chuckled lowly when he caught your questioning eyes, “I have been apart from you for so long today, little one. I need this to feel alive.”

You straightened up in vigilance that the other CEOs would show up. “Are the others here, too?”

He looked at you like you said something funny. The chef he hired today gently laid all the dishes he made, explaining about each dish before wishing the two of you an enjoyable night. Namjoon told you that he wouldn’t feed you any of the food he made unless he enrolled himself in a culinary school first, hence the chef. He waited for the chef to leave before turning his full attention to you.

“I shipped them off to Antartica.”

“You what?!”

“I simply said we were flying to Japan for a quick meeting. They believed. I lied. End of. So anyway, how many children do you think we should have?”

My God, you wanted so bad to lay on your bed and sleep the whole night. You though about filing for sick leave tomorrow, you were long overdue for a leave, anyway. Kim Namjoon was kind enough to drop you off. However, it was only after you promised him that you would talk about possible schools for your future children that he let you go.

On the other hand, your friend finally called and you were sorely disappointed to know more about what she gathered today. Her grandmother had to ask the other folks that lived in the mountain about your situation and it somehow appalled you that you weren’t the first to experience this.

It was, at the same time, sad to see people resort to this from loneliness.

Was an artificial, forced love and companionship better than being alone?

There were both an instant and quite a long-term effect of the potion, she said. The instant was mostly upon ingesting the liquid. Once they locked eyes with the owner of the potion which so happened to be you since she technically gifted it to you, then the immense attraction would start. You thought that this explained why the seven of them all acted that way in the conference room.

The long-term effects were what caused you to groan all the way up to your apartment. And right then and there, you saw what the long-term effects were. As you trudged up to your apartment, you felt the exhaustion to your very bones. You were looking forward to a hot shower in an effort to wash away the problems that stemmed from a simple prank when you saw who was leaning against your front door.

The last of the CEO, Jung Hoseok, was leaning against the door, his head bowed down as he clutched his heart. He looked like he was in unfathomable pain, his lips almost the shade of white. And your friend’s words echoed in your mind.

‘Prolonged non-contact with the object of their desires will cause them to be physically ill.’

You hurried up to him, holding his shoulders as you looked at him. You were crouched down in front of him, peeking up at his pained face.

“S-sir, are you okay?”

His chest tightened, his face contorted, a mask of agony etched with lines of distress. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead, evidence of the intense effort to draw in even the smallest amount of air. The hallway fell silent, save for the raspy, labored breaths that escaped him.

‘They may try to fight the unexplainable feelings they have, and this will only cause them harm. In fact, if they go without you for a long period of time, their body will suffer for a long time.’

“Hoseok? Can you hear me? I’ll call for help, okay?” you tried to make yourself sound calm for his sake, but seeing him struggling, desperate to gasp for air was making you panic. Your negligence did this, you thought. You should have made sure that you were holding the right tumbler that day.

You were about to turn to call for help when you felt a hand pulled you closer, and before you knew it, he had his arms around you. He was still breathing hard, but you noticed that the shallow breathings were farther and apart as though he could finally breath. The moment you touched him, the moment you looked into his eyes was the exact moment that a wave of relief swept over him as the oppressive grip on his chest began to loosen. The moment that you called his name was the moment that the torment that had shackled his every breath gradually lifted, replaced by the sweet release of a deep, calming respiration.

“Don’t leave me.”

‘However, every interaction with you would only make their attraction grow further.’

You placed a glass of water in front of the man who now looked perfectly fine as though he wasn’t fighting for his very life outside your apartment. He was offering you reassuring smiles as he gently watched you. He was surrounded by sacks of expensive cat food, toys, and vitamins. And of course, your cat was only too happy with them, evident by the excessive purring he was emitting as he climbed on the CEO’s lap.

“I did hear that you have an adorable son int the form of a cat,” he started as he petted your spoiled cat. “As his future daddy, I would like to provide for him as early as now.”

You didn’t pay attention to whatever he was saying, and instead, you sat next to him to see if he was really fine. The paleness was now exchanged by a healthy look on skin. It was as though that didn’t happen.

“Hoseok, listen…the reason that you are all acting this way to me, the girl you didn’t even notice before this, was because-“

“Because of that drink, right?” he interrupted you, wearing a soft smile that conveyed he harbored no anger.

“Y-you know…”

He nodded before tilting his head, “I do. It’s weird, as you said. The thing is, all of us suspects the same thing. You, little one, only confirmed it.”

“I didn’t mean for any of these to happen-“

The soft look he had was now dropped, revealing the strict CEO that everyone knew him to be. “Regardless, little one. You need to take responsibility over your actions.”

“H-how?”

“You’re going to live with us until all of this fades. You’re going to take responsibility over us, my love.”

Part 2 sneakpeak, Part 2, Part 3 sneakpeak, Part 3

[mochii0park]

Don't speak; pjm

Title: Don't speak

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Genre: angst I fluff

Pairing: doctor!reader x businessman!jimin

Release date: February 10th 2025 (due to illness, last delay I promise)

Summary: Love, trust, mutual respect and intimacy are often the keys to a successful marriage. Something your marriage with Jimin has been lacking for the better part of it. Five years of dating and three years of marriage were thrown down the drain after a gruesome fight. In an attempt to salvage your reputation and respect for each other, you agree to settle the matter with a divorce. However, faith had other plans which included erasing the last 4 years of Jimin's life and turning the clock back to 2021.

Oneshot: ONE I TWO

Masterlist

Taglist: If you want to be tagged when the oneshot is posted do write on this post or sent me a message :)

[ctrlhope]

The Pitfalls of Silk (m)

synopsis: The winter gods are out to get you. That could be the only possible explanation for the series of bad luck tumbling before you— tropical vacation cancelled, snow locking you inside. Hell, even your shovel broken in half has got to be the gods playing some sort of trick on you. Pulling you along, making decisions for you as they guide you along the red string of fate. Guide you towards the very spider that found his way into your basement. Allowing him to fall into your heart all the same. -> apart of the rest, relax, reserve series

p.jimin x f.reader

⋆𐙚┊: wc: 20.0k

⋆𐙚┊: genre: hybrid au, soft yandere, soulmate au, romance, fluff, smut, v light angst

⋆𐙚┊: content: spider hybrid!jimin (cobalt blue tarantula), human!reader, soft yandere jimin, dom!jimin, power imbalances, blood, blood kink, injury, mates / mating, stupid misunderstandings, reader is rlly bad at feelings, heat/rut cycles, jealousy, biting/marking, jimin has fangs, brat taming, light subspace, bondage, fingering, breeding / breeding kink, unprotected sex, cumplay, overstimulation, manipulation, mentions of kidnapping, mentions of venom, honestly rlly soft- jimin is just a little off his rocker, so many mentions of the word silk, jimin is soft for reader but also a little perverted freak <\3

⋆𐙚┊: notes: AHHH it’s finally here!!! I’ve had such a bad crush on spider jimin for such a long time. Creating his character over the years in my head— how exactly this type of hybrid would function was so fun for me. This fic (& the others that follow) has been spurred on by my special interest in arthropods so I hope you end up loving this jimin as much as I do <33 mwah I kiss u guys

18+ -> minors / blank blogs dni

The weather has grown cold, too harsh for anyone to live outside— survive. Burly temperatures tumbling through the air in icicles, the entire world painted in white.

While the city was still busy, your quaint neighbourhood had gone completely quiet. Everyone huddled inside, trying to keep warm while they sipped on cocoa. The worst blizzard in generations deciding to tumble through on the exact weekend you were meant to go out of town. Meant to be enjoying a tropical beach with the best of your friends!

But nooo, all of the planes had to stay grounded and you had to be stuck in your house with nothing but chilly embers decorating your fireplace.

You were pissed about it all, to say the least. Annoyed that your vacation had to be cancelled, annoyed at the fact you couldn’t stay warm in the slightest, annoyed that you had to be shovelling snow out of your driveway right now.

Well, attempting to shovel snow would be a better way to put it. In theory it seemed like the right thing to do– try and get your car out just in case, start to clear a path for when you’d finally be able to greet the outside world, triumph over whatever winter gods are trying to keep you locked in your home.

In reality, you could hardly move– three layers of pants, two coats keeping all of your joints locked down. God, and the snow. It was coming down way too hard, piling up faster than you could brush it away. Hurting your cheeks with the freezing temperatures, making your bones throb with want to go back inside.

It is safe to say that you did not succeed. That was an easy enough conclusion to come to with the two halves of your snow shovel in your hands. Eyes staring blankly at the object with utter… you don’t even know the word.

Cheeks flushed red with cold, head lifting to the sky as you blink. What the fuck! How shitty can your shovel be! What the fuck is wrong with the snow!

Okay, maybe you did buy it at the dollar store. But that isn’t the point! Where has quality gone in our nation! Caring about the consumer! Yeah, that was never there to begin with! But still! You like to think that there's a point in that somewhere!

The snow falling on your skin feels like the sky is laughing at you, mocking you. It probably is. Cancelling your trip, forcing you to stay at home into the lonely confines of your small neighbourhood.

Yeah, the world is out to get you, you’ve decided it.

A grumble leaves your throat in annoyance, quiet cusses leaving your lips as your legs try to waddle themselves inside. Layers of clothing restricting every movement you make, joints feeling stiff and bones feeling cold. You are no more than a penguin, are you?

“Stupid fuckin’ shovel, stupid fuckin’ snow…” You huff, slamming the thick oak door behind you. Hoping, in a way, that you could pretend none of the frost was there in the first place.

It’s not that you hate snow– of course not. You don’t like to hate much of anything. But when it’s this deep, this thick, you can’t help the sour mood you fall into. Can’t help the sickly feeling in your gut that it has somehow wronged you simply for existing.

Whatever, not that it matters much. You aren’t mother nature. You can’t change it or your now cancelled– most likely non-refundable plans.

What you can change? A nice warm pizza in your tummy.

You hum to yourself, tapping off your boots before ridding yourself of them entirely. Soon follows your jackets, puddles of water quickly forming on the floor where it falls. Snow melting much too fast now that it is in the warmth of your home.

You stare at it in spite, another way mother nature has wronged you today.

You know what? No, not your problem right now. That is a problem for you later today! The wood would be fine. And if it isn’t?

…

You groan, throwing your head back as you move to the bathroom. The battle of opposing forces inside of your head has won again– being responsible, doing the right thing.

Your hand snatches a towel, “Stupid shovel… stupid snow…” You huff, kneeling on the ground to wipe away the liquid that pooled.

You hang the towel back in the bathroom for it to dry before finally making your way to the kitchen. To finally make the frozen pizza you want– no deserve! Yeah, you’ve had a hard day today, being an adult is too hard sometimes. You deserve a little treat don't you?

Feet scuffling against the floor, fluffy socks dragging along the surface allowing you to quickly slip against the tiled floor. Your hips sway, a quiet hum leaving your lips as your hands move diligently, efficiently. Placing the pizza in the oven, setting the timer, flipping the switch on on the kettle.

Everything happens with practised ease. With movements that leave no room for error. Careful, efficient, the way your parents always taught you. The right way.

If you do everything correctly, things will never go wrong. You’ll never have to worry. When everything is in your control, everything is perfect and content.

It’s too bad the right way never accounts for things out of your control. When the world causes you to tense and get annoyed– when it doesn’t behave the way it's supposed to, like you want it to. Just like stupid shovels and a winter storm no one predicted.

But hey, at least you still have power. Your backup generator is there if you need it. Can still watch your dramas and eat warm food. Keep yourself sane while the insane persits just outside of your door.

Lonely, lonely, lonely winter storm~ whatever shall you do~

Your head begins to sing to itself while you wait. Maybe you already were going insa–

Bang.

What the fuck was that?

Your eyes instantly dart to the basement door wide with fear– the source of the sound.

A crash, a quiet cry, a scurry all sound in quick succession. Too loud to miss. Too loud to ignore. Too distinct to place on anything else.

You know winter noises. The crash of shutters against the window, the influx of snow on glass. The beating of hail against the roof or the creaking of pipes chilled from the cold. The noises you just heard? None of the above. They couldn’t possibly be. They weren’t. They were too… too…

Human.

Shit, shit. Is someone in your basement?! Oh god, oh fuck.

The room, it freezes over.

Your pulse starts to race– hairs raise, stand on end. Breath filtering through your nose as you start to panic. Fingers grip the countertop as you try to ground yourself. Try to figure out a way to escape this.

If horror movies have taught you anything– it’s how to run. Grab everything you can, high tail it out before you become victim to the unknown lurking just below the surface of your floorboards. Before you can be possessed or worse, chased down by some mass murdering clown.

That would be the smart thing to do– the wise thing. To get out of your house as quickly as possible, call the police to investigate it for you before you have to become the ‘final girl’ of a movie franchise of your own.

But the storm, the storm would never allow for the right thing.

The police would never make it in time, the roads far too hazardous to truly reach you. If they did, you would already have frostbite from the cold outside by the time they made it. You might be worse off than before–

At least, that’s what you tell yourself. The reasoning formulated in your head as you grab a broom from the closet, slowly make your way to the basement door. Completely ignoring the nagging feeling in your gut, the one that tells you that you actually want to travel down the stairs. A string tugging you along a path predetermined, forcing you to forego anything you had thought before.

No, your line of reasoning had to be the object pulling you down those stairs, creaking with every slow, nagging step that you take. It could never be curiosity, a want to understand the unknown guide leading you astray from the dirt road you’ve taken time and time again.

The right road that would lead to the right solution is all but forgotten in this moment. Only adrenaline spurring you on, fingers clenching and unclenching around the broom handle in your grip. Fingers tied so tight around the metal that your knuckles may as well be white.

You're terrified– scared out of your mind. The only noise passing through the drums of your ears is your own pulse, the accelerated beat of your heart as you try to clear the fog that dances over your brain. Fear must be clouding your judgement, making you follow it blindly into the light; well, dark.

Your breath leaps from your chest in short pants, eyes haphazardly harding around your form as you make it to the bottom of the stairs. Something is keeping your legs moving when all your brain wants to do is turn back and run. Call the authorities like you should be doing instead of risking everything to satiate the incessant need pulling at the back of your skull. Acting on instincts alone, allowing the string of fate to tug you around the corner. The urge to investigate is stronger than anything you had ever felt before. Anything you’ve ever wanted to feel before.

He sees you before you see him.

“P-please..” The quiet, almost non-existent voice sends a chill down your spine. One you were not expecting in the slightest.

Terrified, panicked. Shaking like a leaf, eyes welled with tears. It’s almost like he knew you were coming down all along, just… didn’t know what to do about it. Too scared to move, too scared to hide. Too scared to do anything but sit there and wait.

Just as petrified as you.

Nothing about the scene before you is making much sense at all. Not to you, at least. Why is he so scared? Why is he in your home? Why isn’t he doing anything but sitting there with pleading, helpless eyes? You try to take everything in, try to fit the pieces of the picture together.

Basement window opened slightly, just enough to allow the man— was he a man? To climb inside. Pretty blonde hair completely dishevelled on his head, grime coating what you know would be such pretty locks. Eyes with double pupils brimmed with tears threatening to spill at any second. Pink plush lips quivering with worry, fangs biting into them so hard you fear they may bleed. No, they are bleeding.

He is definitely not a man. Nor is he a beast. An intoxicating swirl of the two combined into a species of hybrid you’ve never seen before.

The first thought in your head is one it shouldn’t be. One that makes your heart stop for entirely different reasons than before. Makes you drop the broom in your hands, allowing it to fall to the ground with a clatter. Defences dropped completely in the face of the stranger before you.

He only flinches at the noise, blood covered hands reaching in panic to cover his all too sensitive ears.

Any worries have left you– something seeded deep within your soul tells you he isn’t a threat in the slightest. Not to you, at least. Never to you. Maybe it is the same string as before pulling you along. Pulling you to what destiny has provided.

He is absolutely gorgeous. Even with the grime and his pale complexion from the cold you can tell that easily. He might just be the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen, and you find lost in yourself what to do about it.

What is anyone meant to do when a drop dead gorgeous hybrid enters their home in the middle of a blizzard? Just as scared as you were moments before? Looking like he might freeze to death if you don’t–

Holy shit he must be frozen solid.

It’s only then that you come to your senses, your eyes racking over him once more as you take in all of him for more than just the beauty he brings.

His clothes are thin– far too thin for this weather at least. Tattered on the edges, few stains spotting the fabric, though its clear effort was spent trying to get them out. Your mind wants to wonder why he would worry about that, worry about making himself appear presentable, but raking your vision down you know there is no time for it. Not with the blood on his palms or the red of his flesh.

Your body moves quicker than your brain can think, crouching down in front of him. Noticing the way he flinches once more, the fear in his eyes more palpable, hurting worse than a gunshot wound.

The constriction of your chest is dumb, or at least it should be. Feels almost benign, unfounded. You just met him, you're scaring him, but for an unexplainable reason you wish you could take all of his worry away just for that moment. Make him feel a little better, a little warm. A little safe.

“It’s okay… it’s okay…” Your voice mumbles, trying to soothe him or yourself, you’re not entirely sure.

“I-I’m sorry… pl-please don’t.. It’s just so cold… Please…” He begs, though neither of you are sure what for. Not to hurt him, not to send him back outside. All you know is the tears that now flow from his eyes, cresting along his cheeks, dripping to the floor.

“Not going anywhere…” You hope your voice sounds stronger than you feel, hope he can’t hear the way the strings of your heart break, hope he hears how much you care in your tone all along, “Trust me a little okay…?”

You know your words mean nothing, that it might have been an impossible task for him to do so. But you had to try. Had to hope.

It should be hard for you to trust him too, it should be hard to rectify your fear in the face of the one who had caused it. It isn’t the right thing– none of this is the right thing, but it all just comes too easily. Compassion, caring takes over the anxiety too easily. Too brilliantly to do anything else other than care for this hybrid that has wound up at your door.

He was just a scared hybrid doing whatever he needed to to survive. Terrified out of his mind that he would freeze or starve out there– probably had no burrow or… you’re not sure, honestly, what his home might be like. But no home nevertheless. You could never just send another person out there to die.

He stiffens as you reach out for him, gently take his hands in your own. They feel like ice, frozen solid. You don't want to acknowledge what could have happened to them if he was out there any longer.

Without thinking you raise them to your lips, blowing on them as best you can. Trying to do anything to get the blood flowing again before you take him upstairs. Warm him up properly. Make him feel like more than a snowman once again.

You don’t notice the way his form completely loses all stress as you touch him for the first time, speak to him the first time. He feels transfixed on your voice– it had to be too sweet to be real. But you were too focused on your mission. Too focused on making sure the man who has broken into your home is okay to notice the way his lips part slightly at your tone.

You don’t notice the way his breath hitches, the way all of his hair stands on edge as a current runs through his body, breathing life into every pore he possesses. Nor the way his eyes widen, losing their will to cry as he stares at you.

Don’t notice the recognition on his face.

You don’t notice a lot of things he does that day. Too focused on getting him into a warm shower– one he was very confused by, you might add. Too focused on getting a warm meal in his belly. Too focused on getting him in nice, clean clothes. A set that will properly keep him warm.

You could worry about other things later. But this felt right. This felt like something you were always meant to do. Or maybe that was just the size of your heart talking– you could never be too sure. But you liked to think it was the former. Liked to hope that Jimin, who you later learned was a spider hybrid, was always meant to come tumbling through your window, into your life for good.

The days that follow are easy– falling into a rhythm with him, taking care of him is just too simple. As basic as breathing, maybe.

Though, it hasn’t exactly been hard with how much he sleeps. How deep he’s nestled in your bed, blankets piled on top of him to drown out any chills that may attempt to slip into his bones. It’s almost like hibernation– if you could describe it. Re-building his energy, making himself feel strong again before he faces the world.

You can’t blame him, honestly. Not after everything he’s been through. Only god knows how long he had been out there. How long he had to brave the snowstorm, the cold weather that previewed it as well. You would probably do the same thing. Hide yourself from everything that hurt you.

Most days you wish you could be doing the exact same thing as him. Hide under a pile of blankets and forget the rest of the world exists. But the voice of your parents would always nag you out of it, force you to be human with the rest of society because it's the right thing.

You humph, gently placing a plate of food on the bedside table. Let him occupy your room for as long as he needs, preparing meals for him even though he never touches a bit of it. It’s the least you can do with his condition.

You don’t think you’ve ever wanted to stop someone's pain so badly. You hope you can by just doing small things like this. You sigh, heading for the door once again. Another day on the couch.

“Human…?” His voice is quiet, almost non-existent as he calls for you. Cracking slightly, the first time he's spoken in days.

You quickly turn to face him and almost want to fall to your knees at the sight. Fluffy blonde hair peeking from just below the covers, doll eyes peering at you while the rest of him stays hidden beneath the surface. Does he know how destructive he is?

Wait, no. Now isn’t the time to be thinking about this. He’s letting his defences down, actually talking to you. Stop it.

“Hmm?” You gently call back, glued to your spot in the doorway. You don’t know what he would do if you moved, how startled he may be because of it. You want to talk to him– to find answers.

“What time is it…?” He slowly asks, pacing his question. You notice a slight lisp behind his words– how much of an effort he puts to cover it up.

“Mmm.. about 1? I made myself some lunch so I was just stopping by.” You explain, trying to justify your presence in the room.

“Oh.” He looks beneath the blankets, eyes darting around the room, “Okay. Thank you.”

It seems neither of you are great conversationalists, awkward air passing between the space left between your bodies. You don’t blame him. You don’t know what you would be thinking, feeling if you were in the same place as him. If you didn’t really know what your fate was going to be.

“How are you feeling?” You ask quietly, playing with your fingers to distract from the nerves that you feel. As much as you want to jump, pin him down and ask every single thing your heart begs for, you know that isn't the right thing to do. You know you should be slow, careful with this. At least, that's what the articles online have told you.

“Better…” His voice comes out smoother this time, finally coming out of sleep as he sits up in the bed. Gently taking the plate into his lap, scrunching his nose. “It’s not cold in here like out there.”

You can’t help but smile to yourself. He seems so relaxed, so at ease. Not scared in the slightest of you or what you may do. You forget all about the fact that you should probably be scared of him too.

“Not really,” You smile gently, eyes glancing at the window as he starts to eat, “I was really worried about you, scared me bad.”

You don’t see the flush that covers his cheeks.

“I-I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to… your window was the first one I could get through and I knew I couldn’t take the storm anymore so I–”

“Hey, It’s fine.” You turn your attention back to him, “I’m just glad you’re okay, yeah? It must’ve been terrifying out there.”

“It was.” He doesn’t hesitate in answering in the slightest, eyes serious as they focus on you. They’re beautiful, really. His eyes.

“I’m sorry…”

He shakes his head, “Not your fault human, I left the reserve. My fault.” He tells you in earnest, wanting you to believe it with every piece of your soul that you could never do anything to hurt him, “Come sit?”

The question is quiet, but you oblige nonetheless. Legs moving you slowly, perching at the end of the bed to face him. Kicking your legs slightly as you stare at the pattern of your sweats.

“The reserve?” You ask, turning slightly to face him. His face is suddenly smiling, nodding at your question. He must like the place a lot, see it as home for him to become so excited.

“Yeah! Where I live,” He explains, continuing to shovel food into his mouth as he speaks, “They say humans can't hurt you there, you get to hunt like in the wild too.”

He hums, content in talking about the one place he has ever found comfort in, found friends in. You can’t help but smile as he speaks, too.

“Yeah? It sounds really nice.” He’s nodding his head once again, as quickly as he can.

“There are lots of other arthropods to play with there. Lot’s of food. Sometimes the humans that visit will give you some too, but they’re normally scared of me.” He suddenly looks serious, eyes coming to meet yours once again, “You’re not scared of me, right?”

You jerk your head back, brows furrowing together in confusion. How could someone be scared of someone like Jimin? You’ve only known him for a matter of days and you doubt that you could ever be.

“Of course not.” You tell him, gently reaching a hand over to place on his knee. He doesn’t flinch away like you expect him to. “You just needed some help, we all need help sometimes.”

He smiles, the serious demeanour retracting from his face in an instant. Back to smiling down at his food happily. The silence doesn’t feel as awkward anymore, at least you don't think it does. It makes you happy, stretching on as he continues to eat like a man starved. He probably is, days of not eating and only sleeping.

“Why did you leave it?” You tilt your head, staring out the window once more. Few snowflakes trickle against the blue sky, “I mean, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. But I figure if we’re going to be together through the storm–”

“You’re not gonna kick me out?” His face is awestruck, fork dropping to the plate in surprise. What is he talking about? Kick him out? In this weather?

You quickly shake your head, hand slowly pulling itself back from your knee. He whines in protest, quickly trying to force himself back under your heat. The touch of your hand warmed him up more than anything else in this room– more than the blankets, more than the heater or the warm towels.

His hand tangles itself with your own, pulls you back to his covered knee. Keeps your hand in place with his own while he uses the other to eat. Good. This is better. He likes it when you touch him. The way your small hand feels wrapped in his own.

Makes the tips of his fingers tingle, warmth spread throughout his skin. This is right. This is good.

“Why would I kick you out?” You ask in disbelief, either unnoticing or uncaring to the way he holds your hand– he’s unsure. Not that it matters much! “It’s too cold for anyone out there. I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

He smiles, the pit of his stomach only warming more at your words, “Good.”

“We have to wait for the snow to melt to drive you ba–” He cuts you off once again, not wanting to think about going back. At least not without you.

“My friend Taehyung leaves a lot,” He begins to explain, fingers squeezing your own as his palm lays heavy against the back of your hand, “He always talks about how fun it is. All the cool things he gets to see, you know?”

He places his plate to the side while he talks, licking one of his fangs gently. You don’t want to think about how handsome he looks while he does such an action.

“So I wanted to try it out, but we’re not really supposed to leave, you know? ‘Cause then we’re not protected.” You nod along, “And I don’t really have wings to fly out so… I had to wait until they weren’t really paying attention.”

“And that just happened to line up right before the snowstorm was supposed to hit.” You finish for him and he nods, looking down at his lap, “That has gotta be such shitty luck, Jimin. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s really not, you just wanted to go out and experience new things and you almost ended up dead.” You frown at him, trying to get the man to understand the gravity of what may have happened. He simply shakes his head, plush lips tilted into a small smile just for you.

“I said it’s okay.” He tries to make you believe it, leaning closer. Feeling nothing like the stranger he was only days before. “I got to meet you, so it was all worth it.”

Mate. Mate. Mate.

Jimin has a mate that he’s going to be with someday. Someone he’s going to fall in love with. Someone he’s meant to be with, be happy with for the rest of his life. Someone that isn’t you. You really need to accept that and move on from this stupid fucking crush you’ve developed. One that will amount to nothing but heartbreak.

All hybrids have them– Jimin is not excluded from that. You know it’s true. Know it’s so true that you can hardly breathe but he just makes it so easy, too fucking easy to fall for him.

He takes care of the house, cleans it for you whenever there is a mess. Does the dishes after dinner. Takes out the trash. Tells the spiders in the yard not to mess with you– okay, you’re not entirely sure he does that last one. But he is adamant he can speak to them, and who are you to rain on his little spidey parade.

As the seasons change and the months pass, he only makes it easier and easier. Fitting into your life like he was the only piece missing. Filling in all of the bits and pieces you never knew you needed, wrapping silk around your heart and pulling it tight before you could ever think about letting him go.

Even as the months heat and his deep blue roots grow out from his bleached hair, he has no desire to the place he once called home. The reserve quickly pushed aside every time you try to bring it up. Saying he likes it better here, that this is now his home.

To be honest, nothing makes you more happy. Nothing in the world could possibly make you feel better than Jimin. His little webs he places in the corners, the soft way he clings to you when he becomes needy, the way he likes to show you any bugs he catches before he eats them. You’re not sure you could continue in your life without it.

Yet still, still. You’re not sure if this is right. The right thing, the right way to go about it all.

You often fear that you’re keeping him from what he really wants, if he actually wants to go back but feels indebted to you in some way. If that’s the only reason he actually sticks around.

You worry you’re being selfish in that regard. And then once again you find yourself spiralling into the void of questions you could never have answered. Feelings that will always be unaccounted for because Jimin has a mate.

Or at least, will have one. Someday. And you’re not sure if you could handle that day coming. Not in the warm heat of spring, flowers blooming alongside feelings for an arachnid that has entered your life.

One that has no intention of leaving your side anytime soon, if he has anything to say about it.

But nothing, nothing in the world could prepare you for this. What could prepare the thrum of your heart or the butterflies in your tummy? You never expected him to hold you this close, keep your body pressed against his own in the small space of the coat closet. Keep his face tucked away in your neck, whining in pain at something you could never think to discern.

So quickly you were pulled away, without a second to waste you were dragged onto his lap. One second kicking off your shoes, covered in mud from gardening, the next a hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling you into the dark confines. Only Jimin there to cover up your scream, lips delicately pressed to your ear uttering a quiet please. Voiced laced with a whine so pained you couldn’t help but join him without a second to spare.

A thought to think– a debate on whether this is right to do or not, for yourself and your own heart.

“Min? Min, what’s wrong?” It’s the only thing you can think to ask, pulling him away from your neck, making his head face your own. Hands gently cupping either cheek as your eyes attempt to make out the features of his face.

It’s too dark, you can’t see anything. The only answer he gives is in the form of a pained groan, not even his eyes reaching you through the darkness. You start to panic, feel the nerves along your spine light up in trepidation.

He’s hurt. He has to be. What happened? Is he okay? He’s never acted like this before. Not with you. Never before has he seemed so hurt, so dishevelled save for the night you first met him.

Just before this the two of you were gardening, mid-morning sun shining bright overhead. A light breeze passing through the trees keeping the two of you cool. That was it! He only went inside a few minutes before you, a few minutes alone and he was already hurt this bad.

Oh god, you never want him to hurt. To be in pain. It hurts your heart just as bad as it hurts him, if not worse.

You’ve fallen a lot farther than you thought.

“Min, let me just turn on the lights okay? Let me see what’s wrong.” You try to coax him, try to kneel from his lap to reach the string above you. Panic flooding through you as he keeps you snug, keeps you from helping him.

You stop your struggle, veins running cold as he lets out a sharp, violent hiss. A sound he’s never made before, never dare uttered towards you– around you in general. It leaves you nervous, scared for entirely different reasons than before.

But one thing is clear from the way his fingers dig into the skin of your wrist almost painfully. The same wrist that was reaching for the string. He doesn’t want you to turn on the light.

“Okay…okay I won’t…” You tell the arachnid, slowly lowering yourself back onto his lap. Letting go of the struggle, letting go of the resistance. It isn’t what he needs right now, isn’t what he wants.

His grip loosens, arms returning to their place around your waist. Holding you close. Keeping you in his arms. His face nuzzles back into your neck, inhaling deeply with every breath he takes. Smelling you. Imprinting the memory of it in his brain.

“What if I use my flashlight…? Would that be okay?” Once again, the response is a much short, quieter hiss. A lot less defensive, angry than the first. Just a sign of dismissal.

“Okay…” You say quietly, bringing one arm behind him to gently run through his hair. Scratching his scalp in a way that always has him preening, “Can you please tell me what's wrong? So I can help…? Please…”

Your voice is quiet, almost a beg as you ask him. He squeezes your body tighter in response. Would’ve basked in the tone you gave him if not for the pounding behind his eyelids. Still, he knows if he’s going to get you to stay, he has to talk. No matter how much it hurts.

A whine leaves his lips, nose running along the column of your neck as he tries to scent you, “Hurts.”

He answered, his voice shaky and quiet, but it gives you nothing.

“I know Min, I know…” You hush quietly, trying to consol something that you do not have the answer to. Your other hand slowly starts to soothe up and down his back, trying to relax the poor boy enough to speak.

“The light. Hurt eyes. Head Hurts.” He gruffs out, burying his face into your skin to block out any other source that he could.

Your lips part in a soft ‘o’ as the picture becomes clear to you. Staying outside too long, helping you in the garden had come at a cost to the poor spider in the form of a splitting headache.

How could you have been so dumb to let him help you? The articles you’ve read, the pieces you’ve tried to put together to understand the man in your life– they told you as much. How delicate some species' eyes could be but… Jimin never seemed to have that issue before. Never mentioned it, anyway. He doesn’t mention a lot about himself.

You frown.

“Min, I’m so sorry…”

He only grumbles in reply, blunt nails digging into the back of your shirt to keep himself grounded. To keep his head from pounding any louder.

“Let me– Let me go get you some Ibuprofen, yeah?” You hope the sound of your voice isn’t making everything worse. If it does, he doesn’t say anything, only shaking his head, burrowing it further under your hair.

“Just… stay.” He sighs in defeat, shoulders relaxing as he holds you close. He doesn’t need medicine. He doesn’t need anything else. He just needs you. Why can’t you understand that?

“I’ll–” You breathe, trying to force the flush of your cheeks to disappear. He can see in the dark, you know that much. You wouldn’t want him seeing this. The effect he has over you. Doesn’t he know how dangerous he is?

“I’ll stay.”You sigh in defeat, unaware to the pride that blooms in his chest at the battle won. The quiet chirp from his throat that he has you here, with him. Where you’re meant to be.

Hours pass just like that, just the two of you wrapped in each other's arms. No words spoken but quiet requests to know the other is okay. That the other is safe. Even as your muscles begin to cramp, bones start to become sore you don’t dare to move. Don’t dare to do a thing when you are the only one that matters to him right now.

Jimin makes it so easy to pretend.

Especially as his migraine begins to lift, as the conversation between two souls becomes more frequent. As he moves your body to the side so your head can rest against his chest. As his fingers smoothe over the skin of your thigh, rubbing gentle, comforting circles into your flesh.

“And then Namjoon, you know how bad a flyer he is, ran straight into the director of the park. Made her spill her whole coffee all over.” He smiles to himself as he tells the story of the bee hybrid, eyes heavy as he looks down at your form. So cute and small, “and you know what he said?”

You shake your head, “what?”

“‘You need some honey?’” He recites, dipping his voice in a deeper octave to mimic what you can only assume to be Namjoon’s. His voice falling into quiet giggles, you quickly follow suit. Laughing at stories of friends, feeling at home in the dark closet.

You don’t care how long the two of you have been in there. Only that he isn’t in pain anymore.

“I’m glad you’re okay now.” You tell him, eyes feeling heavy, the soothing tremor of his voice vibrating in his chest making your head start to fog. Inklings of sleep slipping into your frame. Head lulling back against him, looking up at him with sleepy eyes.

He nods, his throat constricting at just how perfect you look there, fingers teetering on the brink of digging into your skin once more. “Feeling a lot better… my vision is still a little spotty but it's okay.”

You pout. He has to hold back a coo. Too cute. Do you even know how cute you are when you get like this? Probably not.

“No, it’s not okay. I should have known. Told you to go back inside so you don’t get hurt. I don’t like it when you get hurt.”

His heart pounds once, twice before he releases a shaky exhale. Do you know what you do to him when you talk like that? When you show him just how much you care?

The level of restraint he has, it has to be impressive. If he was Taehyung, he would have taken you right there. Wrapped your arms in webs so you couldn’t move. Mate you without a second thought.

Seriously, what did you think you were doing? Talking to him like that? Making him feel like he’s going insane, a few short strings from breaking free and just taking you to his nest. Keeping you there.

You can’t say things like that to him. Not with how innocent you look, with how terribly he already wants you.

A harsh breath comes out of his nose as he forces the thoughts away. He’s not Taehyung. He’s not going to take you for his own selfish desires alone. No, he’s going to keep lulling you into his web like he knows you want. Knows you need. Keep being a good little spider for you.

“I should have told you.” He says quietly, lips coming down to place a gentle kiss on your forehead, “Couldn’t have known my species is sensitive like that.”

You hum in quiet annoyance, “Still… read online about some glasses that can help some insects manage light… should have bought them.”

A courting gift? No no, you don’t know what that is. No matter what his spider screams he knows that isn’t true.

He sighs, he needs a distraction. Something to calm the voice in his head screaming at him to kiss you.

Your leg kicks out gently as he starts, feeling like nothing but a feather tickling across your skin. Gentle silks laying across the surface from his wrists, spinnerets hard at work to produce the webbing he places on your thigh.

He huffs quietly, a smirk of a laugh coming out as he moves your leg back, “Tickles?” He asks, an amused lilt present in his voice. Oh god, he’s going to start teasing you again. He loves teasing you.

“What are you doing?” You ask quietly, eyes glancing down to where his fingers move expertly. Thread after thread moving through his fingers, decorating your skin as he draws pictures. Paints flowers, sunsets, anything he can think of really across the canvas of your thigh.

“Just drawing… calms me down.” Marking you, claiming you. Showing every other arthropod that this one is his, this one is Jimins’. Well, at least for the next 3 days when the stick wears off. “Do you want me to stop?”

A tingle runs through your spine as he works, eyes not able to leave his hands for even a second. Your stomach swarms with what has to be a hive of bees, your core bubbling with something you don’t want to describe or think about.

You just hope he can’t smell you. Can’t hear the race of your heart, the increase in breath. The flush on your cheeks that travels all the way to your ears.

He can.

“N-no… It’s okay. I want you to feel better so… do what you need to do.” You mumble, trying to get your feelings to calm down before you fully lose it.

You have to buy those glasses.

Being a spider is just too difficult!

At least that’s what Jimin has told you time and time again over the past 8 months you’ve spent with him. Cold, icy months blossoming into the summer heat with him by your side. With him making residence in your home, cementing his place in your life without any regards for going back to his original home.

It’s too hard for him out there anyway! People at the park think you’re scary so they won’t give you any snacks, security removes your webs when they become too prominent around the landscape. Something about having to “give other spiders a chance” and them “taking up too much space.”

Can you believe them?! All the time and effort he put into his pretty webs, gone in a flash! The strain the sun caused his eyes, the pounding headaches he endured stringing up pieces of silk along the trees, creating a beautiful orchestra of white to claim his territory.

Thank god he doesn’t have to deal with that anymore, at least. Ever since you bought him those sunglasses, making webs outside has never been easier. Catching prey so much easier than ever before.

You don’t think you’ll ever get used to the sight of him eating the bugs he catches, but who are you to yuck his yum? You know all of the things he’s had to endure as a spider. Everything he’s convinced the world hates him for simply based on his breed alone. The least you can do is show kindness around his diet.

That’s how you end up rubbing his back in soothing circles time and time again, fangs piercing a stuffed animal or piece of fruit– anything he can get his hands on really, as he whines, flinches as he spits out all of his venom.

His venom is one of the worst things he’s had to deal with, you’ve learned. It builds up behind his teeth, waiting to be used on a waiting victim when there is no such thing. No exit point for the liquid to flow.

His fangs begin to ache, begging to pierce something just to release all of the pent up tension in his gums. It hurts too bad, too much to just keep it inside. So once a month, you find yourself in the same position, trying to help him relieve the aggression with soothing, gentle words as he spits the venom out in a way you can only imagine is unsatisfying. Leaving his fangs sensitive and achy for days to come.

In general, his fangs seem to be a point of special contention within the hybrid. They’re too pointy, cause too many issues. The extended canines digging into his plush lower lip just a little too hard making every movement just a little too uncomfortable. God, and he has to worry about brushing them to perfection– keep them pretty for his mate.

At least, that’s what he tells you.

The rest of the world hurts him. You don’t.

Today especially. At least that's what you can assume by the stretch of his arms, the whine bubbling from the back of his throat. His arms reaching for your form, beckoning you, calling you to join him on the couch. All worked up, acting like a wounded puppy that needs nursing just to get your attention.

It always works. Always will.

Some would say he’s become more pushy— more desperate for your attention, forcing it from your grasp without realizing it yourself. That’s what your friends have told you. How easily you fit into the palm of his hand with no more than a simple gesture coaxing you forward into his sweet embrace, never noticing the glares he sends others who enter your home.

No, you would deny all of it. Listen when he tells you that you don’t need your friends anyway. It just feels so good to be needed by him, wanted by him in a way you can never have him. In whatever way he’s willing to give.

r weakness than ever before. No matter how much you’ve tried to avoid it, how much you’ve tried to do the right thing and shove the stupid, pesky feelings down, he’s managed to twist himself into the confines of your heart. Filling a deep hole inside with his pretty silks and crooked little teeth. Takes up a lot more space then you’d ever be willing to admit. Not to him, anyway. Not when he could find his mate any day now.

You’ve been thinking about it more and more lately– the prospect of his mate. It’s difficult not to when he treats you so kindly. When he creeps in your bed at night to cold you, when he reaches out for your comfort alone. When he graces your neck with his fangs his lips–

You drop the dishes back in the sink, shoving your thoughts back into the deep dark recesses of your mind. Maybe if you can be his comfort for now, that will be enough. Even if it isn’t right.

Maybe that’s just how far you’ve fallen, how much he’s tangled you in his embrace. Not that it matters much, you smile all the same. Abandoning your task on only his third whine and fourth dramatic roll of the night. Giving in is so easy when it’s him.

But! It’s a new record for how long you’ve held out! Even got two stomps out of him. You should be proud of yourself.

Maybe you are, though it's for different reasons entirely as Jimin grabs at your wrists, pulling you down beside him. Nudging his face into the crook of your neck with a quiet, pained whine.

You like to ignore those other reasons. They’ll only hurt more if you face them head on. But it's hard to, so hard when he’s this close. When he’s holding you like you may just be the very thing from shattering his world apart.

Or maybe you’re over thinking things.

Yeah. It’s probably that.

“Y/n…” You feel his lips ghost your neck as he whines, wiggling slightly in discomfort.

His duality is always impressive, has been making your brain go a little haywire since he first moved in, since he became more comfortable in your presence. Letting you see him for what he really is. Always playing so cute, so pliant when he needs something– attention, food, for you to just give in and give him what he wants.

Other times he acts as if he could be the reincarnation of Arachne herself. Beautiful, deceptive. Terrifyingly aware of how attractive he is to the human eye. You think he does it on purpose. Likes to see your head spin as you try to keep up with which apparition of Jimin you will experience that day.

He doesn’t know how dangerous it can be, especially for you. How easy it can be to believe that it's real and not just the flirt of his personality. At least you have cute Jimin for now. It’s a little easier to manage.

“You okay Minnie? Something happen?” Your arm reaches up for where he clings to it, fingers gently petting through his fluffy blonde hair. The action seems to soothe him, make him almost pur from the feeling of your fingers alone. Make him feel the slightest bit better from whatever might be irritating him.

He forces his wrists onto your lap, nuzzles his face further into your neck. Inhale all the scents you have to offer. Let you see the issue of spiders.

The tiny holes of his spinnerets come into view, red and inflamed. Shit. They have to be hurting. The skin jutting out slightly more than it should be. Pretty strings of silk hanging in a messy manner. Clogged glands always hurt. Always make for issues.

You frown at the sight, delicately taking his wrist into your hand, looking at it closer. No, not too bad you have to take him to the doctor… you can handle it fine. But it won’t feel good, it never does. Dummy must’ve gotten too excited while webbing up the basement again, got his poor spinnerets working too hard. Overproducing silk to the point it has nowhere to go.

“Min!” You whine, already grabbing a pair of tweezers from the side-table– you’ve learned it’s always good to have a pair on-hand. “I told you that you gotta be more careful!”

“I know!” He hisses almost pathetically, “Just got ahead of myself!”

His voice is no more than a grumble, turning his head away from you yet not pulling away in the slightest. Pretending he hates when you scold him, when you show just how much you care about him.

You pretend it isn’t cute in much the same way.

“Always end up getting ahead of yourself,” You sigh dramatically, acting as if having to take care of the arachnid bothers you more than it actually does. Truth be told, you don’t care in the slightest. Who knows, maybe it even makes you preen in delight.

Feeling wanted as your fingers try to be as gentle as possible while removing the silk. Pulling out the little pieces strand by strand, work out the knot it's made under the skin to try and bring him some relief.

Though, no matter how careful you may be, he still flinches in pain all the same. Trying to cover it up like it was nothing, like every poke and prod doesn’t hurt. Like he can be tough under your gentle hands and pained gaze. He knows it has to be done and no matter how much you hate to see him in pain, you do too.

The dull ache will grow worse and worse, could even turn into an infection if you don't handle it as fast as possible. Worst case? He may have to have his spinnerets removed completely. A fate that feels worse than death to a spider hybrid– or so you’ve read at least.

Soon after he came into your life you did everything in your power to learn as much about his species as possible. Scoured webpage upon webpage, blog post on blog post, youtube video after youtube video. Even went down the sticky threads of a reddit rabbithole to try and learn everything about him.

The only thing you found: how horrible arthropod hybrids are treated in your society. Either sold at auction for absurd prices or cast aside completely depending on how “inhuman” they look. How they are used as tools to show wealth or are discarded from the rest of the world completely. The notion alone had pissed you off to no end.

Jimin was a member of the latter group– or at least that’s what you assumed. From behind no one would be able to tell he was any less than human. His lack of multiple limbs or fluttering wings left him to the devices of the reserve. Probably cast aside, dropped off by the people that raised him for not providing anything that went along with their definition of ‘value’.

Your eyes pinch into a quiet glare. They’re just fucking stupid. Anyone could see that Jimin is perfect. Anyone could see that he did not deserve the treatment he's received, nor deserved to be in the state he was in when you first found him.

And while you’re glad he didn’t end up with anyone else, still didn’t end up in an auction house like many others had, you hate them for thinking they could define his value. That they could define him for more than what he lacked. He still has beautiful fangs. Still has beautiful eyes and his natural cobalt-blue hair. He is still perfect to you.

A sharp hiss leaves his lips, arm attempting to jerk back from your hold as your grip tightens just a hair too hard. As you accidentally tug on a far too sensitive part of the knot. Getting a little too lost in your head while your fingers pick away diligently. Trying to ease the pain as fast as you can.

“Human!” He whines, quickly shushed by a flurry of apologies leaving your mouth. Face flushed, panic in your eyes as he admonishes you.

Once again you’re reminded all too well of how far you’ve fallen for him. Heart racing, brain yelling at itself for hurting him.

It’s dumb, you know that. Everything about the schoolgirl crush you’ve formed on him is. But it doesn’t stop the frown on your lips, the gentle rub of your fingers into his skin as you try to make it up to him.

A quiet grumble leaves his lips, heart hurting at the little dejected expression you wear. He forgives better than he forgets, moving his arms back to the pillow propped on your lap, allowing you to continue your work.

A pout stays on his lips as he watches your hands move. Watches the way the tweezers move under the thin layer of skin. Watches the way you move softer now, taking your time with him. Trying your utmost to not hurt him again.

To you it feels far too intimate. To him, it leaves him almost feral.

“Been working really hard on them lately, haven’t you?” Your voice sounds, trying to distract him or yourself from wandering thoughts– you’re not sure. He’s almost clean– almost all better so you can stop playing nurse. Get a warm washcloth to soothe the skin, take away any ache that lasts from the overused glands.

He nods, “Autumn is coming up…” He mumbles, the words leaving his lips in almost a shy fashion. Like it’s a secret that isn’t a secret at all in the coy fashion he knows you adore.

He knows all too well all of the things that make your stomach flutter. Listens to your heart beat like it’s his favourite song, the flush of your cheeks his favourite painting. Every little twitch of your lip or tap of your feet he catches with ease. You are his favourite everything.

You’ve become far more interesting than any book, far more gorgeous than any actress. Learned to read you better than yourself.But he supposes that would happen to any hybrid who had to wait as long as him, endure as much as he has.

Humans are tricky things, you know? You have to wait and wait and wait just for them to finally give into what they really want. Play the long game to win a prize at the end like he wants, deserves.

He’ll win it soon. August.

“Mmm? Having a contest with the house spiders or something?” You giggle, an effort to try and keep the atmosphere as light as possible. Try to distract from any pain he may be feeling at the moment.

Jimin is convinced he can speak to them– the house spiders that you allow to stay in the corners of your house. Another one of Jimin’s pitfalls that you couldn’t help but wonder into. He claims that they’re his friends, that he talks to them all the time. You, on the other hand, are unconvinced. They probably just use him for food!

“How did you know?! Who told you!” He gasps in mock surprise, head dipping low to rest on your shoulder before he continues, “No, not this time…they all know I would win anyway.”

“I know you would,” He doesn’t allow you in the basement to look at them, at least he hasn’t in the last month, but you’ve seen plenty strung around the house. Dotted in the corners of each room, his way of claiming territory. “You’ve always got such pretty silk.”

His face flushes– he knows you can’t see it. It’s good if you don’t, better if you have no clue how much your words affect him. Exactly how much those words mean to him.

Hopefully you will soon enough. Hopefully, if things go according to plan, you’ll know a lot of things. But right now you just need to stay a little clueless. Just for a little longer.

That’s what he promises to himself.

“What’s happening in autumn then?” You ask, finally pulling the last bit of silk from his left wrist. Both finally clean, finally working like they should be.

Taking each wrist into one of your hands, your thumbs find the openings to the spinnerets. Fingers rubbing gentle, soothing circles into the flesh. Your version of a little makeshift massage. One that always causes him to fall apart under. Spine slumping, mouth parting slightly as he watches your fingers work. His brain going a little empty along with the soothing motion of your fingertips.

Another thing that you don’t understand the intimacy of. The extent of what your touch means to him. How terribly it makes him want to bite you.

His voice is a pitch lower than before. You can’t help but notice the way his breath stutters in his throat at the gentle movement of your thumbs. The way his pupils expand ever so slightly. The way he leans into your touch, avoids eye contact at all costs.

You can’t help the blush that dusts your cheeks, the flutter of your ribcage. The way you keep going just because you know it’s making him feel good.

Stop it! You’re thinking in a bad way again! It isn't right! It’s just from the massage, the relief after his spinnerets are cleared! God, you can’t think about him like this. Can’t do this to yourself! Calm down, seriously. None of this is a big deal.

You know he can hear fast your heart is beating regardless of the argument going on inside of your brain.

“Autumn is mating season.” Your thumbs stutter.

Oh. That is something all of the articles definitely neglected to tell you. They didn’t tell you anything about… that aspect of spiders. Not that they explained much to begin with but certainly nothing about breeding.

You can’t help the way your grip tightens, trying to find purchase– stability at the revelation. Heart thrumming in your chest faster, more aggravated than before. The chill that travels down your spine with the hum of his voice so close to your ear.

Can’t help the sinch of jealousy that finds you either.

Fuck, you hate that he’s smirking– without even looking at his face you can tell! You know he can hear the exact pitter-patter of your heart, any little sound or smell you let out he can easily pick up. Knows your exact emotions before you know them yourself.

“Ah… I see.” This topic really shouldn’t make you so embarrassed! Pull yourself together!

You know that all hybrids have a cycle they go through. Heats, ruts, anything in between. You knew that when Jimin came into your life he would be the same! Knew there would be a time when he’d have to lock himself in the basement, body flooded with hormones. The pretty sounds you’d have to block out filling the house.

But still, because it’s him, you can’t help the nerves that arise from your core. The realisation that it would be coming sometime soon.

If you’re going to make it through you’d have to invest in some soundproof headphones. For your own sanity.

“Mmm?” He smiles, voice sweet and saccharine. Away with the pain of existing also left cute Jimin, leaving a deadly predator in its wake. One that likes to taunt and tease you while acting as innocent as an angel.

Leaves your brain confused, floundering trying to keep up with his deceptively sweet tongue. Doing it all just to get a cute little reaction out of you.

Guess he picked up on the exact little whirlwind of your mind, “You’re so cute when you’re embarrassed…”

“Shut up!” You whine, trying to stand from the couch so you can retrieve a washcloth. Try to avoid the way your heart is going to pound out of your chest, the way you know you’ll fall farther into his clutches.

His arms lock on firm, face nuzzling into the crook of your neck to rub his cheeks against your skin. Scent you just like he does a million times a day claiming that it's necessary. Spiders smell so much less than other hybrids– he has to do it or else.

Or at least that’s what he says– you think that it’s another lie.

“What!” He laughs, “Not like I’m saying anything dirty, it’s only natural.” He chides, sliding back against the couch, pulling you into his side with ease. Slotting you in like you’re meant to fit there, not whatever mate he meets in the future.

Your brain yells at itself. You know how dangerous that line of thinking is.

“Unless you want me to be dirty? I could if I wanted, you know.” He smiles as innocently as a wolf, fangs oozing with confidence behind them.

“Oh my god!” You sigh dramatically, putting on the front you always do when your heart feels like it may just explode. When you feel like digging an early grave because Jimin knows exactly what he’s doing.

You simply roll your eyes, “And I could punch you in the dick if I wanted to, you know?”

His laugh is always so pretty, boisterous yet still as light as air. Head tilting back, his neck on display as he chastises you for the empty threat. One you both know won’t come true, at least not right now.

He smiles, a gentle kiss being placed on your forehead as he urges you to stay. Promising he’ll be a ‘good little spider’ so you don’t have to worry about him. The implication of snacks and movies making you stay. The way he pouts when you tell him you’re not buying anymore BugBitez™ until the end of the week confirming that this is where you need to be right now. That it’s right.

It’s almost too easy for him too. Everything is too easy for you when it comes to Jimin. He claims the exact same.

Or at least, that’s what he mumbles in your ear now. Arms wrapped around you as tight as he can manage. Movie nearing its end with Jimin on the cusp of consciousness, you having lost the plot of it a long time ago.

Something about Aliens? Cowboys? Mothman? You couldn’t even hope to guess. Not when his breath is in your ear.

It’s hard to focus when he’s so close like this. When he’s saying pretty words that could get you lost in your fantasy over and over again. Making him harder and harder to give him up every moment that passes you by.

“Got lucky with my human.” He mumbles, half asleep, face buried in your hair, “Really good human.”

His lips move so lazily when they speak. Fangs running across the surface your skin like they have a mind of their own. Never daring to pierce the surface. Never daring to bite you for real. No matter how bad he really, really wants to.

How bad he wants to mate you. Make you his pliant little prey– see if the rumours about what his venom does to humans is real.

Your breath stutters but you pay it no mind. Trying, begging your eyes to remain focused on the movie. To ignore how deceptive sleepy Jimin is. Tomorrow, he will act as normal. His words will carry no weight.

He isn’t your boyfriend. You aren’t his mate. You two are just friends sharing a house.

Feelings you have no right to have are forced down over and over again. It seems like it's become a daily occurrence– a pattern of habit you have no hope in breaking. The love piling behind your eyelids means nothing when the person he is meant to be with could be around any corner.

But it’s getting harder. Too hard to hold them back and restrain yourself. Especially on nights like this when it feels like fate that the two of you met.

Thinking back on that fateful day now, all of those months ago, you’re sure it had to have been. Maybe the winter gods (if such a thing existed) decided to shine their light on you; to make the blizzard a little less lonely. Make your life filled with long days and even longer nights just a little bit brighter.

Or maybe they hated you and wanted you to suffer.

Wanted you to live a life knowing your affections will never be reciprocated, knowing that Jimin has a fated one out there somewhere just waiting for him. Knowing that it isn’t you. Cursing you to a life of watching Jimin fall for another.

Thinking becomes so hard when it’s about Jimin. When it’s about the man who made you so far into the pits of hell that you don’t think you’ll ever crawl out.

So instead your fingers simply squeeze his hand. Rub gentle, soothing circles into the skin. Care for him like you’re meant to instead of thinking about what the future may hold. What will happen when he does find his mate. What they might be like, what they might dress like, if they’ll have to move in here, if you’ll have to watch him fall in love over and over again every single day.

You think you might hate them.

You sigh.

No, that wouldn’t be fair. Could never be fair to Min. He deserves happiness. He deserves the world whether or not you’re a part of it.

You hope he isn’t able to pick up on the changes in your scent.

“Mmm mm, got lucky with you Min.”

August 11th.

A beautiful dream shattered by the incoherent nightmare that is your spider pacing around your room. A pillow pulled to either side of your head, doing everything in their power to drown out the noise as an audible groan leaves your lips. His nervous prattling too early in the morning for your liking.

Any other day it would be fine, you would think that it’s cute. The way he worries his lip between his teeth. The way he gently bites down on the pad of his thumb, one arm crossed while the other soothes the skin of his chin.

Any other day you’d sit in bed, listen to him. Mock him slightly with how much worry runs through his body.

But he isn’t talking about his mate any other day, is he? No, it seems that the occasion has been saved for this morning. His head running a mile a minute, losing all composure he once had before. Losing his very sense of self as anxiety courses through his veins.

“What if it isn’t good enough? I need to present it to her soon. Need to make sure everything is perfect for her.” Apparently he had met her. When? You have not a single clue. Jimin hasn’t left the house in weeks other than to go hunt bugs and to go to the grocery store with you.

“What if the web isn’t big enough? She might not like the style either…” He grumbles, eyes locked on the carpet as he moves back and forth across your room, “God and what if she hates the food… No, no you know what she likes.”

“Jimin, she’ll like everything. It will be fine.” You groan, sitting up in bed to face him, voice gruff with morning air.. You don’t want him to be in here, talking about this. Talking to you about this. Shattering your heart every second that passes by.

You knew it would happen someday, you really did. You tried to do everything right. Tried to pretend reality wasn’t creeping through your windows with every second that passes by. Try to ignore the impending sense of doom that covered your skin.

Did everything right only to end up failing once again due to the rations of Park Jimin.

You try to look at him through the fuzz in your eyes, sleep still trying to force you back into its clutches with everything that it has. Try to see what he is doing– understand what he is saying. His voice continuing to speak yet not fluent enough for you to actually understand. His body twitches ever so slightly, head jerking as his teeth dig deeper and deeper into his thumb. It was almost like you weren’t even in the room– not to him at least. Lost within the tangles of his brain.

Pulling himself deeper and deeper into the recesses of his mind, spiralling out of control of everything that seems rational, everything that he is meant to do or meant to say. It’s almost like he isn’t in the room at all. Isn’t pacing along your floor, surrounded by your scent. Comforting his inner spider before it loses control entirely with the hormones that rush through his veins.

August 11th. The date was circled 5 times on his calendar– red exclamation points, doodles scattered across the stupid day. Yet now, for the life of him he can’t seem to remember why. He can’t seem to remember much of anything though, so that isn’t a surprise. Only his web. The gifts he’s prepared for this day. Yeah. Those are the only things he can seem to think about.

A hand lands on his shoulder– one that isn’t his own. Who’s touching him? He isn’t sure. Isn’t sure of much other than the smell combing through the room that becomes sweeter and sweeter by the second. Honey he is unable to resist.

Especially with how soft the hand is that touches him. How gentle it is on his shoulder, his pace back and forth falling just so he can revel in it. Understand it.

“Hey Min.” Oh. It’s you. Your voice coming through the fog. Your voice startling him from the dream.

Gorgeous, gorgeous you.

Mate.

“It’s gonna be okay, yeah?” Why do you sound sad? No, maybe it’s distressed. His face falls.

No, no, no. You shouldn’t be sad. You should never be sad. You should always be happy with him. You should love him. His love should make you whole. Your love makes him whole.

Wait, does he have your love yet?

Now he isn’t sure.

All he knows is that he should. You should. He should wrap you up in his nest, hold you close until you feel nothing but him. Don’t think about anybody else. Look at anybody else. You should always be happy and safe. Happy and safe with him just like he feels with you. Has always felt with you.

More than that stupid reserve. More than his webs back there. It was fate that brought the two of you together, right? Right? So he should be allowed to indulge just a little. He should be allowed to let go of this stupid, fucked up play he’s been putting on for so long. He should be allowed to do whatever he wants.

The reserve always taught him he was a wild spider, you know?

Wait, spider.

Spider.

His rut. That’s what’s coming today. That’s why the day was circled. That’s why Jimin isn’t acting like himself. That’s why his spider is itching, clawing to come out to play. Why he so desperately wants all of you to himself.

He hasn’t even presented his web yet.

He tilts his head at you, blank eyes staring down into bright ones. Ones that hold his entire world at your fingertips.

“There he is.” Your smile is almost blinding. Makes his head pound just like the sun's rays.

That’s right. That’s why he needs to keep his composure. To keep that smile on your lips. To keep you happy. To keep you falling in love with him slowly the human way. The way he knows you’d prefer. Knows you adore every second of.

He isn’t Taehyung. He isn’t Taehyung.

The human way is better. Better at keeping you pliant. Better at keeping you happy. Better at keeping you unafraid.

He hates when people are scared of him. Hates when people flinch with every movement he makes. Hates when people can’t just love him like he so craves. He’s still a hybrid. He still wants love. He was bred for it just like the rest of them.

So when you came into his life, so gentle and caring despite the palpable fear that scented the air– weighed it heavily, it sparked light behind his eyes. When he felt you touch him, felt the sparks dance across his flesh and allowed himself to inhale once more. When there were no traces of fear within you, only the scent of his mate. His eternity.

He knew he had to do the right thing. Had to make you love him the human way. Had to make you fall for him, endure the wait. Endure the daily struggles of his instincts just so you would never be afraid of him. The end would be worth it.

He would never let you fear him even at the cost of his own sanity.

Because he isn’t Taehyung. He’s Jimin. He’s a good spider.

“You need to be careful Min…” You tell him quietly. Your voice is the only anchor to his shaky world. The light brought him back from the edge over and over again today.

He needs to leave your room before all of his planning goes to waste. Calm himself down. Present to you his web and all of his gifts so you can accept him properly.

“Your thumb… it’s bleeding honey…” He tilts his head again, inspects your hands as they move closer. Tries to force lucid thought from behind his heavy eyelids as you touch his skin directly.

Tries to ignore the throb deep inside as you gently remove the finger from his lips. Pull it away from the fang that was piercing him. The sting of the bite.

He hadn’t even noticed it.

He watches as a single drop spills from the abrasion. Slipping down his finger. Feels the way your hands come up to cup his cheeks.

Leave. Leave. Leave.

The way your thumb comes to his lips, worry etched across your features as you swipe away any remaining blood from his lower lip.

Leave. He needs to leave.

He isn’t sure how your finger ends up in his mouth. His plush lips wrapping around the digit, tongue curling around your flesh as he licks away the red spilled. Sucking on it gently as heat curls in his stomach. His eyes half-lidded, staring into the recesses of your very soul.

A groan passes through him at the taste of your skin. How sweet you are against his tongue. Do you even know what a vixen you are? What a tease you’ve come to be over the past 9 months?

No. Of course you don’t. Not with the blush that rushes to your cheeks. The stutter of his name that passes through his lips. The questions that you ask– what are you doing? Wh-why?

He wants you to be quiet. To enjoy you for all it’s worth. Enjoy everything you have to offer.

The command is silent– no more than the press of his bleeding thumb to your lips. The demand that you part them for him. To clean that wound that you unknowingly caused.

A hand on your cheek directing your head back. He’s been a good little spider, you can be a good little girl too, can’t you?

You are.

“J-Jimi–” He slips it inside, resting the pad against your tongue. Holding it in place. Asking, begging for this one little thing from you. You don’t mind, do you? You’ve always made him feel better before. This is no different, is it?

And so you do.

He watches the way your eyelids fall, your lips close as you begin to gently suck against it like he so craves. Like he desires down to the very cells that make up his body.

To imagine it’s his cock instead. Gently fucking into you over and over again, teaching you how to take his it how he likes. How he knows you’ll like. You’ll love everything about him. You’re meant to. It’s in the fabric of your DNA and soon it will all be his. Right after he shows you his–

Shit.

He needs to leave.

Got carried away in his fantasy. In pretending again.

His rut is coming too fast, too strong now that he finally has his mate in his grasp. He needs to leave. He needs to calm down so he can go this properly.

He leaves you on the bed, more confused and distressed than when he first entered. Annoyance hovering over your entire wake in a blanket of unrest. One that you know will not ease your soul for the rest of the day.

The spider has locked himself away. Hiding from you. Keeping himself in the basement, door locked, shutters drawn to drown out any sense of you that may be persisting.

You, on the other hand, have had nothing to do but stew in your own emotions. Think about every little decrepit detail that occurred hours prior. Edicting yourself to only address him by spider even in your thoughts.

It’s spiteful, sure. But it’s the least he deserves, you know? After everything he’s put you though– pulling you along like a little puppet on a string. Making you sit idly by for him to give you any lick of affection he’s willing to part with. Making you feel special, like you're worth something every second that he gets only for him to remind you with too much familiarity that he isn’t yours to have.

He woke you up, told you about his mate, looked at you like he was going to fuck you, and made you suck on his finger only for him to leave? The sheer fucking audacity of this man.

You’re sick of it.

Sick of having to force everything down because you know it isn’t what he wants. Sick of falling in love with him every day. Sick of having to play house. Sick of not having him. Sick of being playing the lovesick fool.

So, into the novels you fall. Into alternate worlds that are far better than your own. Displacing yourself into new habitats, new environments to escape the confines of the four stuffy walls that surround your body, head, and heart.

Into a world where it’s okay to fall in love with whoever you want. Where it’s okay to feel wanted. Where reality can be shut away by your headphones and a good snack. Where you can ignore the body approaching behind you. The tap on your shoulder.

You try to, honestly. And a good attempt it was.

Keeping your grip firm on the pages, nails digging into the paper below. Breath in your lungs held as if doing so would keep him away. Eyes tracing the pages over and over again though reading nothing. Attempting to appear as if you didn’t notice him at all.

Maybe he would leave, that was your biggest hope. Take the headphones placed firmly over your ears as a loud, obnoxious hint. That he would see you’re not interested and retreat to his basement layer to plot on the next way to torture your heart.

He doesn’t. He never would.

His frame comes to kneel in front of you. To stare up at you with those big brown doe eyes that you know you could never escape. Placing a gentle hand on your knee, trying to get you to see that he is there. That he wants to see you.

You see his lips move, though ignore entirely what they say. Letting out a huff, turning your body away from his own. Continuing to mindlessly stare at the pages even though their contents holds no meaning in this moment. No real value.

His forehead drops to your leg, a sigh leaving his throat. Words mumbled from his lips you’re unable to make out– not that you would want to hear them anyway.

Maybe it’s a temper tantrum of sorts. Giving him a taste of his own medicine. To feel even a pinch of what you do. He probably never does.

Your fight is a good one. It truly is– at least you think so. But it all comes tumbling down the second his lips press against your knee. His hands reaching past your iron grip on the book to hold your own.

You will always fall to the likes of Jimin.

Especially when you see his lips mouth the word please. His brows crested with worry, his lower lip quivering in worry. Fangs biting the surface to try and soothe the nerves he feels.

Any sense of foreboding he held earlier, gone. The tick of his shoulders, the cold, blank stare of his eyes vanished. Your Jimin, the one you’re used to, in love with, rising to the surface again.

You’re unable to fight against the plea, no matter how much you want to. Unable to fight against him.

“What is it.” Your voice is harsh as you remove your headphones, setting the book to the side. Much more than it appears he’d like it to be if the flinch of his neck is anything to go by.

“I…” Words feel lost in his throat, but he forces himself to continue forward, “I have something I need to show you, human…”

Why is he acting so weird? Acting like earlier never happened? He seems nervous, almost petrified at your reaction. As if anything you say could break him entirely.

You don’t understand it at all. Anything about this situation, really.

“Okay…?” You watch his face carefully, trying to reason. To figure out why exactly the air seems so heavy. Why this situation feels so tense. “Show me then?”

“I…You have to come with me?” It sounds like a question, his face flinching at his own words. He’s meant to do this perfectly. Why can’t he seem to get it right? Why can’t his instincts help him with this? “Like, I can’t bring it up here… I need you to follow me?”

“Huh?” The quiet breath leaves your throat as your features pinch.

He quickly tries to explain further, trying to help you see through the worry on your face, “Not far I promise. Just to the basement, yeah?”

Your head jerks back in surprise, “You never let me go down there.”

“Yeah but…it’s special this time.” Oh.

It’s almost as if the pieces click together on their own. Your brain drawing conclusions, making decisions for you despite the obvious staring right in your face. His mate is probably down there. Wants you to meet her.

You can only sigh, accept your fate for what it is. Follow the boy with the string to the basement once again, just like the first night he came tumbling into your life.

“Okay.”

He holds your hand as you walk.

Holds it as if his life depends on it. As if it’s the red string of fate that has tied your two bodies together for the rest of eternity. As if he might die the second you two part. As if you might run away the second he lets go.

You never do, never try to run away from him. You’ve tried to run away from your feelings for so long. The least you can do is see through to the end of them, right? That would be the right thing to do. The dignified thing instead of trying to throw a tantrum on the floor.

The walk to the basement feels like the longest in your life. A marathon you have no training for, no experience with tugging you along. Silence extended for miles along each creak of the floorboards, each set of the dim stairs.

Jimin left the lights off, dusk settling along the horizon not long ago. Only distant flickers from the basement coming through as you make your way down. Candle light in the distance lighting the way.

He doesn’t say a thing as your feet reach the bottom of the stairs, toes cushioned by soft silk lining the floors. He doesn’t have to.

It’s beautiful. That’s the only way you can describe what he’s turned the basement into.

Beautiful silks cover every waking surface– the floors, the walls, the ceiling all lined in brilliant patterns of white dancing across the surface. Creating stories as if they were living themselves.

You wish you could stare at them. Admire them for the rest of your life. Decipher each piece laying, coating the surface. Envisioning the world through the eyes of Jimin. Through the world around him.

Webs cross from floor to ceiling, taking space over the room. Intricately laid in patterns you are more accustomed to with spiders. Webbed hatching sectioning off parts of the space, acting as furniture for the bug to rest on.

As your eyes scan the room, you finally find what you think has to be the most gorgeous web in the world. Sitting in the far right corner of the room stands a nest that takes up the entire corner. The effort it took to make it clear in its craft. So soft, so comfortable.

You almost want to curl up in it yourself.

Illuminated by only the glow of candle light, Jimin does nothing but watch as you take everything in. Watch as your face changes into that of euphoria. Mesmerised by everything he has worked so hard on, everything he’s done just to impress you.

You turn to face him, staring at him with nothing but wonder in your eyes.

“Jimin, this is– fuck this is incredible,” Your voice is breathless, cut off by how overwhelmed you are with everything. With him. “This must’ve taken you so long, it’s so beautiful. Oh my god, how did you–”

He can’t take it anymore. Can’t take it now that he has you here, has you in his web. Now that he can keep you in it forever. Complimenting him. Completing him. He needs to finish with the rest of this fast. Before he does something he’ll regret. Before he finishes showing you how good a mate he will be to you properly.

He tugs you forward, practically puzzling as he tugs you deeper into his room of webs. Expertly guiding you through each one without a second to spare.

Jittery, excited. Feeting rocking themselves back and forth as he sits you on a blanket placed on the ground.

He isn't going to last much longer. Not before his heat takes over. Before he loses his mind at you in the sight of his nest. His mate in his nest. Waiting to be bred. Waiting for–

No, no Jimin. Stop it. Stop acting like a spiderling that doesn’t know what to do with himself now that he has his mate in his nest.

“I…” He takes a deep breath, voice shaky as he tries to calm himself down, “I made us a picnic… I hope you like it.”

His spider hisses at the words, hating having to describe it as something stupid like a picnic. No, it's a nuptial gift. Evidence that he’s a good enough mate. That he’s good enough for you. That he deserves you.

You watch him, watch as he pushes the basket filled to the brim with food over to you. Watch as his frame shakes slightly as he stares at you, fingers tapping against strings of webs closest to your leg.

You can’t help but feel lost. Overwhelmed with affection, but utterly, entirely, hopelessly lost all the same. What is he doing? Why is he presenting all of this for you? Shouldn’t he be doing this for his mate? Isn’t all of this some type of courting ritual?

Oh.

It appears the puzzle you constructed– pieces matched together haphazardly stuck together with glue isn’t the solution after all. Isn’t the reality presented before you know.

You’re… you’re Jimin’s mate?

Your eyes widen, head jerking to meet Jimin’s gaze. His pupils shaky, not daring to leave the surface of the basket. Not daring to move an inch until you accept him.

You’re an idiot.

“J-Jimin a-are we…?” You hesitate to ask, hesitate to break the gentle balance residing over the entire basement.

His head snaps to face your own, eyes plagued with the same blank, predatory look as before.

“Mate.” Deep, harsh, scratchy. His voice makes you feel like he’s going to devour you whole. Like he is the monster waiting in the deepest recesses of your nightmares when that couldn’t be farther from the truth. When in reality he is the very being your soul yearns for stronger than any other.

The revelation, the– everything leaves you overwhelmed. Emotions strung up for the stars, casting aside any comets that tried to hurdle towards the perfect glass encasing this moment. This eternity you wish to live in forever as you finally understand that he wants you just as much as you want him.

You can’t help but grab his cheeks– ignore how venomous he looks, and press your lips against his own. Can’t help the explosion behind your eyelids, the sparks that travel across your skins in euphoric waves. The way your heart swells like a balloon, racing in your chest so fast you fear you may die.

Every emotion you’ve felt that day, every nagging, creeping sensation finding its way into the back of your skull vanishes in an instant. No going back. No orchestra or chorus reprise. No thoughts of not being his mate. You are his mate.

Only him.

Only Jimin.

He doesn’t part with you, not for a second. Not when he finally has you against him. When you so easily rise into his lap. When his natural instincts finally stop screaming at him and take over completely. Kiss you with everything he’s worth. Devour you whole.

His hands find purchase on your hips, blunt nails digging into the skin. Mocking him for not doing this in the closet with you all those months ago. Allowing him to truly understand how good it would’ve felt then. How good it will feel every second that follows.

He thinks you have to be the prettiest thing in the world.

His spider thinks that you need to be bred full of his spiderlings. Fucked so hard that you wont be able to walk– wont be able to leave his nest. That he’ll be able to tie you up nice and pretty, stuff you with his cum over and over again until you’d never even think about leaving.

His spider is winning.

“Min…” Your voice is breathless, trying to keep up with the flurry of kisses he presses against your lips, your face– anywhere he can reach. It’s like he’s addicted to the feeling, like he’s making up for lost time.

“Min, I love you.” And just like that, any sanity he has left vanishes.

His spider has won.

Without a second thought you’re lifted from your place on his lap, thrown carelessly into his nest. His nest where you will stay. His nest where he’ll keep you. All thoughts vanished from that pretty little head of yours. Just like it should be.

His hands find the back of his collar, shirt discarded without a second thought on the floor. He doesn’t need it anymore. Not when he has you. When he wants to feel you fully.

You can only stare– fawn at his tan skin. The gentle muscles on display for you. For your eyes only while he crawls towards you. Stalks you just like they might a pretty little butterfly caught in their web. Wrapped in webs and killed without a second thought.

His lips find yours once again. Slotting together, filling the other to make them whole. Dazed in lust and passion, neither soul hoping there would ever be a way out for the other.

Well, there won’t be for you. But that’s okay. You’ll love it. Love every second of it.

He knows it as his fingers dance against your skin. Sliding beneath the hem of your shirt, running with skilled ease up your sides. The chill that racks through your body is evidence enough. The way you so easily allow him to draw your shirt over your head solidifies it. Your shorts follow, making it set in stone.

Your breath comes out in short pants, every slight touch, every little movement sends fire burning through your skin. Igniting you, setting your core ablaze with heat that only he can extinguish.

Fingers gently sliding over your ribs, thumbs coming just blow your breasts to rub circles into the skin while his fangs nip gently into your lower lip. He can’t bite you now. No, after he mates you he can bite you all he wants.

He groans at the thought, hips rocking themselves against your clothed cunt. Allowing you to feel all of him– the press of his cock, the motion of his need allowing you to fall higher and higher into a heaven you did not think possible.

You whine at him to do something, anything. Too impatient to wait any longer. Too impatient to live a second more without something, anything buried inside of you.

His smile is sick, twisted as he reclines back on his heels. Allows himself to get a good look at you.

“Shh, Shh…” His hand cups your cheek, smoothing his thumb against your lips. Pressing it inside with more ease than before. More compliance than before. There’s a good little girl.

“Poor thing is having a hard time, huh?” He mocks gently, hips pressed firm against your own allowing you to feel every inch of him, “Pretty lips all swollen, pussy a little mess from just kissing… mm mm…”

He groans, hand slipping between your legs. What he finds is no more than a mess of a girl. Hips bucking upwards. Slick dripping from your center, panties coated in arousal. Puffy little clit begging for any attention he’s willing to give it.

Without any hesitation his thumb finds your clit, pressing against it without any thought of reprieve. Without any thought to give you any of the relief you crave. You’ve made him wait this long, you can wait a second, no?

He groans high as you buck against his hand, mewl leaving your lips as some sort of plea. Ah~ how cute. Such a little thing so desperate for something, anything that you’re willing to give up your very head in return? How cute! How adorable!

His spider preens. Is almost so belated he doesn’t notice the hands that come down to grip his wrist. Hold him in place all so you can circle your hips against his thumb. Rub adorable little rings into your clit without any help from him. Use him to make yourself feel good.

A coo leaves his lips. Who is he to deny such a pretty little human?

“Ah pretty baby wants to feel good, does she?” He almost giggles at how pathetic you look. How adorably you cling to him. How hard you try.

His arm is ripped from your grasp, pulling back from the very place you desire him most. Where your arousal soaks the cotton of cotton, so palpable he can practically taste it in the air.

“It’s okay baby…” He sees the annoyance in your face, the battiness you hold in your heart coming to light. Excited to tame it. Excited to quell the pretty little devil in his web.

Tie you up. Breed full.

Breed you.

His fingers work fast. Arms are pulled over your head, silks quickly pinning them to the surface. Strings wrapping and wrapping until he’s sure you’re secure. Sure you can’t move.

His hips gently rock against your own, clothes cock pressing against your core. Watching as your hips buck, as you try to urge him closer with a pathetic whine.

See exactly how you struggle against the strings.

Perfect, perfect girl. How did he get so lucky, huh? Can never be sure.

You’re unable to stop the cry that leaves your throat as his hands pull your panties aside, finger thrusting into your wet heat. Filling you up, making you feel a little more whole.

“Min~” The moan of his name is shaky. Every sense you have in overdrive as he works his finger against your walls. Every push inside deeper, harder. Curling against your walls in the exact way you craved.

Pleasure coils in your stomach faster than you thought possible. A second finger joining the first, pumping in and out as he prepares you for his cock. Prepared you to take all of him and nothing less.

He knows you can do it. You can, can’t you?

“Mhmm baby, I know… head a little clearer now, huh?” He chuckles, chastising, “Can only think when you’re full. It’s so cute.”

You whimper at his words, head rolling back as the coil pulls tighter and tighter within your gut. Urging you to just let it snap, feel everything you’ve been waiting for.

“F-feels good…” You mutter quietly, unable to see the haze cloud his vision. The way his amused expression drops into that of a wild animal.

Without any warning his fingers pull out of your heat, body leaving your own entirely as he stands. Grabbing your hips, dragging them closer. Flipping your body over. Setting you pretty on your knees, arms uncomfortable crossed in front of you.

He quickly rids himself of his pants, allowing his cock to spring free from their confines. Head red and messy as it hits his stomach. Angry at how neglected you’ve left him. How desperately he wants this.

You have no way of preparing yourself for the drag of his cock through your lips. The gentle nudge against your clit. Thick head dragging through your folds, spreading your arousal. Mixing it with his pre-cum.

Making you messy. Making you dirty just for him. Making you belong to him.

“Gonna fill my mate.” All humour is gone from the man behind you, as if he is someone else entirely. It’s really too bad your head has a few too many screws loose to care. Care about anything other than the way his firm head presses against your hole. The way his blunt nails dig into your flesh.

“Gonna breed her. Mate her. Make her mine.” It’s almost as if his word is a command. The very sentences he utters become law.

You can only nod your head. Give yourself to the very man that fate led you to all those months ago. “Want~”

The thrust of his hips into your walls is almost too much to bear. A cry leaving your lips as he fucks himself inside in a single thrust. Forcing you to take him to the hilt, to feel all of him stretch your walls. No break. No waiting around.

You’ve both done enough waiting.

It hurts— the burn, as he stretches you full. Presses his cock against your walls making sure your cunt remembers no one but him.

The way he gives no reprieve, fucking into you like an animal starved. Pulling back until only the tip remains inside before fucking himself fully inside once more.

“Min!” You cry, waves of pain and pleasure boiling all the same within your bones. All the same inside of your blurred head, nothing but static and thoughts of him behind the line of your eyes. Slipping off into space as you let cunt clenched pathetically around his cock.

“Good mate, taking me so well. Such a good human.” He groans, hips pulling back and thrusting into you over and over again. Making you fall apart with his pace. Pumping his cock into your pathetic little hole fast and hard. Ruining you for any other man.

Making sure he will be the only one you allow to enter heaven.

Your moans come out wanton, pleaing. Hips start to move back against him, trying to keep up with his pace despite the burn you begin to feel in your tied arms. Desperate to let him know just how good he’s filling you. Just how good he’s making you feel.

“My mate.” His pants come out harsh, breath on your neck as he hovers close. The sound of skin and against skin is the only thing you’re able to hear. The pressure of Jimin’s lips against your neck makes you feel like you’re about to go insane.

He’s desperate to make you fall apart on his cock alone. Pleasure building and building, the coil tight. Ready to snap at any moment. Ready to fall apart at his command.

“Gonna make you mine forever pretty.” His voice is featherlight once more. The switches have you reeling, your brain spinning. “Want that, don’t you? For me to bite you? Mark you up? Breed you full of my spiderlings? Ruin that pretty little head for anything else.”

He sighs, nails digging into your hips where they’re sure to leave bruises. You nod your head in agreement, moans spilling past your lips as his hips change their angle. His cock hitting the spot that leaves you seeing stars on every thrust.

“Say the word and you’re mine.” You feel his fangs against your skin. The harsh drag across your delicate skin. “Forever.”

You can’t take it anymore, pleasure burning through you. Blinding you. Unable to think about anything else other than the rough thrusts of his cock against your walls.

“Please.” It’s no more than a whimper, but he swears it’s the loudest thing he’s ever heard.

His teeth clamp into your flesh— the final thing needed to push you over the edge into bliss. Your body stutters, walls a vice around his cock as the coil finally snaps. Heat flowing through every cell you possess. The only thing in your soul is Jimin.

Your back arches, eyes dotting with black as you allow it to overtake you. Jimin rocking you against him, groaning as he fills you with his cum, painting your walls white. Allowing you to ride out your high with him. Finally allowing the rut to rid his brain for only a moment.

He slowly pulls out of you, panting. Quickly moving to cover your center back up with your underwear. Make sure all of his cum stays tucked away in your pretty little pussy to get you nice and pregnant.

You can only whimper, body twitching at every movement he makes. Worn down your bones— energy sucked so dry you can’t even feel the throb of your neck. Don’t even notice the blood that drips from where he marked you— claimed you in the way only a hybrid can.

All you're sure of is the need to be close to him. Need to feel him.

Is this what he had been feeling all along? Marks were known to do that, to allow you to feel what your mate does. If he had to endure what you’re feeling right now, it had to have been hell for him.

“Min…” you calm his name. Pull him from where he stares between your legs. Where his fingers rub circles into the surface of your underwear, spreading any cum that leaks from your twitching hole.

Within a second he’s at attention, staring at you with all of the love in the world. You’re not sure how you missed it before. How you could have deluded yourself into believing any less.

He pouts as you wiggle at your restraints, silk holding your arms in place all this time. He gently shakes his head, slowly flipping your body back over onto its back. Crawling over you to look at your face properly. Take in your fucked out expression. Ruined his pretty little human. Made her perfect.

“Don’t want to.” His lower lip juts out at you, eyes wide just like a begging dog. “Look pretty tied up in my web. Should stay like this. Forever.”

“I don’t think my job would like that very much.” You giggle, lip pouting out to match his own. He leans down, quickly capturing your mouth in a quick kiss.

Something hard pressed against your leg once more. His hand comes down to guide it against your heat. Rub against you despite the oversensitivity and cum leaking from your hole.

“Then we move to the woods together… I’ll hunt for us…” He grumbles, pushing your underwear to the side once more. Collecting any cum that has spilled out with his cock, gently fucking it back into your cunt with the head.

A whine rips from your lips due to oversensitivity. Pussy sore, aching from what he just put you though. What you aptly begged for. Yet you can’t deny him. Don’t want to deny him with how good it feels to be filled. How addicted you’ve become. Cock drunk.

“Wh-what?” You try to breathe, walls fluttering around his length as he slowly thrusts back inside. Filling you to the brim once again. “W-we can’t do that, Minnie…”

His thrusts are slow, languid. Almost like he’s making love. Treating you with utmost care despite how wrecked your entire frame is.

He is entirely unaffected. His rut leaves him wanting for more and more until you have nothing left to give. Face twisting into confusion at your words.

“Why can’t we? Make you up a nice pretty web… keep you full all the time” He hums against your neck, gently licking at his mark, “treat you like a real good mate, yeah? Fill you up over and over. Will look so pretty with my spiderlings.”

He moans the words, hips speeding up ever so slightly at the thought. It dawns on you that this must be his rut talking. Filling his head with nonsense he knows can’t come true. In a few days when he wakes up from it, he’ll probably pretend he never said anything about taking you to the woods. Keeping you there.

No harm in agreeing, is there? Especially when he makes you feel so good. So happy and full. When it makes him feel just as good. When your head starts to feel fuzzy, the exhaustion weighs heavily on your consciousness. You’re on birth control anyway, it's fine.

“Mmhmm… sounds nice..” You moan quietly, already feeling your second orgasm approaching. Allowing yourself to become lost in the same dream as him. Allowing yourself to fall victim to pretty words and false promises. Ones that he intends to make true.

“Gonna take such good care of my mate.” He groans, face buried in your neck. He feels your walls clamp around him, pulling him in over and over again. Cunt never wanting him to leave.

His hand draws between your thighs, fingers rubbing quick circles into your clit. Neither of you are going to last long. Both too sensitive to do anything but fall into the pleasure of each other.

Pussy fluttering against his cock, head rolling back as your high runs through you once more. White clouding your vision, ears ringing as you are overcome with fire. Drowning in the feeling of his cock fucking you full of his cum once again.

He lets out a harsh groan as he fills you. Breeds you just like a good spider would. Makes you feel complete as he helps you through both of your highs.

Your eyes feel heavy— too heavy to stay open even a second longer. Too tired to stay awake as he pulls your underwear back over your center. As he pulls your body close to his own.

He doesn’t blame you, never could. It must be hard having to keep up with a hybrid during their rut. But he knows you can do it. Knows you’ll do it for him. Especially with the promises you made. The ones you made only to him.

The last words you hear before falling under the veil of consciousness is a simple declaration. One you’ve waited months to hear.

“I love you.”

“Y/n! Hurry up!”

The whine of Jimin’s voice is louder than any car, highway, hell— aeroplane you’ve ever heard, you’re sure of it. The grip of his hand around your own is like iron, tugging you along the worn trail path, trying to urge you faster than your feet will allow.

“I’m going! I’m goin!” You chide with him, giggle leaving your lips at his hurried nature. You don’t think you’ve ever seen the spider more excited. Maybe even more so than when he strokes the bite mark scarred into your shoulder– your permanent reminder that you are his and he is yours.

“Not fast enough!” He groans, head rolling back in annoyance, “The best spot is going to get taken!”

He’s told you about this spot time and time again– excitement palpable with every mention. A beautiful clearing back at the reserve, one that the trees shine perfectly through. The best spot for basking in the whole park, as well as for begging humans for snacks.

You smile at the thought. Following as close behind him as your feet will manage. Blanket and bags of food tight in your grip. After months of paperwork, he can finally return to this place without fear they’ll take you away from him. The mate licence in your wallet proof enough of it.

He finally gets to take you to the reserve– the place he called home for so long before he met you. The place where he first learned how to be a proper spider. The first place he learned to make friends. He’s most excited about the latter part, getting to show off his shiny new mate to all of his friends. The one he caught the human way.

He’s been talking about it for days, since you first brought up the idea of visiting. Of wanting to see where he lived before he met you. Prattling on and on about everything he’s going to show you, how he’s going to introduce you to Jungkook if he can. About the waterfall over the cove that you two can swim in without anyone finding out.

All of it is a dream come true for your little spider. Your mate.

You smile at the thought– how excited he is as he helps you set up the blanket on the ground. As he helps spread food all around you. Body jittery, head twitching at every little sound.

It’s clear he’s going a little crazy with joy. Entirely ecstatic to have you here with him. Sitting across from him on the ground in a way that almost mocks the picnic you had in his basement that night months ago.

Ah, sorry. Nuptial gift ceremony. He liked it a lot better when you called it that.

“Oh! And then, after we eat, I can introduce you to the head of the park! She’s Namjoon’s mate, but she doesn’t know it yet.” He talks to himself, chatting idly about nothing as he presses another strawberry to your lips. You eagerly take it, biting down on the fruit without a second thought.

You cover your mouth with your hand as you speak, “Really? It must be difficult to confess to her, then.”

He nods his head, overexcited as he looks past you into the trees. Nose twitching as he tries to pick up a scent. Yellow tinted sunglasses high on his nose to block any light from hurting his delicate pupils.

You can’t help but think about how beautiful he is. How lucky you are to have him.

His hair has grown out since that fateful day months ago, blonde replaced by a deep blue that puts the night sky to shame. How his frame has bulked out ever so slightly. Pretty tan skin looking more healthy than ever. His head off in the clouds, trying to ground himself so he doesn’t pick you up and drag you off into the woods.

The human way is never easy for him.

“Mhmm… he’s trying but he isn’t very good at it. Doesn’t understand how humans like it to be done…” He mumbles.

“Hybrid’s do it different?”

“Yeah,” He seems a little lost in space, nose twitching harsher as he tries to recognise the exact scent he knows will be coming soon. Jungkook can never hold himself back from a picnic, no matter how far. He just wishes his nose was stronger.

“Hybrids just take their mate right away. Prove they’re a good mate and then it’s done. But human’s you have to teach.” Your shoulders drop slightly, and maybe if it wasn’t for the love you felt for him or the mate mark pressing against your neck, you would have understood the severity of his words. Of teaching a human, tricking them into making them fall.

“Oh…” You pout, head coming down to rest against his shoulder. None the wiser to the meaning behind his words, “I’m sorry… it must’ve been hard for you.”

He only shakes his head, “It’s okay. I just didn’t want you to ever be scared.”

Suddenly, Jimin is standing. Eyes darting across the underbrush that surrounds the treeline. You follow his vision, squinting slightly to try and make out exactly what he is looking at when two antennae pop over the other side of a bush. Twitching, pointing in your direction. Hunting down food as they move closer.

The insect moves close, tilting his head as he finally moves within your line of vision. Mop of brown floppy hair on his head, wide bunny eyes. Twitching nose all the same. If it wasn’t for the lack of ears and black antennae jolting from his head, you would’ve thought he was a rodent.

“Kook!” Jimin’s voice is loud as he quickly run’s to meet the boy. The other looks just as excited, eyes lighting up with stars as his legs take off in the same direction. The two fall into a puddle of laughter and play fighting as they fall to the ground in greeting.

The infamous Jungkook, an ant hybrid– the biggest ant hybrid you’ve seen, mind you. Jimin’s best friend is finally revealed. And you have to say, seeing them together. Watching as your mate attempts to playfully tie him up silks has to be the prettiest sight you’ve ever laid eyes on.

“Oh my god, Min!” You laugh as Jimin struggles, the giant ant hybrid easily breaking free from the others strings. Instantly the attention is on you. Jimin leaning back to his heels, head thrown back as he whines.

“Shut up! He’s gotten stronger! My webs hold you good enough!” You continue to laugh, unaware of the ant sneaking closer. His antenna tickling your shoulder as he stares at the food in front of you. Begging for just a little taste to bring home to his colony, a little bit to make the queen happy.

You happily oblige, making room for the two of them to join you once again after their little scuffle. A reunion too cute to not try and remember forever. And just like that, conversation begins to flow easily between the three of you. Almost as if Jimin never left in the first place.

The two of them spend all afternoon catching up– Jimin reciting the story of how you two met, Jungkook opening up about the cute human that’s started to come by the park every saturday. Pulling his antennae down as he speaks, clearly embarrassed. Telling you all about how they met, about the reserve.

“Ah~ don’t mind him. Kookie’s just embarrassed cause he doesn’t know how to talk to girls.” Jimin teases, leaning over to ruffle Jungkook’s hair. His arm tightly wrapped around your frame, holding you close. “Not every day that an ant hybrid has a mate outside of their colony, you know?”

“Hyung! Shut up!” He quickly whines, eyes shooting a subtle glare towards the other. Legs kicking slightly underneath his frame. “You… know what it means… especially cause she’s human…”

“I know.” His fangs shimmer as his hand reaches out to ruffle his hair, “Don’t worry. She’ll wanna be your queen in no time.”

You nod your head in agreement, picking up another piece of fruit and popping it into your mouth. Nothing much to add to the conversation– you’ll never really understand the intricacy of hybrids and how they work. Especially those like Jungkook and Jimin.

Yet, you can’t help but feel at peace with that. At peace with them and this moment. Content with your life, content with your mate and the life you’ve built together. You hope that Jungkook can do the same with his own someday. Build a nice little colony or whatever it is that ants do.

“Mhmm, anyone would want someone as cute as you.” You smile, watching as the ant’s eyes go wide. Blush covering his cheek as he tries to pull his antenna down to cover them. Jimin instantly pounces on the other, starting a new round of play fighting. Laughing about having to defend his mates honour. That she isn’t allowed to look at any other hybrid. No one but him.

You giggle along with them, leaning back from your spot. Taking a mental picture of the scene in front of you. Jimin happy, playing. The sunset over the horizon as the three of you laugh in the woods. As Jimin no longer looks anything like that spider all those months ago.

And maybe he’s right. Maybe you did fall into his trap lined with silk. But you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Even when you wake up in the middle of the woods. When you wake up in a cabin decorated in pretty webbing. When you come to find society is far behind you. When you discover no one else other than Jimin telling you that this is exactly what you asked for.

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

⋆𐙚 if you enjoyed this fic, please consider buying me a kofi!

© all rights reserved to ctrlhope 2019-2024 ; do not copy, plagiarise, or translate.

[mmegwrld]

⏾⋆｡𖦹 SWEETEST PIE + park jimin

park jimin is the tough boy next door who’s always looked out for you. after a violent night brings hidden feelings to light, your sweet friendship turns into something much deeper.

word count : 3.2k

genre : FLUFFFYYYYY, a little angst if you squint

warnings : bad boy! jimin x baker’s daughter!reader, this is not inspired by sweetest pie by meg and dua 😭 i was totally listening to the sweetener album and ordinary things by ariana grande! jimin already likes the reader, fights!! blood mentioned, kissing! guy touches the reader in a way she doesn’t like!!

a/n : i lowkey REALLLYYYY LIKE THIS ONE HELP… but im going to hawaii for a couple of days so im not gonna be uploading much :-(

masterlist

you have known park jimin since the second grade. back when he had crooked teeth, skinned knees and a knack for into trouble for talking too much in the back of the class. he used to share his fruit snacks with you at lunch and glared at anybody who made fun of you on the playground.

you were seven and shy, clutching onto your mom’s hand like the world might swallow you whole if you let go. it was the first day of second grade and all the kids seemed to know each other.

your mom knelt beside you, brushing your hair out of your face softly. “sweetheart,” she said gently.

“do you remember miss park? from the neighborhood?” she asked. you nodded slowly. miss park has always had kind eyes, a warm smile, always smelt like peppermint.

“well, her son jimin is in your class. and i just talked to his mother— she said he’d be happy to show you around.” you look up, seeing a boy with messy dark hair and a bandaid on his cheek peeked around the classroom door.

“jimin,” his mom called from behind him. “come meet your new friend,” she pushes him out. he blinked at you, looked at his mom, then to you again. and with the kind of confidence only seven-year-old boys could get away with, he marched up and held out a half-eaten fruit snack.

“wanna share?” he asked. you took it without thinking, nodding. “cool,” he grinned. “i’ll show you where the swings are.”

growing up together felt so natural. predictable even. like seasons changing or the way the bakery always smelled like vanilla and cinnamon by 7am. but somewhere between childhood and college, something shifted.

maybe it was the way he’d grown into his sharp jaw and rough edges, or how his silence started meaning more than his words. maybe it was the way he looked at you now—longer, softer—when he thought you weren’t paying attention.

the bell above the bakery door jingles softly, too soft for the closing hour. you look up, already knowing who it is. jimin doesn’t say a word. just walked in with his hoodie up, jaw clenched, and knuckles bloody. he always came here after fights, like it was some sort of safe place.

your smile flickers, barely there, “rough night?” you ask. he slides into the stool at the counter with a low breath, “something like that.” you didn’t press him. you never did.

instead, you turn to grab the first aid. it had partially become his by now. as you dab at his busted knuckles with gentle fingers, the silence was heavy. he flinched once, but not from the pain. from how softly you’re touching him.

“you’re gonna scar.”

“doesn’t matter,” he replies.

“it does to me,” you say, not looking up.

jimin looks at you, really looks. your lashes low, lips pressed into a small line, focused on only patching him up. it made his stomach ache— his heart ache.

you always knew that jimin and his mother struggled, with his dad gone. his mom practically fell apart. they struggled with everything, especially money.

it was your mom how had told you about it. she’d come back with grocery bags and a furrow in her brow. she mentioned how she ran into jimin‘s mom in the cereal aisle.

“she looked tired,” your mom says, voice softer. “said things have been tight lately… jimin’s been skipping meals to save money. did you know that?”

you hadn’t. but the second you did, it stuck with you like something lodged in your chest.

he’d never say it himself. jimin wasn’t the type. he’d show up with bloodied hands and an empty stomach and pretend everything was fine. but you knew him too well for that. you always had.

so the next morning, you made extra.

two breakfast sandwiches—warm, eggy, and wrapped in parchment—plus a cinnamon roll with too much icing and a iced white coffee just how he liked it.

when you spot him outside the bakery, sitting on the back step with his hood up, your heart pinches. he looked smaller somehow, even with his broad frame hunched over his knees.

“you’re here early,” you said, nudging the door open with your hip, hands full. he didn’t look at you. just mumbles, “didn’t sleep.” you hand him the bag and the coffee without a word.

“what’s this?” he asks, like it wasn’t obvious “breakfast,” you said. “and sugar. you need both.”

he blinks at you, hesitation flickering in his eyes. “you didn’t have to—” “i know,” you cut him off quickly. “but i wanted to.. my mom is dropping off your moms food.”

his jaw works, like he was fighting something in his throat. “you heard from my mom.”

you don’t lie. “yeah.”

he was quiet for a moment, staring at the bag in his lap. “i didn’t want you to think i was weak,” he says, barely audible.

you sit down beside him, shoulder brushing his. “i don’t think you’re weak, jimin. i think you’re trying. and trying alone is exhausting,” you nod your head. he doesn’t answer, but he does unwrap the sandwich and takes a bite.

you put your head on his shoulder, “next time, just come inside.”

it’s a small table.

old wood, a little uneven in the legs, the same one your mom’s had since you were in second grade—but tonight, it feels different. warmer. fuller. jimin sits across from you, shoulders tense at first, head ducked slightly like he’s not used to this kind of comfort. his mom is beside him, hands folded in her lap, eyes glassy when she sees the spread your mom’s laid out.

pasta. garlic bread. a salad tossed with the fancy vinaigrette you keep for holidays.

“come on, eat,” your mom says, smiling gently at jimin’s mom. “you’re family. always have been.” you catch jimin looking at you then—quiet, soft-eyed—and you give him a small smile.

his mom clears her throat, trying to hide the way her voice wavers. “i told you we didn’t need all this…”

“you didn’t ask for it,” your mom says simply. “but we wanted to.”

jimin’s hand is curled tight around his fork. you can see the way his jaw clenches when his mom picks at her food, trying to make it last. he’s always hated this—watching her sacrifice without asking.

you nudge his knee under the table. he glances up. you mouth, eat. he rolls his eyes, but he takes a bite.

your mom starts talking about the bakery—telling a story about a customer who came in asking if cinnamon rolls could be vegan and also gluten free and also taste the same—and eventually, the table starts to soften. laughter hums between you. even jimin’s mom lets out a real smile, her hand brushing his when she reaches for more salad.

later, after the table’s cleared and your moms are in the kitchen with mugs of tea, you and jimin slip out to the porch.

he leans on the railing, hands shoved in his hoodie pocket, head tilted back as he exhales. you stand beside him.

“i know you didn’t want this to be a thing,” you say gently. “but i told my mom because we care. not because we pity you.”

“i know,” he says, voice low. “she just… she works so hard. and i can’t always help. not enough.” you bump his shoulder. “you help more than you think.”

he finally looks at you then. and there’s that look again. the one he gives you when he’s not being the tough guy. the one that says he feels more than he knows how to say.

“you still going to that party tonight?” he asks, voice low. “yeah,” you nod. “you?” he shrugs. “wasn’t gonna. but maybe i will now.”

he doesn’t look at you when he says it—barely more than a whisper, “thank. for dinner. and for… just being you.”

you smile, heart aching in that way it always does around him, “you’re welcome.” your eyes meet and something hangs between you—quiet and unfinished.

you don’t push it.

because you know, when jimin’s ready, he’ll say it.

but for now, you just lean against him, watching the sky shift above you.

together.

it was a spring break party at some frat house. the music was too loud, the air too warm, and the cup in your hand had gone flat a long time ago. but your friend dragged you here, swearing you needed to “have fun for once,” so here you were—sipping weak punch and swaying to the bass in someone’s overpacked living room.

you hadn’t seen jimin in over an hour. he was here somewhere—your ride, your constant—but the party had swallowed him up.

you barely had time to turn around before a hand grabs your wrist. “hey,” a voice slurs behind you. you freeze. fuck.

it was a guy you vaguely recognize from a few classes. tall, cocky, the kind who stared too long and didn’t understand the word no. you’d dodged his attempts before. but this time, he’s drunk. and bold.

“been lookin’ for you all night,” he said, tugging you closer. you yank your arm back. “i’m not interested. but he didn’t let go.

his fingers wrapped tighter around your wrist, nails digging into skin. “cmon. don’t be like that. i saw you earlier—dancin’ all cute. you were lookin’ at me, weren’t you?” he smirks. gross.

“no,” you said, heart thudding, voice sharp. “let me go.” he leans down, face way too close. “bet you taste as sweet as you look.” and then he grabs your waist, hands sliding down your back like he had a right.

“get off me!” you shove him, panic in your voice now. he just laughs, like it was a game. like you were something to be played with. “don’t fucking touch me.”

a figure pops up in front of you, pushing you back softly. jimin. he pushes the guy roughly as one of his other friends approaches you, checking up on you.

the guy stumbles, “what the hell is your problem?” the guy snaps, straightening up. jimin’s eyes are wild and his jaw is tight.

jimin doesn’t answer. he just punches the guy.

the room froze for a second, a chorus of shocked voices echoing over the music. the crowd barely had time to react before jimin tackles the guy into the beer pong table.

you try to get jimin before namjoon pushes you back, “let him fight. that guy harassed you.”

jungkook and taehyung hype up jimin as jin and hobi run down to get jimin off. “don’t touch her!” he shouts, his voice shaking. “don’t you ever fucking touch her!”

jin holds down the guy as hobi pulls off jimin, “it’s okay, jimin! it’s okay!” jin says. hobi holds him, in a bear hug. jimin’s chest was heaving, lip split, eyes still burning as jin pushes the guy out of the house.

and than finally, he looks at you. not angry, wild, just scared. you stand next to namjoon as jimin approaches you, he holds your face.

your chest was rising and falling at a rapid pace. you stare up at him, “you okay?” he asks. “jimin you didn’t have to—“ “yeah,” he wipes the blood from his mouth.

“i did.”

and for a second, everything else—the party, the noise, the crowd—it all fades. because the way he was looking at you right there? it didn’t feel like just friendship anymore.

your room is quiet.

the soft hum of the lamp casts a golden glow across the sheets, and you’re both lying on your sides, facing each other. jimin’s hoodie is tossed over your chair, his hands freshly cleaned and bandaged from the fight.

you’re not speaking. not yet. just breathing. his eyes are on yours—soft, unreadable. “you always smell like sugar,” he says suddenly, voice barely a whisper.

you blink. “what?” he gives you the faintest smile, like he’s embarrassed but not sorry. “your clothes, your hair… even your bed. you smell like cinnamon and vanilla. like I’m supposed to be here.”

your heart skips. “you are supposed to be here.” he looks at you like he’s trying not to fall any deeper—and failing.

“you mean that?”

you nod slowly. “yeah.”

his gaze drops to where your fingers brush beneath the blanket, and he exhales through his nose like he’s been holding something in for too long.

“i thought i was gonna lose it,” he murmurs. “when i saw that guy grab you.” “you kinda did,” you whisper. he gives a breath of a laugh, then goes quiet. the way he looks at you now makes your stomach twist.

“it wasn’t just about tonight,” he says. “it was the way he looked at you. like you were something to take. something he had a right to.”

his jaw clenches. his voice lowers. “but you’re not. you’re… you.”

your breath catches, and for a second neither of you speak.

then, softer than before, he adds, “you know i think about kissing you every time we’re this close, right?”

you blink. “jimin…”

“every time,” he says. “when you laugh. when you look at me like i’m not the guy who fights too much. like I’m someone good.” you reach for his hand beneath the blanket, finding his fingers and curling yours around them.

“you could,” you say quietly. he looks up at you, searching your face like he’s not sure he heard you right. “yeah?” you nod. “yeah.”

he leans in—slow, hesitant—giving you time to pull away. you don’t.

his lips brush yours like a promise, warm and gentle and everything he’s never said out loud. he kisses you like he’s afraid the moment might slip through his fingers, and when he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours.

“i’m not good at saying things,” he whispers. “i mess up. i keep stuff in. but i’d never hurt you. never.”

“i know,” you whisper. “that’s why i trust you.”

he smiles, a small, real one, and he wraps his arm around you, pulling you into his chest like you’re something breakable and precious.

you bury your face against him, breathing him in—his shampoo, his cologne, the faint scent of blood and sugar—and you let yourself melt into the safety of it all.

tonight, he’s not just the boy with bruised knuckles.

he’s yours.

the sun spills across your room in soft streaks of gold. you’re warm, still half-asleep, tucked against jimin’s chest under your comforter. his arm is draped over your waist, legs tangled with yours, and his breath is slow and steady against your neck.

it’s quiet. peaceful.

and then— “sweetheart?”

your mom’s voice right outside your door. your eyes fly open. knock knock, “i brought muffins—do you want—” the door creaks open before you can say a word.

jimin bolts upright like he’s been shot. his hair’s a mess, hoodie halfway off his shoulder, eyes wide and terrified.

you’re scrambling, yanking the blanket up to your chin as your mom freezes in the doorway, holding a plate of blueberry muffins and blinking at the very obvious boy in your bed.

jimin mutters, “oh my god,” under his breath. your mom’s eyes slowly narrow. “park jimin.” you open your mouth. nothing comes out. he coughs. “hi, mrs. (last name).”

“you got five seconds to tell me why you’re in my daughter’s bed.” you try to sit up without making it worse. “it’s not—it’s not what it looks like—”

“really?” she says, raising a brow. “because what it looks like is that my daughter has a bad boy with bloody knuckles sleeping in her bed.” jimin’s hand slowly disappears under the covers like he can make himself vanish.

“she was patching me up,” he blurts. “after a fight. i didn’t mean to stay—i just—she said i could crash—”

your mom looks at you. you look at jimin. jimin looks like he’s reconsidering every life decision that led to this exact moment. then your mom sighs and sets the muffin plate on your desk.

“wash those sheets. and if you’re staying for breakfast, jimin, you’re helping me at the bakery— and! best believe, your mom and i are gonna be talking about this for the rest of you guys’ life!”

she turns on her heel and walks out, muttering something about teenage hormones. the door clicks shut. jimin stares at you, eyes wide. you burst out laughing.

he groans and flops back into the pillows, throwing his arm over his face. “i’m never going to recover from that.” you grin, curling into his side. “you still smell like vanilla and blood.”

he peeks at you from under his arm. “think she’s gonna ban me from the bakery?” you kiss his shoulder. “nope. but she’s definitely gonna make you wear an apron.”

he groans louder. “this is the price of love, huh?”

you smile, heart full. “guess so.”

[winter-dayz]

Movie Marathon

Pairing: Park Jimin x Reader Scary Movie Night Genre: Fluff Words: 1141

Masterlist | Fictober Masterpost

Taglist:  @soobin-chois

Jimin smiled at me cheekily, holding up The Conjuring trilogy in his hands. Earlier today, he’d texted me about doing a movie night, but didn’t give any details on movie titles or genres. So when he’d turned up in his polka-dotted blue pajamas with a mischievous, little grin on his lips, I knew he was up to something.

“This is not a good idea, Chim.” I said, biting at my lip while considering the suggestion my boyfriend had just made.

“Aw, are you scared? I can protect you, don’t worry.” He smiled cheekily, but that wasn’t what was bothering me about the scenario. Regardless, I shrugged and nodded, finally agreeing to his idea. He brightened up and turned to go set up the TV, a smirk raising on his lips that I don’t think I was meant to see.

He insisted I go put on my matching set of pajamas, and when I returned he had already commandeered my living room. It was set up for “optimal movie-marathoning.” My ottoman had been moved to act as a footstool for the both of us, and he’d set up my small TV trays on either side for snacks and drinks.

“We can start with The Conjuring and go from there.” Jimin pulled up the movie while I grabbed a couple blankets and popped some popcorn. The thought crossed my mind to mention that I’d seen the entire Conjuring-verse already, but he seemed excited and I didn’t want to dampen his mood.

🎃

We’d only gotten through half of The Conjuring 2 before I realized I was faring far better than my boyfriend. I’d been so caught up in the storyline that I hadn’t realized the frequency at which he was jumping had increased.

He was not only jumping during the obvious jumpscares, but now also flinched when ambient sounds played. I had jumped once or twice during parts I’d forgotten about, but overall I was simply enjoying my salty snack and the captivating plot.

Another big scare ensued, and this time, I found my arms trapped as my entire body was encircled by Jimin’s arms and his face promptly shoved into the crook of my neck. As the scene dwindled down slightly, I freed one of my arms and patted gently at his head.

“You can look now, honey.” He pulled away pouting and glaring at me as though it was my fault for his woes.

“Why aren’t you scared? It was supposed to be the other way around.” I bursted out laughing at his admittance to why exactly he had wanted to do a horror movie marathon when he’d never shown much interest in the genre before. He was hoping to scare me into his arms.

“I’ve watched the entire Conjuring universe before. But also, most horror movies don’t scare me that badly. You gotta find the ones that play on my other fears.” He only huffed in response to my explanation, crossing his arms. “We can turn it off, if you’d like.”

But that seemed to add insult to injury and he scoffed, looking at me as though I’d cut up his favorite shirt.

“No, we’re finishing the series, and then we’re watching Barbie.” He stated with furrowed brows, leaving no room for argument. So, I nodded and opened my arms up for him to snuggle into. He eyed me for a moment before promptly diving in, nestling his head against my chest and wrapping his arms around my stomach.

🎃

By the end of the second movie, and the start of the third, Jimin had started getting handsier. One arm remained wrapped around my torso, but the other had slid its way down to my thigh. His face had moved from its comfortable position against my chest, and up to settle in the crook of my neck again.

Ten minutes into the third movie, he began pressing kisses to the skin below my ear. I paused the movie and turned to him with a tilted head and teasing smirk.

“Whatcha doin’?” I asked. His eyes roamed the room as he feigned innocence.

“Watching the movie and cuddling you,” he claimed, “why?” I had to bite my lip to stop from laughing at his obvious lie.

“Seemed to me that you’re trying to seduce me so you don’t have to watch the movies you insisted we watch. If you can’t behave then I’ll make you sit by yourself.” I playfully chided. He clicked his tongue at me, annoyed, and then pouted in annoyance.

“Fine, didn’t wanna kiss you anyway…” He grumbled, relaxing back into my embrace. I resumed the movie and, since I always let him get his way, began lightly threading my fingers through his hair.

 By the time the final installment was done, we were both thanking the gods. Jimin for the sake of his sanity and heart, and me for the sake of blood flow to my hand which he’d grabbed onto during an early jumpscare and gripped for his life for the next hour of the movie. He ran a hand over his face, looking utterly exhausted.

“You still wanna watch Barbie, Chim?” I asked softly, smoothing down his ruffled hair. His head dropped forward as he groaned. It was clear that the trilogy had taken his soul from him and he wanted nothing more than to collapse into a peaceful sleep, but I could also see the wheels turning as he remembered the haunting contents of the movies.

He nodded somberly, and I couldn’t help a sympathetic—but amused—as I put the next movie on.

🎃

The next morning—or more like afternoon—when Jimin stumbled into the kitchen to fix himself a mug of coffee, I cleared my throat and slid my phone across the table in his direction. He walked over, pecked a kiss to my cheek, and then picked up my phone to see what I wanted to show him.

On the screen was a list of five different movies that I hadn’t seen yet. A look of recognition lit up his face, and his arms dropped to his sides in despair.

“You wanted me to be scared didn’t you? Those ones will probably scare me, honey.” I teased, and he half-heartedly swatted at my arm.

“I’m never watching scary movies again, I can’t handle it.” I took my phone back from his hands and pulled up a different list I had compiled before putting it back in his hands.

“What about this list?” He eyed me with mock distrust before looking at the list. This time his face beamed with excitement, and he looked over and nodded.“I love classic Halloween movies!” Which of course, I already knew, and we spent the day debating which ones to watch, when, and in what order, deciding to start with Hocus Pocus and end with the Halloweentown series.

[btsugarush]

I'd Hate To Say it | pjm (teaser)

summary: when you return home from studying abroad, you come to find your former best friend, jimin, has made drastic changes to his life that could put him in danger or behind bars forever.

pairings: drug dealer jimin x fireader.

warnings: smut, violence, fluff, blood and gore, ex best friend jimin, gang member!jimin, tattooed/pierced!jimin, long hair!jimin, use of guns/knives, mentions of self harm, mentions of abuse, alcohol abuse, drugs, drug addiction, angst, murder, strong language, 18+, minors dni.

word count: 796

author’s note: yes yes, I’m getting back into my writing and I’ve finally posted at least the teaser to this fic lol.

Your heart beats heavily against your chest as you finally hear Jimin’s door unlock, the brunette appearing on the other side as it opens. He looks uninterested to see you, an annoyed expression on his face. “What’re you doing here, y/n?” He says dryly. You take a deep breath before you speak. “Is it true?” You ask softly.

Jimin leans against his door frame, a raised eyebrow as he waits for you to explain what you mean, but you don’t. “Is what true?” He urges you to go on. “What everyone is saying… that you– that you have something to do with that boy getting murdered.”

Jimin squints before his dark orbs survey the hallway to make sure no one is around. It was almost like he thought you were setting him up, but regardless of your estranged friendship, he still knew you better than that. Once he made sure the coast was clear, he pulled you by your arm inside his apartment and slammed the door closed. “What’s everyone saying?” He questions.

“That you, along with your little gang associates, had something to do with that shooting that happened in Busan last night.” Jimin scoffs, letting go of your arm. The brunette walks around you, running his fingers through his hair in distress. His back is turned towards you, and he stands in silence for a moment before turning to face you.

“Do you believe them?”

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t. It was time to face the painful truth; Jimin was no longer that sweet boy you used to know. “I don’t know what to believe anymore, Jimin. I mean… since I’ve been back I’ve barely recognized you. You’ve been into a lot of reckless shit, and now you have murder attached to your name? It doesn’t seem too far-fetched anymore.”

Jimin scowled at your insinuation. “Then I guess you got it all figured out, don’t you? Just call the cops now if you’re so sure, y/n.” He pulls his cell from his pocket, reaching out for you to take it. “Go on, take it.” He beckons. You shake your head, refusing the phone. “I didn’t come here to prosecute you, Jimin.” You speak softly. “I came here hoping that it wasn’t you… but I can read you like a book still, and I know you had something to do with it.”

The brunette makes a ‘tsk’ sound. “So what if I did, y/n? Are you gonna rat on me?” He takes a step closer to you, the look in his eyes intimidating; but no matter how hard he tried to instill fear into you, he was still Jimin. “No… but you should turn yourself in. I don’t wanna see you go down like this, Mochi.” You utter the nickname you used to call him when you were kids.

This softens the brunette for a mere moment before he finds himself enraged. “Don’t. Don’t you fucking call me that. Don’t you fuckin’ pretend to give a shit about me. Not after you left me behind.” He grits his teeth, pointing his ringed finger in your face.

“I never left you behind,” you push his finger away, glaring at him. “I had goals, dreams to achieve. I couldn’t be stuck in this dead end life like–”

“Like me?” He cut you off. “Say it, y/n. Say like me.” He pushes. You shake your head, taking a step back from the brunette. “I’d hate to say it, but you’re a lost cause. I should’ve never come here. If you wanna ruin your life forever, that’s fine by me. I’m done caring.” You turn to exit, but Jimin isn’t done guilting you. “You never did.”

This finally boils your blood, and you whip around to face him. “I’m not the one that stopped reaching out, you did!” You remind him. You were tired of being the one to blame for your fallen friendship with Jimin. The phone worked both ways, and he was the one that stopped answering your calls, and calling altogether. “I am tired of being blamed, I am tired of your coldness towards me. I don’t know what the hell you wanted from me!”

“I wanted you to stay!” He snaps. “But you left and I was all alone! I needed you, y/n. I needed you and you fuckin’ left me…” his voice cracks, and for the first time since you’ve been back you see a glimpse of the old Jimin in his eyes. Soft. Innocent. Lost. “I… I don’t know what to say…” your voice is gentle. Jimin finds his composure, shaking his head. “I don’t need you to say shit,” he spat. “You wanna know if I killed that kid? Yeah. I did it.”

[secretsecretbunny]

i have a request for bts’ jimin (fake text), his idol!girlfriend is a big fan of a boy group and during a ceremony he sees her looking at her bias a lot so he sends her a text

afsjsladsksh I love this request. you got it 🩷

Bonus:

send me your fake text requests!

[littlemisshyperfixation]

Jimin Fic Recommendations

a - angst f - fluff s - smut

One Shots

I want to be with you (a s f) by @oddinary4bts ⊹₊⋆ moving to Seoul has always seemed like a good idea, until the bubble bursts when you realize your new neighbor is Park Jimin, and he's not the sweet angel you've always imagined him to be. Will the reality of Park Jimin forever be a nightmare, or will he turn into a sweet dream?

Ho-Ho-Home (a s f) by @jjungkookislife ⊹₊⋆ Golden neighbor extraordinaire, Park Jimin, is (unintentionally) stealing your spotlight this holiday season. Despite your one sided rivalry with him, all Jimin wants is for you to remember him, to remember your past and hopefully create a future with you.

Into the wilderness (a f) by @gukyi ⊹₊⋆ alright, so last summer’s camp was... disastrous. from the murky green showers to the wasps nests, it was all-around a bad time. but none of those things could be quite as catastrophic as the end-of-camp counselor campfire, when you told park jimin that you were in love with him. and if telling him was terrible, then seeing him again this summer, one year after your fruitless confession, just might be the death of you.

The Boyfriend Concept (f s) by @kpopfanfictrash ⊹₊⋆ Win a Date with a Porn Star! You saw the sign when you walked in, of course, but you had no idea your friend dropped your name into the raffle. Fast-forward to later that day, when you actually win. You are horrified, of course, with no intention of accepting and setting yourself up for embarrassment. But then you meet Jimin, and decide this might be worth a shot.

wanna watch a sex tape (s) (ft. taehyung) by @gimmethatagustd ⊹₊⋆ When Taehyung invited you over to watch a movie, you didn’t think the movie he had in mind would be your sex tape… And you definitely didn’t think his roommate would want to watch, too.

feel your touch (a f s) by @jimilter ⊹₊⋆ You have always known yourself to be a sexual switch in bed, flipping between exercising and submitting control according to different situations and partners. And this camboy you are addicted to, one that seems to kinda reciprocate your interest, submits so beautifully that you just want to command him. But when things progress to levels you never anticipated, you end up discovering pleasant surprises that might just change your life.

physical (s) by @ppersonna ⊹₊⋆ you cant seem to escape the sexy fitness instructor that seemingly is everywhere you turn. it’s enough to make you irrational.