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bts-hyperfixation · 7 months

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Tempting Tutelage

A Taehyung x Reader Fanfiction

Summer Madness 9/32 When you begin to fall behind in one of your university courses, you enlist the help of your childhood friend, Kim Taehyung, to help you pass the semester.

Please note the course mentioned is entirely made up and therefore complete and utter bullshit and I entirely lost the plot while writing about it...

“Ooooh Taae Taae.” You sing song.

You catch the man walking out of the university music rooms after band practice. You watch as he glances around for who could possibly be calling like that until his eyes settle on you. He looks completely confused to find you are the owner of the cheerful call, but not unhappy.

“Y/N-ah, you haven’t called me that since we were kids. To what do I owe the pleasure?” He asks, strolling away from his band friends towards you.

It’s true, you stopped calling him TaeTae when you were both eleven. You decided he was too old for that nickname now and he had finally grown into his full name. It had been almost a decade since then. You also hadn’t been quite so close since then, drifting apart into separate social circles as you grew older, pulling you away from one another as is natural with kids. It’s a small miracle that neither of you ended up adjusting your life plans and heading to the same university, although that had more to do with the courses they had on offer than ending up together.

“I need a teensy weency favour.” You say batting your eyelashes.

“How teensy weency?” He asks, eyebrow raised in suspicion.

The last time you had called in a favour involved a first-year party and way too many jello shots.

Although technically your mom had called in that favour when she received a phone call from one of

your coursemates asking for your address. She had sent Taehyung to fetch you. That had been the

first time you had spoken to him since graduation.

You hold your fingers out demonstrating a pinch to show how small the favour was.

“Does it involve holding your hair back or sleeping on the floor in any way?”

You cringe as he teases. He had ended up staying with you all night just to make sure you didn’t choke. You had offered him your bed, you were too attached to the toilet anyway, but he refused. Instead, he kept you company on the bathroom floor, dragging your pillows in to protect you from the cold tile. You thanked every star that night that you forked out for the ensuite.

“It definitely does not.” You confirm.

"Great! Let's go get food and you can tell me more. Your treat of course.”

“Of course.”

_______________________________________

“So what do you need me for exactly?” Taehyung asks, muffled slightly by his food

He has always talked with his mouth full. He shoves more of the burger into his mouth as he

waits for you to explain.

“I’m taking ‘Contemporary Music and its Influence on today’s media landscape’ this semester. And I’m flunking hard. But I happen to know you got one of the highest scores when you took it last semester.”

“I did!” He says proudly. “So you want my notes?”

“No, I want you to tutor me. Just reading the information isn’t helping it to sink in. I think I need someone who is actually interested in the topic, professor Dodd is possibly the least inspiring man I have ever heard.”

“That sounds like more than a small favour.” He points out. “Like multiple hours a week worth of a

favour.”

“I’ll make it worth your while Tae Tae, pretty pretty pretty please help me.”

You fix him with your best puppy dog eyes you can muster, the kind that used to get him to give you the last piece of his candy. Being older there is a chance it looks a lot more desperate than cute, but that can’t be hurting your case.

He deliberates for a while, dramatically umming and ahhing while he finishes his meal. He drags his last fry through the ketchup on his plate and then savours every last chew. You tap your fingers annoyed on the tabletop. At this point his only answer could be yes, he just likes to milk the attention, as always: Band geek/drama nerd/debate club extraordinaire, any club with a spotlight. Any club you never had an interest in.

“Okay, when and where?” He asks, putting you out of your misery.

“My place? Thursday nights?”

“Works for me.”

_______________________________________________________

The first session is difficult. It is immediately apparent to Taehyung why you are failing. You lack any semblance of focus. Every time he looks down to check his notes your mind has wandered off. You just don’t seem to want to connect with the material at all. You’re either gazing out of the window or trying to change the topic entirely.

The third time he catches you watching the university football team out of the window he hits you around the head with his notepad. Not enough to hurt, just enough to bring your attention back to him. He stands and huffily closes the curtain.

“Why am I even here?” He grumbles, hands on his hips.

It’s rare to see Taehyung annoyed. He still looks the same as when you were kids, pouting more than scolding. It makes you want to laugh but you somewhat successfully stifle it with what you hope is a remorseful look. Judging by the way his nostrils flair, it’s not remorseful enough.

“Seriously Y/N, I’m only here because you said you wanted help, I have much better things to be

doing with my time.”

“I know Tae, I’m really sorry. I just don’t get it. I thought it would be more based on modern music, you know the 00’s and 10’s, not the whole of the last century. It’s just so dull...” You whine.

“Now you’re trying to insult me on purpose, I’m sure of it.” He grasps at imaginary pearls, scandalised. “I don’t think I can teach you.”

“It’s not as if I find all music from before we were born unlistenable, just the stuff Professor Dodd choses.” You say, trying to rescue yourself.

Taehyung looks unconvinced like you are clutching at straws just to save face.

“Right, let me think about it over the weekend, I will find some new music you can use to relate to the course and try to salvage your grade.”

“You’re an angel.” You squeak, leaping up to hug him.

He blushes, the tips of his ears going red and hastily pushes you away.

"Yeah, yeah. whatever. What’s for dinner?" He asks changing the subject.

The following session provides a little more promise. Although it feels a lot more like hanging out and listening to music than it does studying...

Taehyung insisted that each of his carefully crafted music choices was to be listened to in the most authentic way possible. And so your evening began with the two of you laying side by side on his bed listening to a mixtape of his favourite early eighties tracks using a Walkman that looked like it had certainly seen better days.

You each took a headphone and he talked you through each song that played and how it revolutionised music. Admittedly you were more interested in the passion with which he conveyed his thoughts than the music itself, but it did seem to be working. Every few songs (When a cassette side ended and he had to pause and switch) he would quiz you on the information he had just relayed and you were getting a solid 70%.

You found yourselves drifting closer together until your arms were pressed up against each other. You tried not to focus too much on that. Instead, you immerse yourself in the music, and it really starts to feel like you can understand where Taehyung is coming from when he speaks. He hasn’t told you the title of this song yet, but it feels a lot like the drum is beating in time to your heart and it makes your brain go a little fuzzy.

“Y/N?” Taehyung asks, staring at you.

It is clear in the furrow of his brow that he had tried more than once to get your attention. Misconstruing your concentration for daydreaming, he huffs and pulls the earbud away from you.

“Right, when did I lose you?” He asks putting the cassette player back in the drawer in his bedside table.

"You didn’t this time I promise.” You protest.

He just shakes his head, clearly not believing you.

“It doesn’t matter, I think we were lying down for too long anyway.”

He crosses his small dorm and switches on an old record player. The song that starts playing is pretty, something you might hear during a dance scene in a movie like Grease. It doesn’t capture you the

same way the cassette had, but Taehyung does. He starts to sway to the beat, flourishing his arms and clicking in time to the music. He bites his lips and closes his eyes completely taken over by the music as it plays. He carries on until the song begins to blend into the next.

Then his eyes fall open and find you, his hand extended in invitation.

“Care to dance?”

He doesn’t really give you a chance to answer, taking your arm and dragging you to him. He holds you close and starts to sway again, turning you in circles together.

You relax into his hold, slotting yourself into him like a puzzle piece. Your head fits perfectly in the crook of his neck. You would admit, if he were to ask you anything about the songs as they play through you would not be able to answer a single question. You really can’t recall a single thing he has said since he pulled you into his arms.

“Y/N-ah?” his voice is uncharacteristically calm.

You pull back and look into his eyes, a timid blush has spread across his cheeks, one you are sure is mirrored on your own features.

“Yeah?” You ask, pressing against him a little more.

“I... I don’t think I’m really teaching anymore.”

He coughs to break the tension and lets you out of his arms. He hurries back to the record player and almost scratches the disc with how fast he turns it off.

“I think that’s enough for tonight.” He says, gathering your things for you.

You nod a little disappointed. Although he is definitely right, it feels like your brain might explode if you take in any more information. You take your things from his arms and walk out of his room as he opens the door for you.

“What did you want to get for dinner today?” You ask.

“You know what? I’m not that hungry... Rain check?”

“You’ve always been a terrible liar...” His stomach growls as you speak as if to prove your point.

“I just don’t feel like going out for dinner today.” He shrugs. “But bring your wallet next week, I’ll go all out to make up for this week.”

He grins as wide as he can and you decide not to push the issue.

_________________________________

The following week proves to be far less intimate as you sit on Taehyung’s bed with him across the room messing around with a boom box you could’ve sworn he didn’t own last time.

When he finally has it working he still doesn’t join you on the bed, opting for the rather uncomfortable-looking desk chair. You write notes as he talks you through different cultural impacts.

It feels like he is watching you but every time you glance up he is conveniently looking anywhere but at you. This goes on for almost an hour before you huff impatiently. You find yourself becoming frustrated with the materials again, struggling to make connections between Taehyung’s words and the textbook contents.

He finally meets your gaze, questioning your little outburst.

“I can’t concentrate.” You complain.

“I can see that.”

He gestures down at your notepad where your last few notes were just an incoherent scribble rather than useful information.

“Let's try and make it more interesting...” Taehyung thinks for a moment.

He bites his bottom lip as his brain works through a possible plan. You find your own mind wandering back in time as you watch him nibble on his lip, not unlike how he looked dancing on his own.

Just as your mind is about to venture off into thinking about how attractive Taehyung has grown up to become, he has an aha moment. His face lights up like someone had actually held a lightbulb above his head.

“Let’s play 20 questions! I’ll play a couple of songs, quiz you on them, and then for every answer you get right you can ask me absolutely anything.” He suggests.

“What makes you think I want to know things about you? I already know all about you.” You point out.

“You know a lot about eleven-year-old me, that’s a lot of missing years... Plus I never said they had to be about me. I’m good friends with the football guys you so admire watching out of your window."

You were surprised he brought up the football guys. Mostly because you had completely forgotten about watching their practice instead of listening to Tae, it was mostly just to give you something else to focus on. You are also intrigued by the fact that Taehyung thinks you don’t know that much about him.

“Okay, you’re on.”

He presses play on the boom box again and you try hard to listen to what he is telling you. He asks you five questions. You answer two with what he deems to be a satisfactory answer.

"Okay hit me.” He says.

You think about it for a moment. There are very few things you can think of to ask him. You don’t know what you don’t know after all. You think really hard, but the only thing that comes to mind is prom and you are fairly certain you know what happened there... still it’s a starting point.

“Where were you at the end of prom when your award was announced?”

His eyes widen as if he never thought you’d ask about something so long ago. You were curious though, you had seen him flirting with his date and then they both disappeared, except she came back, but he never did. When his date reappeared she looked a bit dishevelled and people just assumed Taehyung and her had made it somewhere in the school. But that didn’t explain why he never came back if she did.

“You don’t know? I thought my date told the entire school all about that...” He seems genuinely surprised.

You shake your head.

“We had been dating for a couple of months, and we were getting off after prom... I told her some... things... I would like to try in bed and she slapped me and walked away. Decided not to return with the red handprint etched on my face.”

“She hit you?”

This time he shrugged.

“I guess she really wasn’t into what I was in to.”

“What were you in to?” You ask, hanging off the bed, intrigued.

“Nope, that’s question number three, a question you have yet to earn.”

You grumble a little but then let him continue with his lesson. This time you pay better attention, earning yourself three out of five questions.

“So... what were you in to?”

“Wow, don’t even want to start with a filler question? Lead up to that one? No... Okay. Back then I wasn’t into anything that weird I liked to spank my partners, maybe fuck their mouths a little bit. Nothing huge.”

“That seems like a lot for an eighteen-year-old.” You point out but he just shrugs.

“I was a bad judge of what was normal, a lot of weird shit went down at that drama summer camp I did."

“So I take it that wasn’t your first time then?”

“No, no it was not.” He nods.

“But it was hers?”

“Yes, yes it was.” He confirms again.

You open your mouth to ask another question but he holds a hand up to silence you and presses play again. He allows you bonus points on these questions. Racking your total up to six. You really think about it, determined not to waste these questions like you did the last two.

“You said those things in past tense like you aren’t in to them any more. Did you move on to more normal sex or weirder kinks?”

“Well, that really depends on what you think of as weird.”

His answer avoids the question, and he knows it. You’ve wasted another question and he wants you to be more specific.

“What are your kinks Taehyung?” You ask point blank.

“I’m not sure you’re ready for that answer.” He counters.

“That didn’t answer my question.” You pout.

“It did, it just wasn’t the answer you were looking for.” He smiles like he has won the game.

You just pout back, no longer interested in playing his question game if that's how he wants to play.

“Fine, fine. Answer a question for me, that's not about the course material and I will answer your question properly.”

“Promise?”

“I promise... and that counts as a question. You are down to three... Well three and a half I guess.”

“Just ask your question.” You grumble.

“Do you have any kinks?” You search for the joke in his eyes, but all mirth has disappeared as he waits for your answer.

“I... I don’t know.”

“How can you not know?” He asks, shocked.

“You said I had to answer one question and I did. Your turn.”

You stick your tongue out as you beat him at his own game.

“Fine... I have a lot of kinks. Some of my favourites? Praise, spitting, oh and breath control... Can you tell me how you don’t know now?”

“I’ve never really looked into it my last boyfriend was very interested in only carrying out the missionary position and I guess I wasn’t really invested enough to look into other things. The sex was fine, I just thought that’s what sex is supposed to be.”

“Tell me you’re joking...”

“I’m not.”

"Well, that's exceedingly depressing to hear Y/N-ah" His eyes fill with pity.

He finally moves from the desk, sliding on the bed next to you and taking your hands.

You glance down at where he is rubbing his thumbs over your knuckles. Everything suddenly feels a little too hot. You've not even been into detail about your lack of a sex life with your closest friends.

"Maybe we should get back to studying." You say trying to change the topic.

You tug at your hands but Taehyung doesn't release them.

"I can help you with this too... if you want." He says.

You expect him to laugh, to pull away, to show some sign that he is joking. But it never comes.

"You can't be serious. you aren't serious... Are you?"

"I've never been more serious in my life. And you have two questions left."

But he doesn't let you ask another one.

His lips are pressed up against yours, his hand relinquishing your own in favour of winding around your waist. He pushes against you forcing you to lie back on the bed. His tongue flicks against your lips and you allow him past. He explores a little before growing impatient and starting to kiss along your chin and down your throat.

His teeth graze along the column of your throat and his tongue dips into any crevices it finds.

"Taehyung.. shouldn't we talk about this?"

"We will talk about this. In a minute." mumbles against your skin.

He pulls at the collar of your T-shirt to allow himself better access to your skin. He sucks a trail of purpling hickies from your collarbone to your shoulder. He makes a point of biting harder as he reaches the end, leaving you with a distinctive imprint of his teeth.

"Are you going to be a good girl and let me show you how good sex can actually feel?" He makes firm eye contact as he waits for your answer.

The way his personality switches makes you shiver, the little praise making your legs twitch together.

"And how are you going to show me?"

Instead of coming out strong and rebellious like you had hoped, your voice is breathy as if he had literally taken the air from your lungs. You grimace at your attempt making him chuckle. He reaches up to push your hair out of your face, leaving his palm on your cheek.

"I am going to take care of you in a way that's going to have you feeling like a princess while treating you like a whore."

He kisses you again with bruising force, teeth nibbling along your bottom lip. His hand slides from your face to the base of your throat, applying just a little pressure.

"Is this okay?" He asks.

You nod causing his hand to tighten slightly, and again your body tingles under his touch.

"Great, my hand is going to keep getting tighter. It will always be safe but if you want to stop you need to tap on my body three times. You can tap anywhere just do it firmly. Can you do that for me?"

Again you nod.

"Prove it to me, show me you can follow instructions."

You roll your eyes and he taps his hand against your chest as a small punishment. So you oblige, tapping his bicep hard three times in quick succession.

"That's perfect, angel." He squeezes tightly and then removes his hand completely.

He sits up and drags you with him so he can remove your shirt, he discards his own in the process. He kisses you once more and then slips off the bed and onto the floor. You lift your hips as he tugs at your sweats, taking your panties with them.

He licks stripes along each of your thighs stopping an inch shy of your centre.

"Put your hands on my shoulders and squeeze when I do something you like. Don't be afraid to dig your nails in, I like it when it hurts." He winks.

And then his head disappears between your thighs.

His tongue delves deep into your folds, lapping at your hole until it's dripping. Only then does he shuffle his attention up to your clit. In the meantime, your nails bore into his shoulders leaving painful little half-moons behind to match the teeth marks on your own.

The tip of his tongue digs into the centre of your clit, he wiggles it back and forth making your toes curl into his rug. A finger soon joins his endeavour, pushing deep inside before forming come hither motions that turn you to jelly. Still, you keep your hands firmly planted on his shoulders like he said.

"You taste so good, always knew you would." He mumbles into your pussy.

The deep timber of his voice vibrates through you. Tipping you over the edge. Your head falls back and your mouth opens, whines spilling free as he continues to pleasure you through your orgasm.

He eventually pulls away as tears start to form in your eyes. He grabs a condom from his bedside table, shimmying quickly out of his slacks so he can roll the latex on. You lay back onto the bed properly as you wait for him.

When he is ready, he slips in between your legs lining his hips up to yours. He uses one arm to balance leaning on his elbow next to your head as his free hand finds its way back to your throat, squeezing just tight enough to make you gasp.

"Do you remember what I said?" He questions.

You tap his arm three times and he releases your throat.

"That's my good girl, I knew I could get you to learn with the right incentive." He practically purrs. "I'm going to put my hand back now. The further into you I slide my dick, the tighter my hand is going to get okay?"

"Okay." You agree.

He leans in to kiss you, pushing his tongue past your lips as he rubs his hard length along your sensitive folds. The tip nudges against your clit make you cringe from the oversensitivity that still lingered. And then without much warning, he begins to slide in, his hand tightening in unison as promised.

Your head starts to swim as he bottoms out. But the feeling doesn't scare you like maybe it should. You trust Taehyung. The pressure releases as he pulls back, his hand squeezes in time with each thrust, giving you just enough time to draw breath before he cuts you off each time.

"Your pussy squeezes so deliciously whenever I do this." He emphasises by pressing tighter on your windpipe.

You manage a strangled moan in response and his hand pulls away. You whimper at the loss but he just chuckles.

"I want to hear you now angel, we can have more fun with breath control another day."

With both hands available to keep his balance, he thrusts harder, going deeper with each motion. He moans in your ear as he leans in closer letting you know exactly how you're making him feel. As his pace becomes more erratic he becomes more vocal.

"You make me so hard baby." He cries, hips stuttering a little. "You're so wet. Touch yourself for me."

You do as you're told, sliding a hand in between the two of you. He siver as your knuckles brush against his happy trail. You draw sloppy figures of eights around your clit, struggling to keep a steady motion as Taehyung whines, nearing his own end.

You clamp down around him as you tip into a second orgasm, taking him over the edge with you. He rolls over to avoid putting his weight and brings you into his arms instead.

"I've waited forever for this." He sighs, kissing the top of your head.

"No, you have not." You shake your head, assuming it's just another of his exaggerations.

"Yes, I have. It's always been you... I really thought I had missed my chance a long time ago." He confessed.

You sit with the new information for a while. Taehyung seems completely content to sit there holding you, not really caring for a response but you give one anyway.

"I always thought you'd be my first you know... back when we were 14 just before we drifted apart..." You whisper, more into the air at him.

"I was just starting to give up on my crush around then.." His chuckle is humourless.

"I think this has worked out better. We've had time to become our own people." You muse.

"Yeah, maybe you're right. But now that I've had you, I have no intention of letting you go again."

He pulls you tighter into his embrace and you return the affection wrapping your ars around him too.

Notes:

This request asked for a spit kink but sadly I couldn't quite fit it in with the theme. Also, they asked for a shy Tae and apparently my brain says no, no shy Taes... Sorry

Ask Box - Please send me thirsty/funny/angsty bts thoughts

Masterlist

Summer Madness Masterlist

#bts fic #bts smut #kpop smut #kpop fic #taehyung fic #taehyung smut #bts university au #bts college au #bts friends to lovers #v fic #v smut

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darkjimxn · 20 days

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Chapter 3: End Him, Yoongi

Chapter 2 || Masterlist || Chapter 4

A/N: Just finished writing the next chapter for UIY but I have an exam in two days, so I’ll probably post after that

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starcandymaknae · 2 years

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Your Night, Baby (I want you to be)

pairing: kim namjoon x park jimin

genre: hurt/comfort, romance, angst

warnings: anxiety, mental health, panic attacks

word count: 21.2k (approx)

tags: university au, ex-dancer!Jimin, protect namjoon at all costs, side Taejin, jin is so done, side yoonkook, golden maknae jeon jungkook, no beta we die like men, growing up, the pursuit of happiness, spring day vibes, promise vibes

synopsis: People change as seasons do, all in the name of growing.

a/n: This is my first ever bangtan fic! I've been writing fanfic for different fandoms for nearly eight years now, but this is the first time I've ventured to create content for army. In a time of great uncertainty and chaos, both in the world and for army, I hope this story will bring you a little bit of comfort. Everything will be okay.

—

SPRING

Ilsan isn’t anything like home.

For one thing, it’s so sunny Jimin finds himself shielding his eyes with his hand, his fingers braced like a visor over the crease of his brow. It’s so sunny he finds himself missing the rain, the hovering dreariness that casts the city in a cool grey shadow.

It would certainly be a better reflection of his mood at the moment. He’s always loved some good pathetic fallacy.

He loves Busan, too, loves the fish markets and the grainy sand and the dull streets stuffed with colourful people. He loves the warm cover of a cloudy day, the dense breath of summertime when even the fish seem to be alive above the water.

But this is not home, and he is not Jimin, not today. Instead, he basks in the light that filters through the glass ceiling, in the dry warmth that washes over him like a rolling tide.

He isn’t supposed to be here. He’s supposed to be in the fifth floor studio at the academy, kneading choreography into the meat of his bones until every step he takes is whispering with the memory. The performance lineup for the Spring Festival is set to be finalized at the end of the month, and Park Jimin is a household name at the London Academy of Contemporary Performing Arts.

Most dancers would donate a kidney for a slot in the senior showcase. Most dancers would pay a fortune for the best resources in the country. Most dancers would be in the studio, deaf to the rainfall of days passing, grinding their bodies into nothing but sweat and rosin, molding their futures to the pressure of a desperately waning opportunity.

Instead, Jimin had woken up that morning, hefted his duffle bag quietly onto his shoulder, and hailed a taxi to the London City Airport before the sun had even crested the horizon.

It wasn’t until he was halfway to the airport that he remembered how afraid he is of flying. The last time he was anywhere near a plane, he had nearly had a panic attack thinking about all the ways he might die between Korea and Europe.

This time was a little different. This time, instead of worrying about how he might fall out of the sky, Jimin spent every minute of his eleven-and-a-half hour flight thinking about how many people were going to kill him if he didn’t.

If he was going to run away, he probably should’ve gone straight home, back to his family and his half-dead orchid and the sky that, even now, is probably rolling with rain clouds. Instead, he had stepped off the plane in Seoul and boarded the first bus he’d laid eyes on: a longline shuttle to the Goyang Flower Festival at Ilsan Lake Park.

He’d ended up here, alone, in a city he had never been to with no idea where he might be going next.

In his pocket, his phone buzzes again.

from: TAEHYUNGIE <3 PARK JIMINIE LOVE OF MY LIFE LIFELONG SOULMATE I WILL NEVER FIND ANOTHER

Tell Jungkookie to stop drinking my pear juice or I’m kicking him out

JIMINNNNNNNN

Um hello sir?? Why does your find my friends say you’re in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean?

???? Are you on a plane??? You hate planes

Hey babe It’s been like twelve hours You okay?

What’s in Ilsan????????

Call me when you can, okay? Just wanna make sure you’re safe <3

It’s not that he doesn’t want to talk to him. On the contrary, Kim Taehyung is probably the only person on the planet that would listen to him have a mental breakdown and not judge any of his poor life decisions. He’d probably say something stupid, like damn, when I said get out of your comfort zone I meant fuck Tom Holland, not flee the country, and then Jimin would probably laugh through his tears and get on the train and go back to London where he belongs.

The problem is that Taehyung is so good at convincing him that he is brave enough to go after what he wants, and the truth of the matter is that Jimin has absolutely no idea what that might be.

It goes like this:

Jimin wore a hole through his toe shoes sometime near sundown yesterday. It wasn’t a big deal; he sewed ribbons into a new pair for half of an hour and beat them against the barre for the other. He put them on and broke them in until he couldn’t feel the difference between cardboard and bone.

It goes like this:

Jimin is tired of breaking new things as a means to an end. He is tired of waking up, alone in his bed, and wondering where all his housemates have gone. He is tired of calling his mother at 7PM every Friday and saying, I love it here, I can’t imagine coming home, and then letting himself into an empty studio until it is almost a full truth, until he is too tired to feel the hollow blackness ringing like a gong in his chest.

It goes like this:

For his eighteenth birthday, Jungkook dragged them all to a sensory deprivation centre. Yoongi-hyung made a joke about how he was already living in one and Jin had whined for a full ten minutes about wrinkles in his skin, but in the end they had each gone in, one after the other.

He hadn’t thought much of it at first. The lady at the front desk said something about how falling asleep is normal, just embrace it, and so Jimin had gone into this whole thing with the full intention of taking a nice, relaxing nap.

And then the lights had gone out, and the door had sealed, and Jimin was all alone. Really alone, in a way he hasn’t been since Taehyung stepped through the door of his eighth grade homeroom, since Tae dragged his stupid kid cousin to the park with him one summer, since Jimin fucked up a coin drop so badly that Hobi-hyung had laughed himself into next week.

The thing about drifting into a void is that there is nothing in it to distract you from yourself, nothing to smooth over all the ugly parts of a living body, all the pieces that everyone is too polite to acknowledge.

There was nothing to hide the gurgling of his tummy or the squelch in his throat, the bubble of air that slipped from his diaphragm, sliding upwards until it squeaked itself out. There was no mirror to show him he was fine, no sneaker soles to keep him grounded. There was only him, and his brain, and thoughts like am I doing this right is this how it’s supposed to feel did I do it wrong am I doing it wrong what if I am wrong I am wrong, I am wrong, I am wrong, until he was thrashing in the water, flinging his hands against the closed door and screaming into the silence, tumbling out of the chamber into Jin-hyung’s arms in near hysteria.

Some days, Jimin can still hear the pulse in his ears, can hear his own voice echoing from the blackness back to him.

Some days, Jimin finds himself frozen in time, watching the world turn around him and wondering why he cannot muster the momentum to turn with it.

Evidently, today is one of those days. Today, a group of teens is racing up and down the water bank, shrieking with laughter as they pretend to shove each other into the lake. Today, a father balances his son on his shoulders, tilting him from side to side like a swooping airplane. Jimin sees the child laughing, sees the wife scolding him through a poorly suppressed smile, sees his own reflection in the water and wonders why he does not smile along.

Everywhere he looks, there are people soaked in the vibrancy of their own small universes, and suddenly the afternoon serenity of the glass lake is shattering like a lightless mirror, dragging him under the surface and pressing down against his windpipe in fists of white smoke.

The problem is he doesn’t know what he’s doing. The problem is that he is tired of never being enough, of breaking in over and over and over again, of spinning in place and never stopping, never resting, never finding peace.

He gasps for breath, clawing at the neckline of his thin sweatshirt, and he can’t breathe, can’t see, cannot exist here, cannot be enough.

Someone screams. Faintly in the distance, Jimin can hear the sound of a crashing tide, can feel the ground beneath him pounding with an urgency that matches the dizzy buzzing in his front teeth, can taste the salt on his lips and tongue as he sobs violently into his shaking hands.

It’s alright, it’s okay, you’re not alone, you’re right here with me, it’s alright, it’s okay, don’t worry, I’m here—

“Hey, you gotta slow down,” someone murmurs into his ear. When did his hands leave his face? “It’s alright, you’re okay, I’m here,” the voice echoes distantly, keeping up a soothing stream of chatter as he chokes wetly on a ragged breath. “Slow down, sweetheart, you’re okay, I promise, you’re not alone, it’s going to be okay.”

He gasps for air.

In.

Out.

Again.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

Gradually, the storm eases. The screaming stops.

In.

Out.

Slower, slowly this time.

In.

Out.

Breathe.

His heart slows down to a drizzle instead of a hailstorm, and Jimin comes back to himself in pieces like a mountain peak at dawn.

“Are you okay?” The boy’s fingers are wet where they’re pressed against his cheeks. Jimin’s face is cold as they fall away, but he doesn’t have the energy to do much more than shiver.

“Yeah,” his throat feels raw. He shifts to sit properly on the hard ground, barely registering the way the broken skin under his knees prickles and stings as he lifts away from the sharp gravel.

He expects questions. He expects the boy to get up and walk away, to ask if he needs to borrow his phone, to pat him awkwardly on the shoulder and tell him to take care on his way home.

Instead, the boy pulls off his black baseball cap (his hair falls over his eyes in soft waves of chestnut and coal, and Jimin’s breath is still busy spinning like a wind chime in his hollow chest) and plops it onto Jimin’s head, pulling the brim down slightly so that it shadows his bloodshot eyes and cherry nose.

The boy then grabs Jimin by the elbows and draws him gently to his feet (Jimin comes face to face with a clavicle and the junction of a neck and shoulder, and it occurs to him how small he is, how small his panic must be in the grand scheme of the moving universe), grinning down at him with a cheery smile that washes away the embarrassment of his episode entirely.

“Do you want to disappear with me?”

—

The air in Ilsan is sweet. It lingers on his tongue, rolling down his throat in waves of citrus and honey as they meander down the forest path. Although the glaring sun has given way to a patchwork of heavy clouds, the bright sky that stretches overhead seems limitless, undisturbed by the glow of satellites or the roar of passing airplanes. Jimin tips his head upwards, examining the horizon that blurs green and grey above the treeline.

The company isn’t half bad either— Kim Namjoon, the boy had said. His skin is warm where it touches his own, his elbow brushing gently against Jimin’s upper arm with every step. He smells faintly like sweat and aftershave and the kind of soft freshness that lingers in the air just after a long rain.

They walk quietly, picking their way over fallen brambles and wildflowers that have strayed from the safety of their clustered brethren.

“Do you have somewhere to be?” Namjoon’s low voice breaks through the murmur of birds somewhere overhead.

Home. Seoul. The UK. There’s still enough time to catch a late flight back to London, to get a good night’s sleep before his technical conditioning class, to blame it all on nerves and exhaustion and a momentary lapse in judgment.

“No,” he answers firmly, the word floating past his ears and into the thicket of trees with a decisiveness that surprises him. “No, I don’t.”

If Namjoon notices Jimin’s slight hesitation, he doesn’t show it. “Good,” he grins, sliding his large palm into his own to draw him off the path.

In hindsight, he probably shouldn’t have followed a stranger into the woods, but despite the very real danger of getting murdered in the middle of nowhere, he cannot find it in himself to be afraid.

"Because we're here."

Here turns out to be a giant oak tree in the middle of a natural clearing. It’s gargantuan, so tall it seems to burst out from beneath the moss that blankets its thick roots, towering above their heads in a shower of long branches and wide green leaves.

“Wow,” Jimin breathes.

“Wow,” Namjoon agrees. He releases Jimin’s fingers to clasp his hands to his chest, bowing deeply to the giant oak as if he were greeting an important elder. “Jimin-ssi, meet Lady Amany. Lady Amany, this is my new friend, Park Jimin-ssi.”

“She has a name?” Jimin isn’t sure if this guy is weird or adorable. So far, it’s a little bit of both.

“Lady Amany. I read it in a book once, when I was really little,” Namjoon explains, crouching down to get a better look at a line of aphids that dot the green stems of a few tall weeds. “It was about a young girl who lived on the moon.”

The forest is moist and warm, pale sunlight falling across his skin in sheets. He watches Namjoon’s t-shirt stretch over the planes of his back, following the calm rise and fall of his breathing as best he can. “Tell me?”

Namjoon’s back twists as he glances up in surprise, his kind eyes widening against the silver light. “Really?” Jimin just hums, fiddling with a callous on his palm.

“Well, once upon a time there was a girl named Amany. Every night, when the moon returned to earth, she would sit and listen to the wishes of the people below her. Wishes for success, for the health of family members, for promises of love and happiness and prosperity. And every night, she would cry, and her tears became the stars that scattered across the night sky. Because the truth was, Lady Amany had no powers at all. She could not grant their wishes, even if people kept begging for her help.”

“That’s… incredibly sad,” Jimin murmurs softly, crouching down next to him and nearly losing his balance on a patch of wet soil. Namjoon catches him before he can fall, his large hand snaking out to press soundly against the dip in his small waist, and Jimin isn’t sure if he’s imagining the way his warm fingers linger on the sliver of skin between the hem of his t-shirt and the waistband of his shorts.

And then he’s gone again, retreating back to the safety of his own knees as he remains bent over them. He turns to the side, shifting to face Jimin as well as he can, his cheek pressed to the palm of his hand. “What is?”

Jimin keeps his chin pillowed on his forearms, rocking back in his crouch to sit more comfortably on his heels. “The fact that she spent her whole life giving in to the wishes of others. Everyone thought she was a goddess, that she could do anything or be anyone.” Tears prick harshly at the corners of his eyes, but he is tired and warm and too full of sunlight to cry, so he keeps his eyes wide open, staring straight ahead at the thick trunk of the oak tree. “They must’ve thought she was the most powerful person in the universe, when the truth was she was trapped on the moon, all alone, and all she could do was let people down.”

The oak tree is getting blurrier by the minute.

“Would you like to hear how the story ends, Jimin-ssi?” Namjoon’s voice is gentle.

“Yes,” he whispers hoarsely.

“Well, Lady Amany felt so discouraged one night that she wanted to give up altogether. She laid on her back as the sun rose, watching as the stars she had cried were erased from the sky, one by one, and she made her first wish to the moon that had been her home as long as she could remember. She asked desperately if there was a reason that she had been born here, if there was a reason she was allowed to stay even when she was unable to help anyone at all. And for the first time in her long life, the moon answered.

‘You have been a blessing all this time,’ the moon told her. ‘Even while you feel like you have not changed a single thing.’

‘How?’ Lady Amany sobbed into her hands. ‘I cannot make the sick healthy. I cannot give money to the poor. I cannot make dreams come true or nightmares disappear. How am I a blessing if I cannot grant the wishes that are made to me?’

‘You give them hope,’ the moon said. ‘You listen to their wishes and allow them to feel seen and heard, even on the darkest nights when you are their only confidant. You give them the courage to make their own dreams come true, to make even the ones who are sick and poor feel as if they are doing the best they can do.’”

Jimin doesn’t know what to say. He stares with wide eyes, his heart thudding loudly in his chest, but Namjoon’s velvety voice pierces the roaring in his ears with all the ease of a soap bubble popping.

“You see, Lady Amany forgot the most important thing: that people make wishes based on dreams, and people have expectations based on the hope that they will exceed them someday. And sometimes, dreams are not about the wishes that we make in the dead of night, but rather how they give us the motivation to move forward even under the spotlight of morning.”

Namjoon’s voice trails off. He studies Jimin carefully, his dark eyes roving over Jimin’s small face as if searching for an answer to a question he does not dare to ask. Jimin doesn’t blame him. It’s not every day that you find a stranger having a panic attack and decide to take them to your secret place in the woods.

This day just keeps getting weirder.

It’s a long time before either of them speak. They just crouch there, completely still, listening to the forest as it returns to the possession of the wildlife and the trees. They crouch there, watching as the plants seemed to speak to one another in little fluttering bursts of petals and brushing leaves. The only indications of their presence are the sounds of their soft breathing and the comfortable band of familiarity that seems to bridge the space between them, tying them together with the intimacy of two strangers who have somehow found peace in one another, even when the whole universe is crashing down around them.

And then the moment breaks, and Jimin rises to his feet, brushing away the imaginary dust that has settled on his scabbing knees. He clasps both hands to his heart and turns to the tree, bowing long and low with a quiet, sincere reverence. “It’s nice to meet you, Lady Amany-nim,” he says softly. “I’m Park Jimin. Please take care of me.”

Namjoon chuckles, and his laughter echoes into the forest with the birds’ song.

—

SUMMER

Yoongi-hyung has a new roommate. Jungkook’s voice echoes faintly in his ears, but it’s hard to remember the details of Jungkook’s rambling when there is scalding coffee dripping down your shirt and Kim Namjoon is freaking out in the doorway.

“I’m so sorry! I’m such a klutz, I just came out of the room so fast and I wasn’t looking and I didn’t know you were standing there,” Namjoon babbles, pressing the t-shirt in his hands into Jimin’s abdomen in a desperate attempt to pat him dry.

The t-shirt.

In his hands.

Jimin registers that the other boy is entirely shirtless right as Namjoon leans down to swipe at the coffee on Jimin’s bare thighs. There is about a half mile of smooth caramel skin shoved into his line of vision, Namjoon is crowding him against the doorframe in his frantic dismay, and Jimin would think he was dreaming if it weren’t for the fact that his leg still burns like hell.

He thinks he says something like, it’s okay, it was an accident, but what comes out of his mouth is probably more like, “Uh-oh kay yeah.” As it is, he’s just grateful his ceramic coffee tumbler hasn’t shattered all over Jin-hyung’s nice wood floor.

“Holy shit, Namjoon, what did you do?” Jin comes out of his bedroom just in time to save Jimin from his misery. “Jimin-ah, are you okay?”

The answer is a resounding absolutely the fuck not, because Kim Namjoon is in Jin-hyung’s apartment and he is shirtless and Jimin should’ve washed his hair this morning instead of stuffing his face with too much French toast—

“I was looking for Taehyung,” he says instead.

“He ran out to the bakery across the street,” Jin sighs, picking up the coffee cup still lolling around on the floor and plucking Namjoon’s shirt deftly from his outstretched hands. “Well, now that you’ve met,” he says, breaking through the silence with his high, swooping laugh, “Jiminie, this is Kim Namjoon, my old roommate from back in the day and—yah, I guess you’re my new roommate again!” he jokes, whacking Namjoon’s shoulder in glee. Namjoon groans, but he’s laughing, belly-deep and hearty right before Jimin’s eyes. “Namjoon, this is Park Jimin, Taehyungie’s best friend.”

“Ah, yes. Taehyungie,” Namjoon says knowingly, snickering at the blush that threatens to rise in his hyung’s bread cheeks. “Nice to meet you, Jimin-ssi.”

And just like that, the excitement thrumming in Jimin’s bloodstream evaporates. It’s like Namjoon has just pressed a candle to a snowbank, the lit wick sputtering for a moment before it hisses and dies out.

The fond warmth in Namjoon’s eyes is gone, and so is his gentle forest boy, traded for this stranger with a polite smile and unwelcoming hands.

He nearly says something stupid, like why are you acting like you don’t know me, but then he sees Namjoon’s white knuckles clutched tightly at his side, sees how his gaze does not meet his own, sees the tense set of his sharp jaw behind his cheery smile, and in the end all he can say is, “It’s nice to meet you, Namjoon-ssi. I hope we’ll get along.”

—

“What an absolute fucking asshole,” Taehyung fumes, throwing a kernel of popcorn at the wall. It bounces off Ed Sheeran’s face and rolls harmlessly onto the bed.

“Yah, every time you eat in my room I find crumbs in my bed for a week,” Jimin complains, pushing the kernel onto the floor with his socked foot.

It’s been a full eighteen days since Kim Namjoon quite literally crashed his way back into his life, and Jimin is still having trouble reconciling the boy in the forest with the newest perpetrator of their (somewhat) organized chaos. This Namjoon is less spring rainfall and more winter storm; this Namjoon is the youngest elder in a room full of hyungs, cheerful and mischievous in a way that most burgeoning adults never get to be.

The moments in which Jimin is able to catch a glimpse of the Namjoon he knows are speckled into the silence of the days, when Taehyung peels himself from Jimin’s side to disappear in the direction of Jin’s room (judging by the amused glances flitting about the room he’s certain everyone knows anyway), or when Yoongi raises his arms in a full body stretch, his head tipped back, groaning all the while—and then he slips into the comfortable familiarity of being who you are when no one else is watching. His brows soften, his full lips part (sometimes his tongue edges the backs of his teeth as if he were posing the answer to his own question), and there is a mindful solemnity that settles in the dimple at his left cheek, an underlying tension that always siphons from the laughter still lingering in the air.

“I can't believe he pretended not to know you,” Tae shoves another handful of kettle corn into his mouth, chewing furiously with his mouth wide open. He looks a lot like a cow Jimin saw at a petting zoo one time, except Tae is arguably cuter, with big brown eyes and a mountain of fluffy hair. "You guys had a meet-cute straight out of a fucking movie, and instead of admitting that you're probably the love of his life he decides he'd rather be alone forever.”

Taehyung is, of course, the only person on earth that knows what happened the day Jimin came home. He had tracked Jimin’s phone right up until the moment it had showed up on his street, throwing open his apartment door before Jimin could even ring the bell.

Jimin shrugs half-heartedly, slouching further down his pillow to lean his head on Tae’s thin shoulder. “I’m basically a perfect stranger. We never actually went out, you know.”

“No, you just had one magical forest adventure that was more romantic than all of my past dates combined." Taehyung says sarcastically.

"That's because your taste in men is shit. Just date Jin-hyung already and put us out of our misery.” He dodges the incoming shower of popcorn with a snicker. “We met once four months ago and didn't exchange contact info or agree to keep in touch. You can hardly blame him for not remembering what I look like.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes. “How many Park Jimins do you think there are in this world?” he demands.

Jimin raises an eyebrow. “Probably more than you think.”

“I still think he’s going to wake up one day and realize you’re the one that got away,” Tae insists. “Look, I like Namjoon, but you know he could literally pull the sun chariot across the sky and I’d still take your side.”

Jimin pinches his cheek, snuggling further into his shoulder. “I know,” he says fondly, reaching over to snag a handful of kettle corn. “But I’m not going to fight him because he forgot about me. It probably wasn’t on purpose, anyway.”

Tae frowns doubtfully, “I’ll tell Jungkookie to ready the body bag.” And then, before Jimin can say anything else, “Hey, Jimin-ah.”

He hums, poking at the moles on Tae’s upper arm, tracing lines into his tan skin until he’s drawn a long face there.

“Are you okay, Jimin-ah? Really, though.”

He’s not okay. That much is clear, because Jimin sleeps less in a forty-eight hour period than most ants do in a year. It’s become routine at this point, that Jungkook takes double portions so he can offer bites off his plate that Jimin is too polite to refuse, that Taehyung stocks the drawers with chamomile and the cupboards with coffee, that the hyungs keep their phones switched on, ready on stand-by at all hours of the day.

It’s a twenty-four-seven Park Jimin Watch, and while Jimin is touched that his friends think he is worth watching out for, part of him wants to crawl out of his fucking skin every time someone looks in his direction.

He’s not okay, but he’s trying. He gets up in the mornings and makes himself presentable, showers at night, brushes his hair. He does his skincare routine and dresses like he cares, makes sure he is so pretty that who he is on the surface is all anyone will notice when they look at him.

The thing is that Park Jimin has always been liked by the people around him, and that is nearly entirely due to the fact that he is very good at being who people want him to be. It’s easy to be liked, as long as he doesn’t laugh too hard or frown too much or talk about what’s going on in the cyclone inside his head.

Are you okay, Park Jiminie?

“Yeah,” he answers, as easy as breathing, and no one ever has the heart to disagree.

—

A month and a half after he is reunited with Kim Namjoon, Jimin is smashing a slice of cake right into his stupid dimpled face.

“Why are your traditions always so violent?” Namjoon shouts through a mouthful of buttercream frosting. He's laughing, swiping bits of sponge cake from his cheeks with the pads of his calloused fingers. To the side, Jin and Jungkook are shrieking with peals of unbridled laughter, chasing each other up and down with cakes poised at the ready.

“Because we are passionate about good luck," Jimin retorts, dropping the paper plate on to the table to take another swig of his drink. He doesn’t bother to wipe his hands, effectively smearing the glass neck of his Corona in cake and globs of pink frosting. It leaves a sweet aftertaste in his mouth, coating his tongue in vanilla and lime, and Jimin isn’t sure if it’s the corona talking but Namjoon’s laughter sweetens alongside every sip.

“Doesn’t the birthday boy usually get to decide what will bring him luck?" Namjoon's eyes are sparkling with mirth.

His gaze lingers on Jimin’s face, even as Yoongi passes him a wad of clean napkins, even as Hobi drags Yoongi away by the back of his collar, crowing something about another shot and too many unused glasses.

“The birthday boy should be grateful he has friends that love him enough to throw him an awesome party,” Taehyung cuts in, draping himself over Namjoon’s back to steal another bite of his hyung’s cake.

“You are literally holding your own plate,” Namjoon complains, but he scoops an extra bit of frosting into Taehyung’s boxy smile, watches the younger boy wobble back to the group with a fond shake of the head, and Jimin is warm; he is soft and bubbly from the inside out.

Namjoon offers Jimin the next bite, holding out his fork with a steady hand that does nothing to betray the shine of drink in his chocolate eyes. And Jimin, for all that he is chaotic and flamboyant in the easy company of his chosen family, is hyperaware of the gleeful sting of Taehyung’s eyes on his neck, of the distant hum of the rooftop lamplight that illuminates his every expression in a warm yellow glow.

He closes his lips around the outstretched fork, and he doesn’t pretend to miss the way Namjoon’s breath hitches infinitesimally in his throat as he pulls away.

“You owe me another slice of cake,” Namjoon’s voice is a low hum that rumbles up the narrow column of his spine. He drifts closer, dabbing at the inside of Jimin’s wrist with the corner of his crumpled napkin. It’s so saturated with cake and frosting that it only serves to smear the sticky mess further into his skin, but Namjoon’s big hand is gripping his waist and his smile is sugary sweet and slathered in the joy of this eternal summer night, and Jimin cannot bring himself to care, not when Namjoon’s pink tongue has poked out of the side of his mouth to hover somewhere just above his eye line.

“It’ll cost you,” he murmurs, watching the neckline of Namjoon’s cotton shirt quiver under his shaky exhale. He wonders if that is sweet, too, wonders if Namjoon still tastes like rain and sweat and early spring morning, wonders if he pressed his lips to the mole on his neck he could feel how fast his heart is fluttering.

Namjoon isn’t even pretending to clean him up anymore, the napkin stilling in his palm. He wraps his long fingers around Jimin’s slender forearm, the barest pressure, and holds it there. “I’m sure I can afford it. What’s your price?”

“I’ll have you know I’m expensive,” Jimin informs him.

Namjoon grins teasingly. “So are my services as a park ranger, and I gave those to you for free.”

The easy smile slips from his face.

If there were ever a moment in time when Park Jimin felt like an idiot, it would be here, inches from the precipice of a tentative possibility, toeing the line between a reckless decision and his pride. If there were ever a moment in time when Park Jimin felt like an idiot, it would be upon the realization that Kim Namjoon remembers exactly who he is, and he just doesn’t care, doesn’t care about him at all.

He can pinpoint the exact moment when Namjoon realizes he’s fucked up, because he freezes, his eyes widening as they fix themselves on Jimin’s stony expression. “Look, I—”

Jimin pulls his wrist stiffly from his grasp, steps back to a more appropriate distance for two relatively new acquaintances with mutual friends.

“Jimin—”

He doesn’t hear the rest of that sentence. He’s already walking away.

—

Jimin has never thought of himself as a pushover. His mother calls it being more stubborn than old rice in the pot, but Jimin prefers to think of himself as having an outstanding tenacity for sticking to his choices. It is, after all, a characteristic tied directly to his ability to stay motivated in the face of great adversity, mostly due to the fact that he hates losing more than anything else on the planet.

That being said, Jimin thinks he has the right to be upset with Kim Namjoon.

It’s too bad that no one but Tae seems inclined to agree with him.

“Don’t you think you’re being a bit unreasonable?” Hobi asks, carding his long fingers through Jimin’s fluffy hair. He’s had a headache all day, and it’s made him so grumpy that Jungkook had called in reinforcements on his way to his boxing club. He feels a little bad about taking up so much of their time, but it’s nice, sometimes, on days like this when he doesn’t want to be alone. “You’d think he was the dictator of your impoverished country.”

“Did he shoot your best gal? Or break both of your legs?” Yoongi snickers, peeling the last of the skin off his tangerine. It joins the pile of orange strips stacked neatly in a heap on the coffee table—Yoongi undresses tangerines almost as fast as he can eat them.

“Why do you always pull your references from a thirties mob film?” Yoongi shrugs through his gummy smile, stuffing the remnants of the tangerine into his mouth before starting on another one. “I don’t understand why it’s so hard for you guys to accept that I don’t get along with Kim Namjoon,” he complains. “He’s not the fucking Dalai Lama.”

“Jimin, we’re talking about a guy that literally spent thirteen hours looking for the neighbour’s cat after it escaped from his house. The only explanation for this level of hostility would be if he got possessed by the devil and desecrated your entire family.”

“It’s worse, actually,” he grumbles. They’re being way more dramatic than he is, which goes to show just how lost in Namjoon’s proverbial sauce they are. “We met like three months ago and he’s pretending not to know me. Who even does that? How the fuck are you supposed to make friends if they just decide to pretend you don’t exist?”

“Are you sure?” Hobi frowns. “He would’ve told me if you’d met.”

“No, I’m totally not, I’m making this all up so you think I’m the Wicked Witch of the West,” Jimin retorts sarcastically, throwing his arms into the air in exasperation.

“Jimin-ah,” Yoongi says reproachfully.

“Sorry,” he mutters, crossing his wrists back over his eyes. The pain in his head has gotten exponentially worse, a bad combination of stress and lack of sleep making his temples throb in time with his heartbeat. His skin is dry and dull today, the headache making it nearly impossible for him to follow through with his usual three-step skincare routine.

The world spins a little as Hobi shifts in his seat, Jimin’s head lolling with the rise and fall of the cushion beneath him.

“Is it possible that you guys met very briefly and he genuinely doesn’t remember?” Hobi asks gently, scratching at Jimin’s scalp in a soothing gesture.

(His hair is misbehaving today, refusing to fall around his eyes the way he’d wanted no matter how long he’d stood in the bathroom fiddling with it.

The nice thing about his hyungs is they never seem to care how he looks. It’s nice to be comfortable, once in a while.)

“I don’t think so. I mean, I met him the day I came home,” Jimin shrugs as nonchalantly as he can, given the fact that his lower body is dangling over the side of his couch and Hobi’s hand is still buried in his hair. He cracks his eyes open just in time to see his hyungs exchange wary glances.

They’ve never really talked about the day he ran away; a series of events Taehyung has kindly dubbed Jimin’s New Life, Bitches Not Welcome.

All they know is he showed up on the doorstep of Taehyung and Jungkook’s apartment at a quarter to midnight with a duffel bag over his shoulder, the collar of his shirt stained with dry tears and the soles of his sneakers caked inexplicably in mud and damp leaves. All they know is that he moved into the apartment shortly thereafter, that he walked the long way to his new classes just to avoid the performing arts department on the east side of campus.

All they know is he received a letter confirming his withdrawal from the London Academy of Contemporary Performing Arts a few weeks later, and that nobody but Taehyung heard a word from him for nearly four days.

Yoongi’s voice breaks through the silence first. “You went to Ilsan?”

“It just kind of happened,” Jimin grits his teeth, well aware that his body language betrays the nonchalance of his tone. “We met and I had a meltdown in public and then he introduced himself and I came home and we never talked about it again. It wasn’t a big deal.”

It is a big deal, at least to him, and they all know it. “I’m sure he didn’t mean to be rude,” Hobi reasons carefully. “Maybe he just thought you wouldn’t want to talk about it.”

“Or maybe he was embarrassed to see me again,” Jimin says bitterly.

“Jimin-ah, you know he isn’t like that,” Yoongi chides gently. “Just talk to him like an adult.”

“I’m not an adult.”

“You’re twenty-two years old, you can have a damn conversation with your hyung.”

“I don’t call him hyung,” Jimin says petulantly.

“Park Jimin.”

“Fine.”

—

He doesn’t talk to Namjoon about it. In fact, he doesn’t talk to Namjoon at all, much to the displeasure of his friends.

“You’re going to have to stop avoiding him at some point, hyung,” Jungkook reasons, smoothing the spatula over another glob of pink frosting. Jimin has to physically restrain himself from punching him in the shoulder—he’d shown him how to ice a cake no more than fifteen minutes ago and Jungkook’s technique is already flawless, the cheeky little shit.

“I’m not avoiding him.” He’s mixing up another batch of buttercream with maybe a little too much force, but hey, nobody’s ever been mad at a very homogenous frosting.

The preparation for Jin’s Event-of-the-Month party is well underway. Hobi has stocked his fridge with enough liquor to drown a whale (he chugged the rest of the milk to make room for it and then spent an hour trapped in his own bathroom, moaning about how he isn’t usually so lactose intolerant). Taehyung and Namjoon had laughed themselves to near tears, cackling at the banner above the dining room table that proudly displays Jungkook’s loopy handwriting:

Happy “you found a white hair and threw a tantrum for six days until Yoongi revealed he had a hair chalk disaster in the bathroom” Party!

It’s even better than last month’s, which was Jungkook’s (Happy “that mole on your chin turned out to be week-old chocolate”), or the month before, which was Jin’s again (Happy “the modelling agency that scouted you was legit this time and not a front for a shady MLM”).

The first Event-of-the-Month Party Jimin ever attended was his own: Happy “escaping from those elitist snobs and coming home to the people who love you” (it’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for him. Jimin had nearly choked up at the gesture). When he asked why the group as a whole insisted on throwing parties that had nothing to do with anything, Jin had only scoffed.

“Well we can’t have a birthday every month, Jiminie, some of us are doubled up,” he said, as if it were obvious.

Yoongi nodded sagely, “He’s right. And we can’t keep adding people to the group chat until we have a birthday every month. Can you imagine the chaos?”

“We’d never make any real decisions,” Hobi added sadly, shaking his head.

“Right,” Jimin echoed slowly. He’s lucky Taehyung is his best friend in the world, or he would’ve thought he was losing his mind.

“—he sat across from you at dinner the other day and you nearly choked to death on the amount of chicken you shovelled into your face,” Jungkook deadpans, bringing Jimin back to the present moment with a start.

“I was hungry.”

“I’m right.”

“You’re not.”

“Hyung.” There it is: Jungkook’s signature bunny stare. Jimin stares down at the mixing bowl in his hands, carefully adding a few drops of blue food colouring before taking up the whisk again. He ignores the prickling sensation of Jungkook’s doe eyes boring into the side of his head for all of twenty seconds before he cracks, dropping the whisk back into the bowl with a metallic clatter.

”What am I supposed to say, Kook? Hey, sorry I’ve been a dick to you because the first time we met actually meant a lot to me and you dropped me like a hot sack of garbage?”

The side of Jungkook’s mouth tugs up in gentle amusement. “I was thinking more along the lines of hey, but whatever works for you, hyung.”

“You’re a little shit.”

“You love me more every day,” he sings, dodging the spoonful of blue frosting that whips past his head with a cackle.

“I hate you.”

Jungkook drops a kiss to the side of his hair, bumping his shoulder in silent truce. “It would make me very happy if you forgave him, “ he says quietly. “He’s been tutoring me in Contemporary Literature this semester and he’s one of Yoongi-hyung’s best friends, so—he’s really nice, hyung. I promise.”

I know, Jimin wants to say, I know he’s really nice. That’s the problem, but he only sighs. He ruffles Jungkook’s hair, smoothing back his fluffy bangs with practiced fingers, and then nudges him in the direction of the unfinished cake. “Wash your hands first,” he nags, poking his back with a pointy index finger.

Jungkook grins knowingly. “Yes hyung,” he laughs, “Anything you say.”

—

Jimin wanders into Yoongi’s class early one evening, balancing his laptop and textbooks in one hand and the biggest cup of coffee he can manage in the other.

Yoongi, while easily the grumbliest of his hyungs, is generous with his time and patience in a way that has his dongsaengs doting on his every request. For example, Jimin has deemed himself Yoongi’s designated coffee delivery boy at least twice a week, so long as Yoongi helps him through the convoluted hell that is Advanced Music Theory.

It’s a symbiotic relationship, one that keeps Yoongi sane and caffeinated and Jimin’s GPA high enough that his parents keep quiet about why he’s in Seoul at all.

As usual, Yoongi is slumped over his desk in the front of the lecture hall, his head bobbing sleepily against his chest. He looks so snuggly, wrapped up in his orange sweater and curly black hair that Jimin can’t help himself.

from: Jimin-Sssiiiii Image.jpg

from: J-kAYYYYYYY JKSAFLSDLSNFLKSDFN SOFT SOFT BOI IM SO SOFT PLS WHY IS HE A FUCKIGN CAT I JUST WANNA BITE HIS CHEEKS

from: Jimin-Sssiiiii Your boyfriend is fucking sleeping in class and this is all you have to say lmao

from: J-kAYYYYYYY Not my boyfriend God I fucking wish Look at him Soft meow I’m so fucking soft I hate him I’m so sick of him

from: Jimin-Sssiiiii You’re a fucking mess

“Namjoon-seonbae!” a tall guy calls over the bustle of the lecture hall, startling Jimin away from his phone long enough to realize that students are spilling around him in the doorway trying to get out.

“Sorry,” he mumbles to no one in particular, bowing his head in flushed embarrassment. He ducks out of the way and hurries over the Yoongi, who at this point is blinking blearily at the papers in his hands like he’s trying to decipher a stack of runes.

“Hyung,” he calls, slipping the coffee into his outstretched hand.

“I made the horrible mistake of promising to wait for the golden boy,” Yoongi groans, by way of greeting. “Thanks, Jiminie.”

Jimin’s brow furrows. He’s no expert on the list of job expectations for a TA, but he’s pretty sure it doesn't include being swarmed by confused students after a class they don’t actually TA for. “Isn’t he supposed to have office hours, or something?”

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “Last year, a group of students got so desperate that they camped outside of our apartment for a week straight. Jin-hyung couldn’t even go to the grocery store without getting mobbed by half the acting department.” Okay, he’s only been at this school for all of one semester, but he knows for a fact that’s a violation of at least four or five rules in the code of conduct. “Sorry, Jiminie,” Yoongi sighs again, “We might have to wait a bit. Did you leave your notes at home?”

This would be a great time to leave. It would be a great time to say, hyung, I’m going to head home and grab my notes, come by my place when you’re done, and walk out the door without looking back. He’s exhausted, anyway. He has an English Literacy paper to write and a Business Marketing presentation to prepare for, and every fibre of his being is screaming for a strong drink and thirteen hours of sleep.

Now is the perfect time for Jimin to extract himself from the situation, to leave this room exactly as he was when he arrived.

Instead, he plops into the empty seat next to Yoongi’s and pretends not to stare at Namjoon’s every move.

Namjoon in the classroom is different than Jimin thought he’d be.

On an average day, Kim Namjoon towers over Jimin’s small frame with a quiet certainty only found in the kind of people who are determined to see the world as it fits in the palm of their hand. He reminds Jimin somewhat of a preschool teacher, all fond amusement and dimpled smiles, dicking around with Hobi and Jungkook like he isn’t a fully grown man with a genius level IQ.

For someone who was confident enough to set off sixteen fireworks in the deep end of an empty pool that one time they all got drunk and thought raiding a party supply store was a hilarious Thursday-night activity, Kim Namjoon the Teaching Assistant is both distant and familiar in a way Jimin hadn’t expected.

It’s not just the brushed hair or the clean-shaven jaw, the thin sweater over a dress shirt that has been pushed up to his elbows like he’s preparing to wade into war (and jesus, Jimin does not have the mental capacity to dissect whether or not that kind of thing is working for him right now). It’s in the way he holds himself, tall and strong, his shoulders rolled back with the easy conviction of knowing what the world needs from you today and knowing just how to give it.

It’s in the fact that Namjoon’s eyes in the classroom look a lot like his did in the mirror at the academy, his ribs pulled up and in, turning and turning on the straightest knee. He looks like he knows how it feels, spotting on a single point and never truly seeing it.

It’s in the fact that he doesn’t stop smiling, the corner of his mouth stretched like a hamstring on the brink of overuse, kindness glazing over until Jimin cannot see much Namjoon behind his eyes at all.

He watches him chip away at himself in incremental pieces, and he thinks about how thin he must have to stretch to wrap those pieces into something that looks almost whole again.

Jimin thinks he feels something soften inside him a little bit.

Just a little at a time.

—

AUTUMN

It doesn’t rain in Seoul as often as it does in Busan, but what Seoul lacks in frequency it makes up for in gusto.

Jimin is used to it by now, to the creaking pipes and the rattling windowpanes and the leak in the ceiling fan that has Jungkook sleeping in Tae’s dry bed at least three times a month. It’s different, but he likes it. The rain in Seoul is more tidal wave than rolling shoreline, but the sound of the water pattering against the street outside is enough to make Jimin feel at home.

Jimin has always liked the rain.

He’d probably like it a lot more if he wasn’t soaking wet and cowering outside Jin and Yoongi’s apartment building like a cat trapped in the shower.

In his defence, he was one hundred percent certain that it wasn’t going to rain when he left the house this morning. In his defence, he had walked the eight blocks to his first class without spotting a single rain cloud.

It’s only on the evening walk home that he realizes just how well and truly he has fucked himself.

It starts with the tarmac, the smell of the city rising off the pavement in waves. He thinks, huh, rain, and breathes it in as deeply as he can, lets the cool air settle in his belly like a long drink of water.

It starts with thunder, a tremor in the distance that raises the soft hair at the base of his neck. He thinks, uh oh, rain, and starts to march a little faster. The bag slung across his shoulder is heavy this evening, weighed down by the impending doom of exam season, but his feet stay light, skipping along the squares of sidewalk until he feels like flying.

It starts with, oh no, fucking rain, and suddenly the sky is splitting in two, and Jimin is tearing past the crosswalk sign, sprinting the three blocks to his hyungs’ apartment before his four hundred dollar textbooks can lose any more resale value.

There’s only one person he can call. Jin, Jungkook, and Yoongi are in class. Taehyung is in the studio, probably moaning about the sculpture midterm that he has yet to start but will undoubtedly blow out of the water. Hobi-hyung teaches hip hop on Wednesdays, and there’s no way in hell Jimin is going anywhere near the dance centre with all its prying eyes.

His only other option is to wait it out, shivering under the damp weight of his thin fleece and sweatpants. He’s thankful, at least, that it’s warmer than it should be at this time of the year— even if his dark hair is plastered to his forehead, rainwater dripping mercilessly down the back of his neck.

He sneezes so hard he thinks he can hear his lecture notes rattling around in his skull, English vocabulary bouncing against his eardrums in a disjointed cacophony.

He takes it back. It’s fucking freezing out here.

OUTGOING CALL: Kim Namjoon

“Hello?”

He doesn’t know why Namjoon’s voice on the line surprises him so much, but he nearly tosses his phone into a nearby storm drain. “Hi,” he squeaks. “Um, sorry to bother you, but is there any chance you’re home right now?”

—

Namjoon’s room looks like a filler episode of Hoarders.

“Sorry for the mess,” the older boy sniffles in the hallway. Jimin emerges a moment later in a clean hoodie and a pair of sweatpants so long he’s had to roll them at the cuffs, sidestepping the fucking mountain of laundry that’s been hastily shoved against the side of Namjoon’s wooden dresser.

“It’s okay,” Jimin says politely, still towelling the rainwater out of his damp hair. He eyes the garbage bag of used tissues by the bed, the cold bowl of soup on the desk, the curtains that have been pulled over the window for so long that the dust has begun to make a graveyard of the light peeking through.

Everything about Namjoon’s bedroom screams absolutely overwhelmed.

And then, because Jimin might be upset with him but he’s not a fucking monster, he asks, “Are you okay, Namjoon-ssi?”

“Yeah!” It comes out a little too quickly, a little too forced, and Namjoon winces, bracing his arm against the wall in an attempt to look casual.

It takes Jimin all of one second to realize he’s trying not to fall over.

“Are you supposed to be in class today?” he asks suspiciously.

Namjoon smiles again, his cheeks tight and his eyes dull, and Jimin hates it. “Oh, yeah. I think I’ve got a bit of a cold, so Jin-hyung made me stay home. You know how it is,” he tries to chuckle but sneezes violently instead, folded over and paper-like in the doorway.

Worry flutters through him, quick and sharp, and he reaches out to steady Namjoon before he becomes a witness to a homicide. Death by overachieving. “Okay, back to bed for you, sir,” he mutters, grabbing him by the shoulders to steer him back into the room. He drops the towel onto the pile of laundry as he passes, making a mental note to scold Namjoon about it once he’s feeling better.

“You should dry your hair,” Namjoon protests weakly, but he’s already climbing under the covers, shuffling around for a moment before he settles. He allows Jimin to tuck him in like a baby koala, his eyes scrunching shut in a way that makes Jimin want to protect him from every harsh thing in the universe. “You’re going to get sick, Jiminie.”

He pretends the term of endearment doesn’t feel like a kick to the ribs. “I am not going to get sick,” he says sternly, pressing the back of his small hand to Namjoon’s forehead. He’s burning up, so much so that it’s a wonder he got out of bed at all. “You’re so busy worrying about other people that you’re literally two seconds away from your deathbed.”

That earns him a laugh. It’s small, barely a chuckle, but it’s bright and whole and loosens an ache in Jimin’s chest he hadn’t realized was there. “I’m only,” he coughs, “One year older than you.”

“That’s seven in dog years,” Jimin retorts lightly, tying up the bag of used tissues and throwing it into the corner next to the laundry. “Hyung,” it feels weird to speak so casually, but he just touched a bag full of this guy’s snot so he thinks he can forgo the pleasantries, “You should learn to say no to people when you get overwhelmed.”

The dimple on Namjoon’s left cheek deepens just a tad. “I’m not overwhelmed.”

“Sure,” Jimin says flatly. “And I’m not standing in your Shrek swamp right now trying to keep you alive.”

“Exactly,” Namjoon breaks into another coughing fit, rolling away from Jimin to face the wall until it subsides. Jimin rubs small, soothing circles into the palisade of his back until he feels it melt away, until Namjoon softens like clay under his searching fingertips.

“Don’t you think you’re spreading yourself a little thin? You’re not superman, you know,” he chides gently.

“Of course not,” Namjoon scoffs lightly. “I’m not nearly cool enough for that.”

It’s supposed to be a joke, he knows, but there’s something murky and brown in the way he says it, something like mud kicked up in a riverbank, leeches and calloused toes all turned around underwater.

I’m not nearly cool enough, he says, and Jimin cannot even begin to explain how much he disagrees.

“I think you’re plenty cool,” he says softly, and he wishes Namjoon would hear how sincere he is, how there is not even a sliver of him that is saying it for the sake of being kind.

If he squints hard enough, he thinks he can see the moment when Namjoon almost believes him.

Instead, the older boy reaches out his large hand to close his fingers around his wrist, and suddenly they are not two awkward acquaintances who do not know who they are to each other when everyone else is watching. Suddenly they are just as they were, Jimin and Namjoon, falling apart one at a time with only the quiet to hear them.

He allows himself to be drawn onto the bed, curled around a warm body with his fingers buried in a halo of dark hair. The rain continues to batter against the window panes in a steady rhythm, a smooth, hollow pattern that lulls the panic to rest in his chest.

“What would you be, if you could do anything you wanted?” Namjoon asks a little while later, his stuffy nose rendering his voice thick and buttery around the edges.

If he could do anything he wanted?

He’d fly to New York and convince every gallery in existence that his best friend is worth a shot.

He’d make a bunch of money and pay off his parents' mortgage, put them up somewhere nice and comfortable where they wouldn’t have to worry about him ever again.

He’d dance, probably, and he’d make sure that no one could ever see him do it.

Jimin thinks for a moment, feels the way his voice resonates through Namjoon’s ear pillowed on his chest. “Just me, I guess,” he says finally. “I’d be someone who knows what they want, who they want to be, and I wouldn’t worry about whether or not who I want to be is the right thing to do.”

Namjoon exhales, his body relaxing further against his own. “That’s a good answer.”

And then, because he’s feeling brave and he’s waited too long and this is maybe the only chance he will ever get to ask again, Jimin says, “Hey, hyung?”

“Yeah?” Namjoon hums, absentmindedly dragging his pointer finger in gentle circles against his thigh.

“Why did you pretend not to know me?”

Namjoon’s hand doesn’t so much as stutter, and Jimin gets the feeling he’s been waiting for him to ask for a long time. “To be honest with you, I panicked,” Namjoon admits. “That day, when I met you—let’s just say I wasn’t in Ilsan by coincidence. I just didn’t want anyone else to know.”

Jimin bites his lip, rolling the flesh tentatively over his bottom teeth. “You weren’t, like, embarrassed to have met me or anything?”

The hand stills. “Is that what you thought?”

“A little bit,” he confesses.

“Jimin, no,” Namjoon twines his fingers firmly through his own, twisting his neck around until he meets Jimin’s eyes head-on. “It had nothing to do with you. Jin-hyung and Hobi—even Yoongi-hyung doesn’t know how often I need to disappear. The city… I feel like it gets smaller every day, you know? I can’t breathe, sometimes, and I—"

“—I know,” Jimin interrupts before he can spiral, scratching gently at the base of his neck as if to give him a physical reminder that he is not alone. “I know exactly what you mean.”

It seems like he has more to say, though, and Jimin knows Namjoon isn’t the type to ask a question without good reason. “What about you, then? Would you do music?”

He’s seen the Book. They all have. Namjoon’s Book, stuffed to the brim with lyrics and time signatures and more harmonies than Yoongi would know what to do with, shoved with careful hands into the deepest recesses of Namjoon’s leather book bag.

Of all the dirty little secrets one could have, Jimin thinks Namjoon’s darkest is a sacred thing.

“I would love to,” the wistfulness in his tone is answer enough. “But we both know it would never work out.”

He doesn’t know that. He doesn’t think that at all. “You don’t think music could get you by in life?”

“I think loving something isn’t always enough to make it work.” It’s a simple admission, but it pulls the breath like a thread from his lungs, coiling through the moisture in the air until Jimin can almost see the apology shimmering over the bed like a blanket.

“Do you ever think about just running away?” Namjoon asks, so quietly Jimin might have missed it if he hadn’t felt his back rumbling beneath his fingertips.

Every day. “You know I do.”

“Do you ever think about not coming back?” Something about the gravity of his tone makes Jimin pause, the pads of his lithe fingers crawling upwards to soothe the clammy skin above the neckline of his t-shirt. Namjoon sighs, letting his head fall back into the palm of Jimin’s hand, heavy and warm despite the bitterness of the afternoon sky.

“Sometimes,” Jimin admits, letting the air whoosh out of his lungs all at once. “Sometimes I think about how much easier it would be if no one had to put with me anymore,” Namjoon anchors his fingers around the slim curve of his hip, presses his chest flush to the stretch of his clothed stomach, and Jimin lets the steady calm of their bodies meeting bleed through him like ink to water. “But then I think about Taehyungie, and how he cries sometimes when he’s homesick, or Jin-hyung, and how he forgets to eat because he’s busy taking care of everybody else, or—well, you,” he says, and Namjoon’s gentle grip tightens around him like a slowly drowning sailor, “And us, talking about this right now, and then I think maybe sometimes it’s okay to be selfish about it.”

It's quiet in the apartment.

“That’s a good answer,” Namjoon repeats softly.

Jimin can’t see his face right now, but he can tell he’s smiling.

—

There’s nothing going on between him and Kim Namjoon.

No matter how many suggestive texts Tae has sent him, wiggling his eyebrows over the screen of his phone, Jimin refuses to take the bait.

“You’re burning it, hyung.”

“I’m not.”

“Right there! It’s burning!”

“Jung Hoseok, I swear to god, if you do not get out of my kitchen right now I will throw your Lady Gaga posters into the fucking garbage disposal,” Jin snaps, waving the kitchen tongs in the air and sending droplets of hot oil spattering across the glass stovetop.

“Yah!” Hobi shrieks, although it’s unclear whether his distress is due to the threat or the fact that he nearly just became the most well-cooked thing in Jin’s kitchen, “Those posters are signed, you heathen!”

“Never a dull day with those two,” Yoongi hums, unbothered in his seat at the marble island. He stabs another piece of steak with his fork, bringing it to his lips to blow the steam away before feeding it to Taehyung, who is deeply invested in an animated conversation to focus on his meal.

“I’m just saying, a fortress on the side of an active volcano would be practically impermeable to ground attacks,” Taehyung explains clearly, squeezing Jungkook’s wrist with long fingers to emphasize his point.

“But that’s because it’s in a volcano,” Jungkook argues. He pauses to accept a piece of steak from Yoongi’s fork, dropping a quick kiss to the inside of his wrist in thanks. The older boy flushes a sharp, violent red, biting back the bashful smile on his lips (as if he and Jungkook hadn’t spent the entirety of Hobi’s last house party piss-drunk and publicly sucking face in an armchair only meant for one). “What are you going to do, sweep the lava out of the foyer every morning? You can’t waste your own resources just because it ups your defence.”

“Jimin-ssi, what do you think?” Taehyung leans more heavily into his side, dropping his chin onto his shoulder and drumming against his thigh with quick fingertips.

“That’s so not fair,” Jungkook complains loudly. He wipes away the meat juice dribbling down his chin with the back of his hand. Somehow his mouth is full of steak again, his brow furrowed with the effort of talking without spewing out little bits of meat all over the counter. “Hyung has been your best friend for like ten years, he always takes your side!”

“Jiminie is a fair and impartial judge,” Taehyung defends, puffing out his chest indignantly. He taps his leg again, “Jimin-ah, what’s better? A lair on the ocean or a lair in a volcano?”

“Hmm?” Jimin answers distractedly. He’d tuned out of the supervillain debate a while ago, too busy watching Kim Namjoon with a mixture of disbelief and complete horror. Namjoon has abandoned his steak to wander over to the fridge, rooting through the sea of glass Tupperware (Jimin is reminded of a very large racoon he saw in the alleyway behind their apartment building one time) to emerge with the biggest jar of smooth peanut butter Jimin has ever seen. He watches in morbid fascination as Namjoon grabs a cereal bowl and a spoon from one of the upper cabinets, scoops three heaping spoonfuls of peanut butter into it, and tosses the utensil unceremoniously into the sink with a clatter. He then returns to his seat with the bowl of peanut butter, the open jar left forgotten on the counter and the cabinet door swinging freely on its hinges.

“Yah, Namjoon, clean up after yourself!” Jin shouts exasperatedly from the stove. “Is this a restaurant? Are we in a hotel? Honestly, when I live with you I can’t tell if I’m your mom or your maid,” he prattles on, grumbling to himself as he slices the last steak that’s been resting on the cutting board into manageable strips. “Yoongi and I should’ve moved in with Hobi instead of you, at least he likes to keep his place clean—”

“Sorry hyung, but no can do,” Hobi interrupts cheerfully, screwing the lid back onto the peanut butter and pushing the cabinet door closed. “I finally found a place I can afford by myself, there is no way I’m sharing with any of you barbarians.”

“And to think I invited you all for dinner,” Jin sobs in mock hurt, clutching at his chest with a clenched fist, “Only for you to forsake me so!”

“Why do you keep your peanut butter in the fridge?” Jungkook wonders aloud, all thoughts of evil volcanoes long-forgotten amidst the pandemonium.

“Why are you eating peanut butter with your fingers?!” Jimin bursts out, throwing his hands wildly into the air (it’s a testament to their many years of friendship that Taehyung leans away just in time to avoid being smacked in the face). He watches, scandalized, as Namjoon scoops up another glob of peanut butter with his thumb and middle finger and brings them to his full lips, sucking them clean with a loud smacking sound and making an absolute mess of his dimpled cheeks and angular chin.

“I really enjoy peanut butter,” Namjoon blinks slowly, bewildered by the storm of chaos that has risen up in the wake of his peanut butter anarchy.

“Right, but why aren’t you using a utensil?” Jimin insists, pressing his palms into the cold marble and balancing his sternum along the edge of the countertop to get a better look into the bowl. “You know, one of those things specifically invented so that people wouldn’t have to eat with their hands? Like a spoon? Or a fork? Remember those?” If his mother only knew—if he had tried this at home she would’ve had a heart attack on the spot.

Behind him, Taehyung and Jungkook are scarfing down the remnants of Namjoon’s abandoned steak like a pair of starved hyenas. Yoongi, ever the good sport, is cutting the meat into smaller pieces like a frazzled single father trying to feed his toddlers at a family reunion.

“Oh, that,” Namjoon laughs, and his whole body beams with the effort, all scrunched eyes and wide mouth and cherub cheeks that dimple with the hearty rise and fall of his broad chest. It’s a joyful sound, golden with the untouched serenity of a Spring morning, and Jimin—

Jimin is lost, tumbling over the edge of a cliff without a parachute.

He thinks, briefly, that he wouldn’t mind cleaning up peanut butter messes for maybe the rest of his life.

“I used to eat so much peanut butter I made myself sick, so I decided to cut down to only three tablespoons a day,” Namjoon explains, mistaking his stunned silence for confusion. “I always eat it too fast, though, and then I get disappointed, so now I eat it with my fingers to make it last longer,” he laughs sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck with his clean hand.

“He’s like a little kid,” Hobi chimes in, wiping the island down with a wet cloth and passing Namjoon a handful of clean napkins. “You’d never know he was older than you, Jiminie; he requires supervision all day every day.”

“He broke the lamp we had in the living room,” Yoongi snickers, pointing to the empty spot on the floor next to the TV. “Tripped over the cord in broad daylight and shattered the bulb.”

“Then he spilled his tea all over the socket trying to clean it up!” Hobi chortles.

“Why wouldn’t you put down the tea before you cleaned the glass?” Jin scolds, pulling a ceramic dish full of roasted vegetables from the warming rack in the oven. “Namjoon-ah, you’ve got a 148 IQ but you’re still just a disaster waiting to happen.”

Namjoon’s face is flushed deep, shameful red, but he shakes his head good-naturedly at Hobi’s endless laughter, smears a little more peanut butter into the corners of his puckered lips, and Jimin is so busy studying the way Namjoon’s Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows that he forgets to be subtle about staring.

Namjoon makes eye contact before he can look away, and Jimin just. Stares. Cannot stop staring.

Jin coughs. Three things happen in consecutive order.

Firstly, Jimin slips off the seat of his bar stool and tumbles unceremoniously to the ground. He’s so mortified that he catches his bottom lip between his teeth, biting down so harshly as he hits the tile that his mouth fills with the copper taste of blood.

Secondly, the room erupts into chaos. Jungkook doubles over in his seat, clapping his hands and cackling with laughter over the sound of Yoongi’s bewildered, “What? What happened? Jimin-ah, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Jimin mumbles, climbing back into his seat and burying himself into Tae’s shoulder until only his eyes and scarlet ears can be seen over the neckline of his (Namjoon’s) oversized hoodie.

(He’ll give it back eventually, he really will, but it’s warm and cozy and smells like rain and boy and aftershave, and he just couldn’t find it in himself to give it up.

It’s not forever. A couple days at most. Maybe a week. He would’ve given it back the next day if he’d been asked for it, but Namjoon has seen him wear it twice in the last week and hasn’t so much as blinked.

If that knowledge makes the little voice inside Jimin’s head more than ridiculously pleased, well. That’s nobody’s business but his own.)

Taehyung has the decency to rub his back despite his laughter, reaching over to pat his limbs and pinch his cheek gently to make sure he hasn’t bruised anything more than his pride.

The third thing that happens is that Namjoon does not look away, not even while the residual tumbling in Jimin’s stomach is pinned like a butterfly under the weight of his loaded stare.

Jimin can only stare back, the grip on his hoodie loosening until it slips from the peak of his chin, kitchen air snaking down his neck in icy fingers. He shivers, licking away the blood that has pooled along the seam of his pressed lips, something like satisfaction coiling low in his belly as Namjoon’s eyes dip to follow the path of his tongue.

The side of his mouth pulls up, just barely, his dimple deepening in the faintest of smirks, and Namjoon winks, raising a singular eyebrow at the blush that floods Jimin’s cheeks before he turns his attention back to the surrounding chatter.

“Anyway, the point is that Namjoon is a peanut butter monster and a toddler rolled into one,” Jin is saying, blatantly ignoring the way Taehyung is sneaking bits of meat off his plate.

“I see,” Jimin chokes out. His whole body is hot, his brain a scrambled mess of awkward pauses and bad pickup lines.

He’s pretty sure Kim Namjoon is outright flirting with him, and Jimin has no fucking idea how to handle it.

“I thought you were supposed to be perfect, Kim Namjoon,” Jimin wants to say he sounds normal, unaffected, but Jin’s lips are twitching and Hobi’s trying not to laugh, so he doesn’t think he’s being particularly successful.

He shoves steak in his mouth and wills the smoke alarm to go off right this minute.

“Oh, I am,” Namjoon answers calmly (Jimin’s eyes zero in on the subtle flush that creeps its way up the side of his neck, and he’s fine, he’s good, he isn’t trying not to combust out of his skin).“You don’t even know what you’re missing.”

(It’s not even Taehyung that brings it up this time. Jimin throws himself across Jungkook’s lap later that night and rants about Namjoon’s chipmunk cheeks for an hour.)

—

The first time Namjoon gets a non-birthday Event-of-the-Month, Taehyung cries for nearly an hour. Granted, it’s their fault they let him anywhere near the liquor—Taehyung’s blood is as needle-thin as his silhouette, and it takes anywhere between one and three drinks to turn him into an incoherent mess on the floor.

“Hyung, why don’t you cuddle me?” Tae sobs, flinging himself over the arm of the couch and nearly knocking the bottle out of the older boy’s hand. Yoongi, seated on the floor with Jungkook’s head lolling about his shoulder, snags it out of his hand before he has to take a Heineken shower fully dressed in his black hoodie and jeans.

“What do you mean, Taehyungie?” Tipsy Namjoon is as indulgent as ever, patting his dongsaeng on the head as if to prove he does, in fact, cuddle him. The card on the dining table behind him reads, Happy “you accidentally set your bed on fire but it didn’t even burn that bad” Party!

“You only love me when I’m sad,” Taehyung cries, rolling over onto his side and nearly falling off the back of the couch. Luckily for everyone in the room, Seokjin is there, scooping him up into his arms and settling him into his lap in an unoccupied armchair. Tae is drunk enough for the both of them, but the way Jin nearly stumbles into his seat proves that even the heaviest of weights cannot escape seven of Yoongi’s bomb shots unscathed.

“Namjoonie isn’t the cuddling type, babe,” Hobi says soothingly, but the flush creeping down his exposed neck betrays the steady timber of his voice. Hobi is just as gone as the rest of them.

“It’s true,” Jungkook pipes up, abandoning all pretense to swing both legs into Yoongi’s lap and slumping his full weight onto his hyung’s shoulder. “Last week I tried to put my head in his lap and he got so startled he pushed me off the couch.”

“One time the power went out in Ilsan and instead of sharing a bed with me he slept in the bathtub,” Jin deadpans.

“It was summer!”

“The tub was half the size of you.”

“Everything’s half the size of me,” Namjoon actually pouts, sliding down in his seat and pressing the long line of his thigh more firmly against Jimin, who is curled up against the arm of the couch and has way too much party punch in his bloodstream to properly contribute to the conversation.

Namjoon’s large hand curls around the back of Jimin’s calf, his long fingers pressing absentmindedly into the stiff muscle as he laughs.

“That’s fucking bullshit,” Jimin mumbles around the lip of his glass.

There’s a pause.

“What’s bullshit, Jiminie?” Namjoon asks carefully. His fingers still their ministrations on his calf long enough to slide upwards, resuming with soothing strokes in the crook of his bent knee.

“That hyung isn’t the cuddling type,” he shrugs, the pink liquid swirling about his glass nearly sloshing onto the rug. He takes a big sip to reduce the risk of spilling, squinting at his hand as he lowers it carefully back into his lap.

“What do you mean?” Hobi’s voice is warm, but there’s an undercurrent of amusement behind his patient smile.

“Look,” Jimin insists, his eyes comically wide, and then his fingers are skating past the thin skin of Namjoon’s wrist (and his pulse is going thumpthumpthump against his own), up into the dry crease of his warm palm. He laces their fingers together as he lifts his prize, gesturing at Namjoon with their clasped hands as he babbles, “Hyung is always touchy. He holds my hand when I’m sad and he gives nice hugs and he pats me on the head if I do a good job, right hyung?"

Yoongi is laughing so hard he chokes on his drink, pressing his forehead into Jungkook’s shoulder as he coughs violently.

“And how do you feel about that, Jimin-ssi?” Unfazed, Jungkook polishes off the last of Namjoon’s Heineken, holding his fist out like a microphone in grand fashion.

“I mean,” Jimin can’t stop giggling, leaning over Namjoon’s lap to press his lips to Jungkook’s closed fingers. He lowers his voice in a stage whisper that does nothing to shield his thoughts from the quiet room, “Have you seen his hands? I’d let him do anything.”

He doesn’t know exactly what Hobi put in the punch he made, but he’s pretty sure he saw him dump an entire bottle of Moscato into the bowl about three glasses ago. Seokjin sputters something intelligible, Taehyung’s lips at his neck completely forgotten in lieu of the chaos that has been unleashed upon the room. Jimin tilts his head to the side, draining the rest of his drink in one long sip before dropping the glass somewhere near Jungkook’s knee.

Somewhere deep inside the haze of fog that clouds his mind, Jimin hears a voice that sounds vaguely like himself screaming this might not be a good idea, but he pushes it away with a shake of his dark hair. It’s reading break and he’s surrounded by his chosen family, and the pleasant warmth that bubbles up inside his chest is seeping through every inch of him, pink and fizzy all the way to the tips of his toes. He feels good.

He moves to return to his usual seat, bracing his free hand against Namjoon’s thigh to push himself upright (and if his hand lingers on the way the hard muscle bunches up under his touch, well, that’s a problem for another day). It’s all going well until he makes the mistake of glancing up at Namjoon’s face.

Jimin has spent more time than he’d like to admit secretly observing the many nuances of Kim Namjoon, but he’s never seen that look before.

His friends are still talking, the pause of the earlier moment quickly dissolving into the usual chorus of bad jokes and shouting, but Jimin doesn’t hear a thing. He’s too focused on the tongue that protrudes from the inside of Namjoon’s cheek as he works his jaw, the crease of his pinched lips and his furrowed brow, the way something dark and hungry is swirling dangerously in those dragon eyes.

He looks like he wants to eat him alive.

Goosebumps break out along his arms, a tremor bursting from the nape of his neck and scurrying down his spine in a great hurry. He shivers so violently that it jostles their clasped hands, their fingers still intertwined on the couch between his bare thigh and the curve of Namjoon’s hip.

The thing is, Jimin is used to being watched. He’s used to being observed at every angle, he’s learned to curve his body and change his tone by watching the expressions of the people around him. It’s a bad habit, but there are days when he searches for his reflection in the sheen of every window just to make sure he looks okay, that he isn’t giving anyone even the tiniest reason to judge him.

But right now? Right now, Jungkook could dump a bucket of mushroom soup over his head and he wouldn’t even bat an eye. Right now, Namjoon is looking at him like he is a burning star come to life.

It’s so intense that, for a moment, Jimin almost believes it.

—

WINTER

Jimin kind of hates the big lecture hall. It’s the newest addition to campus, meant to be a pillar of innovation amidst a slowly changing society (at least, that’s what the university bulletin published last winter), but the arched ceiling and wood tiles feel out of place amidst the sea of steel and glass that make up the rest of the humanities department.

He might be projecting, but he knows how the building must feel. He catches another student staring as he hovers near the door, raising his eyebrows tiredly until they blush and scurry away.

He gets it, he does. Every dance major at Seoul National University is dying to know what Park Jimin is doing here, of all places, selling his soul for a generic BA as if his lifetime of dance training has all but ceased to exist. He’s heard the rumours: that his Visa got revoked, that he got a girl pregnant (Jungkook had laughed so hard he snorted banana milk out of his nose), that he was expelled for pushing someone down the stairs in a fit of jealousy, that he was the one who got pushed down the stairs and was now recovering from post-traumatic amnesia. The gossip gets more and more ridiculous as time goes by, which is why Jimin has learned to stop eavesdropping for the sake of his own peace of mind.

He understands why everyone is curious. He just wishes they would stop staring.

“Jimin-ah,” Namjoon materializes out of the stream of students just as Jimin is about to throw his backpack at the wall to really make a scene.

“Hi,” he greets breathlessly, relief flooding through him at the familiar dimpled smile. He reaches out as Namjoon approaches, curling his fingers into the pocket of his open bomber jacket to draw him closer. As usual, Namjoon doesn’t bat an eye. He just tucks his phone into his back pocket, turning his body to welcome him properly as he enters his space.

“Hi,” Namjoon repeats, smiling. His hand comes up to cup the back of Jimin’s head for a moment, his thumb stroking the nape of his neck before it falls away. It’s brief, so quick that anyone watching might have missed it, but it’s enough to soothe the wave of anxiety that threatens to overwhelm him, pushing back the tide as quickly as it had come. The cool touch of Namjoon’s palm across his skin brings Jimin back to earth, drawing crisp air back into his lungs and reattaching his brain to his body. “Is Jungkookie done yet?”

“No,” Jimin answers, glaring at the door as if it might make Jungkook’s seminar come to an early end. “Did you eat already?” He asks, glancing up just in time to see the fond smile that creases the corners of his eyes.

“I was going to grab something after we study. Wanna come?”

“Only if it’s kimchi jjigae.”

Namjoon snorts, “The last time you ate spicy food you had stomach cramps all night.”

“It wasn’t that bad!” he protests indignantly.

“You looked like a Charmander trying to spit fire for the first time,” Namjoon teases, leaning in and pinching his cheeks with deft fingers.

“You have the references of a seven-year old degenerate,” Jimin sputters, smacking his stupidly hard stomach in a futile attempt to escape.

“Pokémon Ruby came out when I was eight, thank you very much,” Namjoon retorts.

Jimin twists out of his hold before he can do something stupid, like kiss him. “You’re such a fucking nerd,” he mutters, clamping down on the giddiness that has come to a rolling boil in the pit of his stomach. Namjoon only snickers, casually pushing his hair back like he has no idea what he’s doing to Jimin’s heart right now.

It’s nice to see him like this, Jimin decides, glancing up at him under the cover of his long eyelashes. When he’s not weighed down by the expectations of a successful future, Namjoon is just as childish as the rest of them, cracking bad jokes and laughing with a vibrancy that seems to tremble every blade of grass in sight.

If he could, Jimin thinks he would bottle this moment, would keep it tucked away in his pocket like a talisman. If he could, he’d keep it safe, would use it to brighten every one of Namjoon’s rainy days until even the dust was stained with a Crayola sunrise.

“Hey, Jiminie,” Namjoon starts thoughtfully, but he’s suddenly interrupted by a heavy hand that drops itself onto Jimin’s shoulder, jostling him with enough force to push Namjoon back a few steps.

“Park Jimin-nim!” The newcomer exclaims, “I knew it was you!”

Jimin wants to crawl into a corner and die.

The last time Yoo Kihyun saw him, he was piss drunk and naked in his bed, trying to wash away the crushing pain in his chest with a long chain of reckless decisions.

The last time he saw Kihyun, he was sneaking out of his apartment at six in the morning, tiptoeing around the sleeping body to make sure he wasn’t leaving anything behind.

The last time he and Kihyun saw each other, Namjoon lived in Ilsan and had no idea Jimin’s slew of one-night stands even existed.

“Kihyun-nim, it’s been a long time,” he says, plastering a smile on his face that he hopes is polite.

“Yeah, well, you didn’t exactly leave me your phone number,” Kihyun teases. “Usually I’m the one that sneaks out, you know. It’s easier on my pride.”

“Right,” Jimin echoes. He’s hyper aware of Namjoon to his left, shifting slightly on the heels of his chunky sneakers. “I’m sorry about that,” he adds sincerely, because he does feel a little bad.

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” Kihyun shrugs him off good-naturedly, squeezing his shoulder one last time for good measure before he steps away. “I just came over to say hi. And to tell you that you’re welcome back any time,” he winks.

Jimin shakes his head, but his smile is a little more genuine now. “Don’t hold your breath,” he answers lightly, but Kihyun only laughs.

“Whatever you say, sweetheart. A year is a long time.” He waves cheerfully as he walks away, weaving through the crowd of students until he’s out of sight.

Yoo Kihyun is a nice guy, funny and kind and easy to get along with. He might’ve been exactly the kind of guy Jimin could fall for, if not for the fact that Kim Namjoon is standing beside him with a perfectly blank smile, both of his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

An unsure silence settles over them. For the first time in a long time, neither of them have any idea what to say.

Jimin isn’t stupid. They’re adults at an institution that romanticizes letting loose just as much as it does a well-rounded education, and they’ve both probably slept with more people than they’d be happy admitting to a pastor.

It’s not a problem. He isn’t ashamed of his body, nor the decisions he makes with it, and if this were any other friend he wouldn’t hesitate to openly discuss the circumstances of his post-homecoming hookup.

The problem is that Namjoon isn’t just a regular friend. The problem is that Namjoon resides somewhere in the space between friend and more, that he’s stretched so far into the planes of Jimin’s heart that he’s begun to bleed through the proverbial line in the sand.

The problem is that he’s grown so used to Namjoon’s fond attention that he doesn’t know how to breathe when it disappears.

“You and your friend seem pretty close, huh?” Namjoon’s tone is neutral, unbothered, but Jimin knows the clench of his jaw, the set of his spine, the forced scrunch of a dimple-less smile.

“Not really,” he shakes his head quickly. He shifts his stance towards the other boy, but Namjoon’s shoulders remain carefully turned away. “You know you guys are the only ones I can stand,” Jimin makes a silly face, but Namjoon doesn’t reach for him, and Jimin aches.

The other boy just hums quietly, “Yeah, I know.”

“Hyung?” He should really shut up.

“Yeah, Jimin.”

He needs to stop talking. “Are you upset?”

And because Namjoon has always been able to see straight through him, he says, “It doesn’t have anything to do with me.”

Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to.

Jimin swallows hard. “Yeah.”

How are you supposed to apologize for hurting someone you have no business being able to hurt?

Jungkook can’t get out of his class fast enough.

—

When he was little, Jimin was afraid of the dark. He would lie awake for hours, pinned to the bed by the dread of an impending nightmare. It wasn't the nightmares that scared him, really. It was the knowledge that there was nothing he could do to stop it, that the wispy talons of the lengthening shadows could sink their claws into his skin no matter where he went or what he did in the predictable clarity of the waking world.

On nights like those, it was easier not to sleep at all. He just lay there, frozen in his bed until the morning came, until the sun tiptoed past the windowsill and the heavy hand of sleep came to drag him under at last.

He feels like that today, sitting on his bedroom floor with his ballet shoes cradled in his lap, the cuffs of his long sleeved tee soaked through with dark patches of snot and tears. He’s lucky Tae and Jungkook aren’t home—he’s been crying for the better part of an hour, and while he knows there are no two people more supportive than his best friends, they’ve never quite been able to understand the depth of his anguish. And it is anguish, for all that it is melodramatic and cliché. He can feel it in his body, this physical representation of a heartache. He feels it in the stiffness of his muscles and the tightness in his chest, in the simmering urge to move, trapped in his own head like a sideways hailstorm on a sunny day.

It feels like the aftermath of a murder, except he doesn’t know how to reconcile the thought of being both the weapon and the victim all at once.

The sound of his phone buzzing in his pocket breaks him out of his stupor long enough to answer it.

“Hey, Jimin-ah, Jungkookie asked to borrow some equipment so I’m just gonna drop it off before I head to class. He gave me his keys and everything but in case you were home I didn’t want to scare you,” Namjoon’s baritone voice filters smoothly down the line.

“Okay,” Jimin sniffs wetly. “I’m home, so just come in.”

The telltale huff and puff of Namjoon’s quick stride stutters at the sound. “Hold up, are you crying?”

Yes. “No,” Jimin wails.

“Jimin, you’re definitely crying. Why are you crying?” He sounds so concerned that it brings forth a fresh wave of tears, the flood rising at an alarming rate until it spills over the dam in Jimin’s composure.

“I’m not crying! You asked me if I’m crying which makes me cry but there’s no reason for me to be crying, so I’m not, okay?” He isn’t making any sense and he knows it, salty snot dribbling over the bow of his lip and into his parched mouth.

“Okay,” Namjoon agrees soothingly. On the other side of his apartment, Jimin can hear the sound of a key being fitted into the lock, of the bolt sliding open with a metallic clunk. He presses his phone quickly between his cheek and shoulder, swiping at his face as best he can with the sleeves of his shirt. There’s a quick patter of footsteps in the hallway, a heavy thud on the floor of Jungkook’s room across the hall, and then his bedroom door is swinging open and Namjoon’s arms are sliding around his shoulders, careful and stable and dry.

“I’m not crying,” Jimin repeats stubbornly, anchoring his forehead against the sturdy line of Namjoon’s collarbone and allowing his hyung’s arms to curl soundly around his back.

“Tell me why you’re not crying then, hmm?”

It’s always Namjoon that finds him when he can’t breathe, always Namjoon that seems to pore over life with the same kind of frantic scrutiny that simmers beneath his skin even while he’s sleeping. Jimin has always been a worrier—empathetic to a fault, his mother says. He cries over the little things, like children with scraped knees and heartbroken actors in bad movies. He cried for Jungkookie, when he broke his arm in three places falling off a halfpipe, and for Tae, when his grandmother passed away and he was inconsolable for months on end.

He cries for the sake of a lot of people, but Jimin makes it a point to never cry for himself. It feels selfish to wallow in your own problems, to drown in your own misery when there are so many people out there who have it much, much worse than he does. He’s lucky, he knows. Most people don’t have a Taehyung. Most people don’t have three hyungs and a Jungkookie, or a family that calls every month even after he threw all their dreams down the toilet in a bout of selfish insanity.

Most people don’t have Namjoon, smoothing his big hands over the swooping hunch of his spine, perfectly content to wait in silence until he’s ready to say what’s on his mind.

“I started dancing when I was four,” he mutters eventually, letting the steady thrum of Namjoon’s heartbeat against his forehead guide the pace of his breathing. “I was a really energetic kid, always getting into trouble, always making messes that my parents had to clean up. They thought putting me into as many activities as possible would take up some of my energy. And we lived in Busan, you know, we didn’t have a ton of money, but they made it work.”

He lets Namjoon’s hum of affirmation seep into his skin as he continues. “I saw this tape from the library, of this class of little girls performing a production of Sleeping Beauty. And that was it for me, I think. I was hooked. I couldn’t stop spinning around the house, begging my parents to put me into a ballet class. I said I would give up everything else for it, that I had found what I wanted to do for the rest of my life.” He laughs wetly, sitting up to wipe the remainder of the tears from his face and to stretch out the cramp in his aching back. Namjoon lets his arms fall away, scooting back to lean against the wall and, after a moment’s hesitation, tugs Jimin in after him. He goes easily, curling up between Namjoon’s knees like candle smoke to breeze, his shoulder pressed to his chest, his head tucked against the side of his jaw as if it were made to fit there.

“That still doesn’t explain why you were crying,” Namjoon reminds him, securing his arm more comfortably around his waist. Jimin is suddenly filled with a strange sense of déjà vu, of this skin and these hands and the lingering burn of panic in his chest, and while this time it is a different city, a different season, the breath of calm that washes over him is enough to send him straight back to Spring in Ilsan.

“I haven’t danced since the day I left,” he admits finally, inhaling the scent of rainwater and aftershave that drifts from Namjoon’s skin, soft and cozy against the harsh bite of the December chill. “What if I’m not good anymore? What if it’s not the same? I can’t remember what it’s like to dance without a goal in mind, or a routine to practice, or a person to worry about impressing.”

It’s a stupid fear, he knows. It sounds like he’s just asking for attention, but the truth of the matter is that he spent every night in that studio trying to become someone who was good enough to be allowed to exist. The truth of the matter is that after all this time, he doesn’t know if he is enough when there’s no one around to tell him he is.

Namjoon’s voice rumbles thoughtfully under his cheek. “I think if you worry too much about how something will turn out, you’ll end up never doing it at all. That’s kind of the thing when it comes to passions, like art and music and film—no amount of absorbing culture could ever compare to creating it. And I think it would be a damn shame to give up on something that has the potential to make your life worth living just because you’re afraid of how it will turn out in the end.”

Jimin doesn’t realize he’s been holding his breath until Namjoon pokes him gently in the side, jostling him further into the crook of his shoulder and his arm. “There’s no way to know, Jiminie. You just have to try. And if you try and you fail, that just means you have to try harder next time.”

He lets that thought crawl its way inside of him, lets it settle against the raw ache in his sternum until he can feel it in every breath he takes.

“Hey, Jimin-ah?”

“Mm?”

“Why did you quit?” It’s an innocent question, given the situation, but the absolute absurdity of it all breaks through the tenderness of the moment, and suddenly Jimin is tumbling over the edge into a fit of unbridled laughter. “What? What’s so funny?”

“Sorry, sorry,” he giggles, turning his face into Namjoon’s shoulder. It seems to work, some of the concerned tension easing from the muscled arm that bunches at his back. “Did you know you’re the very first person to ask me that?”

Namjoon blinks. “What?”

“Yeah,” Jimin snickers. “I’ve been home for over a year and everyone has been too afraid to upset me. I’m not mad about it,” he adds quickly, not wanting his hyung to get the wrong idea. “It’s just funny. It sounds so simple when you say it out loud.” Namjoon makes a noise that sounds something like affirmation.

“To be perfectly honest, I just realized I didn’t want to do it anymore. Not dance, of course,” he amends belatedly, “But comps and auditions and recitals and classes—it got to a point where I felt like a fraud.”

“I’m sure you worked hard,” Namjoon protests, but Jimin just shakes his head.

“I did, but it was just a means to an end. I had sponsors and teachers to satisfy, a scholarship I had to prove I deserved; not to mention justifying the thousands of dollars that my parents poured into my training while I was growing up. And I was nearly killing myself for it—waking up at dawn, taking three classes a day, cardio, endurance training, dieting even though I barely had the energy to get up in the morning—” he takes a deep breath, anchoring his heartbeat against the soothing hand that cards through the short hairs at the base of his neck. “I was dancing to win medals, not because I loved it, you know? And all the other students—they resented me for it. I’m sure to them, it looked easy,” he says bitterly, staring down at the knit cotton of Namjoon’s green sweater. “And then I woke up one morning and thought, hey, I’m going to do this for the rest of my life, and the next thing I knew I was packing my bags and getting on the next flight home.”

Namjoon’s long sigh ruffles Jimin’s hair, a solid thunk bouncing off the drywall above as the column of his throat stretches upright. “I get that,” he says, more to the ceiling than anything else, "Realizing that you’re on a one way track to the rest of your life, I mean.”

The resignation in his voice makes Jimin’s heart ache. He’s sure if he looked up now, he’d see the look that Namjoon reserves for nothing but the trees, something hollow and lonely creeping like tears from the sharp corners of his crescent eyes. “Sometimes I wonder,” Namjoon continues, so quietly that Jimin would’ve missed it, if not for the resounding echo of his throat pressed to his ear, “If this is all there is to it. If stealing minutes out of our own lives is all the happiness we’re supposed to get.”

“Did you ever come up with an answer?” Jimin’s voice is small and timid amidst the looming quiet.

Namjoon turns his cheek more firmly into his temple, and Jimin thinks that’s as close to an answer as he’s ever going to get.

—

He wakes up to a frantic pounding on the front door that rattles the dishware inside their cupboard homes. Someone rings the doorbell once, twice, and then resumes pounding on the door like they’re trying to engrave the imprint of their fist into the wood.

Jimin stumbles out of bed, fear and adrenaline tearing through his chest and forcing him fully awake. It’s only ten thirty and Taehyung isn’t home yet, not since he’d received a mysterious text he hadn’t let Jimin see and torn out of the house with a gleeful smile that honestly had Jimin concerned for his sanity.

He’d be a bit more concerned if Tae’s Find My Friends didn’t pinpoint his location at Jin’s apartment, but hey, who is he to judge?

“Jungkook! Taehyung! Jiminie, are you home? Jimin-ah!” Hobi’s voice is muffled behind the door. Jimin pulls it open just as Hobi goes to knock again, nearly punching him in the face with his raised fist.

“Hyung, what are you doing?”

“Jimin-ah, you haven’t seen Namjoonie today, have you?” Hobi asks frantically.

Something cold and still seeps into his veins. “No,” he says slowly, shaking his head. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“I haven’t seen him in two days.” He’s never seen his hyung so worried, dark circles shadowing the pale skin of his eyes. “He had a meeting with the academic advisory council yesterday morning and Yoongi-hyung says he hasn’t been home since. He’s not at the studio or library and none of his professors have heard a word from him either. I thought maybe he might’ve talked to you.”

It’s so unlike Namjoon to fall off the face of the earth—he’s steadfast and reliable, the one person you can always count on to text you back no matter the time or place. “He didn’t say anything to you before he disappeared?” Hobi and Namjoon are usually attached at the hip, orbiting around each other in the same way that Jimin and Taehyung do, tied end to end by the same thread of intuition.

Hobi puckers his forehead between his brows, tugging absentmindedly at the thin chain around his neck. “He sent me a text saying he needed time to disappear, whatever that means.”

Jimin stumbles. “What did you say?”

“Huh?” Hobi looks like he’s about to burn a hole through the soles of his shoes from fidgeting.

Do you want to disappear with me?

Jimin sighs heavily, holding up a single finger to his hyung before darting back into his room. He nearly makes himself dizzy, scrambling through his closet to find a clean pair of jeans, his wallet, and his phone. He snags his earbuds from the charger on his nightstand and shoves them hastily into the pocket of Jungkook’s thickest hoodie.

“Tell Yoongi-hyung not to worry. I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” he calls over his shoulder, pulling the hoodie over his head and nearly getting stuck in the sleeves. He relieves his keys from their hook by the door, jamming his feet haphazardly into his dirty sneakers.

“What? What are you doing?” Bewildered, Hobi follows his flurry of activity with wide eyes, stepping back into the apartment corridor as Jimin turns to lock the door behind him.

“I’m going to go get him,” Jimin says, grabbing Hobi’s elbow to guide him back towards the elevators. There is something akin to adrenaline buzzing in his veins, something equal parts gleeful and uncertain, teetering on the brink of a turning point.

He isn’t sure what it means, that he is seemingly the only person on the planet privy to Namjoon’s personal sanctuary, but Namjoon is missing and that right now is the only thing that matters.

“Trust me. I know exactly where he is.”

—

Lady Amany looks different at night. There is something fierce and reverent in the way she reaches for the glow of the waning moon, spattering Jimin’s view of the night sky with patches of wide, puckering leaves.

Namjoon looks different, too. Jimin finds him right where he knew he would, seated on the flat plane of a thick root with his knees curled in towards his chest. He looks small, eerily childlike in the way he cowers from the moonlight in the shadow of the big oak tree.

He doesn’t speak as Jimin approaches, not even to acknowledge the plastic convenience store bag that is dropped carefully at his side. He only raises his eyes from beneath the brim of his worn baseball cap, forcing his mouth upwards as far as it’ll go.

They’re the only two people awake in a five-mile radius, and Kim Namjoon is still smiling like there is nowhere on earth where he does not have to hide.

The wind shifts the leaves a little, moonlight slicing across the planes of his face in harsh lines of white and black. His heart clenches as he takes in the sunken brows, the sallow cheeks, the dim glow in Namjoon’s usually brilliant eyes.

Jimin is so furious he wants to scream.

It isn’t fair. It isn’t fair that the most brilliant person he has ever met is cowering under the shadow of an oak tree like there is no one alive who will want him exactly as he is.

Jimin, standing in front of him in the middle of the goddamn night like he doesn’t have classes tomorrow, should be enough to prove him wrong.

It should be, but it isn’t, and he knows that there is nothing that can convince someone they are allowed to exist when they wake up every day and disagree.

He himself is proof enough of that.

It’s Namjoon who speaks first, peering up at Jimin with an expression too flimsy to fool him, and of course, the first words out of his stupid mouth are, “Are you okay?”

He doesn’t know whether he wants to laugh or cry. He kind of does both, tears welling in his eyes until they soak through the swell of oxygen in his lungs. In the end, all that comes out is a series of soft, wet gurgles.

“Hey—” Namjoon reaches for him, but Jimin just slaps his hands away, dropping to his knees on the tree root and not giving a single shit about the dirt that cakes his favourite jeans.

He had a whole speech planned out, something about taking breaks and leaning on his support system whenever he needs to talk, and instead all he says is, “Next time, you better fucking take me with you.”

Namjoon blinks. “That’s… not what I thought you were going to say.” His voice is raspy with disuse, smooth baritone cracking over the dry ridges in his throat.

“You better take me with you,” Jimin repeats stubbornly, pulling the other boy’s faded fleece more firmly around him, as if maintaining physical contact will be enough to draw the sting of cold away from Namjoon’s big heart with his own two hands.

Even from this position, Jimin has to tip his head back to meet his eyes, wide and round despite the dark circles that highlight his exhaustion. “If you’re going to disappear again, you better not do it alone.”

Namjoon just stares. Slowly, so slowly, the faintest flicker of a real smile edges at his lips. “Okay,” he murmurs.

“Okay, what?” Jimin crosses his arms, pouting. This whole situation is weird and he probably shouldn’t be yelling at someone so fragile that they literally fled the city, but he knows stubborn-ass Kim Namjoon won’t accept his concern unless he shoves it down his throat, so. This is what he’s going to get.

Like he knows what he’s thinking, Namjoon’s smile only grows. “I promise to take you with me next time.”

“Okay then,” he huffs through his nose, somewhat mollified by the reappearance of Namjoon’s left dimple. He reaches into the bag at his feet and pulls out a pork bun, unwrapping the plastic before shoving it into his hyung’s hands. “Knowing you, you’ve been here all day,” he mutters, eyeing the stunned expression with pursed lips. “You need to eat.”

He moves then, sliding off his knees to sit beside him with his back to the thick trunk of the oak tree. Namjoon welcomes him into his space, the still-warm bun clutched in both hands. He shifts towards him like one of Tae’s dried bouquets, soft and vibrant and pressed to the very edges between the pages of an old history book.

They’re silent for a moment, drinking in the sounds of Namjoon munching and the forest nightlife all around them.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Jimin asks, still staring off into the darkness.

Namjoon’s exhale is drawn-out and heavy, a sad sound that hangs in the air on the cusp of first frost. Jimin just waits, letting him gather his thoughts as he watches his breath curl up towards the December sky.

“It’s just—” he stops. Breathes for a moment. Loosens the corners of his mouth from the bolts of an unsteady scaffolding, lets the truth of it all flutter gently to the ground. “I do a lot of things, right? I tutor and I TA and I help hyung in the studio and I’m trying to do my masters even though I don’t really know if I’m even smart enough to do that.”

The feeling of wanting to punch him intensifies, but Jimin just sits there, letting the unease coil tighter until it is something small and compact in the pit of his stomach.

“And the thing is, I’m really happy to help out. I love tutoring and working with students and learning music production on the side makes me happier than anything else has in a really long time—”

“But?” Jimin prods gently.

“But sometimes I get tired. Like really tired, like I’m so tired at night I can’t even fall asleep because I’m thinking about all the things I have to do tomorrow. Sometimes I have dreams and I’m just, I don’t know, grading papers or running to class or working on the same track over and over again even though nothing ever falls into place.”

Namjoon rubs his palms over his face, pushing his hair roughly back from the crown of his forehead. “And I don’t ever want to say anything, you know, because that would make people like Jungkookie feel bad and I don’t ever want to make someone feel like they shouldn’t ask for help—” He’s talking faster and faster now, his voice spilling into the night air and soaking into the dirt at their feet. It’s like a string has been cut, something inky and sharp stuffed away in the back of his heart that has finally broken free.

“—and it makes me so happy that they trust me enough to come to me when they need it, but sometimes I’m so deep in the shit that I can’t even see where I’m going. Sometimes I just want people to leave me alone, to—I don’t know, take a nap or read a book that’s not for class or go on a fucking hike or something.” He punctuates the sentiment with one last exhale, quick and sharp, and then goes limp, lets the tension seep out of his shoulders like a week-old balloon.

It's a lot. It’s more about himself than Jimin has ever heard him say, even though the group spends more time in the Kim-Kim-Min apartment than they do in their own homes.

He thinks he gets it.

It’s not the same, of course, not in the slightest, but Jimin thinks he knows what it’s like to run so fast you leave yourself behind.

He thinks about the only other time he’s seen Kim Namjoon like this, soft in the middle and crumbling at every edge. “What would you be, if you could do anything you wanted?” he asks carefully. He braces himself for a smile, for something along the lines of I am doing everything I want to do and I just don’t have time to do it. It’s a lot. He wouldn’t blame him.

Instead, Namjoon shrugs his shoulders and breathes another sigh, folding his hands over at his chest and mumbling, “Wouldn’t a stadium tour be nice?”

He’s not laughing at him. He’s not, but the spark of joy that ignites in his chest has the laughter bubbling out of him before he can stop it. “I think you could make it,” he chortles. For a moment he thinks he might have hurt his feelings, but Namjoon gets it. He can see the understanding in his eyes.

“Yeah?” Namjoon mirrors him, gold dust and crystalline with delight. “You think?”

“I can see it,” Jimin confirms. “World tour, t-shirt cannons, screaming fangirls breaking into your tour bus after a show. The life of a rock star.”

“Those screaming girls are going to be pretty disappointed, huh?” Namjoon winks, snickering.

“Fanboys, then.” He’s grinning so hard his cheeks hurt.

“Nah,” Namjoon shakes his head. “Just one.”

He’s looking at the sky, but Jimin thinks his cheeks are pinker than usual in the blue moonlight.

Maybe it’s the quiet, but the warmth that seeps through him doesn’t make him stutter at all. “You could travel the world,” he says softly.

Namjoon bites his lip. “That’s kind of the thing.”

Wait. “The thing?”

Namjoon’s smile is slowly fading, some of the stress returning to his posture. He stares down at his hands. “The thing that happened. That I was going to tell you guys about when I got home.”

He doesn’t like where this is going. “Tell me, then.”

“Okay, so—” he inhales once, long and deep. Exhales. Repeats. “The thing is that there’s an exchange program. For the Dean’s choice. They pick an exemplary student to go abroad to the UK—it’s Cambridge this year, I’m pretty sure—and they get to stay on scholarship for three semesters. It’s all inclusive—airfare, meal plans, dorms, the works.”

“They want you to go.” It’s not a question.

“Yeah.” Namjoon’s hum of affirmation is barely audible over the sound of the bun wrapper crinkling in his pocket.

He isn’t sure when Namjoon became such a vital pillar of his everyday routine, but the idea of existing without his presence nearby has Jimin’s heart twisting painfully in his chest. But this is Namjoon’s thing, and Namjoon’s life, and what Jimin wants should never be a relevant factor in choosing the path of someone else’s happiness. “Do you want to go?” He keeps his voice carefully neutral, pulling his knees to his chest and staring down at the rubber soles of his shoes.

The forest is very cold tonight.

“I don’t know,” Namjoon murmurs, and if they hadn’t been sitting nearly cheek-to-cheek Jimin might’ve sworn he was crying. “It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity. I’m so grateful that they chose me, and—and I earned it,” he seems loathe to say the words, something like guilt spilling into his tone at the self-praise. “I know I worked hard this year, and I earned it. But— but I—”

“But you don’t want to go,” Jimin says quietly.

The air rushes from Namjoon’s chest in a gust that rustles the dry leaves at his feet. “I don’t want to go.” He chews on his lower lip, his hand curling absentmindedly around the curve of Jimin’s ankle, two fingers slipping into his sock as if to anchor himself there. “Jin-hyung would say I’m being ridiculous.”

“Jin-hyung is literally in bed with Taehyungie as we speak, I don’t think he has the right to preach about our life choices.” That earns him a wry grin, Namjoon’s loud snort rippling like water through the tension in the air.

“It’s the kind of opportunity I’m never going to get again,” Namjoon says slowly, crossing his free hand over his lap to rest against Jimin’s bent knee. “But if I go for a year I’ll have to leave my studio, and my music, and my friends, and—”

And you.

Namjoon’s grip tightens against his ankle. The fingers at Jimin’s knee crawl upwards, searching for purchase at the soft skin of his wrist, and Jimin’s heart squeezes so tightly in his chest it’s a wonder he’s still alive at all.

“A scholarship could change your life,” Jimin offers weakly, trying not to choke on the sudden dryness that coats his tongue.

“I have a life here,” Namjoon counters. “I just moved into Jin-hyung and Yoongi-hyung’s apartment. I love the campus. I have a routine that I like and I’m…”

He doesn’t quite say happy, but Jimin understands what he’s trying to say. “It sounds like you’ve already made up your mind.”

“I think so,” Namjoon says slowly. “Although it took me two whole days as an escaped convict to figure it out.” Jimin giggles, an open-mouthed chiming that spills freely over the dark smudge of the treeline.

Namjoon hesitates again, so Jimin just waits, smoothing his thumb over the back of Namjoon’s hand in time to the murmuring of the wind. “Does that make me ungrateful?”

“Maybe,” Jimin answers truthfully. He fumbles with the cuff of Namjoon’s fleece, comforted by the weight of his arm across his lap. They may as well be full-on cuddling at this point, twisted up in each other like the straddled roots of a pine tree. “But it means you’re being true to yourself, and that’s the only thing that matters in the end.”

And that’s the thing, isn’t it? That being the best at what you do is not the same as being happy. That maybe trying to be happy is as close to happy as anyone is ever going to get.

He isn’t ready to dance again, but maybe someday he will be, and maybe someday Namjoon will be in England and he will be here, and maybe that’s how it was supposed to be all along.

“Someday, then,” Namjoon murmurs the words to himself like a promise.

“Someday,” Jimin agrees, nodding hard. “You’re going to get there.”

It is perhaps only by the grace of the universe that Jimin finds himself here once again. Here, in a forest clearing he didn’t think he would be able to find on his own. Here, in the arms of a boy who may just be as lost as Jimin is, who has somehow borne witness to so many ugly parts of him and yet still shows no sign of disappointment. Here he is strangely at peace, even though the moon is faintly waning, even though he can hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears with all the force of a rolling drum.

It might be because Kim Namjoon is perhaps the only person on the planet from which Jimin has nothing to hide, which is ironic, since there are so many things he wants to tell him but has never been brave enough to say.

Namjoon said to try and fail, right?

“Hey, hyung?” Try and fail. He’s surging forward before Namjoon can answer, pressing his lips soundly to the dimple in his cheek before he can talk himself out of it.

And then he waits. And waits. Namjoon looks like he’s short-circuiting, his synapses firing in rapid succession, trying to find a justifiable explanation and finding none. He blinks at Jimin, the exposed whites of his eyes a stark contrast to the shadows that map his face.

His voice, when he finds it, is wondrous. “Did you just kiss me?” he asks, prodding at the spot with the tips of his fingers like he isn’t sure if he’s dreaming.

He’s so adorable Jimin doesn’t even feel embarrassed about it. He just giggles, reaching out to poke the spot himself. “Maybe I did,” he teases. “What are you gonna do about it?”

“Well,” Namjoon squares his shoulders like he’s trying to present a thesis, and this isn’t the kind of situation where you’re supposed to coo at someone, but Jimin is so fond and so bubbly inside he almost does it anyway. “I guess I should tell you I’m kind of in love with you, Park Jimin. You’re kind of the coolest person I’ve ever met.”

He doesn’t think you’re supposed to snort, either, but he does it anyway. “I wholeheartedly disagree, Kim Namjoon-ssi. You’ve known yourself your whole life.”

He wants to kiss that other dimple, so he does, and there’s not a trophy on earth that could make him feel as euphoric as he does when Namjoon blushes the colour of a ripe plum.

“I’m kind of in love with you, too, actually. More than kind of. Kind of a lot, but I don’t know how to tell you I like every single thing about you without accidentally scaring you away.” It’s rushed and awkward and for once in his life he doesn’t know if what he’s saying is something Namjoon wants to hear, but he does it anyway.

“You stood in my Shrek swamp, remember? I don’t think there’s anything you could do to scare me away.” Namjoon smiles and smiles and the whole world is bathed in gold.

They sit there smiling stupidly at each other, two idiots in love trying to figure out if this is the kind of thing that happiness is made of.

He thinks the answer might be yes.

“Hey, Jimin-ah?”

He bites his lip. Something shifts.

Namjoon’s gaze drifts downwards, and for the first time in so, so long, Jimin doesn’t push his hair behind his ear. He doesn’t smooth the wrinkles in his jacket, he doesn’t search for his reflection in the trees.

Namjoon’s breath ghosts over his face, his nose brushing the high curve of his cheekbone, and Jimin could get drunk on this, on the lush pink of his mouth, on the cleft of his bottom lip, on the way he smells like soy sauce and sugar and Yoongi’s fabric softener, on the little freckle just below his left eye.

There’s a little bread crumb in the corner of Namjoon’s mouth and he doesn’t care, not when Namjoon is touching his face so gently, not when he’s drawing impossibly closer, not when he’s pressing his full lips to his, tender and hungry and home.

Namjoon kisses like a summer storm slowly building; light, gentle, and then deeper every time. His mouth is soft and slightly chapped, and Jimin’s nose is kind of runny from being out in the winter air, but none of that matters.

He threads his fingers into Namjoon’s hair, tugging at the strands until he tumbles into him with a little grunt of surprise. The ache of wanting flares like a bonfire in his chest, and then Namjoon is coaxing his lips open and his tongue is sweeping against the roof of his mouth, and the whine he makes in the back of his throat as Jimin nibbles on his bottom lip is nothing short of unholy.

He practically crawls into Namjoon’s lap, anchoring one hand on his broad shoulder and sliding the other past the bulk of his open jacket. He searches, fingertips splayed out against his chest until he can feel his heartbeat thundering through the layers of muscle and skin, racing frantically in time to the sound of his own blood roaring in his ears.

It's a long time before either of them come up for air, dizzy and gasping into the freefall, tumbling recklessly off the peak of a long-suffering climb. He presses a final kiss once, twice to the bow of his puckered mouth, and then pulls reluctantly away.

Namjoon nearly knocks their foreheads together in an attempt to keep him close, but neither of them seem to mind. They rest their foreheads together until the heaving of their breaths has slowed to the rhythm of a shoreline. “You still owe me a tour of this forest, Park Ranger Kim,” he teases, delighting in the burst of laughter that erupts from Namjoon’s chest, joyful and unrestrained in the first blush of morning.

“I thought we established that my services are expensive,” Namjoon shoots back, cradling his face between his palms like a treasure. He looks at him like he is something wholly marvellous, inside and out, and for once Jimin thinks he believes it.

For the first time in so, so long, it feels like the whole world is watching and Jimin does not care one bit. He lets the monumental weight of this moment, small and unseen as it may be in the scope of the moving universe, push him in steady rotation with the rest of the world.

It smells like Spring.

FIN.

23 notes · View notes

jungshookz · 5 months

Text

smitten: y/n (reluctantly) agrees to go to jimin's big halloween bash and she forgot how much she actually hated parties

➺ pairing; jeon jungkook x reader

➺ genre; smitten!miniseries!! bff!kook and smitten!y/n!! university!au!! honk honk humour!! the boohoo angsty wattpady fic of your dreams!! the pining and yearning is off the charts!! jimin’s still an asshole but what’s new!!

➺ wordcount; 9.2k

➺ summary; putting on a smile while watching ji-eun cuddle up to jungkook is already hard enough, but when y/n is (reluctantly) invited to jimin’s massive halloween party, she can’t help but even more out of place.

➺ what to expect; “you know, you’re my best friend and i wanna make sure that everything is… good between us.”

➺ currently playing on cee.fm; favourite crime [olivia rodrigo]

➺ smitten: part one [the almost confession]; part two [the incriminating note]; part three [the date]

»»————- 👻 ————-««

you’re pretty sure you’re in hell.

you’re not sure what you did in your past life to have deserved this, but past-life y/n must’ve killed a baby or set an entire village on fire or something to that degree because you’re pretty sure that in this current timeline, you’re in hell

you stay quiet as you munch on your (slightly soggy, unfortunately) sandwich, scrolling through your phone (but not really paying attention to your instagram feed because apparently you’re a glutton for punishment and you keep wanting to look up and just stare at jungkook and ji-eun in all their coupley glory) while your foot taps anxiously against the ground

you know that if you say you can sit somewhere else to give the two of them some privacy that jungkook will insist that you stay, but you feel like the longer you sit here the faster the people around you will see that you’re just a big ol’ monster truck sized third wheel

you could lie and say that you have to go to the library to get some work done, but jungkook’s really good at knowing when you’re lying to him (apparently you have VERY obvious tells which you were very unaware of) so that’s not going to be a feasible plan either

it’s just that being here is incredibly uncomfortable but it seems like the only option you have is to stay and sit through it — which, again, reiterates your point of you being pretty sure you’re being punished for something you did in your past life

“my handsome boy…” ji-eun giggles lightly, reaching over to adjust the collar of jungkook’s jacket before leaning over to kiss him on the cheek, “i like this jacket a lot.”

“yeah?” he gives his girlfriend a boyish grin, looking down at his jacket before looking back up at her, “lucky for you, you can borrow it anytime you’d like-“ you glance up at them, the little voice in your brain stopping you from interrupting them to say that that is a nice jacket because you chose it for jungkook — and you feel like that comment could potentially lump you into the pick-me-girl-best-friend category which you’d very much like to avoid

“borrow? no, i’m stealing it-“

“no way! i got this thrifted for, like, fifteen bucks, i’m not letting you steal it-“

“alright, then you better sleep with one eye open the next time i stay over at yours because this is a nice jacket-“

you can’t help but look over at the empty seat next to you on the bench as you let out a quiet sigh… you have never felt so horribly single in your entire life.

and it doesn’t help that it’s cuffing szn this cuffing szn that all over your social media — your tiktok feed has not been very friendly to you as of late, the app flooded with countless videos of cute couples bundling up for the colder seasons

if anything you need to be cuffed to the wall before you go crazy and rip your eyelashes out from frustration

unsurprisingly, jungkook and ji-eun are a couple now, but really, are you surprised? jungkook is great, ji-eun is great, they went on a great first date (thanks to you, let’s be honest) and all the dates after that went well too because it lead to jungkook asking ji-eun if she wanted to be exclusive with him

you knew that things were going well when jungkook started hanging out with you less and less

and then when they officially got together, you didn’t think it could possibly get any worse but your already puny twice a week hangouts turned into two hours a week before he’d zip off to spend time with ji-eun

in fact, within the last two weeks, he’s only hung out with you once… which is fine, because you understand the honeymoon stage and you understand how giddy people can be when they get into a brand new relationship and just want to spend all their time with this new person

you know for sure that if you were the one who’d gotten into a new relationship, you’d definitely want to spend as much time with your person because why wouldn’t you want to do that? you really can’t blame the guy

you have other friends you can hang out with, but it’s just not as fun because even when you’re having a good time with them, your mind keeps wandering back to what jungkook is doing with ji-eun

and of course, when jungkook mentioned to you over a quick lunch one afternoon that he was planning on asking ji-eun to make things official, it’s not like you could tell him that it was a horrible idea and that he shouldn’t be dating ji-eun without ruffling feathers and raising brows of suspicion

the only person it would be a horrible idea for would be you, and you’re not enough of a dickhead to ruin a potentially good thing because of your own desires

and obviously, she said yes because why wouldn’t she say yes?

…

you know, there really isn’t a way for you to talk about this situation without sounding like the most bitter person on the planet, so perhaps you should move on now

“okay, i’m putting you two on drinks duty for the party!” jimin seems to appear out of thin air and you turn your head to look at him standing at the front of the table with an armful of flyers and the usual bossy, snarky persona that literally drains you every time you have an interaction with him, “unless you’re too busy making out to handle that.”

“no, we can handle it-“ ji-eun rolls her eyes playfully, pulling away from jungkook before reaching over and plucking the list from jimin’s slim fingers, “jesus, jimin. twelve bottles of vodka??”

“i’ll give you my credit card, just put all the charges on it-“ jimin shrugs, sliding in next to you before nudging you over a little, “this is going to be my greatest party yet. i’m charging $10 an admission and i’m renting out this huge house- i don’t think you can even comprehend how massive this party is going to be. it’s gonna be so much better than last year’s one.”

“i remember hearing about your party last year!” you chime in, offering jimin a polite smile even though he’s not looking at you, “it sounded like it was super fun.”

“so, you guys are on drinks, so that’s covered-“ jimin makes a tick on his clipboard before nodding to himself, “decor is covered, catering is covered, rent for the night is covered…”

you poke your tongue against the inside of your cheek, slumping in your seat a little and resisting the urge to roll your eyes

you still have no clue what jimin’s problem is with you, but at this point you’ve gotten used to the way he acts like you literally do not exist at all

you mentioned it to jungkook one time, wondering if maybe you were just looking too far into it and that there was nothing to take personally to which he responded with an enthusiastic nod and a “no, i also get the vibe that he doesn’t like you and i have no idea why… just let him be an ass if he wants to be one, don’t stoop to his level. life is too short to waste energy on weird people.”

so if jimin wants to continue being an ass to you, you’re just gonna let it roll off you like water off a duck’s back

“funny enough, y/n and i were gonna go to your party last year, but the kids in y/n’s building were trick or treating so we decided to stay home and watch horror movies and hand out candy instead-“ jungkook clears his throat, eyes flickering over to you for a brief second, “we also, like, decorated the doorway like it was a haunted apartment to freak the kids out. and y/n had this great idea to have a cauldron filled with warm spaghetti and she told the kids it was brain stew-“

“oh my god, i forgot about that-“ you snort, “i feel like we should’ve done, like, warm pudding instead or something, but the spaghetti kinda had the same effect and my kitchen smelled like an italian restaurant for two weeks after that-“

“let’s talk costumes!” jimin interrupts you, smacking his palm down on the table before pointing his pen at ji-eun and jungkook, “please don’t show up in anything tacky.”

“we were thinking barbie and ken!” ji-eun grins, “not tacky, totally trendy — i know we probably won’t be the only barbie and kens in the room, but it’s just so trendy and i loved her pink sequinned cowboy outfit- or if that’s not available, i think the 80s skater costumes were a vibe-“

“i can’t whait to talk about horshes and capitahlism wiv a bunch of ovher kensj.” jungkook laughs lightly with a mouthful of sandwich, dabbing his mouth with his napkin before crumpling it up into a ball and tossing it at you

you scowl playfully when it bounces off your forehead and lands on the ground

“you could go as allen, y/n. that’d be pretty funny.” jungkook swallows his bite, and you want to tell him that he doesn’t have to include you in every part of the conversation because you can practically see the pity for you radiating off of him in waves

you know for a fact he feels bad that he’s not been able to hang out with you as much lately because every time you do hang out he always brings you a drink or a snack with sympathetic little puppy dog eyes

and every time you have lunch with him and ji-eun he’s always making an effort to include you in the conversation — especially when jimin is around because again, it’s pretty clear the guy doesn’t like you

you and jungkook spent an entire afternoon trying to figure out why he didn’t like you so much, but you couldn’t come up with any conclusive results, so now whenever jimin is around, jungkook makes even more effort to include you in the conversation

“allen was my favourite character, so that’s not even a bad idea.” you chirp, pulling out one of the flyers from jimin’s neat pile before looking at it for the details

“oh, right. yeah, you can come too, i guess.” jimin clears his throat quietly, taking the flyer back from you with a chuckle, “…you don’t seem like you’d have anything crazy going on on a friday night.”

“i can come too? i thought that everyone was invited to this thing?” you raise an eyebrow, pointing to the little note on the flyer, “all it says is general admission.”

“…right.” jimin smiles sweetly at you, “and i suppose i’ll waive the fee for you since you’re… friends with jungkook.”

“how sweet of you.” you respond curtly, offering a smile just as sweet before letting it drop as soon as he looks away

you are absolutely dreading having to go to this party.

»»————- 👻 ————-««

“are you sure you don’t want us to come and pick you up? ji-eun has space in her car, you’d just have to sit in the back with all the drinks n stuff-“

“i’m good, jungkook, really-“ you mutter, pausing for a second to smudge out your lipstick before leaning back in your chair and turning side to side to look at your finished look

not that this is jungkook’s fault, but the fact that the two of you really haven’t been hanging out as often gave you a lot of time to think about what you wanted to dress up as for jimin’s halloween costume, and after a solo spooky movie binge the other weekend, you decided that you wanted to dress up as emily from the corpse bride

sure, it’s been done so many times — but you love the movie and you love emily and you had so much time to get everything you needed for this costume so why not dress up as her??

you reach up to adjust your blue wig, tugging at it slightly to make sure it’s nice and secure

“i’m just gonna uber there! plus, my place is kind of out of the way if you guys are already headed to jimin’s.” you clear your throat, “thank you for the offer though. make sure to let ji-eun know i really appreciate the gesture.”

“okay, i will…” jungkook murmurs, and you can tell by the tone in his voice that he wants to say something but he’s holding himself back, “i guess i’ll see you at the party, then? we’ll probably be there in about forty minutes.”

“yes, i’ll see you guys at the party.” you nod, wiping the leftover blue lipstick on your fingers on a tissue before reaching over to get ready to press the hangup button

“y/n?” jungkook’s voice crackling out from your phone speaker makes you pause, and you pull your hand back

“yea?”

“we’re- we’re good, right?” the question is somewhat of a surprise to you due to its weirdly serious, non-jungkook nature, your eyes flickering down to look at the contact photo you have set for your friend

he grins like a maniac at the camera, eyes wide and lit up with excitement at the cheesy corn dog he’s holding in front of him

the corner of your mouth twitches in a fond smile at the memory of that day — jungkook was convinced he’d be able to eat three corn dogs in one sitting and the day ended with him basically destroying your toilet and then refusing to let you use it until the smell cleared out

“what do you mean?” you clear your throat quietly, lips parting to say something else before you press them together and decide against it

“i mean- i know we haven’t been hanging out a lot lately so i just-“ jungkook coughs, “you know, you’re my best friend and i wanna make sure that everything is… good between us.”

“i-“ you pause again, gaze averting to the side as you think about his comment

if you’re being completely honest, you don’t think everything is good between the two of you — the first reason why being the fact that you are still completely and utterly head over heels in love with him, and the second reason being that he’s in a relationship with someone else and you’re really not sure how much more of this you can take before you go insane

but this isn’t exactly something you can hash out over a crackly phone call, and you’re really not in the mood to potentially destroy two relationships at once

you really don’t know what you’re going to do about this emotional mess, but what you do know is that you’re going to have to take it day by day until you’re eventually ready to face it head on — and tonight, your only job is to smile, enjoy being young, and have lots of fun at what you’re sure is going to be an amazing party despite it being hosted by someone who hates your guts for no reason

“we’re- we’re good, kook.” you manage to push out, despite the words practically fighting their way out of your mouth, “you’re my best friend, too.”

“okay. so i’ll see you soon?”

“yea.” you look at yourself in the vanity mirror, wondering if the sadness in your eyes will make your costume that much more believable, “i’ll see you soon.”

»»————- 👻 ————-««

the six pack of lime seltzer water (you got the fancy kinds in glass bottles) clinks in their cardboard carrier as you walk on the sidewalk, blue heels clicking against the pavement as you follow the path leading up towards the house that-

“holy shit.” your jaw drops at the sheer size of this literal mansion — what looks to be an endless number of burgundy bricks separated by neat, thin layers of cement that are stacked on top of each other, two large, white columns that cast identical shadows on the curved sidewalk leading up to the large, black front door, and not to mention, the insane halloween decorations: huge spider webs stretched over the door and windows, fairy lights wrapped around the columns, a stack of pumpkins sitting by the front steps kardashian-style

you don’t like jimin but you have to hand it to him, he sure can throw a party

“s’cuse us, sorry!” a trio of girls dressed up as sluttier versions of the powerpuff girls brush past you, bubbles turning around to shoot you a grin, “love your costume, by the way!”

“oh, thank you!” your face immediately breaks into a wide grin, “you guys look great, too-“

the random compliment lifts your mood up slightly — you know you’re more than capable of making friends anywhere you go, so if jungkook is too busy mingling with the other couples, you know you’ll be fine

and hopefully jimin will be too busy playing host to give you any attitude tonight

you lift your dress up as you make your way up the steps, the corners of your mouth lifting in an excited smile when you see taehyung standing by the door greeting people and collecting their $10 by… having them tuck the bills into the waistband of his boxers

“magic mike?” you laugh, taehyung’s right eye dropping in a wink before thrusts his hips towards you

“you know it, baby-“ he coos, reaching over to pinch the fabric of your dress to pull you towards him, your cheeks flushing when you stumble into his chest, “be nice to me and i’ll give you a lil lap dance in one of the private rooms-“

“taehyung, i swear to god, do not let any of those bills fall into your boxers because i’m not touching anything that touched your penis-“ jimin pops up behind taehyung dressed in a veryaccurate joker costume, his usual blonde hair dyed completely green for the look

“hi, welcome to the party, $10 an admiss-“ the sweet smile immediately drops from his face when he realises it’s you, jimin leaning back slightly, “wow, corpse bride!” jimin nods, looking you up and down, “seems fitting.” he mutters under his breath, watching as taehyung tapes the neon orange bracelet around your wrist

“nice to see you too, jimin.” you raise an eyebrow, lifting the six pack up with your other hand, “i didn’t want to come empty-handed, so i brought some drinks!”

“you brought six drinks for a house party? six sparkly waters, too… interesting.” jimin scoffs lightly, plucking the carrier from you before offering you a saccharine sweet smile, “how thoughtful of you. drinks are in the kitchen - first two shots are free, and then it’s $15 a shot after that. cocktails are $5 each, mocktails are $3- you seem like a shirley temple girl anyway- and all of it can be paid through venmo. the bartender will answer any other questions you have. bathrooms are upstairs, and the results to the costume competition will be announced at the end of the night. there are fifteen winners, and the votes are made by everyone here, so you might have a shot at winning something here.” jimin steps aside, gesturing towards the party, “have fun!”

“thank you, jimin.” you smile politely, stepping into the house and immediately rolling your eyes as soon as you turn away from him

so you weren’t able to completely avoid his dickheadedness, but hopefully that’ll be your only interaction with him tonight considering he’s probably going to be busy playing businessman all night

$15 a shot is kind of insane, though

you keep your phone pressed flush to your chest as you manoeuvre your way through the packed floor, the neon lights flashing and disco ball glimmering from above making it damn near impossible to navigate this place without bumping into backs and stepping on toes

the DJ pumps his arm up into the air as he continues spinning his fingers against the discs, the crowd going wild as the song builds up to the chorus

you can already tell that most of the people here are drunk (you can smell it, too) and you know, if you can’t beat ‘em, why not join them?

you can find jungkook later, and alcohol is definitely going to make this night a little easier to handle

“hi!” you smack your hands down on the marble countertop when you finally make your way to the bar, the vampire bartender turning to glance at you over his shoulder before tossing a cloth over his shoulder, “i want- something. shots, a drink, anything-“ your voice is already straining from the way you’re basically screaming over the music but this seems to be the proper way to communicate at a party like this

“wait, y/n?” your eyes light up when you realise that it’s none other than namjoon in charge of the drinks (and you wonder if your friendship with him will mean he gives you more drinks without charging you for it) and you let out a gasp as you lean over the counter to grasp onto his wrist

“namjoon!” you grin, “oh my god, thank god, finally someone i know at this damn party. why didn’t you tell me you were going to be here??”

“why didn’t you tell me you were gonna be here?! i haven’t seen you at the library at all, otherwise i definitely would’ve talked to you about it- what can i get for you?”

“top-shelf tequila, baby. i saw the list of brands that jimin bought - i want the most expensive one.” you raise an eyebrow, namjoon laughing to himself before nodding

“alright, i gotcha- you need any chasers with that?”

“you got cranberry juice?”

“for you, i’ve got anything-“ namjoon smirks, holding a finger up to excuse himself

it’s five seconds later that you’re presented with not one, not two, but three shots of tequila, namjoon winking at you as he slides the cranberry juice chasers over to you as well

“you better take these before jimin realises i’ve given you a freebie- i’m about to take a break here, someone else is gonna come in a sec to replace me- you wanna dance?”

“um, of course i do!” you can’t help but squeal excitedly, “take one with me!” you push a shot glass towards him, namjoon shrugging before picking up the shot and downing it in less than two seconds

you take your second shot, eyes squinting as the burn of alcohol trickles down your throat

you immediately shudder, reaching for the cranberry juice and tossing it down the hatch

“oh, jesus-“ you hiss, shuddering against before sticking your tongue out in disgust, “god, that cranberry juice does not help whatsoever-!” you don’t get much of a chance to say anything else before namjoon has his slender fingers wrapped around your wrist, giggles bubbling out of your mouth as he drags you towards the crowded dance floor to join the rest of the drunken crowd

»»————- 👻 ————-««

okay, so maybe this party didn’t turn out to be as bad as you thought it was going to be!

“that- oh my god-!” you throw your head back in laughter when namjoon pulls out the worst dance moves you’ve ever seen, your eyes pinching shut as you clutch at your stomach

you’re not sure how much time has passed (to be fair, it’s gonna be hard to tell how much time has passed when you’re at a massive house party with flashing lights and nothing but the sound of speakers booming to guide you) but you know you’ve been having a lot more fun with namjoon than you’ve had with jungkook these last few weeks) ((in fact you’re having so much fun that you almost forgot you were supposed to be heartbroken that the love of your life is with someone else, but also, that could probably be the alcohol taking over))

you know at some point you’re going to have to go over and say hi to jungkook eventually because you don’t want him to think that you’re purposely ignoring him or something — after all, it’s not his fault that he likes ji-eun and it’s not something you can pin on him and grill him for — but for now, you’re going to dance a little more, sing a little more, and-

“i gotta pee!” you gasp all of a sudden, realising that you haven’t peed once since coming here and there’s a lot of tequila sloshing around in your system

“what?” namjoon furrows his brows, reaching up to tap against his ear, “too loud, can’t hear you!”

“i gotta go pee!” you repeat yourself, pointing towards the staircase leading upstairs, “’m gonna go pee n then ‘m gonna come right back-“

“oh, pee?” namjoon nods, finally catching your words before stepping aside a little, “okay, i’ll be right here!”

»»————- 👻 ————-««

the silence of the bathroom is more than welcome as soon as you step in and flick the lights on, not at all surprised to see a pair of elegant looking wall sconces lighting up the space

you squint your eyes as you lean into the mirror, double checking that your makeup is still somewhat intact and you don’t look insane

“hm. not bad.” you mutter to yourself, turning your head from side to side before nodding, reaching down to pull the endless amounts of tulle up so you can hopefully not piss all over yourself in your tipsy state

…

you set the lid down as the toilet flushes, turning the tap on and rinsing your hands underneath the cool water

“oh, damn-“ you wince when you realise you’re washing some of the blue body paint away and you quickly turn the tap off, shaking the water off your hands before reaching for a neatly folded cotton towelette of course, because regular paper towels aren’t fancy enough for a park jimin party

you give yourself one last glance in the mirror (you could use a little more lipstick but it’s dark down there so no one’s going to be able to tell anyway) before flicking the lights off

“oops! i’m sorry-“ you apologise instinctively when you open the door and stumble right into someone, taking a few steps back before looking up to see that it’s jimin, “oh, hey…” you clear your throat quietly, standing up a little straighter before offering him a meek smile

you always feel like you’re in trouble when you’re around jimin and it’s the worst feeling in the world

like he’s the principal and you just got caught cheating on a test and he’s about to call home to tell your parents as punishment

or he’s an officer and he’s about to test you with the breathalyser and you know you’re going to fail because you definitely can’t walk in a straight line right now

“why am i not surprised that you clearly don’t know how to handle alcohol?” jimin snorts, holding his hands out in case you fall over, “you better not throw up all over me, this suit is custom made-“

“i wasn’t throwing up in the bathroom, i just went in there to pee-“ you roll your eyes, placing both hands on your hips before shaking your head, “you are ridiculous, you know that? even if i was throwing up in your stupid fancy toilets, the normal thing to do would be to ask if me i was okay and if i needed some water! you- you are just so self-centred and just-“

“yeah, uh-huh-“ jimin reaches up to pat the side of your face with a smile, “by the way, if you were looking for jungkook, he’s at the VIP booth with ji-eun and the rest of us.”

“oh, perfect!” you nod, thankful for the information, “i’ll pop over and say hi in a bit, i think it’d be good to sit down too because my heels are kind of killing me and i wouldn’t be surprised if i had, like, a million blisters right now-“

“woah, i never said you were allowed to be in the booth with us.” jimin scoffs, pressing a hand against your shoulder to keep you from moving, “silly girl.”

your lips part slightly as you look at him, and for a moment the only thing that can be heard is the faint boom and bass of the music playing from downstairs

“are you… serious?” you ask, unsure if jimin’s joking with you or not

the bored expression on his face tells you that he is indeed, super serious

all of this just feels so incredibly cliquey and immature and stupid and you know that you’re supposed to be the bigger person because jimin clearly won’t be and you like to think that you’re ten times more emotionally mature than him but he’s making it harder and harder for you to not want to shred up his nice suit with a pair of scissors and cuss him out in front of everyone

“i’m dead serious. i’m just telling you this so that you don’t embarrass yourself when your drunk ass stumbles over and tries to join us.” jimin says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world, “enjoy the rest of the party, sweetheart.” he brushes past you to head into the washroom and-

“you’re a fucking dickhead, you know that?” you snap, jimin stopping in his tracks before turning his head slightly so you can just make out the side of his face, “i think i’ve been nothing but nice to you ever since i met you, and to be honest, i can’t even think of one reason why you are constantly so fucking rude and overall just unpleasant to me. i don’t say anything when you purposely cut me out of the conversation, i don’t nag when you ignore my questions and comments but respond to everyone else’s, and most importantly, i’ve never called you out for being a jackass when i think i’ve had every chance and opportunity to. if you have a problem with me, then just say so so that we can hash this stupid weird rivalry out and just get along. your best friend and my best friend are in a relationship, and i think it’s in everyone’s best interest that we at least try to get along-“

“oh, shut the fuck up, y/n.” jimin scoffs, turning around to face you, “you know, you always act like you’re better than everyone else, that’s why i don’t like you.”

you feel your shoulders stiffen at the comment before you shrug, crossing your arms over your chest, “well, i’m sorry if i’ve given you that impression but that’s not my intention, i don’t think i’m better than you, i don’t think i’m better than everyone else, and i can’t control how you feel about me but-“

“oh my god, even when you’re confronting me about being a dickhead to you you’re still being a sensible goddamn person, it’s like you’re purposely trying to piss me off-“

“okay, well, i’m not going to apologise to you for literally being myself because there’s nothing i can do about it. this is a you problem, not a me problem, so if you insist on being such an unreasonable drama queen for however long we’re going to have to spend time together, then i think the solution here is just for you to ignore me — which, you’re already doing a stellar job of, congratulations — and in return, i’ll happily ignore you.”

“i hate when people aren’t themselves. i pick up on that shit right away, and i gotta tell you, y/n, you might be the fakest person of them all.”

“what the hell are you talking about?”

“i think we both know you’re hiding something from all of us. i think you’re hiding something from yourself, too. i think you’re lying to yourself.”

there’s a pregnant pause in the conversation and for a second you want to ask him what exactly he’s implying here, but…

“alright, jimin, well-“ you turn around to head towards the stairs, “you’re fuckin’ being weird, and i’m just trying to have a good time, so i’m just gonna go back down-“

“yeah, have a wonderful rest of your evening, corpse bride-“

you resist the very strong urge to whip around and literally just strangle the man, but you remind yourself that before you had this little interaction you were actually having a very good time

“y/n!” jungkook stands at the bottom of the staircase as you make your way down, being careful not to trip over your heels, “hi!”

“jungkook! oh, there you are- i was wondering where you were-“ you loop an arm with his as you drag him through the hoards of people and towards the bar (you really need a drink and it looks like namjoon is back on the clock)

“there you are!” he laughs lightly, reaching over to tap your hand gently, “i’ve been texting you all night trying to figure out where you were but- is your phone on do not disturb or something?“

“no, it’s not! i’m sorry, i should’ve checked my phone-“ you smile sheepishly, “i’ve been dancing with namjoon this whole time but- where are you guys sitting?”

“i don’t know, some area that jimin squared off for us and a few others- ji-eun’s been asking about you, she wanted to say hi-“

“oh! oh my god, yeah, i should probably go say hi to ji-eun-“ you gesture for namjoon to get you some water and he nods, grabbing a cup and filling it up for you, :your ken costume turned out great, by the way-“ you laugh, patting jungkook’s bare chest, “it’s, uh- it’s really giving horses and the patriarchy.”

“thank you, thank you- and your costume turned out so cool too, we should watch corpse bride again when we eventually have another movie night-“

“sure! sure, for sure.” you clear your throat quietly, a moment of awkward silence settling in between the two of you

your friendship feels so… different now

like there’s this unspoken air of something in between you and jungkook like an invisible brick wall

and maybe it’s the liquid courage currently sloshing around in your body and the leftover exhilaration from finally calling jimin out on his bullshit, but now you have the urge to talk to jungkook about the weird tension

“hey, kook, listen-“ you reach up to scratch the back of your neck, “there’s something i’ve been meaning to tell you but i’ve definitely been putting off for a while…”

all of a sudden, a drum roll begins to boom from the speakers, the spotlights darting around the crowd before shining towards the main stage at the front of the room, whoops and cheers bouncing off the walls as jimin waltzes his way towards the microphone, a cocky smirk on his face as he raises his hand to get people to quiet down

“oh, shit, the costume competition results!!” jungkook nudges your side as the two of you turn to face the front, “we can talk about it later, i wanna see who won what- i voted myself for best ken costume, so-“

you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding and you nod, thankful for the interruption

maybe it’s a good thing you were interrupted

telling him in the middle of a party probably wasn’t the best idea, anyway

»»————- 👻 ————-««

once again, you really have to hand in to jimin

the man truly knows how to throw a party, because it seems like just about everyone is having the time of their lives — and this costume competition just made things so much more fun

there are definitely a lot of good costumes here tonight and jimin decided to change it up with twenty-five different categories to go through so he’s kind of speed running through the names

most scary costume, most realistic costume, most well-made costume: he’s got a lot of categories to get through

you keep a content smile on your face as the costume contest continues to go on, enjoying jimin’s commentary to the point that you nearly forget that the two of you hate each other and he totally just disrespected you like he’s never disrespected you before twenty minutes ago

“i wonder how that guy made it look like his head was floating… that shit was so cool.” jungkook claps his hands along with the crowd and you nod enthusiastically

“i know, right?! i’m sure he probably took it off tiktok or something - we can definitely look it up after the party and maybe we can try to recreate-“ you stop yourself mid-sentence, suddenly remembering that you guys haven’t exactly been the closest as of late so it feels weird to be offering to do something together, “um-“ you clear your throat, offering a half-hearted shrug, “yeah, we can, like, look it up later or something. maybe you and ji-eun can figure it out and let me know.”

“yeah! or- you know, you and me-“ jungkook licks over his chapped lips, “like- you know, like- old times or whatever-“

“yeah, yeah- maybe! maybe-“

“now, before i announce this special category, i have something to read because-“ jimin sucks in a breath through his teeth before cocking his head to the side, “well, let’s just say it’s some context for the best simp costume of the night.”

you can’t help but frown at the strange category — out of all the halloween costume competitions you’ve been to, “best simp” has certainly never been one that you’ve seen before

“just wanna remind everyone that this is just a costume competition, everything is based off the costume you’re wearing.” jimin adds, taking a slip of paper out of his back pocket before unfolding it with nimble fingers, “so, uh- you know. don’t take anything seriously, you know? just gotta loosen up and have fun.”

your brows dip slightly at the weird disclaimer

…

something about this doesn’t feel right.

“dear j, this is something that i’ve wanted to tell you for a while but have never had the courage to until now. throughout our entire friendship, you’ve been so kind and loyal and honest with me, and i think that you deserve the same, so this is me being honest with you.” jimin speaks into the microphone, reading the words off the slip of paper with a tone of amusement laced in his powder-soft voice, “to be honest, i’ve liked you for nearly a year now, and i’ve tried so many times to push those feelings down but it’s clear that my feelings aren’t going anywhere anytime soon…” he recites, a smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth as he puts the piece of paper down, “any thoughts on who the winner could be? or should i keep going?”

your eyelids flutter slightly at the weird change in mood of the lines and a strange feeling of familiarity of those words

“me at that one hot english professor.” a voice pipes out from the crowd and that gets a round of laughter

you laugh along politely, but you can’t help but feel as though something is off

something is off

something is very, very off

“i cherish you as a friend and the last thing i want to do is to make things weird, so… you don’t have to worry about my feelings, you know?”

oh my god.

you feel the blood immediately drain from your face when you finally realize why these lines are so familiar — it’s because they’re from the note you wrote for jungkook when you were going to tell him you liked him.

your brain begins to work overtime to figure out how the hell jimin got his hands on that note and why the hell he’d think it’d be okay to read it aloud to this massive group of people and what the hell he’s even doing right now

“what i’m trying to say is that i like you, j. i like you so much that i don’t know where to even put my feelings, and i’m sick of holding my feelings back and pretending that i’m fine with being just your friend.”

you know that jimin’s never really been a fan of you, but even this seems like too much of a dickhead move even for him

you pluck at the cuff of your sleeve anxiously, tracing your steps all the way back to the day you were going to tell jungkook about your feelings for him and the note that you’d accidentally given him that you were hoping was rotting away somewhere in a dump yard but clearly isn’t

jungkook said he’d given ji-eun the note to spit her gum out into

but what if she uncrumpled the paper and saw the note?

and what if jimin was there when she uncrumpled the note?

and then they read it together and ji-eun mentioned that you were reciting this aloud in the bathroom and-

your heart starts to race in your chest and you feel the hairs prickle on your arms as anxiety begins to bubble in your stomach, and you know that no one’s looking at you but you feel like everyone’s looking at you

you feel sick

you feel like you’re going to throw up and explode at the same time

“how could you like someone for a year and not tell ‘em?” jungkook snorts, nudging you with his elbow, “who do you think the poor sucker is who said that?”

“beats me.” you breathe out, feeling yourself shrink slightly when you notice jimin starting to scan the audience, clearly laser-focused on finding you, “i have to- um, i think i need some fresh air, it’s a little warm in here-“

“oh- okay-“ jungkook doesn’t get the chance to say much else before you’re turning around, pushing yourself through the crowd of people and trying your best to stay calm

just breathe

in and out

in and out in and out in and out oh my god HURRY UP MOVE MOVE MOVE-

you’re sure that no one will notice if you slink out through the back

and you can always text namjoon later and say that it was great spending time with him but you had a personal emergency and needed to leave the party earlier

and if jimin decides to expose you, at least you’ll be gone and out of this house and nowhere near any of these people and you don’t have to look at their stupid sympathetic faces and you don’t have to deal with-

“and the best simp of the night goes to our lovely corpse bride.”

you freeze when the spotlight lands on you, your heart going a hundred miles a minute as it starts to beat harder and faster in your chest

you only manage to turn your head weakly to glance over your right shoulder, catching jimin in your peripheral view before you’re slowly twisting around to face him, feet glued to the ground

“why don’t you come up here and accept your sash, corpse bride?” jimin smirks, plucking the satin sash from (a shocked looking) taehyung’s arms before raising it up in the air slightly, “congratulations on winning, you get two free drinks from the bar. one for you and one for… well, probably also you. get on up here and claim your coupons!”

you feel your face burning bright red in humiliation and you’re unable to tear your eyes away from jimin, your hands clenched into tight fists at your sides

this is a nightmare

this is actually a nightmare

this is traumatising in so many ways

the music seems to quiet down, a loud silence washing over the room as people look at you with expressions of confusion on their faces, everyone clearly a little thrown off at the weird category

eyes, there are just a million pairs of eyes on you and you feel like you can’t move or breathe or even do anything but stand still in shock

it’s only then that you notice the calculating look on jungkook’s face, his eyelids fluttering slightly before his eyes widen and his head snaps up and over to look at you

his lips part slightly as his eyes dart over the features of your face and you feel your entire body flushing in humiliation and shame, forcing your eyes away from your friend and back to the dickhead on the stage

“you are really something else, park jimin.” you manage to mutter out before turning on your heel and pushing your way through the crowd, people stepping aside to let you out

“aw, where are you going? you had a great costume, that’s all we were trying to say!” jimin laughs, actually laughs into the microphone before shrugging, tossing the sash over his shoulder before moving on, “alright, well, more drinks for me, i guess. the next category is best couple’s costume-“

“y/n- y/n, wait!” jungkook’s voice is the one thing you hear among the music and bustle of the crowd but he’s the last person you want to talk to right now so you pick up your pace upon spotting the front door

tears blur your vision as you finally burst out into the open air, your chin trembling as you try your best to keep your composure and not completely burst into tears

“oh my god, oh my fucking god-“ you whimper, sucking in large breaths of air

run, run, run, the only instinct you have is to run, and you reach down to yank both heels off before taking off into a sprint, the grass slightly damp beneath your bare feet

it feels very cliché to be running out of a mansion in a big poofy dress, but you can’t even take the moment to laugh at yourself because the only thing you can focus on is the fact that everything has changed completely and you’re forced to face reality a lot sooner than you would’ve liked

“y/n, come on!” you turn to glance over your shoulder to see jungkook hot on your trail, “you can’t just run away from a discussion you don’t want to have, we need to talk because we both know that things have been off since i started dating ji-eun and now-“

“okay, well, now you know, then!” your chest heaves as you come to a stop to catch your breath (you have no idea why you thought running would be a good idea, you get winded after thirty seconds on the treadmill), spinning around to face your friend who skids to a stop, tripping over his feet a little before standing up straight, “the secret’s out, jungkook. we finally solved the puzzle. i love you. i’ve loved you for so long that i don’t even remember when i started feeling this way, but all i know is i love you. you’re the first person i think of when i wake up and you’re the last person i think about before i fall asleep. i would literally drop everything i was doing if you needed me, and you’re the only person i want to spend my free time with.” all the words that you’ve been holding in for the last who knows how long finally spill out, your mouth running uncontrollably, “i love you so much that i helped you set up your date with ji-eun, i love you so much that i’m willing to run in the rain just to get you a teddy bear and a bouquet that’s not even going to me, jungkook, i-“ you blubber, reaching up to wipe at your eyes, “i don’t know what to do. there is no one else in the world i’d rather be with than you, jungkook, and i- to be honest, maybe it’s a good thing that jimin did what he did because you do deserve to know the truth and you do deserve to know how i really feel about you. if this didn’t happen i think i’d just keep it to myself for the rest of my life, but you deserve to know this. i love you, jungkook. i love you and i don’t know if i can keep being friends with you if you’re dating someone else because it’s actually killing me on the inside-“

“i love you, y/n,” jungkook breathes out, and you feel yourself letting out a breath that you didn’t even know you were holding

relief

for the first time in a long time, you feel relieved, like a massive weight’s just been lifted off your shoulders

you feel your heart soar in your chest, and suddenly it’s like all the humiliation and shame has completely washed away, and suddenly you have the feeling to run back into the house to thank jimin for doing this because you know you wouldn’t have said anything if it weren’t for this slightly traumatising experience

“i love you, i do, but… not in that way.” his shoulders droop slightly and you feel your heart beginning to crackle like a delicate glass sculpture, each splinter creating more damage than the last, “i love you like you’re the first person i call when i get good news because i know you’ll be proud of me, or when i get bad news because i know you’ll be there to comfort me. i love you, like i envision you standing next to me at my wedding fixing my tie or calming me down when whoever i end up marrying is walking down the aisle. i love you like you’ll be fun auntie y/n who spoils my kids with shopping sprees at the mall and who allows them an extra scoop of ice cream after dinner. i love you because you make me a better person, i love you because you encourage me to be the best version of myself i can possibly be. i love you because you remind me to be smart and kind and humble and honest and i trust you to be the one to put me in my place if i ever need it but i-“

“stop.” you feel nauseated hearing all of these words coming out of his mouth, telling you that he loves you because and he loves you because but not just i love you too. “just stop, jungkook.” you know that you can’t control someone else’s feelings but you can control your own reactions, and if jungkook would’ve kept rattling on you don’t know what you would’ve said but you know you probably would’ve lashed out at him

and it’s good that you finally got your answer, right? he loves you, but not in that way — not in the way that you love him

“y/n, please-“ jungkook whispers, reaching out for you, his eyebrows scrunching together when you take a small step back, wrapping your arms around yourself, “please, i can’t lose you as a friend, you mean so much to me-“

“i need some time.” you manage to force out, the sickening feeling of humiliation and shame and embarrassment and disappointment and frustration and anger swirling around in your stomach, “i just need some time.”

“how much time?”

“you should probably go back to the party.” you clear your throat quietly, offering your friend a weak smile, “i heard you and ji-eun were up for best couple’s costume. not saying that jimin rigged the system or anything, but-“

“y/n, how much time?” jungkook’s looking at you with sad puppy-dog eyes, and though it breaks your heart to see him like that, you need to put yourself first for once

every instinct inside of you screams to console jungkook, to reassure him and let him now that you’ll still be around but you just need some space from him and the whole situation

your eyes begin to water again as you press your lips together, shaking your head quietly, “i’m gonna go see if i can catch the bus home.”

»»————- 👻 ————-««

(- “the FUCK is wrong with you, huh?!” jungkook barks, slamming jimin up against the wall before grabbing two fistfuls of his shirt, “you sadistic fuck, who in their right mind would ever fucking do that to another human being?!”

“i’m the sadistic one?” jimin laughs, reaching up to wrap his fingers around jungkook’s wrists, “are you fucking serious? you’re the one whose been dangling yourself in front of y/n like a damn carrot to a starved rabbit-“

“what are you talking about?”

“you can’t stand here and honestly say that you didn’t have an inkling that y/n liked you more than a friend. i’ve seen the way you talk to her, i’ve seen the way you look at her, i’ve seen the way you are around her- you think i’m the evil one? at least i don’t take advantage of my friends who are CLEARLY head over heels in love with me and would obviously do anything i wanted them to do and ask them to help me set up a date that i’m taking someone else out on-“

“get a fucking life and mind your own damn business for once, you motherf-“)

🎙️ console y/n or call out jimin because what the hell was that?! (talk to my characters!)

📚 why not explore the rest of the library while you're here? (go say hi to yoongi and y/n in la vie en bonsai!)

💫 or perhaps you want something shorter to read? (drabbles and mini series!)

🌟 or something even shorter? (teeny tidbits!)

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bts-0t-7 · 5 months

Text

Sharing The Moment | MYG

Pair: Yoongi x reader

Summary: You and your son went to D-Day 3 to support Yoongi. Your son stole the show after appearing on stage and ARMY was absolutely… swooned.

Genre: fluff, established relationship, parents au, married au

WC: 1169

Before the both of you stepped into the stadium, you could feel the ground vibrating from all the fan’s anticipation. The arena felt alive before the real show even started. It was the last day of Yoongi’s D-Day tour in Seoul and all the fans were there early. Whether is it giving out fanmade gifts, food, or drinks, they - Is that a tangerine in her hand? And is that a whole bag of it?!

The atmosphere was electric but for you, today was something even more special. You were not only here as a fan but also as Yoongi’s family. While ARMY’s certainly had eagle eyes, they have yet to catch on that you weren’t the only surprise that day. Your son, Min Ji-Hye, a carbon copy of his dad, was the source of the surprise. His little body was buzzing with energy.

Since young, Ji-Hye has looked up to his father’s music and absolutely idolizes him. Every time Yoongi works from home or comes home with new music, Ji-Hye would demand listening to it even if it is the rawest version. Of course, Yoongi tries to keep the cursing to a minimum whenever Ji-Hye is around.

The both of you found your seats in the middle catalogs which the staff has reserved especially for the both of you. Ensuring that Ji-Hye wouldn’t fall off his bumper seat, you started to set the area for the both of you so that you wouldn’t miss a single second to find some water. You were so engrossed in ensuring that your son had everything he needed that you didn’t realise Jin and Hobi were standing right next to you.

You jumped when you felt a light tap on your shoulder, immediately turning around with large eyes, hoping that you wouldn’t cause trouble for your husband if you got mobbed or something during his concert. But you found two laughing figures and calmed down once you heard Jin’s signature laugh.

“Yah, don’t scare me like that!” You chided.

“It was you who weren’t paying attention! We were here the whole time!”

You were about to shoot back another snarky remark when - “Seoul, ARE YOU READY?”

Cheers from all directions engulfed you as fireworks lit up the stage. Yoongi came blasting from the backstage and no matter how many times you have been to BTS concerts, you never get tired of seeing them perform. The raw passion in their movements and voices always ensures that the audience has one of the best concerts.

You turned over to see Ji-Hye at the edge of his seat, eyes glued to the stage. You had dressed him in Yoongi’s stage outfit, complete with a cap that looked a few sizes too big (it was taken from Yoongi’s closet). With his cat-like eyes and gummy smile, he was essentially Yoongi 2.0.

Watching your son sing and jump to the lyrics of his father, your lips curled upwards in a loving smile. While he didn’t quite understand the depth and innuendos of the songs, he was enjoying himself and you knew how much this concert meant to him. With the news of Yoongi’s enlistment, you knew that your time together would be cut short for two years.

You had told him that telling ARMY a day after the concert wasn’t going to be the best decision but management pulled through so it was scheduled as it is. So both of you continued to enjoy the concert with the new addition of Uncle Namjoon.

As the music filled the stadium, Yoongi delivered an electrifying performance, pouring his heart and soul into every lyric. His presence on stage was magnetic and the fans were completely enthralled. You thought that you could hold back the tears as he broke down in front of all his fans but the tears streamed down your cheeks, staining them in a salty caress.

Amidst the sea of fans, Ji-Hye suddenly squirmed and wriggled his way past the people in front of him. Running down the steps, you tried to catch him when Namjoon suddenly grabbed your wrist. “He’s safe, don’t worry. There are guards everywhere.”

But you couldn’t help but worry. What if he got lost? What if fans start to swarm around him and he can’t make it to Yoongi or any of the guards in time? Your heart skipped a beat as you saw his little figure making his way up the stage. There was a collective gasp from the fans nearby as they realised what was happening.

The surrounding security personnel recognised him and allowed him to approach the stage, guiding him carefully so that he didn’t fall down the large steps. Yoongi had just finished a ‘Life Goes On’ and was taking a moment to catch his breath when he saw little feet running up towards him. His eyes widened and broke out into a huge grin when he saw him, squatting down to his level and spreading his arms. The fans, realising that he was Yoongi’s son, started to cheer even louder.

The moment Ji-Hye crashed into Yoongi, every ounce of fear that Ji-Hye would be afraid of the cheers washed away in that instance. Yoongi scooped him up, hugging him tightly as your son laughed into the microphone, causing another wave of cheers to vibrate the stadium. It was a moment of pure, unscripted love between a father and his son. You stared at the two most important people in your life on stage, celebrating as if they were the only ones in the world.

The fans were absolutely swooning - taking in this whole scene with hearty eyes and red faces - their hearts melted by the sheer adorableness of the scene. They watched as Ji-Hye whispered something into Yoongi’s ear and Yoongi’s eyes sparkled with amusement and affection.

Yoongi turned to the fans, holding Ji-Hye high above his head like the scene from Lion King. “This is my son, Min Ji-Hye.” He announced proudly. “He’s a little ARMY like all of you.”

The fans erupted into cheers, shouting their love for both Yoongi and his son. Ji-Hye waved at the crowd, his gummy smile wide, grinning from ear to ear. Your heart felt so big that it was going to explode.

As the concert continued, Yoongi held Ji-Hye in his arms, dancing with him on stage during a couple of songs. It was a moment of pure joy and it was clear that this concert had become something extraordinary - not just for the fans but for Yoongi and your family.

After the concert, Yoongi was still beaming with light as he continued to hold Ji-Hye in his arms. “You know, you stole the show today.” He chuckled to his son.

Ji-Hye looked up at his father, eyes shining with admiration. “Daddy!” He swung his little legs. “I wanna be just like you when I grow up!”

Yoongi’s heart swelled with love. “You can be anything you want. Just remember to always be yourself.”

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explicit-tae · 1 year

Text

Contagious

An alternate world in which at the age of 25, your true soulmate is revealed. Some choose to defy the soulmate tie - but you refuse; especially when it’s revealed to be your sisters boyfriend.

Warning; cheating, sweating, begging, gagging, nipple play, breast play, nipple sucking, oral (f & m receiving), face sitting, porn with little plot lol, dirty talk, swallowing,

Word Count: 4,104

Alternate Universe

Not everyone enjoyed the idea of soulmates. Who the hell did the universe think they were supplying a human being to be your soulmate - someone you could never know until the day came? It was comical, truly, that at the age of 25 you were deemed "ready enough" to encounter your soulmate. You could be in a relationship or vice versa and suddenly, poof - the person you adored is no longer the one you wish to be with.

Of course, some choose to ignore their soulmates all together. It was easier said than done. If you never met your soulmate face to face made things easier. Eye contact was a guarantee give away and to deny the soul tie would be difficult for both parties, but not impossible. You've read many stories of soulmates ignoring their birth right - it caused scarring and sickness, even paranoia; but it wasn't impossible.

Ignoring your birth right wasn't something you were choosing to do yourself. Your 25th birthday was a day you were jumping with joy at the idea of finding your soulmate. You felt hot and heavy, a sign in which your soulmate was nearby. It frightened you - who was he or she and why were they close? Did your soulmate not wish to be with you? If they were close, that meant you knew of them, and they knew of you. If so, it could only mean they knew of you and didn't wish to follow their birth right.

You were correct when your eyes met Min Yoongi the same day. The fluttering feeling of your heart beating faster, the way your palms begin to sweat, and your legs quivered. The chattering around you died down, coming to complete silence and all your eyes could focus on was his and his presence only. His scent nearly made you intoxicated - manly and woody; it causes your mouth to water.

The problem was nearby - and it caused for you to break your trance away from Yoongi. You watched as arms embraced Yoongi and brought him into a tight hug. His eyes doesn't break from yours when your elder sister hugs him close, oblivious to connection radiating from the two of you. You felt sickened to your stomach at the sight, and it also causes your heart to ache, but you had no reason to be upset. He wasn't yours - officially - and your sister had him first. She was one of the many women to ignore her birth right and declared that she would choose her soulmate instead of having it be chosen for her.

Your stomach churns at the sight once more. Yoongi was older than you and your sister, which meant he knew of your soul tie to him for just as long. You pondered if he cares - if he was similar to your sister in ignoring soul ties. Your sister and you were opposites when it came to the universe - though you weren't completely untouched. You weren't opposed to dating or hooking up; however, you were adamant on never settling for anyone who wasn't your soul mate.

"I'm going to be late." you hear your sister's voice pipe up.

"Where are you going?" you murmur, fingers picking at the skin of your hand. "I thought we were going to brunch."

It was your sister's idea, after all, to spend the night at her place and get brunch the next day in celebration of your birthday - and not to celebrate the day you'd find your soul tie.

"I doubled booked." Your sister giggles, but you don't find anything amusing, especially when it came to a special day such as this. "I forgot I told Yui I'd meet her for brunch last week. We can definitely do dinner."

Your cheeks flushes in embarrassment. You can feel the eyes of Yoongi on you, possibly the same pity eyes he always sent you when it came to your sister's carelessness. It wasn't the first time she brushed you off completely and it'd never be the last.

Taking a deep breath, you nod. "Okay." you agreed. "I'll just..."

"Why doesn't she go with you?" Yoongi's voice is deep and raspy, and you swear you can feel your clit pulsing at the sound of it. "You see Yui every other day." he murmurs to her, annoyance evident in his tone.

Your sister sucks her teeth.

"It's fine." you assure, shaking your head. Your sister and you weren't close, nor did the two of you fight constantly. There wasn't much of a sisterhood between the both of you. She was the elder sister who excelled in whatever she did and went against the norm. You were the quiet younger sister who decided to live in tradition more than anything.

"See? She's fine." Your sister brushes Yoongi's concerns off with a tap on the shoulder. "I'll be back later. It's happy hour."

Yoongi scoffs lowly, eyes trailing as your sister strolls off with her purse. The front door open and closes and it's soon silence between the two of you. He wasn't surprised by your sister's ignorance; she's done this time and time again. However, a birthday was sacred and personal - not a happy hour brunch with a friend.

"I gotta-"

"We should talk." Yoongi interrupts. Your 25th birthday was the day he was dreading ever since he began dating your sister. He passed the age of soul ties and once realized that he has yet met his destined soulmate, he decided to settle with your sister. They moved in with one another after a year and by the second, he had met you - his soul mate. It made his life extremely complicated.

"I don't think-"

Yoongi reaches out for you - a mistake - once you're turning away to walk down the hall to the guest bedroom. A shock runs through his veins at your touch; goosebumps erupting his skin. He flinches away from you as if you burned him, eyes wide. He never felt such a sensation - never felt the need to touch anyone until now.

Shit.

Your smell was intoxicating now more than ever. Your scent forever lingeried in his presence upon meeting you years ago. Your sister's scent being fruitier, it was easier to hide your scent. Now, he's unsure if he could ever get the scent out of his mind.

"I'm sorry." Yoongi chokes out. He understands you - he can feel your sorrow. He chose to ignore his soul tie to you and continue being one with your sister. It was selfish of him, he understood; especially how your sister told him how traditional you were when it came to the universe. Yoongi hated conflict and breaking apart a family isn't something he wished to do.

"Don't be." You managed to choke out, throat tight. You couldn't be upset at Yoongi. You were upset with yourself more than anything. The universe could choose your soulmate, but they couldn't make the person consent into loving you. While you brushed all of your love interests away to be with yours, it wasn't guaranteed your soulmate would do the same. "Why didn't you...tell me?"

'Why would he?' You ask yourself. Yoongi and you weren't friends, only cordial. He has been with your sister for years and the thought of him being your soulmate now makes you sick at the universe for how foolish you truly were.

"I love her." Yoongi's words come out as a whisper and his heart churns at the way your face falls. He was hurting himself along with you. Soul ties did this to you. He could feel your pain and confusion; betrayal.

"I got to go." you cough, vision blurring. The years you studied soul ties, they never told you love would hurt like this. Being denied by your soulmate felt worse than any pain you felt before.

"I don't love you any less." Yoongi hurries to stop you, hands curling around your wrist. "I love you, Y/N, but I cannot betray your sister. Not now." Yoongi shakes his head.

He loves you.

Yoongi loves you.

Yoongi loves you?

"I thought if I," Yoongi swallows the lump in his throat. "helped you that it would be enough."

You furrow a brow. "Help...me?"

"I was the one who paid your tuition. Not fully," Yoongi gulps. "I had help but-"

"You." Your eyes widen. You were swimming in debt after college and the office job helped pay the bills, but it wasn't enough to cover such a hefty bill such as tuition. You told yourself after you finished writing your book (that you haven't even began) that you could be the next big author of the decade.

"I recommended you to Hobi-ah. Said you'd be a good addition to his company."

You blinked your eyes several times. "That's how I got hired to a job I never applied to." you scoff, knitting your brows. You swore that your boss, Hoseok, gaslit you into working for him. He gave you a call and stated that he went through your resume and thought you were the perfect match. After several minutes of speaking, you had a job and left yourself confused, but willing to work.

"I told myself that if I couldn't be with you that at least you'll be alright. That you'd write the book you've been struggling on for years and publish it. That you'll become a big time author and maybe move on from me-"

Yoongi's stunned when he feels your lips on his - soft and inviting. Your hands wrap around his neck and your body pushes against his.

'This is wrong.' he tells himself. 'I'm not a single man.'

But kissing you felt right. He felt alive - his body electrifying with each passing second. His mind screamed at him to stop - your sister was who be loved. Yes, he admitted long ago that he couldn't truly love her the way he wanted to; not with you around. But he could never cause your relationship with her to crumble because of fate.

"Tell me to stop." Your lips say against his lips, so inviting that it's painful at the thought of you halting your actions.

'Stop.' Yoongi's mind demands, but his words don't register. Instead, his tongue dips inside your mouth and marvels at how warm and savory your tongue feels against his.

'Tell her to stop.'

Yoongi's hands find your body and he wastes no time in trailing his hands upwards to grope your breast. His breath hitches at the sensation of your clothed against the palm of his hands.

'Tell her to stop.'

Your moans are sweet melodies his ears are blessed to hear. His hands are large massaging your breast, fingers pinching your nipples between massages.

'Tell her to stop!'

"Don't stop." You moan, a string of saliva connecting your tongue to his and it was enough for Yoongi to be fully consumed by you.

"I never knew you cook." Your sister giggles after taking a bite of her food, more like a nibble. She wasn't going to eat it, she wasn't much of a pork eater.

But Yoongi was, the soul tie telling you.

Speaking of the man, he appears as though he's being tortured. The last he seen of you was a month prior on your birthday - the same birthday he cheated on his longtime girlfriend.

It was difficult for Yoongi to sit across from you when he seen you naked below (and on top) of him. It plagued his mind for the entirety of the days to come, but the guilty he experienced ate him alive. He couldn't look his girlfriend i the eye. He couldn't touch her, either. All her sexual advances had been rejected and he could only guess how horrible she feels.

Yoongi wasn't the only individual who had their mind clouded. Your mind never removed Yoongi from them. The animalistic side he displayed while fucking you - how needy and hard he was, how passionate the sex was between true soulmates.

Minutes felt like seconds when you were with Yoongi, a blur. You laid naked before him on the very bed he shared with your sister. Your mind yells at you to stop - to not be a homewrecker. But your heart and lust tell you to continue - that you were doing nothing wrong. Yoongi may be your sister's boyfriend, but he was your soul mate.

Yoongi's hands engulf your naked breasts, massaging until your nipples stiffen. He licks his lips, head dipping down to wrap his tongue around it. It's savory, causing not only for you to moan at the sensation, but for him as well. Yoongi's breathing quickens as he gets caught into the act of suckling your breast.

Yoongi shivers, goosebumps covering his skin. He could suck every inch of your body for hours - he could orgasm by just doing so. He was leaking, his cock feeling moist against his boxer briefs. Foreplay with your sister wasn't as amazing as this - but she wasn't his soulmate. You were, and sex with your soulmate was far more intense than with anyone else.

"I need to taste you." Yoongi pops a nipple from his mouth, his teeth lightly grazing it. "You want to ride my face, baby?"

You melt against the bed, fingers clenching against Yoongi's shirt. You tug at it, nodding your head. You couldn't imagine not sitting on Yoongi's face while his tongue pleasures you.

Yoongi grunts and removes his shirt. His briefs were tight against his bulge, but he ignores it. He needed you on his tongue now more than ever.

You yelp when Yoongi flips you, your dripping pussy against his lips. His tongue pokes out to lick a savory lick against your clit, eyes staring right into yours.

"S-shit." you hiss, thighs buckling. You slowly grind against his tongue, your eyes fluttering.

You were in bliss. This is all you ever desired - to be one with your soulmate. Sex wasn't as good as this - it never would be if it wasn't with Yoongi.

Your breathing quickens when Yoongi's hands place them on your hips and encourages you to grind against him roughly. His eyes doesn't leave you, completely satisfied that he gets to please you in such a way. Your taste causes his mind to spin, and he determines that you were the best pussy he's ever tasted.

Yoongi was addicted.

Yoongi's right hand reaches up to clench your breast. You're twitching against him, eyes rolling to the back of your head. But Yoongi doesn't halt - no, he doesn't dare. He's slurping your clit aggressively as if his life depended on it, and in a way it did. You were his soul mate. He could feel what you felt - and you were cumming.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" you moan out, body twitching against Yoongi's tongue licking up your juices.

You clench your legs just thinking about it. The way you came on Yoongi's tongue was a first in a lifetime orgasm that you couldn't give up. The weeks leading up to today was torture. You couldn't stop touching yourself at the memory of Yoongi in bed with you. But it wasn't enough. Nor was the vibrator and even the dildo you recently purchased.

You lick your lips at Yoongi, heart content that he's enjoying your cooking. You were positive he would, soul ties have several benefits in and outside of sex.

"I'm going to go make a sandwich." your sister stands from her seat, placing the pork contents onto Yoongi's plate. "And rummage through your cabinets."

Your sister rounds the corner to your kitchen. You can hear her doing as she said she would, opening and closing your fridge and cabinets.

Your eyes glance at Yoongi from across of you. He's finishing up his plate as you watch him. The sounds your sister is making was what caused you to act in such a way.

Yoongi yelps when something pinches his thigh. His head snaps up to survey his surroundings, not finding you. He dips his head underneath the table and gulps when he witnesses you.

"Y/N-"

"I need you." you begged, eyes pleading him. It makes him weak, but his brain allows him to shake his head.

"Y/N, not now." Yoongi hisses, eyes wide with shock. You're so beautiful kneeling before him, but your sister was in the next room.

Yoongi doesn't stop your hands from inching towards his (hardened) length.

"She won't hear if you're quiet." You lick your lips. Your own judgment was clouding you. Never in a million years would you have done this, but you'll blame your soul tie (and lust) for Yoongi. "Don't you want me?"

Fuck.

Yoongi finds himself nodding. His eyes glance to the doorway where your sister stood behind, making her sandwich.

The things his soulmate was making him do.

But he couldn't fully blame you. His heart ached for you while he laid next to your sister at night. His mind often played flashbacks of his night with you, and it drove him insane.

"I need you, Yoongi." you begged, falling back against the bed. "I need you inside of me."

"Yeah, baby?" Yoongi slithers on top of you. His lips kiss along your jaw. "You want me to fuck you?"

Yoongi shivers, biting his lips. His hands rub along your thighs. He wished nothing more than to be deep inside of you - to coat every inch of your walls with his cum until you were dripping.

Yoongi's thoughts were filthy. He managed to keep his thoughts of you at ease, but now that the both of you were together and fully aware of the soul tie, his mind couldn't help but crave you.

Yoongi manages to release his cock. He couldn't wait a second longer - not while you laid beneath him begging to be fucked.

Yoongi positions his cock at your entrance, gently rubbing against your clit. He grunts - you were the wettest pussy he's encountered. He ponders how in the world he was going to get you out of his mind once the deed was done.

"Shiiiit." Yoongi grunts as he enters you. You're warm and wet and he regrets not doing this with you sooner.

Yoongi was but a man, but he tries. He tries to be gentle and slow, but your soft moans mixed with the tightness of your pussy sends him over the edge. He couldn't help but fuck into you, snapping his hips to get deeper inside of you.

Your eyes snap shut. You never felt complete such as this. His cock was made for you, truly. Your pussy was made for him, the way it squelches was just one way of knowing.

"This pussy was made for me, baby." Yoongi grumbles, nails digging into your skin. He wraps your legs around his waist and snaps his hips inside of you. "You're so wet and tight for me."

Neither of you cared at the mess you were making on his bed, nor the ruckus that echoed across the room. Skin slapping, heavy breathing and moans - it was sickening truly at how comfortable the two of them felt when at any given moment they could be caught. But at this moment, neither of you bothered to care. It was just the two of you in this moment - and you couldn't ask for anything else.

Yoongi was a man and no matter how hard he tried to not be filthy, he couldn't control himself. He fucked you on your back with your knees behind your ears. He fucked you from behind, hands slapping your ass while you pleaded for more. He flipped and even managed to fuck you while you rode him - and yet and still he could never be tired of the way your pussy felt heavenly for him - just for him.

Yoongi hurryingly pushed down his pants, eyes darting to the doorway.

Your hands wrap around his cock hungrily, mouthwatering. This would be your first-time blowing Yoongi and you couldn't wait.

You wasted no time in licking the tip of Yoongi's cock like your favorite lollipop. Your hands thrust and rub against the base while you suck the tip of his cock.

Yoongi bites his lip to hide the moans. Your mouther was amazing, almost as amazing as your pussy. The adrenaline rushing through him excites him. The thought of almost being caught with your lips wrapped around his cock brings the excitement he never knew he desired.

You bring Yoongi's cock deeper into your mouth. You feel his fingers tangle into your hair, bringing his cock deeper and deeper.

"Y/N!" your sister calls, but Yoongi couldn't stop himself from thrusting into you. "I'm going to use the last of this mayonnaise."

Your eyes watered as you peered up at a grunting Yoongi. Saliva slides down the corner of your mouth and you could no longer help the low gagging noises when Yoongi reaches your throat.

"Fuck baby." Yoongi grunts. He slaps your cheeks, eyes dark. There was something sinister in him that desired to do every and anything filthy to you. You were more than willing. "You want us to get caught, don't you?"

You do, as fucked up as it was. You wished nothing more than your sister to see you and your soulmate doing what you were destined to. It was terrible, but it was what she deserved. If she would have agreed to be with her own soulmate you wouldn't have to sneak to be with yours.

Yoongi slides the chair back. If he was going to cum before your sister returned, he'd need to be his usually rough self. He thrusts deeper into your throat. Your sister opens and closes the fridge a few more times, but no footsteps could be heard.

Your eyes catch Yoongi's, though blurry and teary eyed.

"You're so beautiful for me, baby." Yoongi murmurs, cock twitching inside of you. "My beautiful soulmate. So dirty...all for me."

Yoongi thrusts a few more times before he cums deep inside of your mouth. It hits the back of your throat, and you swore you'd choke.

"I love you." Yoongi hisses, legs giving out and he falls back into the chair.

Your eyes widen, swallowing the cum inside your mouth. Yoongi is breathing heavily but manages to lift his pants up while you wipe your mouth. Your sister is finishing up, you can hear her footsteps come closer.

Your lips place themselves onto Yoongi's in a quick kiss. "I love you, too." you murmur against his lips and push yourself back to your seat.

"Are you sure this is something you'd want to publish?" your editor snickers, but she's overly amused.

Months had since passed, and Yoongi and you were left a secret. Everything between the two of you weren't sexual. You two went out on dates, but in the next town over. Your sister had several friends and being caught would only assure that your sister would know.

Yoongi insisted that he and your sister weren't together anymore sexually, but the titled as his girlfriend still remained to her. It upset you, but he wasn't lying about not touching her. She has ranted how the sex was nonexistent and she was not only sexually frustrated, but physically and emotionally.

"Yes." you nod your head.

You managed to finish the book you were writing. The original plot had since changed into the new one, a memoir of your time as a mistress to your soulmate. Your editor insisted that it would be a best-seller, but your reputation would be rooted as a homewrecker.

It was a risk you were willing to take, however, in order to have Yoongi be yours fully. It was a risk that your sister would come to despise you, but that was what you were willing to endure.

Yoongi was a man that hated conflict. He couldn't hurt your sister more than what he already was. He thought if he became emotionally (and physically) unavailable that she would eventually leave him.

But you knew your sister. She was stubborn - persistent.

But so were you.

"What's the title?" your editor raises her brow. In a short few weeks, the book would be published, and no doubt would it be a best-seller amongst young adults. You'll be on your book tour with promoting your book and then will be rolling in cash - all about you cheating with your sister's boyfriend.

"Contagious." You respond, heart beating rapidly. You couldn't believe you were doing this - but it needed to be done. For you and Yoongi's relationship. He was your soulmate, after all, and he could never remain upset with you for long.

@juju-227592 @iheartsvt @seokjinkismet @bloodline1632

#contagious #yoongi x reader #soulmates #bts smut #bts x reader #bts fanfic #btswritingcafe #btswritersclub #btsmasterlist2023 #explicit-tae #alternate universe #bts au #yoongi soulmate #bangtanwritershq #bangtan smut #yoongi smut

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xxstar-girl · 1 month

Text

GIRLS OVER FLOWERS

park seonghwa x reader x choi san

✩ SYNOPSIS: lee y/n is just a normal girl, who’s family owns a small coffee shop. she finds herself being accepted in kq-u, the prestigious private university for the wearily. after saving the son of the chancellor from a car accident

✩ PAIRING: park seonghwa x female!reader x choi san

✩ WARNING: suggestive themes, suicidal jokes, mentions of car crashes, explicit content

✩ GENRE: love triangle, smau, fluff, angst, crack, written, smut

✩ note: i will try to post twice a week, depending on how work will be beating my ass with annoying customers. this is also kinda inspiration from girl over flowers drama.

[AREA 51👽part1] [PRESTIGIES💰part1]

[AREA 51👽part2] [PRESTIGIES💰part2]

[OTHERS]

01: getting in kq university📝

02: first day

03: give me free cookies and coffee

04: down bad

05: invite your friends!

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leeeeeeeeeeeeeeeesworld · 22 days

Text

CALM AFTER THE STORM |BTS OT7 X READER| HYBRID AU (M)

{Chapter Two – A Rare Find}

Pairing: OT7 BTS!HYBRID X FEM!HUMAN READER

Kim Namjoon: Black Mackenzie Valley Alpha wolf

Kim Soekjin: White Alpha Lion

Min Yoongi: White Alpha Jaguar

Jung Hosoek: Alpha Snow Leopard

Park Jimin : Alpha Albino Cobra

Kim Taehyung: Alpha White/ Bleached Tiger

Jeon Jungkook: Alpha Black Panther

Reader: Heaven Valentino Human

Status: Ongoing

RATED (M) FOR MATURE

Words: 9.1k!

WARNING: EVENTUAL SMUT, BLOOD GORE, DETAILED GRAPHIC DESCRIPTION, ABUSE (ALL FORMS), PROFANITY, VIOLENCE, MENTIONS OF SUICIDE, CHARACTER DEATH(MINOR), SADOMASOCHISM ACTS, MENTIONS OF BDSM, ETC...

CHAPTER WARNING: THIS CHAPTER WILL CONTAIN TRIGGERING SCENES, MENTIONS OF ABUSE, ABHORRENT BEHAVIOR AND THINK AND DEGRADATION DON'T READ IF UNCOMFORTABLE OR SENSITIVE.

Previous Next

MATERIALIST

~Valentino Mansion~

3rd Person's POV

Heaven had been on a relentless mission for the past two months, ever since she acquired crucial information about the illegal Hybrid traffickers.

The weight of the situation had consumed her days and nights, driving her to work tirelessly towards finding a way to intervene and put an end to the inhumane activities happening around her.

The journey she embarked on was far from easy.

Countless phone calls, sleepless nights filled with haunting nightmares, and the frantic attempts to reach out to Black Eagle, the elusive figure in the underworld of trafficking, were all part of the arduous path she had chosen to take.

In her pursuit for justice, Heaven had enlisted the support of her trusted brothers, her dedicated assistant Jae, the employees at her uncles' Facility, and some carefully selected government officials.

Each individual brought their own expertise and resources to the table, forming a team dedicated to combating the illegal trade and bringing justice to the victims.

Navigating the intricate network of contacts and informants required to reach Black Eagle proved to be a challenging task.

The man operated in the shadows, shielded by layers of security and intermediaries that made direct communication nearly impossible.

However, Heaven's determination and strategic planning eventually paid off, as she received a rare and coveted invitation from Black Eagle himself.

The opportunity to meet with the notorious figure was a significant breakthrough in her mission.

It signaled a potential opening for dialogue, negotiation, and perhaps even collaboration in their shared goal to dismantle the trafficking operation and rescue those affected by it.

The man known as Black Eagle was beyond astonished when he found out that The Heaven Valentino had personally requested an invitation from him.

Given her unparalleled status and influence, it was a gesture that took him by surprise - after all, she was renowned as the epitome of sophistication and exclusivity.

Heavens' stance towards hybrids, however, remained a mystery.

Despite her reputation as an individual who rarely associated with such beings.

It was a tantalizing prospect to see how she would interact with those outside her usual sphere.

In the realm of power, wealth, and social standing, Heaven Valentino reigned supreme.

She was a symbol of opulence and authority that surpassed even the loftiest expectations. Her mere presence commanded attention and respect, setting her apart as a figure of unparalleled prestige.

For Black Eagle, the opportunity to personally deliver the invitation and provide Heaven with VVIP treatment was not just a formal gesture - it was a strategic move.

In his ambition to forge a partnership with her, he saw this as a critical step towards building a connection that could potentially elevate his own standing in the business world.

The allure of being associated with Heaven Valentino as a business partner was irresistible.

Her capabilities and resources were a force to be reckoned with, capable of opening doors that seemed impenetrable to others. The prospect of aligning oneself with her vision and ventures held the promise of unprecedented success and prosperity.

In the grand tapestry of the social elite, Heaven Valentino stood as a colossal figure, wielding a level of authority and influence that surpassed imagination.

Her ability to shape industries, economies, and even societal norms was a testament to her unparalleled power and vision.

Today felt like the day they had been preparing for all their life.

Heaven's heart raced with a mix of nerves and determination as she steadied herself for the mission ahead.

Every fiber of her being was focused on the task at hand, blocking out any distractions or doubts that threatened to creep in.

She knew the path ahead wouldn't be easy. Choi Woobin's words had only added to the gravity of the situation, hinting at the unimaginable horrors that awaited them.

Despite the foreboding stories, Heaven's resolve remained unwavering. She was determined to stay strong, to face whatever darkness awaited without faltering.

As she mentally ran through her preparations, she couldn't help but acknowledge the weight of the burden on her shoulders.

The thought of what lay ahead was enough to chill her to the core, but she refused to let fear paralyze her.

This was a test of not just her skills, but her inner strength and resilience. She steeled herself, ready to confront the nightmares that awaited, knowing that only by staying focused and composed could she hope to succeed.

The mission loomed before her like a mountain to be conquered. Heaven knew it would push her to her limits, testing her in ways she had never imagined.

But she also knew that this was what she had trained for, what she had prepared for. Every challenge she had faced, every obstacle she had overcome had led her to this moment. And she was not about to back down now.

As Heaven adjusted her hair in the mirror, she felt a surge of anticipation for the plan that was about to unfold. Her assistant Jae was her trusted right-hand man, ensuring that everything was in place for the pivotal moment that was approaching.

With determination in her voice, she spoke to Jae over the phone, emphasizing the importance of secrecy and precision.

The mere mention of Black Eagle and his men made her blood run cold. They were formidable opponents, and any misstep could have dire consequences.

"Understood" He said before the called ended.

Heaven nodded to herself in the mirror, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

She was not just a force to be reckoned with, she was a master strategist, orchestrating moves on a chessboard where every decision could tip the scales of power.

With a final glance at her reflection, she steeled herself for the upcoming confrontation, knowing that her fate and that of many others rested on the success of their plan.

'I promise to set you all free'

~Three Hours Later~

As the car pulled up to the opulent resort, a sense of wariness crept over her.

Despite the outward beauty of the location, she couldn't shake the knowledge of the dark deeds that had taken place within its lavish walls.

The sheer contrast between the lush greenery and the sinister secrets hidden within sent a shiver of disgust down her spine.

As the sleek black vehicle eased past the entrance gates, the scene that unfolded before Heaven was one straight out of a high society magazine spread.

Rows of impeccably maintained luxurious cars, each belonging to famous elites, lined the grand driveway.

The air was thick with an aura of opulence, exuding from the designer-clad guests mingling around.

Eying the spectacle before her, Heaven couldn't help but feel a wave of disdain wash over her. The ostentatious display of extravagance seemed less about genuine enjoyment and more about a ruthless competition to assert dominance and flaunt one's wealth and status.

The whole affair reeked of artificiality and pretentiousness, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth.

As the car pulled to a stop, the animated conversations and tinkling laughter of the guests outside abruptly hushed, their curious gazes now fixated on the newcomer.

Heaven, embodying an air of poised elegance, emerged from the vehicle with measured grace, commanding the attention of every onlooker present.

The reaction that greeted her was nothing short of astonishment. Faces once animated and expressions jovial now bore expressions of disbelief and incredulity.

The previously bustling space fell into a stunned silence, punctuated only by the whispers and murmurs that rippled through the crowd.

It was as if a rare, captivating apparition had graced their midst, leaving them spellbound in her wake.

Heaven had meticulously orchestrated her surprise appearance at the auction, ensuring no one knew about her involvement.

This careful planning was pivotal in setting the stage for her grand entrance. The element of surprise was not meant as a mere spectacle for show, but rather a strategic move to assert authority and convey a clear message to all present.

Her motives ran deep, far beyond seeking attention or adulation.

Heaven's ultimate goal was to protect and advocate for hybrids, utilizing this bold move as a means to establish a lasting impression on those involved in the despicable games.

By taking a stand against the mistreatment of hybrids and holding perpetrators accountable, she aimed to solidify a legacy that would resonate far beyond the confines of the auction event.

In essence, Heaven saw this defiant act as a crucial step in safeguarding the rights and dignity of all hybrids, paving the way for a future where they would be respected and valued.

Through her actions, Heaven was not just making a name for herself but also building a legacy of courage, resilience, and unwavering determination for all hybrids to draw strength from.

This act of defiance was a symbolic declaration, not just for herself, but for the entire hybrid community, signifying a turning point in their fight for equality and justice.

As Heaven stood amidst the stunned crowd, her presence radiated a sense of purpose and resolve that left an indelible mark on all who bore witness to her fearless stand.

She exuded elegance and sophistication as she approached the entrance of the luxurious resort.

The aesthetic allure of her ensemble was captivating - a striking midnight black V-cut sleeveless dress that cascaded down to the floor with a daring slit that revealed a glimpse of her toned thigh.

This exclusive creation was adorned with glimmering diamonds, adding a touch of opulence to her attire.

Every detail of the ensemble was meticulously curated, as it was a one-of-a-kind piece exclusively designed for Heaven by her talented mother, Rachel Valentino.

The ensemble was perfectly complemented by her midnight black five-inch heels, which not only added height but also accentuated her long, slender legs, creating an illusion of elongation.

The matching diamond necklace and earrings added a touch of glamour and sophistication, enhancing the overall allure of her look.

Heaven's makeup was a work of art, striking the perfect balance between sleek and natural. The subtle yet alluring makeup accentuated her features, giving her a fierce and powerful aura.

Her hair was elegantly styled in a tight, neat bun, with a few loose strands framing her flawlessly symmetrical face, adding a soft and romantic touch to her look.

As Heaven glided towards the entrance of the resort, all eyes turned towards her, captivated by her poise and undeniable presence. The combination of her exquisite attire, radiant beauty, and confident demeanor made her an embodiment of grace and sophistication.

It was evident that every detail of her appearance had been carefully curated to exude an air of refinement and elegance, setting her apart as a true fashion icon.

"Its a pleasure to have you Ms. Valentino, my name is Min-Soo and I'll be your caretaker for the duration of your stay here. If you would please follow me" one of the hotel stuff introduced as he gestured for Heaven to follow him.

Heaven followed Min-Soo silently as he led her through the opulent halls of the building towards her temporary bay on the third floor.

The VVIP section was adorned with extravagant decor, setting the perfect luxurious ambiance for distinguished guests like her.

As they reached her suite, Heaven observed the lavish furnishings and elegant touches that adorned the space. She nodded in acknowledgment as Min-Soo informed her that her luggage had already been placed in the room, signaling that he would be readily available at her beck and call through the buzzer on her key.

Heaven couldn't help but notice the slight air of formality in Min-Soo's demeanor, which seemed to be a result of years of perfecting his role as a caretaker for esteemed guests like herself.

As Min-Soo excused himself with another respectful bow, Heaven took a moment to settle into her surroundings.

The short hallway led her to what seemed to be the main entrance, and without hesitation, she pushed the door open.

The room was spacious and elegantly decorated, a stark contrast to the chaos she had experienced earlier.

Feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over her, Heaven decided to take a much-needed shower.

The warm water cascading down her body felt like a soothing balm, washing away the fatigue and stress of the day. As the steam filled the room, she closed her eyes and let out a long sigh, feeling the tension leave her muscles.

After her refreshing shower, Heaven crawled into the plush bed, feeling the softness of the sheets against her skin. The comfort of the bed was inviting, and she couldn't resist the call of sleep. With a weary sigh, she closed her eyes and drifted off into a deep slumber.

As she slept, her mind drifted to the challenges that lay ahead. Tonight would bring new obstacles and uncertainties, and Heaven couldn't help but feel a sense of anxiety creeping in.

"I hope I don't lose it," she thought to herself, her mind muddled with a mix of determination and fear.

But for now, she allowed herself to succumb to the darkness of sleep, seeking refuge in its temporary embrace

~Two Hours Later~

Heaven's POV

As I stood at the threshold of my suite, already dressed in my finest attire, I could feel a surge of energy coursing through my veins. The anticipation for the upcoming auction pulsed through me, fueling my disdain. Glancing at the clock, I noted that I had a mere ten minutes before the event officially commenced.

Pacing the room, I double-checked my appearance, ensuring that every detail was immaculate.

My attire exuded sophistication and power, a reflection of the image I sought to portray at the auction. Despite my eagerness to leave this forsaking place, I remained poised, waiting for the opportune moment to make my entrance.

Finally, I decided it was time to depart the confines of my suite and face the impending ordeal. With a resigned sigh, I steeled myself for the upcoming interactions and the inevitable theatrics that would unfold at the auction.

Summoning Min-Soo with a press of the intercom button, I was slightly taken aback by the speed of his arrival. His promptness hinted at a level of dedication that I found somewhat surprising.

As he guided me towards the ground floor where the auction was held, I couldn't help but wonder if he had indeed hurried to meet me, his pace almost unnaturally brisk.

The distant echoes of boisterous cheers and chatter grew louder as we neared the event space.

The cacophony of voices and the frenzied excitement of the attendees grated on my senses, evoking a sense of disdain within me. Despite my internal repulsion, I maintained a mask of detachment, concealing my true feelings behind a facade of indifference.

Upon entering the grand hall after Min-Soo opened the massive wooden double door, I was immediately taken aback by the sight that greeted me.

The space was bustling with a diverse crowd of people mingling and engaging in various activities. However, what truly caught my attention and sent a shock through my system were the naked hybrids scattered throughout the room.

These hybrids, distinct from their human counterparts, were adorned with collars, some of which appeared to be electrical in nature.

It was evident that they were serving the guests in various capacities, from offering drinks to acting as inanimate objects for the guests' convenience, such as tables, footrests, chairs, and even — disturbingly — as items of a more intimate nature.

As I processed the surreal and dehumanizing scene before me, a wave of revulsion and disbelief washed over me.

It was unsettling to witness how these hybrids were treated as mere commodities, stripped of their autonomy and reduced to objects of utility or even pleasure for the guests' amusement.

The callousness and disregard for their dignity left a bitter taste in my mouth, prompting me to question the depths of depravity to which some were willing to sink in the pursuit of luxury and status.

Shaking off the initial shock and discomfort that clouded my thoughts, I focused on navigating my way through the crowd towards the front of the hall, where the other VVIPs were expected to be seated.

Despite the unsettling spectacle around me, I maintained a composed exterior, masking my inner turmoil to blend in with the opulent surroundings and the oblivious guests who seemed unfazed by the disturbing display of exploitation and objectification.

As I approached the designated area for the VVIPs, my mind raced with a flurry of conflicting emotions — from outrage and indignation at the deplorable treatment of the hybrids to a sense of helplessness in the face of such blatant disregard for basic decency and empathy.

However, in this lavish and surreal setting where decadence and debauchery seemed to reign supreme, I knew that I had to tread carefully and play along with the facade of sophistication and privilege that enveloped the event.

Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I prepared to engage with the other VVIPs, all the while grappling with the unsettling reality of the scene unfolding before me.

In a world where the boundaries between humanity and exploitation seemed blurred beyond recognition, I found myself teetering on the edge of a moral precipice, forced to navigate a precarious balance between complicity and conscience in a place where the veneer of luxury masked a darker truth lurking beneath the surface.

As I observed the busy crowd engrossed in their conversations, my attention was suddenly captured by the presence of a male Hybrid with dark grey fuzzy ears.

His submissive posture piqued my interest, evoking a sense of compassion within me.

The sight of him in such a vulnerable state stirred a desire within me to offer solace and reassurance. The urge to embrace him and promise a life free of sorrow tugged at my heartstrings.

However, I composed myself, aware of the delicate balance of the situation.

"Master, what would you like me to do?" He's question, submissive and repetitive.

When the Hybrid addressed me as "master," I couldn't help but be taken aback.

It seemed like a preconceived notion ingrained within him, highlighting the complexities of his existence.

My desire to treat him with dignity and respect clashed with the power dynamic implied by the title of "master."

In a bid to maintain composure and avoid any unintended consequences, I gently dismissed his offer of service.

"I don't need anything, you may leave" my response, though calm and collected, reflected the inner turmoil brought about by the encounter.

As I navigated this unexpected interaction, I grappled with the moral implications of the power dynamics at play.

The concept of freedom and agency weighed heavily on my mind, prompting me to tread carefully in my dealings with the Hybrid.

Ultimately, my decision to politely decline his offer stemmed from a desire to uphold my values of compassion and autonomy.

The nuances of such interactions serve as a powerful reminder of the intricacies of the human experience and the ethical considerations that inform our actions.

The dramatic reaction from the Hybrid in front of me left me feeling a mix of shock, confusion, and sadness all at once.

"Please master, I can make you feel good" he said a little desperate.

His sudden offer to "make me feel good" in an attempt to appease me was both startling and heartbreaking. It made me wonder just how much these creatures had been pushed to such desperate measures, to the point of willingly offering themselves in such a vulnerable way.

"I-I'm sorry master, I should not have overstepped. How would y-you like to punish me? You can do physical, mental or both" His voice wobbled in fear.

As I observed the fear and submission in the Hybrid's eyes, I couldn't help but feel a wave of empathy wash over me.

The pain I felt for him was like a physical ache in my chest, a reminder of the cruel circumstances that had likely led him to this point. His willingness to accept any form of punishment, whether mental, physical, or both, struck a deep chord within me.

The concept of punishing him for simply staring at me was absurd and unjust.

The idea that he felt the need to preemptively offer himself up for punishment spoke volumes about the toxic power dynamic at play in our interactions.

It was a stark reminder of the imbalance of power and the inherent cruelty of the system that had allowed such behavior to become normalized.

I couldn't bring myself to entertain the notion of punishing him for a perceived transgression that was, in reality, nothing more than a natural human reaction.

It was clear to me that this cycle of fear, submission, and punishment needed to be broken, for both our sakes. My heart went out to the Hybrid in front of me, and I made a silent vow to do whatever I could to protect him and others like him from further harm.

As I looked into his eyes, still wide with fear and uncertainty, I made a silent promise to myself to be a beacon of kindness and compassion in a world that seemed determined to stamp out any shred of humanity.

It was time to challenge the status quo, to stand up against injustice, and to fight for a future where beings like him could exist free from fear and oppression.

"I'll let you off the hook for now, defy me again and I won't hesitate to punish you" the words left a bitter taste in my mouth as I saw the fear heightening in his eyes.

Just great.

Fortunately, he took the signal and left me alone allowing me to take a breath.

Just then a man clad in a dark purple suit appeared on stage.

"Good evening fine ladies and gentlemen, my name is Lee Chan and I'll be your host for the five days of your stay"

I couldn't help but notice the air of sophistication and mystery that surrounded him. His aura exuded confidence and command, making it clear that he was no ordinary host.

The slight creases around his eyes hinted at a life full of experiences and secrets yet to be revealed.

His voice carried a sense of authority as he addressed the audience, his words flowing smoothly and effortlessly. The way he held himself spoke of someone well-versed in the art of public speaking, capable of captivating the attention of everyone in the room with just a few carefully chosen words.

"So, for those of you who were not here last time, this event will be slightly different from the usual one." He announced and a tingle of excitement ran through the crowd.

People leaned forward in their seats, eager to find out what surprises he had in store for them. The anticipation in the room was palpable, a mixture of curiosity and thrill hanging in the air.

"We promised you something different last year and alas the wait is finally over"

I couldn't help but wonder what he was referring to.

Was it something extraordinary, something beyond their wildest dreams?

The crowd seemed to think so, judging by their enthusiastic response. Claps and cheers filled the room, creating a symphony of excitement that reverberated off the walls.

Lost in my thoughts, I realized that I was completely clueless about what was going to happen next.

The unknown was unnerving, like standing on the edge of a cliff with no idea what lay beyond.

As Lee Chan continued to speak, I tried to decipher the subtle nuances in his words, searching for hints about the surprise that awaited us.

The scene raised eyebrows among the audience as several workers appeared on stage, each pushing what seemed to be large cages covered with curtains.

"As we unveil these exhibits, ladies and gentlemen, you are about to witness the rarest and most exotic hybrids in the world," the host declared with a hint of anticipation in his voice.

The crowd's excitement was palpable, with some individuals audibly expressing their eagerness, making me subtly scowl in their direction.

Sick fucks.

Such displays left me contemplating the state of our world. Have we truly reached a point where exploiting such unique creatures for entertainment has become commonplace?

It was disheartening to witness the lack of empathy and ethics prevalent in those driven solely by greed and power, oblivious to the suffering they inflict upon these defenseless beings.

This blatant disregard for the well-being of these hybrids spoke volumes about the values and morals that seemed to be diminishing in a society consumed by material gain.

The hosts and participants seemed to be detached from any sense of compassion or consideration for the creatures they showcased, treating them as mere commodities for profit.

The comparison to how even our domesticated animal companions are treated with kindness and respect highlighted the stark contrast in the attitudes towards different beings sharing our planet.

It served as a stark reminder of the importance of empathy and ethical behavior in our interactions with all living beings, urging us to reflect on the consequences of our actions and the impact they have on the world around us.

"So here, ladies and gentlemen, we have the exotic breeds you've all been waiting for," he announced, his tone both enticing and authoritative. The murmurs of excitement and whispers of desire filled the room, creating a palpable sense of fervor.

Sitting amongst the crowd, a deep sense of discomfort settled in my stomach as I observed the reactions of those around me. The air was thick with anticipation, but my own emotions swirled with a different kind of intensity.

The moment of revelation arrived as the curtains were dramatically pulled back, revealing the first group of creatures within the cages.

"Behold, a rare breed of hybrids, ladies and gentlemen, here we have peacock hybrids," the announcer declared with a sardonic smile playing on his lips, as the audience erupted in admiration.

The peacock hybrids stood before the enraptured crowd, their exotic beauty a sight to behold. However, any semblance of awe was shattered by the harrowing realization of the creatures' condition.

The scene was both enchanting and unsettling, captivating my attention with the breathtaking beauty of the peacock hybrids while simultaneously leaving me disturbed by the emptiness in their eyes.

The worker's revelation of the three unique specimens had initially filled me with wonder and awe at their exquisite appearance.

Each hybrid displayed a mesmerizing blend of blue and green feathers in striking patterns that adorned their bodies in distinct ways.

The first peacock hybrid stood regally with feathers cascading down the back of their neck, creating a dramatic contrast against their hairline.

The second one sported a majestic array of feathers woven intricately into their hair, adding an ethereal quality to their overall look.

Lastly, the third hybrid showcased a symphony of colors with feathers adorning their back, reminiscent of a majestic cape unfurled behind them.

As I gazed upon these magnificent creatures, I couldn't help but notice the profound sadness etched into their expressions. Despite their physical beauty, their eyes betrayed a haunting emptiness, devoid of any spark of life or vitality.

It was as if they had resigned themselves to a fate of captivity and confinement, succumbing to a sense of hopelessness that weighed heavily upon them.

Their once vibrant plumage appeared dull and lifeless, their expressions vacant and devoid of their natural grace.

A wave of sorrow washed over me as I gazed upon these majestic beings, stripped of their dignity and reduced to mere spectacle for the entertainment of others.

The juxtaposition of their innate beauty and their current state tugged at my heartstrings, evoking a deep sense of empathy and sadness.

In that moment, a profound sense of revulsion washed over me, as the stark reality of humanity's capacity for exploitation and cruelty was laid bare.

The blatant disregard for the well-being of these innocent creatures for the sake of personal gain struck a chord deep within my soul, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.

As the crowd marveled at the spectacle before them, I couldn't help but feel a sense of moral outrage at the depravity of it all.

In that moment of clarity, I couldn't help but feel a profound sense of shame at being part of a species capable of such heinous acts.

The cries of the peacock hybrids, though silent, echoed loudly in my ears, a haunting reminder of the cruelty that pervaded the world.

As Lee Chan introduced the next group, a sense of awe washed over the audience.

"Our next group is even more majestic, here we have a group of black lions," he declared, prompting gasps of amazement from the spectators, myself included.

Black lions, a rare sight in their natural form, were even more elusive in a hybrid state. The creatures before us were a striking blend of power and grace, their jet-black fur gleaming under the bright lights of the room.

These hybrids possessed a unique allure, their features a captivating mixture of familiar and otherworldly.

With round black ears and long, spear-like tails, they exuded an air of mystery and majesty that left the audience spellbound.

Despite their impressive presence, the black lion hybrids seemed to maintain an enigmatic composure, their expressions unreadable as they stood together in the center of their enclosure.

While their beauty was undeniable, there was a sense of untamed wildness about them, a reminder of the primal forces that lurked within these magnificent creatures.

The black lion hybrids stood as living symbols of power and strength, their presence a reminder of the untamed forces that still existed in the world.

Lee Chan's voice filled the room once more, commanding attention as he introduced the third group to the eager audience.

"Moving on to our final group," he announced, his words tinged with a sense of anticipation.

"This group is a true testament to diversity. They have formed a unique pack, but what truly sets them apart is the fact that each member belongs to a different predator species. These individuals are some of the most formidable predators you will ever come across."

As he spoke, a spark of excitement flashed in his eyes, and a subtle aura of raw desire seemed to envelop the room, fueling the palpable anticipation of the spectators.

The curtain concealing the last cage was swiftly drawn back, revealing a sight that left everyone in the room spellbound. Gasps of awe and wonder rippled through the crowd at the sight of the hybrid creatures before them.

The formidable presence of the black lions had already pushed the boundaries of what the audience had expected to see, but the creatures now on display surpassed even that.

Each hybrid was a mesmerizing blend of strength, grace, and ferocity, embodying the essence of their individual predator species in a harmonious yet awe-inspiring fusion.

I was captivated by their presence, drawn in by their allure and mesmerizing appearance. My gaze lingered on each of them, unable to look away until one of them met my eyes, creating a moment of connection that sent a shiver down my spine.

The feeling that washed over me was a mix of fear and excitement, leaving me uncertain of how to interpret the intensity of the encounter.

He had a striking appearance, with silver-grey eyes that seemed to hold a depth of emotion and wisdom. His long silver hair looked soft and inviting, adding to the mystique of his overall look.

His features were a blend of softness and strength, with pink plum pouty lips, chubby cheeks, and a jawline that exuded a sense of divine beauty.

Despite my keen observation, I couldn't spot any obvious signs of him being a hybrid, a realization that added to the enigmatic aura surrounding him.

The thought that he could pass for a human, albeit an exceptionally attractive one, sparked curiosity within me about the nature of his origins and the kind of hybrid he might be.

The onlookers engaging in betting and exchanging comments about the hybrids stirred a mix of emotions within me, from a sense of curiosity to a hint of discomfort that manifested a sick feeling in my stomach.

As Lee Chan opened the bidding for the exotic hybrids, the room buzzed with anticipation. The attendees, clearly eager to take home a unique companion, were ready to showcase their wealth in the bidding war that was about to ensue.

Lee Chan's warning about the hefty price and potential dangers of owning an exotic hybrid, especially predators, did little to deter the crowd. Enthusiasts of these rare creatures were undeterred by the risks involved, eager to experience the thrill of owning such a unique pet.

"First up for bidding are the peacock hybrids. $30 million for each exotic bird hybrid."

The room fell silent as the host announced the starting price. Excitement filled the air as attendees raised their number pads, signaling their bids and competing against one another to secure their desired hybrid.

"I see $60 million...$80 million...$80 million sold! $800 million to buy them all forever??" A hush fell over the crowd as they hesitated to commit to such an exorbitant amount.

Despite the initial reluctance to meet the steep asking price, the bidding war eventually came to a close as the host declared the peacock hybrids sold at $80 million each for a three-month ownership period.

The successful bidder's triumph was evident as the host's announcement reverberated through the room, signaling the conclusion of the intense bidding process.

As the auction continued, with more exotic hybrids up for grabs, the attendees remained on the edge of their seats, eager to participate in the next round of bidding and potentially secure their own unique companion.

With each bid placed, the tension in the room mounted, showcasing the attendees' determination to acquire these rare and coveted creatures, no matter the cost.

Despite the extravagant prices and inherent risks associated with owning exotic hybrids, the allure of these magnificent creatures proved irresistible to those in attendance.

As the auction unfolded, it became increasingly clear that for these select individuals, the opportunity to bring home an exotic hybrid was worth every penny, regardless of the challenges that lay ahead.

"Finally, the moment you have all been waiting for, ladies and gentlemen. The pack hybrids!" Lee Chan announced.

As the pack hybrids were revealed, the room erupted in excitement and anticipation. People had been eagerly awaiting this moment, and the tension in the air was palpable.

These rare creatures were highly sought after, and it was no surprise that they came with a hefty price tag.

The auctioneer wasted no time in getting down to business, stating the prices for these exquisite beings.

"$100 million each to take them home for three months,$5 billion to buy them forever." A hush fell over the crowd as the numbers were announced.

The figures caused an uproar among the attendees, who began shouting out bids and offers in a frenzy of excitement.

Amidst the chaos, one voice rang out above the rest. It was smug and high-pitched, a voice I knew all to well.

"$5 billion to buy them all," the voice declared, the words dripping with arrogance.

The room fell silent as all eyes turned to the source of the bid. A wave of shock and disbelief washed over the crowd, as this unexpected offer seemed to defy all reason.

Park Ji-Soo.

Her father, Mr. Park one of my business investors, is honestly one of the nicest guys you'll ever meet. I mean, the man would give you the shirt off his back if you needed it.

But when it comes to Ji-Soo, he just can't say no. She's got him wrapped around her little finger, that's for sure. It's like she knows exactly how to manipulate him into giving her whatever she wants. And let me tell you, she's not afraid to use those tactics.

I've seen her throw tantrums that would put a toddler to shame. It's kind of impressive, in a twisted way. But at the end of the day, she's still daddy's little girl, and he'll do anything to keep her happy. It's quite the dynamic they have going on.

The tension was palpable as silence fell upon the crowd. I couldn't stand by and watch as those innocent hybrids faced a grim fate in the clutches of such a despicable character like Ji-Soo.

The very thought of her twisted intentions made my blood boil. It was clear that she viewed these creatures as nothing more than objects to satisfy her dark desires.

Determined to prevent this travesty, I knew I had to act.

I watched as the auctioneer processed the bid, his expression a mix of surprise and calculation.

The room was tense with anticipation, the air thick with the weight of the moment. It seemed as though the entire fate of the pack hybrids hung in the balance, their futures uncertain.

I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease as I watched the drama unfold. The stakes were high, and the outcome of this bidding war would have far-reaching consequences.

In that moment, I knew that I was about to be drawn into a world of intrigue and suspense unlike anything I had ever experienced before.

"Anyone bold enough to beat Ms. Park? No one? Okay sol-"

"$50 billion dollars" I announced coolly, my expression passive.

Shocking everyone present, but to me, no price was too high to protect these precious beings from exploitation and cruelty.

"S-s-sold to Ms. Valentino" He closed of the bidding equally stunned.

As the auctioneer announced my winning bid, I felt a mix of relief and sadness. The onlookers' reactions of disbelief only fueled my conviction that these hybrids deserved more than to be mere objects of desire. They were living beings, deserving of respect and protection.

As I stood up from my seat in the dimly lit hall, a heavy cloak of mental exhaustion settled over me.

The weight of the night's traumatic events clung to me like a second skin, weighing me down with every step I took towards the exit. The eyes of the onlookers bore into my back like fiery beams, their incredulous stares adding to the heaviness I already carried.

Halfway to my suite, a piercing, high-pitched voice sliced through the thick air, calling my name with a grating insistence that grated on my frayed nerves.

"Heaven," she practically screeched, the sound reverberating off the walls.

Resignation washed over me as I paused, steeling myself for yet another unwelcome interaction. With a weary sigh, I turned around to face her, forcing a smile onto my face despite the exhaustion that clung to me like a shroud.

"Yes?" I replied, my voice tinged with forced politeness.

"Uhm, hey, I wanted to talk to you about something," she began, her tone falsely sweet and grating on my frayed nerves.

I could feel the exhaustion seeping deeper into my bones as I braced myself for what I knew would be a tiresome conversation.

The weight of the day's events pressed down on me, every word uttered by her feeling like another burden to bear.

"Whatever it is, it better be quick. I'm tired and eager to rest," I interjected, my patience wearing thin as I anticipated the inevitable direction this conversation would take.

The desire to escape to the solace of my suite grew stronger with each passing moment, the need for respite from the day's trials becoming an almost physical ache.

Ji-Soo's facade of politeness had vanished, revealing a more aggressive side to her character.

"Alright then. Those hybrids are mine, you can't just swoop in and take them away!"

She seemed determined to claim ownership over the hybrids, despite the fact that there was no evidence to support her claim.

In response to her bold accusations, I remained firm and resolute, unwilling to entertain her baseless demands.

"I bought them fair and square. Go find someone else to bother" I flicked my hand in dismissal.

"I'll pay you any amount for the hybrids" she said, sounding crazed.

It was clear that she believed money could solve all problems, regardless of the legitimacy of her claim.

The mere suggestion that I would be swayed by financial compensation was both insulting and absurd, highlighting her lack of understanding of the situation.

"Do you honestly think you could pay me more than I had offered. Please, with that pesky amount you offered do you really think it can be compared to the amount I bid on?" I asked her, almost laughing in her face.

"Heaven Valentino. Give me those hybrids if you don't want problems" she threatened.

It became apparent that the Ji-Soo had either mustered the balls to confront me or was simply oblivious to the reality of the situation.

Despite her boldness, it was clear that the girl was misguided in her belief that she could simply take what she wanted.

The hybrids were not hers to claim, and I was not about to relinquish them without a fight.

"I'm sorry, did you just threaten me? Are you sure you want to go down that road?" My voice was low and filled with malice and the utter insulation that came out of her mouth.

"I can give you more money, an amount I can guarantee you can last you a lifetime even in the after life. You of all people should know exactly what I'm capable of, and should know your place. I'm not one of your little followers that you can just coerce into doing your bidding. I can make you disappear off the face of this earth with just a snap of my finger. Tsk." I felt waves of anger roll off as I told her off.

Realization seemed to kick as her daring expression faltered.

I held more power and influence than she seemed to grasp, and I wasn't afraid to assert that authority if necessary.

Reminding her of the vast resources at my disposal, I emphasized the stark contrast between our respective positions.

In closing, I left Ji-Soo with a stark reminder of the vast divide between us, both in terms of resources and resolve.

I refused to be swayed by her attempts at intimidation, standing firm in my conviction and prepared to safeguard my interests against any who sought to challenge them.

"Go home, stop wasting daddy's money and be a good daughter for once and do something practical with your life"

with that I turned away from her and left her standing there slightly terrified and annoyed.

Bitch.

As I swiftly approached my room, a myriad of emotions rushed through me - confusion, fear, and a hint of curiosity. The sight that greeted me was nothing short of surreal and unnerving. Seven striking hybrids, their submissive poses causing a mix of shock and discomfort to ripple through me.

Their nakedness and vulnerability heightened the intensity of the moment, making it all the more challenging to navigate. A part of me wanted to offer them some form of comfort or assistance, while another part grappled with the ethical implications of such a gesture.

The intricate dance of politeness and propriety played out in my mind as I struggled to find the right course of action. Should I acknowledge them with a greeting, or prioritize their need for clothing and modesty? The internal debate rendered me momentarily paralyzed, my expression a reflection of the internal turmoil brewing within me.

Despite the gravity of the situation, I couldn't ignore the undeniable physical allure of the hybrids. Their sculpted bodies and striking features stirred a mix of admiration and guilt within me, a reminder of the need to maintain professionalism and respect in the face of such temptation.

Drawing a shaky breath, I braced myself for the unnerving task ahead. The weight of the unspoken tension in the room pressed down on me as I steeled myself to take the next step.

A voice laced with uncertainty, I mustered the courage to address the hybrids, hoping to navigate this challenging encounter with grace and composure.

"Uh, hello?"

As I awaited their response, my mind raced with questions and uncertainties. Each passing moment seemed to stretch on endlessly, heightening the tension in the room.

Despite my internal turmoil, I had to maintain a facade of composure, hoping to mask the torrent of emotions swirling inside me.

With a steady voice, I mustered the courage to break the silence that hung between us.

"My name is Heaven Valentino," I introduced myself, the words flowing out with a sense of resolve that I didn't know I possessed.

"Would you please tell me your names?" I asked softly.

As I stood there, waiting for their reply, a whirlwind of emotions churned within me. The tension is thick in the air. Panic settled in as I searched their expressions for a clue.

The tiger's voice broke through my thoughts, stuttering with hesitation.

"You can call us whatever you want, master," He said, his voice low and submissive.

"It would be better to call you by your names" I said again, and I could see them visibly shaking.

"A-are you sure m-master?" The tiger spoke again, what seemed like fear laced his tone.

Taking a deep breath, I responded to the tiger's question with conviction. I need to show them that I mean no harm, that my only intention is to connect with them on a basic level.

"I promise I won't do anything to you, I just want to know what your names are, that's all," I said, a hint of vulnerability in my voice.

The hybrids exchanged glances, their posture relaxing slightly.

I waited with bated breath, hoping my words had struck a chord with them.

The tiger spoke again, "My name is Taehyung, I'm a white tiger, Yoongi, the white jaguar, Hoseok, the snow leopard, Jungkook, the black panther, Seokjin, the white lion, Namjoon, the black alpha wolf, and lastly Jimin…"

Huh?

As Taehyung trailed off, I couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation hanging in the air.

Why did he stop? Is there something I'm missing here?

"Why did you stop?" I asked, trying to understand what was happening.

Taehyung seemed to be really scared, I could see fear in his eyes and his body was trembling slightly. It was like he was having a panic attack. I had to do something to help him calm down.

"Hey, calm down, I'm not going to hurt you, I promise," I said softly, trying to reassure him.

I slowly moved closer to him and gently placed a comforting hand on his head. He flinched violently at first, making the others tense up, ready to defend.

I kept stroking his head gently, trying to soothe him. Gradually, his breathing started to slow down and his body relaxed. He even moved closer to me. His hair was surprisingly soft.

As I watched the adorable reaction of the large kitty to ear scratches, I couldn't help but chuckle at the sight.

He seemed to be in pure bliss as he indulged in the pets, reveling in the sensation of being pampered.

My heart swelled with affection for the Hybrid, marveling at how something so simple could bring such joy.

When I attempted to pull my hand away, he quickly grabbed my wrist, silently pleading for more attention.

Unable to resist the cute gesture, I obliged and resumed the ear scratches, making sure to adjust the pressure to his liking.

The satisfaction on his face was evident as he reached a state of pure contentment, lost in the moment of pure bliss.

"Don't worry, I promise to give you pets later, okay sweetie?" He nodded with a slight pout and I silently cooed at the sight.

"Okay. You ended on Jimin. I know he's an albino cobra, but why did you stop?" I questioned, genuinely befuddled by the situation.

During the event when the hybrids were been introduced, staff members handed out information brochures on what breed the hybrids were and how we were supposed to go about their animal side if adopted.

It didn't really surprise me when I had come across Jimin's profile his anomalous unworldly beauty evident to his animal counterpart.

Just then, a timid and delicate voice spoke up.

"You're not scared?" it quivered, almost barely audible against the backdrop of silence.

It was Jimin, the Cobra hybrid, talking.

I couldn't help but notice the unexpected softness in his voice. It wasn't deep and intimidating, nor was it squeaky and annoying.

It had this charming quality to it, like a lullaby that could soothe you into a peaceful slumber.

In that instant, as I looked into his eyes that seemed to hold a world of innocence within them, he appeared almost heavenly, pure and untouched by the chaos of the world. How could anyone want to harm such a gentle spirit?

"Scared of what?" I responded, genuinely puzzled by his question.

"Huh, you're not afraid of me? I-I'm a s-snake, you know? Most people tend to freak out around me," he stammered, his words barely audible had I not been standing so close to him.

"Sweetie, of course not," I reassured him with a warm smile, causing him to look at me in utter surprise, as the others trailed behind him, observing the unexpected exchange of kindness in a normally hostile environment.

In that moment, as I gazed upon their stunned faces, I couldn't help but wonder – was it the fearless determination in my words that took them aback, or was it the genuine care and protectiveness that shone through? I needed them to understand, to realize their worth and stand tall in their own right.

So, I laid it out for them plain and simple. Promising to shield them from harm, to never let anyone mistreat them while I was around. They had to hold their heads high, never giving in to disrespect. Mutual respect was key, showing strength and solidarity against any who sought to undermine them.

I urged them to speak up, to assert their voices and claim their autonomy. Their lives, their choices – no one had the right to strip them of that, not even me. They deserved better, I knew it with every fiber of my being. And I vowed to do everything in my power to make sure they received it.

I gazed at the group before me, my expression grave yet full of determination. The air was filled with tension, anticipation hanging heavy over the room.

It was crucial for me to make myself clear on the rules moving forward. My voice resonated through the space, each word enunciated with precision, ensuring no room for misinterpretation.

"And also, under no circumstances should you refer to me or any other person as master. You will address them and me with our names, understood?" My tone was firm, a command not to be challenged.

It was a direct challenge to the oppressive societal norms that had long plagued them all.

I want them to understand that they were no longer bound by the chains of conditioning or the absurd rules that certain humans had imposed upon them.

I want to ensure that they never fall prey to the manipulative clutches of another human again.

They deserve to move freely, to act on their own accord without having to seek permission or validation. In this moment, I made it clear that their lives belonged to them, and no one had the right to strip away their autonomy, certainly not on my watch.

If there was one thing I, Heaven Valentino, stood for, it was freedom.

3rd Person's POV

The name itself carried weight, symbolizing a rebellion against the conventional power dynamics that sought to oppress them.

By rejecting the title of 'master,' Heaven was empowering them to embrace their individuality and stand tall as equals, united in their collective struggle for liberation.

The room fell silent as Heaven's words lingered in the air, a palpable shift in the atmosphere signaling a new chapter for them all.

It was a risky move, challenging the status quo, but Heaven knew it was necessary for their survival.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Hey hey, it's the author extraordinaire popping in!

I poured my heart and soul into crafting this story, aiming to strike a balance between clarity and a dash of mystery to keep you hooked.

We're just scratching the surface here, with a rollercoaster of thrilling events awaiting the boys and Heavens. Brace yourself for a whirlwind of changes, with peaks of joy and valleys of despair.

Your feedback is like gold to me, so don't hold back!

I hope this chapter gave you a cozy little reading nook to escape to, dear readers! Your unending support keeps the energy in my fingers to write this😉. Cheers to more adventures together!

Yours in creativity,

Your most adored author-nim.

TAGLIST OPEN!

TAGLIST: @strxwbloody

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httpknjoon · 8 months

Text

marry me chicken | ksj

plot | After this dinner night with Jin, you learned how far can a chicken dish go.

word count | 1.9k+

genres | fluff, humor, slight angst, established relationship au, celebrity au

pairing | actor!jin x famous!reader

note | i love this couple so much. it's always easy writing about them two <3 enjoy reading!

main masterlist | the a-listers: confidential masterlist

"I don’t think I’ll marry. I mean it’s not like I’m against marriage. It’s just that I really enjoy being on my own for now.”

That line was your answer in one of the interviews you’ve done for a magazine cover when you barely turned 20. You don’t even remember why the interviewer was asking such a thing who just entered their twenties, but you remembered why you answered that.

At the time of that interview, you were living alone for the longest time. You have been residing in your own house since you were fifteen, learning to do things on your own. When you don’t have any agenda, you usually find yourself silently reading books in your then-small garden while wearing your pajamas or writing random thoughts in your room while playing some music in the background. You avoid going out then as you feel like the paparazzi are just burning holes in your skin. Every time you go out before, you would hear new made-up stories about you.

But now, you’re sitting on your kitchen counter, watching this man prepare tonight’s dinner with his favorite apron on. The appetizing aroma of butter and garlic makes its way through your senses. He loves cooking, you learned about that fact before you two even began dating, and you love watching him doing things he loves. This is how you usually spend your date nights for the past two years: in each others’ houses, enjoying the company of one another without cameras following you around.

Moments like this, where it’s just you and Jin doing things alone, make you think about the things you said. You would simply take that back and burn every print of paper with that statement. You two already discussed your future plans but when it came to marriage, it was vague and rarely mentioned.

‘Bub, I’ll melt.” Jin suddenly said as he placed a piece of chicken on a plate.

Your head lifted since you were resting it at the palm of your hands, “Hmm?”

Jin looks at you. He can tell that you didn’t really get what he said. You had a confused look on your face and he just shook his head with a smile and chuckle.

“You were staring at me,” he told you.

You laughed before making a dramatic eye roll, “Oh, please. Can’t a girl lovingly watch her boyfriend making dinner for her?”

“No, she can’t because her boyfriend gets so self-conscious when he feels her eyes on him,” Jin replied.

You laughed once again, now walking in his direction, and slowly wrapped your arms around his waist while Jin tried to focus on garnishing his dish. Taking in the smell of his perfume and the softness of his sweatshirt, you mumbled behind him,

“We’ve been dating for more than two years now. I really expected you not to blush every time I watched you focus on something. You should get used to it or else…”

“Or else what, Bub?”

Suddenly, Jin turned around still caged in your arms. His chin sticks on his chest as he tries to meet your eyes. There, he sees a cheeky grin on your lips.

“Or else I might look at something else—”

“Now that you wouldn’t do,” he smirked, wrapping his arms all over you. ‘Because I won’t let you. I’ll just make you look at me while I feel shy rather than letting your eyes go somewhere else. I won’t let that happen. Your eyes can’t look at somebody else. Just me. Only me.”

“Ooh, possessive. I like it.” You squinted your eyes at the same time you wiggled your brows, making him chuckle.

“You know I am.” he teased back. “Anyway, let’s go enjoy what I cooked. Prepare the wine while I put these on the table.”

You nodded, “Okay. Noted, sir.”

He snickered with that. The dinner went on with you, Jin, and your dining table with a lit candle for a romantic effect. Your daughter, Francheskat, was also quietly walking around the whole time. She was just observing you and your boyfriend while you chatted about different topics, looking judgy the whole time.

“How was it?” your boyfriend asked with a small piece of chicken left on your plate.

You hummed at first, chewing on the meat, before answering with your mouth full, “It’s creamy, it’s juicy. It’s perfect, I love it! Where did you find this recipe?”

You were so lost in the meal that you didn’t notice Jin shifting on his seat and gulping down, “Online…”

“Hmm, okay.”

Throughout the whole home date, Jin didn’t let you do anything except pour the wine for you two. He was the one who cooked and cleaned up even though you insisted on helping him in your own house.

“At least let me wash the plates.”

“No, you’ll sit down right there or I’ll tie you up–”

Jin just realized what he was saying as soon as it came out of his mouth. He turned his head to the side, where you sat again on the kitchen counter with your chin on your palms. You squinted again,

“Ooh, that’s so kinky of you, Sir.”

You wanted to laugh out loud at how he looked away with flustered red ears and neck. Ever since that time, you two did that thirsty tweets segment for Buzzfeed, you liked teasing him with anything that had something to do with him that had sexual undertones. Jin can’t do anything about it since he finds it hilarious how good you can always circle back on that kind of topic when he’s talking about other topics. It shuts him up sometimes. It didn’t help that he easily blushed and you knew a lot about him after that thirst tweet segment.

“Guess, I’ll just go wait outside.” you stood up with a playful smirk. “Francheskat, honey, let’s go.”

Almost an hour later, you and Jin are just chilling in your backyard. You had your favorite picnic blanket laid out on the green grass with your pillows. The fairy lights you had installed when you bought the house set up the mood perfectly. You sat there while Jin laid his head on your lap. He was talking about a project he auditioned for while you read the script he got for it.

“It was nice. The character seems well thought out and so is his backstory…”

You tried to stay present and listen to his enthusiasm for the role but he mentioned something that you have been thinking about for the last few months.

“Like, he was doing what he was asked to do for the sake of his marriage with Jen’s character–”

“Do you think you’ll ever marry me?” you blurted out of nowhere.

Silence became so loud as you felt Jin slowly move away from your lap. You pursed your lips, looking away while feeling the embarrassment boiling in your stomach.

“What?” Jin asked in a tone you cannot comprehend. Happy? Shocked? Confused?

Well, you can’t tell because you won’t look at him, “Nothing. Nothing. Let’s not talk about it anymore. Maybe I should get more wine–”

You were about to get up, wanting to leave the scene you began, but Jin held your wrist to stop you from going. Finally, you looked at him. And you don’t know if it’s the fairy lights or the wine but his eyes seemed to sparkle more like a little kid. His lips were slightly opened and seemed to form into a small smile.

“Stay.”

Sighing, you sat back down and your boyfriend did the same thing, properly meeting your eyes. You bit your inner cheeks. It felt like there was a drum inside your chest while you asked yourself in your head why you asked such a question. But Jin’s face remained calm— or happy? His lips were pursed but you can see the ends of his lips turning upward.

“Let’s just act I didn’t ask that. It’s embarrassing,” you mumbled, looking down.

You heard him chuckle. He reached for your hands and subtly played with your fingers by clasping them with his. You felt his lips, light as a feather but soft as a pillow, on your knuckles.

“You know… I have no other person in mind if someone would ask me who I want to spend the rest of my life with. Except you. If I were to write my vows, I would like them to be dedicated to you and no one else. So yeah, I think I would marry you.”

Fuck wine. Yes, you’re blaming it on the wine because how can you sob over three sentences your boyfriend just said while you two sat under fairy lights and a starry night sky. You closed your eyes for a second, letting the tears flow down your cheeks while letting out a shaky laugh. You felt stupid for even feeling nervous around Jin. but now, a sense of relief grew inside you. You opened your eyes and instantly instantly saw his smiling face. You were about to lean in to give him a kiss. But he continued,

"And when I bought the ring, I made sure to have it exactly on your ring finger’s size.”

Your eyes widened, eyebrows raised. You audibly gasped when you realized what he just told you. The edges of your sight are just blurry with tears just continuing to go from your eyes. Jin gently wiped it with his thumb before asking something out of the blue,

“Do you know what I just cooked for you earlier?”

“Is it relevant to what are we talking about right now?” you asked tearfully.

He laughed before reaching for his phone, “Wait, I’ll show you.”

All you can do is nod while sobbing over this overwhelming joy and love you have been feeling inside of you. Jin then handed you his phone and you see it was the screenshot of a recipe. An image of the same dish he cooked earlier was shown. Then, you read the name of the meal.

“Marry me chicken?”

Still, in tears, you asked Jin confusedly. He laughed at your reaction, “Yes. It says that it was named like that because it was so good that you’ll partner ask for marriage if they taste that meal.”

You wiped your tears with the back of your hand while weeping like a little kid, “That was so lame. But effective.”

With that, Jin stood up and softly pulled you along with him. So, you two stood barefoot on your picnic blanket. He looked directly into your eyes while he reached for something in his pocket. He slowly gets on one knee. You felt butterflies in your gut as he took out a familiar rose gold ring. A Tiffany Harmony.

Your jaw dropped open and your hand covered your mouth, “Oh my god, it’s the one I told Hailey about.”

“Yes.” Jin nodded and his eyes turned glossy. “I-I’ve been keeping this for almost a year now.”

His voice breaks in the middle of that sentence and you were just basically waterworks at this point.

“Bub, YN, Francheskat’s mom,” you two tearfully chuckle at that last title. He resumed, “Will you marry me?”

You were sobbing and nodding uncontrollably as you answered a shaky “Yes, of course.”

He swiftly slid the ring on your finger and got up. You immediately pulled him for a kiss with the overflowing emotions in your body. Then, you pulled away and rested your forehead on his. He whispered,

“I love you so much, bub.”

“I love you too.” you sobbed and wrapped your arms around him.

He hugged you back, resting his chin on the top of your head. Your head rested on his chest and your own heart skipped, hearing how close his heartbeats were.

It happened in the first week of November. Unbeknownst to both you and Jin, you would exchange your vows three weeks later.

taglist rules

THE A-LISTERS: CONFIDENTIAL TAGLIST

@xiumo @joonsbvtch @firesighgirl @qualityjoonie @txtlyn @yoontaethings

PERMANENT TAGLIST

@dunixxd @cixrosie @jksjx @embrace-themagic @buttvi @starbtslove @missseoulite @vanntaesworld @kenqki @imajinthis @stopeatread @seolaquotes @greyrain23 @chimchimmarie @petalsofink @jayhope88 @moonchild1 @laylasbunbunny @nikkiordonez12 @misshale21

#jin x reader #jin fluff #bts jin #jin fic #jin au #seokjin x reader #seokjin fanfiction #seokjin fluff #bts fluff #bts angst #bts x reader #bts imagine #bts series #bts au #bts fanfic #the a listers ksj #the a listers: universe lol

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bangtanflirt · 2 years

Text

From Bully To Boy-Toy (Part 2 of 2)

Pairing: Jimin x Fem Reader

NSFW CONTENT: 18+ ONLY

Summary: When the campus bully makes you his target, you happen to stumble upon the submissive secret he’s been keeping.

Part 1

Warnings: secretly submissive Jimin, bully Jimin, condescending asshole Jimin, soft femdom, thighjob, very brief handjob, humiliation and degradation kink, (not extreme), slight blackmail kink, a dash of revenge plotline

____

It’s been eighteen hours since you ran out of Jimin’s apartment. Eighteen hours of processing what happened and successfully avoiding the man in question—not that it was hard, considering he had made no move to see you either. However, the dreaded time has come: your mechanical engineering class.

It’s alright y/n, just don’t look back and you won’t have to see him at all. Start fake coughing two minutes early so you can excuse yourself and be far gone by the time he gets out. Easy.

And through that mental pep talk do you finally find the courage to walk into class.

___

Apparently, you’ve been worried for nothing. Your plan of looking straight ahead has been working splendidly—with just a measly six minutes left before the scheduled coughing mission. You begin to relax into your seat more, guard coming down as class nears its end.

“Before I let you all go, I have to say that the scores for the first exam are in, and I’m very impressed with the overall class average! Now, it’s no secret that my exams are almost impossible to earn a perfect score in…but two of you managed to do just that. This is the first time I’ve ever had more than one person in the same class have a perfect score, so I think it’s only fitting to celebrate these students. Miss y/n + y/l/n and mister Park Jimin, please stand up!”

What the fuck.

Your positive that there’s a deity above you laughing their ass off right now.

With wobbly legs and sweaty palms, you stand up. Adding fuel to the fire, Professor Cho makes the two of you share how you studied and advice for the other students, keeping you there until the last damn second of class.

You spill out of class in a hurry, with your bag not even zipped up. Well, not zipped up until someone comes up behind you and zips it…the one person you did not want to ever see again. Without warning, he pulls you by the backpack strap to the nearest storage room.

“Did you tell anyone about what you saw yesterday?”

He’s staring you down, but the usually menacing look has a glint of hesitance in it.

“No”

“Good. You saw nothing, understand? Speak of it to anyone and I’ll make your life hell on earth.”

You nod, wanting the interaction to be over already. You’re about to reach for the door handle when he speaks up again.

“Also, I read your essay and it was pretty mediocre, so I decided not to turn it in.”

You freeze, confusion and shock taking over.

“What…what do you mean?”

“I submitted the one I wrote instead.”

“You wrote one? B-but you told me to—”

“I know what I told you sweetheart. This was the plan y/n. It wasn’t about getting you to write my paper—I think the exam scores prove I know the material like the back of my hand—it was about making sure you don’t have time to write your own. You were getting a little close to my class ranking, so I thought I’d knock you down a peg. Besides, I would never turn in someone else’s work…that’s cheating, silly!”

That’s when your blood starts boiling. You’ve slaved over that essay for weeks and this is why? So Park Jimin could play you like a pawn in his egotistic 4D chess game? You don’t know if it’s the sleep deprivation, stress, or caffeine high that makes you snap, but those words bring all of your rage and frustration to the forefront.

Before you know it, you’re lunging and cornering him between your body and the wall. It’s clear on his startled face that he wasn’t expecting any push back.

Your voice holds a steady rage: enough to get your message across without being loud enough for anyone to come check the storage room.

“You’re such a fucking lowlife. You know that, Park? Thinking you can do whatever you want just because you have daddy’s wallet. Everything’s just a game, isn’t it? I was torturing myself trying to write your paper all the while you were jerking off on your pillow to some femdom fetish porn. Fuck. You.”

The distraught look on the boy’s face gives you satisfaction…but it’s when he looks down and shifts uncomfortably that you realize he’s not distraught for the reasons you thought.

This man is unbelievable.

The rational part of your brain would walk out of there right now, but that part has checked out for the day. Instead, you find yourself eyeing the man like prey. Maybe it’s time to make him squirm the way he likes to make others.

“Oh, this is rich. Did me yelling at you really get you hard, Park?”

He gulps, heart beating loud enough to break out of his chest.

“Do you want me to touch you?”

Your new sultry tone causes a soft whine to escape his lips. He feels his cock strain against his jeans.

“y/n, don’t play with me like this”

The way he whines your name is heavenly.

“But I want to play with you” you pout in faux innocence, raking your nails across his chest, “I want to play with you and watch you break the way you did to me…made me write that entire essay for your sick twisted pleasure. I was going to be the bigger person and forget what I saw yesterday, but I don’t think you deserve to be let off the hook so easy. Maybe I’ll tell everyone.”

There’s a sadistic glint in your eyes and Jimin doesn’t know if he’s more terrified by your threat or turned on.

“p-please no”

“Why not? Don’t want the whole campus to know the dirty things that get you hard, hm?”

He shakes his head fervently, still moving around to get any kind of friction from his jeans.

“That looks uncomfortable” you say eyeing his crotch, “want some help?”

His jaw slacks open at your offer, mind in a frenzy trying to figure out if your serious or if it’s a cruel joke. But his cock is in control now.

“Yes! Yes, please touch me!”

You smirk, stepping back and finding a box to perch yourself onto. Jimin eyes the skin your bunched up skirt exposes.

“Strip.”

He complies with lightening speed, practically tearing the clothes off his body until he’s wearing nothing but his honeyed skin. His cock stands tall against his abdomen, pink tip curved just slightly. You can’t help but chuckle at the way he’s awaiting further instruction. Boy, could I get used to this.

You motion for him to come closer, until he’s standing right between your thighs The next sentence you utter surprises you just as much it does him.

“I want you to jerk off using my thighs.”

The words are blunt and crude but saying them gives your lower half a jolt of electricity like never before., and Jimin isn’t faring any better either.

Nervously, he guides his cock in between your closing thighs, hissing at the feeling of being enveloped in by your soft skin. There’s more than enough precum leaking for his manhood to slide into a rhythm, but you spit down on it for good measure—and the boy almost blows his load at that sight alone.

It’s not long before his embarrassed, tentative movements turn into wanton, messy ones. You relish in his expressions each time his cock fucks into your thighs.

“I wish this could be broadcasted on every tv on campus. Park Jimin, the guy who acts all tough and pushes everyone around, moaning like a desperate whore. You know, if you weren’t such a dick all the time, maybe I’d let you fuck my pussy. But you decided to be an insufferable prick, so all you get is the privilege of rutting into my thighs like a little bitch.”

His moans get louder, forcing you to put a hand over his mouth for the sake of discretion. As much as you enjoy teasing Jimin with the idea of being caught, you’d lose your shit if anyone actually caught you doing this.

You notice his movements getting even sloppier—if possible. His breath is also more erratic, and you know he’s close.

In one swift motion, you release him from your thighs and use a hand to grip him instead. Three seconds of squeezing and stroking is all it takes for all that built up tension to burst onto his stomach, the floor, and your thighs.

The man holds onto you for the duration of his orgasm, legs too wobbly to trust on their own. He stays there for a minute after, collecting himself post-bliss. When his breathing steadies, he dares make eye contact, but much more meekly than ever before. His cheeks are dusted with a bright red blush, and his hands try to cover as much of his lower half as possible.

You take a nearby roll of paper towels and wipe your thighs clean, then toss it to the naked man.

“Clean everything up before you leave” you order, hopping off the box and heading towards the door.

“Wait!”

You quirk a brow, nudging the man to speak.

“Can we—um—do this again?”

You toss your head back in laughter,

“Of course we can. You had your plan, and now I have mine. I’m going to turn you into the dumbest little toy imaginable, too busy thinking with your cock to worry about things like grades and class rank—or how to piss off everyone around you. Get ready, Park, because this is just the beginning of your downfall.”

You turn on your heel and head straight out, leaving the dumbstruck mess of a boy covered in and surrounded by the remnants of his humiliating orgasm.

More humiliating than that though…you got him fucking hard again.

____

A/N: Very grateful for all the positive feedback the first part got. Thank you to those of you who interact, because it motivates me to write more! As always, have a great day.

Taglist: @hzbbtsfanficrecs @namjooncrabs @kseoknj @taeriffic @pjmin-95 @cashia @ivykl33n

#jimin x reader #sub jimin #jimin smut #bully jimin #bts university au #sub bts #domme reader

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margotw10bis · 5 months

Note

can write a fic about jungkook being y/n crush where he is popular but he isn't and when he finds out about the crush he rejects her and then the next say sees her at a bar they go home together and yeah he wakes up in her bed the next morning 🙏🙏

If I get this right, Y/N has a crush on Jungkook, a popular guy while she isn't.

crush!Jungkook x reader

Genre: drabble; request; angst; smut

Words: 3.6k (I got carried away, okay? 😭 I'm sorry)

Synopsis: Confessing to your crush doesn't go as planned. You get rejected immediately... Then why is Jungkook in your bed the next day, naked?

Warnings: crying; heartbreak; alcohol consumption; unprotected sex (this is not smart, don't do that); slight hair pulling -- not edited (sorry for the mistakes guys)

Your head hurts like hell. Once again, you promise yourself to never drink again — until one of your friends asks you to go party. You growl in pain, cursing at the sunshine peaking through the open curtains. You roll around in your bed, trying to hide your face into the mattress or a pillow. You are not ready to bump into something hard and warm.

Is that…? Someone?

Jesus Christ, did you drink this much that you ended up with a stranger? You don’t see much of him, only his black hair is facing you. He is sleeping on his stomach, face turned to the other side. Your heart and your breathing stop. You urge your intoxicated brain to remember what happened yesterday. However no memories are found, only a bigger headache.

You are naked and he certainly is too. You hate yourself for drinking right now. You knew that swallowing down your sorrow with alcohol wasn’t the solution and yet, you did it. And now God is punishing you.

You try your best to delicately get out of the bed without waking up… fuck, you don’t remember his name. You stay flat on the mattress, only sliding to the side as slowly as possible. When your foot reaches the floor, you want to yell in joy but you freeze instantly when the stranger’s arm warps around you.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

This is bad. Real bad. You turn your head very slowly, ready — or not — to discover with whom you have slept with. Your breathe hitches when you witness a familiar face. Very familiar, to be honest.

"Jungkook?!" You exclaims

The said man wakes up abruptly and he frowns in confusion at your sight.

What the fuck happened yesterday?!

‧₊˚✧

22 HOURS EARLIER

Your cheek in your palm, you are daydreaming about Jeon Jungkook. You are certainly not the only one but you can’t resist. You mean, the guy is just perfect. Perfect smile with a cute dimple, perfect doe eyes, perfect bubble nose. Perfect large shoulders, firm chest, defined abs and strong thighs. Perfect.

It is not surprising Jungkook is one of the most popular guys on campus, and it has nothing to do with him being a senior because he was just as popular when he was a freshman. His popularity is due to him being him. Good at every sports, great looks, funny. It is just not surprising at all that Jeon Jungkook is the king of college.

You can’t even count how many girls are crushing on him. You don’t resent them because you are one of them. Ever since your first year in uni, you have been crushing on him — to be honest, it isn’t too hard to do.

Feeling like it is now or never because the year is almost over and you’ll grow part ways, you have finally decided to confess. Jungkook has always been nice to you, even sometimes sat next you in class. He has never mentioned the fact that you are not part of the ‘popularity club’ — it’s not something that you are looking for either.

That is why you send him a DM on Instagram. Pretty much all students follow him, his account having more than 10k followers while, on his side, Jungkook only follows about 200 people — and you are not one of them. Anyway, you ask him to meet you after class near the coffee shop you know he loves. He agrees, your heart immediately racing in your chest.

At the end of the day, you are waiting for Jungkook. You can’t deny that you are feeling stressed and your bouncing leg is a clear sign of it. You breathe deeply, close your eyes and try to meditate a little in order to calm you down. You have already been through all kinds of scenarii in your head so what could go wrong?

Deep in thoughts, you are startled when Jungkook’s deep voice lands into your ear.

"Are you okay?"

His question is a mix of worry and amusement and his sweet smile makes your cheeks burn. You nod and clear your throat.

"You wanted to talk?" Jungkook asks gently, encouraging you to explain your invitation

It’s true that you are not one to message him a lot. Actually, you’ve never had before. But like you said, it’s now or never.

"Yeah, I, uh, wanted to tell you something" You start with an unsure voice which makes Jungkook curious

He nods for you to keep going.

"So, uh" You clear your throat again

Fuck, your hands are sweaty and your heart is beating fast. When did it get this hard to talk?

"I like you. I have been for a while to be honest and I—"

"Y/N" Jungkook cuts you off and it doesn’t seem good "I’m flattered but I’m not looking for a relationship"

Ouch. It kind of hurts. And it’s embarrassing.

"You are a nice girl but not really my type. Sorry"

Ouch number 2. It’s even more frustrating when it feels like a sentence he has said numerous times. He seems so detached, and his words automatic like a line he has rehearsed. You don’t like it, at all.

You can only nod, too embarrassed to do anything else and your throat too dry to say something. You just watch Jungkook walking away from your broken heart.

‧₊˚✧

10 HOURS EARLIER

Going to the bar seemed a good idea to drown your sorrow. And it has done the trick for a couple of hours, swallowing shots after shots. But now, you are feeling alone and pathetic, which you are to be honest. You were so dumb to confess to Jungkook. Of course, you’re not his type. He is hanging with the most beautiful and popular girls of the school for god’s sake! By clapping his fingers, he has hundreds of girls ready to strip for him. There was no way you could compete…

You are heartbroken. Truly heartbroken that the guy you have loved for four fucking years has rejected you like that. Like it was easy not to love you back. Like it was nothing to break your little heart. And that, this thought, makes you cry. You have officially reached bottom, crying alone at the bar like in a stupid romcom for a guy who doesn’t love you.

You don’t even have your dignity unspoiled because this is not a pretty crying. Big rounded tears fall down your cheeks and you loudly sob. The bartender winces at you, wondering if he should do something but he is wise enough to stay away.

What you don’t know is that Jungkook is in the very same bar as you. Holding a large glass of whiskey, he drinks in one shot, wincing at the strong burn in his throat.

"Fuck, man!" Mingyu, one of his close friends, exclaims "What are you celebrating?" He jokes

Jungkook replies with a humorless chuckle, playing with his empty glass. He is not celebrating that’s for sure. He doesn’t waste time and orders another drink and swallows it as fast as the first one. He definitely needs to get wasted tonight.

The alcohol does its work because after a third glass, Jungkook feels slightly numb. He even manages to put a smile on his face. He laughs lightly, scanning the bar but freezes when he spots you. You are alone and you swipe your face to get rid of the tears. Even with the distance, Jungkook can tell. He sighs, weirdly annoyed by the scene. Why are you such a pain in the ass? Couldn’t you stay at home if you wanted to cry? Why did you have to be here? Why did you have to show how much he hurt you?

"Fucking luck" He growls with gritted teeth and stands up to walk to you

He grows grumpy, the alcohol certainly making things harder for Jungkook.

"Go home, Y/N" He orders you with a cold tone

Your eyes lift up and Jungkook hates how they immediately brighten. Why don’t you hate him?

"Kookie!" You exclaim but you speak lazily and Jungkook gets that you are completely wasted "Come sit with me, I’m all alone!" You whine and pout while tapping on the empty seat next to you

Jungkook wonders if he should sit down. It’s probably a bad idea, yet he does it.

"What do you drink? It’s on me!" You cheerfully announce with a big — or you think because it’s actually a drunken — smile

The tattooed man sighs. How can you be crying your soul out and then, the very next second, smiling at him as if you were the happiest girl on Earth?

"Straight whisky" Jungkook mumbles and you order two to the bartender "You’re sure you want one? It’s pretty strong"

You nod frenetically.

"It’s okay! I’m happy you’re here"

"What are you doing here?" He asks with annoyance

"I was sad. You broke my heart" You confess — certainly something you wouldn’t do if you were sober "So I was sad and alone. And I didn’t want to be, so I came here"

"Are you happy and accompanied now?" He mocks

"Yes, I am" You reply nonetheless, not noticing the sarcasm in his voice

The two glasses of strong liquor are handed to you. You urge Jungkook to cheer with you, which makes him roll his eyes. What the fuck is he doing here with you? He should be with his friends, enjoying the night.

"You were mean, earlier" You say at some point "You really hurt me"

Although, there is no reproach in your tone. You are just saying what you are feeling and it’s weird for Jungkook to hear someone being this honest with him. People usually play a role around him, because they want to be like him, popular.

"Sorry" He replies with automatism because he doesn’t regret rejecting you

You shake your head horizontally.

"I’m happy now, you’re with me"

You shrug your drink and grab his big hand. It’s warm and comforting and your drunken state doesn’t allow you to notice Jungkook tensing at your gesture. However, he doesn’t move. You are drunk, so what’s the point of scolding you? And Jungkook is not that sober either.

"Will you drink with me tonight?" You ask with a pout, certainly trying to make puppy eyes

This doesn’t work but Jungkook can’t, oddly, let you alone. Maybe he feels guilty about hurting you, he doesn’t know but, anyway, he accepts and orders other shots.

As the night grows darker and the drinks more numerous, you scoot closer to Jungkook, almost sitting on his lap. You can’t speak properly anymore, and Jungkook is no better. You both have intoxicated brains. That is why you don’t understand how your mouth lands on your crush’s lips. But you don’t care because it feels good. Really good.

Jungkook cups your face and kisses you harsher. You feel aroused, that’s for sure and the alcohol in your system doesn’t prevent you from moaning loudly against his mouth.

"Fuck…" Jungkook whispers in awe at your sounds because it’s fucking sexy and he is only kissing you

He deepens the kiss, turning it into a real make out session with messy kisses, wet sounds and tongues intertwining. His hands reach down your ass, squeezing it and urging you to straddle him. It’s scandalous, that’s for sure. It’s why the bartender clears his throat and asks you not too kindly to leave.

"Let’s go to my dorm" You say between two kisses when you step outside

"Hurry up, I’m fucking hard" Jungkook bluntly announces and your cheeks — already red and hot by liquor — burn

The heated make out session doesn’t stop when you reach your room. Tongues are dancing together and palms are caressing all kinds of body parts. And soon, your filthy hands peer each other naked.

‧₊˚✧

PRESENT TIME

Shit, you did fuck with Jungkook... you think. You quickly press the sheets against your body to cover your chest. Which is ridiculous because he has already seen it all. You bury your head in your hands out of shame.

"I can’t believe it…" You mumble, more to yourself than to Jungkook "Did we… did we, you know, do it?" You gather the courage to ask

"I don’t know, I was fucking drunk" He answers with a growl due to his hangover "But there is a simple way to find out"

You tilt your head up, looking at Jungkook curiously. You then realize how good he looks right now. His black hair is messy, his face a little swollen but he is as handsome as ever. The duvet is covering his naked body up to his shoulders but you get a peak at his muscular torso. You seize the opportunity to look at his full sleeve tattoo. You get hypnotized by the inked pattern for a few seconds. He is fucking hot. And he knows it because he is casually laying on your bed, comfortable with his head resting on his palm.

"Do you feel sore down there?"

And you shake your head to say no.

"Then, we didn’t fuck. Trust me, you would still feel it if we had"

You notice a hint of cockiness in his voice and you can’t believe he is joking right now. He has broken your heart and now he is making fun of you.

"You’re kidding, right?" You tell him quite harsh — which is unusual of you

"I’m serious. I’m kind of blessed for that. Haven’t you heard the rumors?"

You surely have. Jungkook is popular, and the words of him having a big dick have spread around campus. And yeah, you were kind of curious to check if those rumors were true but you are not anymore. Jeon Jungkook broke your heart and, someway, you feel even more embarrassed that, even drunk, he didn’t find you attractive enough to sleep with you — and you were fucking naked.

"Can you please leave?" You whisper because you don’t trust your shaky voice

Jungkook nods but stares at you. He can tell your eyes are getting watery despite you looking away. It feels odd. Jungkook isn’t pleased to see you hurt, he doesn’t like it. He shouldn’t care, he means, he doesn’t know you much. Just some casual chats during class but that’s it. You’re basically strangers to each other so why does he care?

"I’m sorry"

The words escape his mouth before he can think.

You don’t really know if the remaining of alcohol in your system or something else but the moment you look at him and your eyes fall on his attractive lips, you can’t control yourself and kiss him. You are sure he is going to push you away, reject you like he did yesterday because, yeah, nothing has changed.

But Jungkook doesn’t push you away. Quite the opposite actually because he skillfully slides upon you. You moan at the touch of his hot and naked body against yours. Gosh, he feels so good. His skin is so soft, yet you can feel his strong muscles.

Your legs part to accommodate his hips between them. His length, that is hardening, brushes against your bare pussy. Jungkook’s hands caress your body: your breasts, your stomach, your thighs but finally settle on your back and neck to hold you close. You feel right in his arms, that’s what comes to his mind at present time and it shakes him a little bit.

However, you bring him out of his thoughts when you tug on his black locks, moaning against his delicious lips. And Jungkook wants to taste more of you, just like the little appetizing he had would never be enough. Nothing seems to be enough.

His mouth drifts to your throat, kissing and sucking on your thin and sensitive skin. It pushes you to wrap your legs around his torso and press his cock against your cunt. You need the friction, you are too wet, too aroused to stick to a heavy making out session. You want Jungkook, all of him.

One of your hands goes South, sneaking between your glued bodies, to find his dick. Jungkook growls against you when you start jerking him off. He is so hard and he feels so big in your hand. He was right: you would definitely be sore if you had fucked last night.

"Please, fuck me" You beg

"Shit" Jungkook curses at your filthy words that just state his own wish "Shove it in your little pussy" He orders

And you do. You grab him at the base and guide his tip at your entrance. He immediately feels your wetness and it’s so fucking hot. Jungkook captures one of your nipples with his mouth while he is pushing inside you.

You gasp and your walls clench around the intruder.

"Fuck, you’re tight" He says but his tone almost sounds like a praise

He doesn’t wait one second before settling a quick pace. You whine and whimper and moan, gripping the sheets to stay down on Earth. Fuck, Jungkook is so good. He is fucking so good. It’s better than anything you have experienced before and you wish it could never stop.

"Oh my god!" You scream when Jungkook starts drawing circles on your clit

You know you are too loud, so you cup his face and kiss him. He happily welcomes your mouth back, bitting on your lower lip to slip inside. His inked arm still securely holds you tight against him, because you would be pushed up by the force of his poundings but also because he wants to cuddle you. And this is definitely a weird thought coming from Jungkook because he doesn’t do cuddles.

"Kookie, I’m gonna come" You inform him between two kisses

He lifts up his torso but his dick strokes are hard and deep, making your tits bounce. The frown on your face — not one guided by pleasure — questions him. Why did he scoot away? You miss his heat.

"I wanna see you cum" He explains and you nod

He intertwines your fingers on each side of your head and the gesture seems too kind for the sinful act you are making right now. It’s too kind and too dangerous for your broken heart. Yet, you squeeze his big palms tighter.

Your pussy tightens too around Jungkook’s big cock and you reach your high with a broken cry of his name. Your nails dig into the back of his hand but he doesn’t even notice it.

"Fuck, you are so beautiful" He says softly while he watches in awe your face torn by pleasure

He shouldn’t say that. He shouldn’t make you more attached to him than you already are. He shouldn’t get attached to you.

As soon as you have reached down after your orgasm, your mouth opens:

"Make me cum again"

You are just perfect, Jungkook screams in his head.

He pulls out, gets a strong grip on your body and flips you around so you can lay on your stomach. Jungkook slightly lifts up your ass and enters you again. The way he is fucking you is intense. His lap slaps your ass perfectly and the sounds your clapping skins create are a clear sign of this being a good fuck.

He bites your shoulder, making you moan louder. Once again, you are gripping your sheets. Jungkook’s tattooed hand pulls on your hair so he has a better access to your neck to kiss it and mark it. You hear him growls when your pussy clenches around him.

"Fuck, you are so good" He says, not even believing how right it feels to fuck you

His free hand slides between your hot body and the mattress to reach your swollen clit and rub it. Fast. Really fast and you are losing your mind — not caring about your screams of pleasure anymore. You are surely wakening all the students on your floor.

"Kookie, I’m so close" You whine when Jungkook pinches your bud

"Cum for me, cum around my cock"

Despise his naughty words, Jungkook acts tenderly: his hand is no longer tugging harshly on your hair but cupping and caressing your cheek, his arm completely enveloping you in his embrace. You don’t have time to question it because you reach cloud nine.

Your body is shaking due to your second orgasm and your cunt is so tight that Jungkook’s cock is getting milked. He cums too, filling your pussy with his hot white cum.

You are both panting and in a sexual high because there is no way Jungkook is sweetly kissing your cheek and cuddling you. But his body feels heavy on yours so there is no way you are imagining it. Your own hands brush his forearm around your waist delicately, afraid that it’ll scare him away.

Jungkook rolls on the side, realizing that he has just fucked you. It was dumb and yet, he can’t bring himself to regret it. You look at him in silence and he can easily imagine that you are wondering why he has just fucked you if he rejected you yesterday. And you deserve an explanation.

"Listen, I’m not looking forward a relationship right now, it's not the right time"

Your heart tightens in your chest and it feels like you are brought 22 hours earlier, when you were confessing — a stupid thing that you regret now.

"I know" You say quietly "Even if you were, it could be hard. I’m moving to Seattle"

Jungkook’s eyes widen. Seattle? No way, this can’t be happening.

"I’m moving there too. That’s why I rejected you, I don’t do well with long distance relationships"

"I-It’s—" You stutter, not really knowing how to feel — even if the feeling of hope growing in your chest is hard to mistake "Cool" You finally settle for "Maybe we’ll see each other again then"

Yeah, maybe you’ll meet again. Your story might not be ending at the end of the school year after all.

------

I hope that you like it! 🩷 I didn't think that I could be this inspired but I really liked writing it! Thank you for you request and don't hesitate to send more! 🩷

#bts fanfic #bts #bts smut #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jjk x reader #jjk #fanfic #bangtan sonyeondan #request #jungkook request #jungkook smut #bangtan #jungkook bts #university au

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oursecretescape · 2 months

Text

Forgotten

words: 7.5k

genre: angst

If my fate is to disappear like this, then this is my last letter - Let go xx TW: Mentions of anxiety, panick attack. Trad: anjinho = little angel. a/n: Hello, my babies. This story is the translation of ''Forgotten'' that I recently posted. I tried to make it as angsty as possible, hope I have achieved my goal. My apologies before hand for any grammar erros. English is not my first language. I suggest you all read it along with the saddest song you like. Well... with all that being said, I wish you a happy reading (or sad? lmao. dunno). Tell me later what y'all thought. ♥

"Hey! We'll be there soon. Sorry for the delay. Today's rehearsal took longer than expected. We're leaving now."

Received at 5 in the afternoon.

I take a quick glance at the clock, and it shows eight in the evening. A heavy sigh escapes my lips as I feel my heart drumming slowly in my chest, each beat amplifying my growing sense of unease.

I get up from the couch and reach for the umbrella swaying gently in the wind coming from the window. I shut my eyes and take a deep breath, attempting to manage the sudden surge of fear and despair growing in my chest. My heart is racing, and my mind is in overdrive. A sense of mortality and suffocation, all rolled up into a single emotion: anxiety.

I sit down, sliding along the corridor wall. I try to control my breathing while attempting to steady the pounding of my heart. I think that dying in the hallway of a building would be so pointless and dull that it makes me laugh. A laugh, strained and devoid of emotion, but functional.

Heart rate normalizing. Labored, but controlled breathing. Mind stabilized.

I feel my face wet with tears. I wipe them away with trembling hands. When did I start crying? I rise from the floor, swaying a little. I take another deep breath and press the elevator button.

Dad always said that thinking of ridiculous things in difficult moments would help distract me. He was right, as he always was.

The cold, damp breeze of Seoul's streets warmed my soul. Its black skies, like darkness, covered with thick clouds, carried heavy raindrops that, upon impact, met my umbrella, creating beautiful melodies. It was comforting to hear the drops hitting the hard concrete; they reminded me that I wasn't crying alone.

It was thundering when I arrived at the destination. Bright streaks in the sky made the monument even gloomier. I found it ironic how everything matched my feelings. As I entered through the doors, I could already hear muffled cries. Sadness and suffering permeated the air, leaving me melancholic.

After a few more steps, I could see the person I love the most in the world greeting me with a beautiful smile. His eyes were shining like true rays of sunshine. I sit in front of him, sliding my fingers where his name rests. Lee Joon-Ho.

"Dad, I miss you so much," I say aloud, my voice cracking with emotion. "It's been incredibly lonely without you here. You have no idea how much I long for your company," I said, feeling the salty taste of tears. "I'm sorry I couldn't bring my friends to meet you like I promised. They're all caught up with their own lives, you know how it is. But don't worry, I'll bring them next time when they're less busy," I chuckle, with no emotion.

I hear footsteps behind me. I stand up excitedly, my heart pounding, but this time as a sign of comfort. They didn't forget. I feel my face stretch into a small smile, which is quickly dissolved.

"Hello, young lady. Good evening," the guard gives me a sympathetic smile. "I'm sorry to disturb you, but I need to ask you not to linger too long on your visit today. The rain caused some minor leaks, and we'll have to close a little earlier."

"Oh okay, I understand," I responded in a whisper.

"I'm sorry. You have 10 minutes. I'll leave you alone," he said, bowing and leaving promptly.

I turn again, sitting on the floor.

"Dad, today I have to leave a little earlier. But don't worry, I'll be back soon," I feel the tears fall like the drops falling from the sky. "I love you so much," I say between sobs. "I miss you."

I stand up in desperation, running out the door, feeling the drops fall freely on my body, without the protection of the umbrella. It was as if I was washing away all the bad feelings flowing from my being.

Arriving home, I take a hot shower and change into comfortable clothes. The room were in dense darkness. It was just the rain and me. And my cat, who was rubbing against my leg, lay on my lap."

I feel my chest inflate with comfort at the presence of the little being and smile at the gesture.

With the phone in hand, I try to distract my restless mind. I see the Twitter icon and feel my heart pounding as if I shouldn't do this, but I do it anyway. The blue screen shining amidst the darkness of the room soon turns into white, leaving my vision blurred. I switch to dark mode and continue scrolling through my feed.

Within a few seconds, I see something that breaks my heart even more. Among the bursts of excitement from Armys, there are videos of the boys, my boys, having fun in a restaurant with her. They forgot about the visitation day because of her. Again, the reason why I was put aside is her.

Knocks on the door make me forget the feelings of jealousy and anger that burned in my body like fire. I hesitated to remove the furry creature from my lap, as it seemed so comfortable. With a little effort, I get up and walk to the door. Upon opening it, I see Adora's face in a comforting smile. Seeing a friendly face, I feel my tears fall freely on my face once again. She immediately drops the bags she was carrying and envelops me in a loving hug.

I can't say for how long we hugged. What I can say is that it was exactly what I needed at that moment. I feel my chest getting lighter as if all the bad feelings had been carried away by the embrace, and I feel grateful to Adora for that.

Slowly I pull away, and I can see her smile return twice as big.

"Better?" she asks, making me nod.

I step aside, and she enters, placing the food bags on the coffee table. I close the door and follow her.

"What did you bring?" I ask curiously, making her laugh.

"I knew food would cheer you up," she laughs. "I brought a lot of junk food. Sweet and savory cookies, ice cream, sweet and sour pork, hamburgers, and sodas."

"Soda?" I wonder. "Since when do you like fizzy drinks? You always said they gave you gas," I hold back a laugh.

"The soda is for you. For me," she reaches into the bag, pulling out two green bottles of soju. "I brought alcohol," she says sticking her tongue out as she shakes the bottles.

I smile at her little dance, but seeing her gummy smile reminds me of him. I feel the sadness wanting to return when I remember the videos, but I cast aside any bad feelings as I grab the ice cream container.

"I didn't want to bring it up, but I'm really sorry I wasn't there. You know how it is at BigHit. I couldn't leave the production until the work was finished," she explains, and I smile.

"It's okay. I understand," I whisper. "The important thing is that you're here now."

"About the boys..." she starts to say, but I quickly cut her off.

"No, it's fine. I don't want to talk about it."

"But you need to, Cassie. You know that. Keeping it all inside will only make it worse. You know you can trust me. Vent it out. I'm here," she holds my hand.

I close my eyes, nodding. I search within myself for the strength to let out everything I'm feeling. Everything that's hurting me. I bite my lower lip and open my eyes. It's going to be okay.

"It's been some time since my friendship with the boys started cooling off," I begin, feeling her squeeze my hand in comfort. "You know I met Tae before he became famous, and he's the one who introduced me to the rest of the boys. Since then, we've had a very strong friendship. We weren't always together, especially with the tours and my work, but we were close, like a real family. No matter how long we went without seeing each other, nothing changed, until recently," I sigh. "Park Ji-Hye showed up about 2 months ago, a few weeks before my dad passed away. She auditioned for the dancer position and passed the test," Adora nods.

"Yeah, I saw her audition," she says.

"So, since that day, I saw her getting closer and closer to the boys. They were always talking about how cool and funny she is, and, you know, I was happy for them. A new friendship is always good, especially for them, who are famous and always have to be careful with opportunists. But it never crossed my mind that she would take the place I had in their lives," I smile sadly. "They started visiting me much less. Calling me much less. Inviting me to the dorm or out much less. Until the day I literally became nothing to them," I look at Adora, whose face is red with anger.

"These..." I interrupted her.

"You don't want to lose your job, right?" I ask, laughing. "And you can't blame them either. She became their official dancer, which means wherever they go, she's with them," I shrug. "She's with them all the time, and that surely made them closer to her. Even more than me," I feel my eyes welling up. "I don't want to lose them, but I feel like I already did."

"Hey," she shakes me. "Calm down, breathe. I know they messed up. And they messed up badly, but it doesn't mean they've forgotten about you," Adora says, trying to comfort me.

"They forgot me the day my dad died, Adora. I'll never forget that. I feel like on that day, I died twice. I remember calling them in desperation, crying, not knowing what to do, feeling like my world was falling apart," I pause as I feel all the emotions returning. "And they said they were coming, but they never showed up," I continued after a few seconds of silence. "After that, they sent me a message explaining that Park Ji-Hye had gotten hurt dancing and they were with her at the hospital," Adora nods.

"Yeah, I remember. She just fell on her butt, but she made a scene like she broke her back. Everyone was freaking out at the company, even Bang PD. But in the end, it was just drama," she laments.

"After that, they didn't even visit me. Not even once," I laughed with no emotion. "Right after, they forgot my birthday. I understand that I wasn't excited at all because of my dad, but it wouldn't hurt to receive some supportive or congratulatory messages from them. I was so upset that I sent some sad texts. In less than thirty minutes, they were knocking on my door. We cried a lot, but I felt like a part of me had come back to life and that everything was going to be okay," I sarcastically laughed. "I couldn't have been more wrong, could I?" I asked.

"Cassie..."

"It's okay. You don't have to say anything. After today, I finally understood," I grab a spoon. "They found someone better than me. Someone who can be with them all the time and help them when they need it. I'm just sad that person isn't me. Not anymore," I shove the spoonful of ice cream into my mouth, to prevent the tears stuck in my throat from coming out.

For the rest of the night, Adora didn't bring up the subject again, and I was grateful for that.

A random movie played on TV, but my mind was far away. I looked to the side and saw Adora sleeping with her mouth open. A piece of cookie rested on her cheek while her hand lay above her head. I silently chuckled, covering us and then turning off the TV.

A distant ringing sound caught my attention. I tapped around the couch until I found the phone under the cushion. My eyes automatically closed from the sudden contact with the bright screen, but just as they closed, they widened.

After the first notification, thousands started to show up. My heart throbbed in my chest as my body was flooded with nervousness.

"Min PD: Cassie, please tell me you're there."

"Joonie: Please respond. We're sorry. It wasn't our intention not to show up..." The message appeared cut off because I hadn't unlocked the phone yet.

"Hobierto: Believe us, Cassie. Please, we know you're awake. Answer us."

"Jinnie: Cassandra, we would never do anything to hurt you. Please let us explain."

"Mochi: Answer the phone."

After that message, a group call popped up on the screen. I stared at it, battling the urge to answer. I sighed deeply and threw the phone back onto the couch because no matter how much I wanted to talk to them, I was still hurt. I didn't want to answer and end up fighting. Saying things without thinking and ending up in a worse situation. The best thing to do now was to rest.

I made myself comfortable on the bed we had arranged on the floor, and put the pillow over my head to block out the notifications. When I didn't see any changes, I pressed the power button on my phone and confirmed it right away. I lay back down and took a deep breath. Tomorrow is a new day. Everything will be okay. ——————————————————

It wasn't even dawn when I heard knock after knock. Disoriented, I got up, searching for where the noise was coming from until my feet led me to the front door. I looked at the clock hanging on the wall and got irritated to see it was six past two in the morning.

I swung the door open, ready to argue with whoever had woken me up so early after going to bed so late, but I lost my voice when I saw the seven people I loved most staring at me ty forlornly.

I felt two arms embrace me tightly, followed by two more until I lost count. Desperate whispers for forgiveness echoed in my ear, making me feel loved... until a certain moment. Memories of what had happened the night before made me wake up from the sleep I didn't know I was in. Slowly, I distanced myself from the seven, able to see the tears streaming down some of their faces and sadness emanating from the others.

"Cassie..." Jimin starts. "I'm so sorry. It wasn't our intention to leave you alone in such a difficult time. Please, believe us."

"We didn't come here to lie to you, Cassandra..." Namjoon says. "It really wasn't our intention. I know this is going to sound completely wrong, but we made a promise to Ji-Hye. We promised to take her out to celebrate her birthday since she's far from her family and would probably celebrate alone," I try to hide a grimace.

They couldn't miss her birthday, but could miss mine.

"As soon as we finished eating, we were going to come straight here. And we really were, Cas, really. But the company called saying we had to go there to finalize the last details for the album. It was then that we sent several messages in the group, but you didn't see any."

"That's why we're here," Taehyung says, interrupting Namjoon. "Cassie, listen to me. You're one of the most important people in my life. Sorry if lately my actions haven't shown that, but please, please, Cas, don't be mad at us. I couldn't bear to know that you're upset because of me," he whispers.

"Go to the dorms tonight. Let's talk about this calmly," Hoseok suggests.

I remain silent for a few minutes.

"Come on, please. Hum? Hum?'' Tae shakes my arm. ''You'll go, right? Say yes," he asks.

"Okay," I sigh deeply. "I'll go."

I feel arms wrapping around my body again, and I relax, enjoying the contact. This time, the hug lasted only a few seconds. The boys said goodbye, saying they needed to be at the company in a few hours.

"Tonight at 7. We'll be waiting for you," Yoongi said and then left.

I closed the door, trying to contain my excitement and the obvious smile on my face. As I turned to go back to bed, I was startled to see only Adora's head peeking out from behind the couch. She had a radiant smile on her face as she looked at me with raised eyebrows.

"Shut up," I say, making her laugh. ——————————————————

I look at the clock on the wall. It's 8:07 in the evening. Damn, I was late. I could already hear Adora's voice slowly emerging in my mind, saying that I should have listened to her and picked out my outfit earlier. Shaking my head, I focus on finishing getting ready. The last thing I needed right now was a lecture from my own mind.

I hear knocks and the doorbell ringing repeatedly.

"Shit," I mutter as I hop over to the door.

I try to put on my sock while walking to the door, but my unfailing plan soon becomes fallible when I trip over my own hand and fall on the floor. The knocks and the doorbell grow louder, and I feel irritation creeping in. "ALRIGHT, I'M COMING," I yell and pick myself up.

I walk back to the door with a pout and my hair completely tousled, covering my face. I take a deep breath, fix my hair, put on a fake smile, and finally open the door. As I see the seven people I love most in the world looking at me with confused faces, I feel my smile turn genuine, and the earlier irritation vanish as if it had never existed.

"Is everything okay? Why didn't you come?" I hear Taehyung ask as he scrutinizes me from head to toe."

"What happened? Something serious?" Seokjin asks, and I shake my head.

"No, guys, sorry. I almost died trying to choose a good outfit to wear and ended up running late, sorry," I explained laughing.

''What do you mean you almost died?" Jungkook asks as I watch their faces turn into a grimace."

"It was nothing, really," I reassure, taking a quick glance at Jungkook, who was holding back his laugh.

He knew it. I am sure he did.

"Are you sure you didn't... you know... fall on your ass?" he smirks. "I'm sure I heard a huge..."''

"Hobi," I said excitedly, "What do you have there?" I pointed to the bags he was carrying while Jungkook laughed.

That little prick.

''Food," he says, shaking the bags. ''We know how much you love eating''.

I chuckle and make way for them to enter. In a few minutes, the food was already on the coffee table, and an improvised bed was set up on the living room floor. I change into more comfortable clothes and join them.

"Look, before we start, we want you to know how sorry we are," Yoongi says.

"Yes... Sorry for not being there on the visitation's day," Jimin adds. "If there's anything you want to say, anything that's bothering you, please let us know. We'll fix it all, Cassie. ''he holds my hand.'' We want things to go back to how they used to be."

"We're here for you, Cas," Jin finishes, and I smile weakly.

I pause for a moment, feeling that it still wasn't the right time. So, I just sigh and shake my head.

"It's okay, guys. Really," I open with a smile. "Let's just watch this movie already. I'm dying to see who'll be the first one to cry and shake in fear like a little kitten." I say, trying to change the subject, and smirk when I realize it worked.

"I am sure it won't be me," Hoseok says with confidence. "Cause you know..." he shows off his muscles. "I'm a man," he pauses for a minute.

It doesn't take long until Hoseok's laughter fills the room, making everyone laugh.

"Who listens to him talking like this, doesn't even think the Gladiator sandal outside belongs to him," Jungkook says, making Hoseok look at him flabbergasted.

''Hey, what do you mean by that?'' he asks shookedt. ''It's fashionable''

"Yeah, Hobi. Sure is," Yoongi says, patting his shoulder.

''Why I don't believe you are being honest?'' Hoseok asks putting his finger under his chain. ''I'm going to expose you on Twitter. Or should I say X?''

''What? Are you into Xvideos?'' Namjoon asks as he returns.

Everybody stops and looks at him. When did he even leave to begin with?

"What were you doing, Joonie?" I ask, smirking at him. "Were you in the bathroom?" he nods as the rest of the boys laugh.

''Now we know why you are thinking naughtiness'' Jimin says.

Namjoon's face turns red as he shakes his hands nervously. He tries to sit down on the couch but somehow ends up falling on the ground. We can see his cellphone flying around the living room as he throws his arms in the air in an attempt to regain his balance, but it doesn't work, as expected.

''No need to be nervous, Joonie'' I say. ''Everybody masturbates once in a while.''

''Do we?'' Yoongi looks at me suspiciously.

"I mean," I chuckle nervously. "How did we even get to this conversation? Let's just watch the movie for God's sake."

"Nah, nah. Don't you try coming up with excuses," Tae says abruptly. "What do you mean by that? Are you dating someone?" Jungkook seems to be having fun as he opens a beer can.

''What? Me? Dating?'' I laugh. ''Not even close. But I can't say the same about Jungkook, can I?'' he chokes.

''Uh? What you on about?'' he asks as he cleans his mouth. ‘’Seven days a week, huh?’’ he burst into laughter. He pauses for a minute before smirking. "Hm, why's that, baby girl?" he says, leaning in my direction. "Are you jealous?" he asks, putting a strand of my hair behind my ear. "Do you want me to…" he bites his lower lip. "You know," he says putting his finger on my lips. I can already feel the cringeness and second-hand embarrassment traveling throughout my body as the rest of the boys laugh. This prick. ‘’You really need to get out from twitter,’’ I say, shoving him away. ‘’The next step is to put up a black and white profile picture and call yourself a webdom’’ He raises both of his middle fingers in my direction before turning his attention back to the beer can. ‘’Are you guys done? Can I finally play this damn movie?’’ Yoongi asks, making everybody nod.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Time passed quickly, and before I knew it, it was time for them to leave. Unfortunately, they couldn't stay overnight. They had to leave very early the next day due to their schedule.

I hesitated to get up; I didn't want to accompany them to the door out of sheer laziness, and feeling Taehyung shaking me with his foot made me even more sluggish.

"If you keep doing that, I swear I'll fall asleep," I say, making him huff.

"Come on, sloth imitation. Take us to the door," Jimin says, but gives up when he sees Jungkook lying next to me.

"Jungkook, I'm sure you really like your video game, right?" Seokjin asks, and in a jump, Jungkook gets up.

"Are you really not taking us to the door?" Yoongi asks, and I remain silent. "Okay then."

When I open my eyes to see what he was going to do, I feel an arm gather and squeeze my legs while a hand starts tickling my feet furiously.

"JESUS!" I scream in surprise.

I heard laughter as I fought for my life. The strange feeling that tickling brought made me confused if I was laughing because I found it funny or if it was fear messing up my nervous system. The laughter increased as I writhed and screamed for help.

"YOONGI, YOU JERK!" I said without realizing that I was actually yelling.

"Weren't you sleepy?" Yoongi asks. "So, I'm trying to help you."

"WAIT UNTIL I GET UP, YOU PIECE OF BROWN SUGAR, I'M GOING TO END YOU."

"Are you going to take us to the door?" he asks.

"OKAY, OKAY, I'LL TAKE YOU, JUST STOP FOR THE LOVE OF GOD," I yell.

I feel my body calm down and my brain start functioning again as the tickling ceases. I looked at Yoongi who was laughing while sniffing his hand.

"Ew, you have smelly feet," he says, and I get up.

"Come here, you little jerk," I chase after him as he runs away mocking me.

After a few seconds, I could already feel that the 70% of water in my body had evaporated and the air in my lungs was scarce. When did my body become so sedentary?

"Idiot," I curse Yoongi who laughs. "I hate you."

"I love you too, beautiful thing," I hear him say.

Finally, I accompany them to the door. After a lazy farewell, I see them about to leave, but a click in my mind makes me stop them.

"As you know, I graduated from college, but since it was at the time when my father died, I didn't have any enthusiasm to celebrate. Adora recommended that I have a celebration the day after tomorrow night, since it's the weekend. Just to not let it go unnoticed. So... you guys are invited."

"We'll be here, don't worry," Namjoon says, and I smile nodding.

We say goodbye again, and this time, I see them leave. Seeing the elevator door close, I go back inside the house. The smile on my face never leaves me for a second, and finally, after so long, I could feel that things would really be okay.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Thanks to Adora, everything was organized on time. The food was ordered since neither she nor I wanted anyone to die from food poisoning. The time we ended up in the hospital the day we cooked for each other was enough. No need to repeat the dose.

I check the time on my phone and see it's 8pm. They would arrive at any moment, so I sit next to Adora on the couch to chat until then.

☂ ☂

Some time passed, and the boys still hadn't arrived. I look at the time again and see that it's 9:46. I try not to think the worst and choose to believe they would be here soon.

☂ ☂

I sigh deeply at seeing what time it is: 11:14. I try to ignore Adora's pitying look and get up from the couch. I suppress the tears once again. I am tired of crying. And more than ever, I realize that they don't deserve my tears.

"Cassandra..." Adora calls me, and I look at her. "I'm sure there's an explanation for this. Something must have happened at the company, and they couldn't let us know." I shake my head.

Something inside me told me that wasn't it, and I decided to trust my intuition.

"Adora, can you take me to the dorm?," I ask softly. "I don't think I'll have the courage to go alone," I weakly smile, and she nods.

"Of course, my love. Of course..." ––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

The car journey lasted less than I wished. My mind was constantly clouded by memories, anxiety making the painful memories hurt twice as much. I laughed in disbelief. I wondered what I had done wrong to deserve this.

"Thank you for bringing me," I look at Adora. "And thank you for always being by my side in difficult times. If I felt supported and loved, be sure that it's all because of you. You're an amazing person, Adora, and I hope you know that." she smiles.

"Regardless of what happens there, remember that you are enough. Not for them, but for yourself. Don't belittle yourself for them, Cassie, and don't let the love you feel for them speak louder than your self-love. If you survived two hellish months without their presence, be sure that you can live your life and be immensely happy in the future without them. I guarantee you that," I feel her hand squeezing mine for comfort, and I smile. "I'll be waiting for you here," I nod.

I get out of the car, feeling Adora's words take effect. I walk bravely towards the towering building, ignoring every feeling of nostalgia trying to invade me. I couldn't lose focus now.

Arriving on their dorm's floor, I feel my heart skip a beat. I pause for a moment and try to put my thoughts and feelings in order. Seeing no result, I lean against the wall and try in every way to avoid a panic attack that was about to come. As if it were a heavenly help, I feel my phone vibrate. With trembling hands, I pick it up and see a message from Adora.

"Don't forget, you are strong and capable. And never for a moment think you are alone, because I'm here for you."

I clutch my phone tightly. Adora is right. I am strong and I am capable. I can do this because regardless of what happens, I will be okay.

I take a deep breath, gathering all the strength and courage from my being, and knock on the door. I freeze when I realize what I've done, but I quickly compose myself. I will be okay.

A few seconds passed and no one answered, so I knocked again. But just like the first time, there was no response. After the third attempt, I decide to enter. Typing the password on the door, I entered the dormitory.

Upon realizing that there was no one in the main hall, the pounding of my heart calmed down. I begin to walk through the dormitory, recalling every good moment I had with my boys. I feel the sadness emanating in my chest once again.

I really didn't want to lose them.

As I walked down the corridor, I heard voices coming from the kitchen. I started walking with firm steps, but I felt my legs waver when I heard a female voice among their voices. It was her.

"Jungkook-oppa, you're so silly," I hear her delicate laughter, feeling jealousy burning in my chest.

It should be me there.

"The silly you love," I hear Jungkook reply.

I could hear the happiness in his voice. It was as if they didn't need anyone else at the moment but her. And that made me hate her, but my own mind scolded me. She is not worthy of my hatred. She is as innocent as I am in this story. She did nothing to hurt me, so why would I hate her?

"Hinnie," I hear Hoseok's voice.

Hinnie...

"Try it and tell me what you think."

There was a moment of pause until applause and sounds of appreciation were made.

"It's amazing, oppa," she says. "You really keep improving in the kitchen every day."

Unable to bear it anymore, I think of simply turning around and leaving, but something catches my attention. And it was precisely there, in that moment, that I regretted staying.

"Why do I feel like we're forgetting something?" I hear Taehyung say, and I feel my body tremble.

Once again, there was a pause until someone shouted.

"Shit, really," Jimin said. "We forgot to take the drinks out of the freezer."

I feel my heart break, as if that were possible. I let out a disbelieving laugh and finally come out from where I was hiding.

"And try more of this," Hoseok suddenly stops. "Cassie..."

I hear the sound of something falling to the ground. Soon, everyone was staring at me wide-eyed. I repress the urge to laugh. I realize how messy my whole body was the moment I wanted to laugh and not cry.

"Oh no," Jimin says, as if remembering something. "The party."

With that said, everyone becomes even more desperate. Seeing them approaching, I panic.

"Don't come near,"

They quickly stop. I see them not knowing what to do. And it wasn't just them. I end up getting disoriented with so much pressure. Where did my courage go when I needed it most?

"Um... what's going on?" she asks, and I close my eyes.

It's not her fault. It's not her fault...

"Ji-Hye, could you leave us alone for a moment?" Namjoon asks.

"Yes, of course. It's time for me to leave anyway," she gets up. "I'll see you later," she says bowing both to them and to me.

After she left, silence hung in the air. I tried to hold back my laughter, but when I saw everyone's confused faces, I knew I had failed. When I noticed that no one was going to say anything, I took the initiative.

"Do you know what's more disappointing? It's that I really thought this time would be different," I shrug. "I guess I was wrong, wasn't I?"

"Cas..."

"Do you remember when you asked me if I had something to say, Jinnie? If something was hurting me? Well, I do, and I hope I won't be interrupted."

With no response, I continue.

"I feel like I died. It's been a while since I am just surviving," I start. "The fact that you didn't come to the visitation isn't the part that hurts the most, it's that you weren't there when my father passed away. I remember how desperate I was, and the only people I could think of were you. But you weren't there. Damn, you didn't even call." I whisper as tears fall freely down my face. "When I found myself alone in the hospital, realizing that the person who adopted me and chose me to love had died, that was my first death. The person who loved me, who looked beyond language or race barriers, and who taught me everything I know had suddenly left, without even giving me a chance to say goodbye. Do you know how I felt? Devastated."

I pause for a moment. Melancholy takes over my body as I recall all the feelings I felt that day, and for a moment, I allow myself to cry all I needed. I sob so much that I thought I might choke. Without caring about looks or pity, I just allowed myself, knowing that everything would be okay.

"When I called the only people I thought I could count on, and they told me they were coming, I didn't feel so alone," I let out a humorless laugh. "Until I realized that those people never arrived. The people who always said they would be there for me weren't there when I needed them the most. That was my second death," I look at Jin. "Don't say these things to anybody if they are not coming from your heart. Don't hurt anyone else by saying you have their backs or that you will always be there for them when in reality it's not the truth."

I look at each one. Their gazes were distant, as if they were reliving every moment.

"You know, I don't want you to think I'm mad at Park Ji-Hye. Actually, quite the opposite. I was really happy when you said you met someone nice. Someone who really cared about you and genuinely wanted your friendships. I know how tough it is for you to find real friendships with all the fame, so I felt fulfilled too. I remember telling daddy excitedly, and he laughed at my excitement, happy for you and for me. Right after that, I lost him, and little by little, I lost you too, like I was meant to be alone," I smile weakly. "I am sorry if I'm being selfish, but that's how I feel. You guys forgot my birthday. Forgot the visitation days, and to top it off, you forgot my graduation party. It's like you replaced me as if I never even existed in your lives, and that really hurts. Really.''

I finish, and only then I realize they were crying with me. Some didn't have the courage to meet my gaze. We spent a few minutes without anyone saying anything. The only thing filling the air was the sound of our sniffles and sobs.

"On the day your father died," Namjoon begins. "We felt like we had lost a family member because he was, in fact, one. I am truly sorry, Cas, but for me, Park Ji-Hye's fall was an escape. I didn't want to face reality. I wouldn't know how to react to the loss of someone so special, and I also wouldn't know how to act with you," he looks at me.

"On your birthday, we thought you would like to be alone. It would be the first without your father, so we didn't know what to do, Cassie. We panicked," Jimin sighs. "But now I realize how you felt," he laughs humorlessly. "My God, I never thought I'd be such a horrible friend. What a disappointment," he whispers, covering his face with his hand.

"On visitation days," I look at Hoseok. "I confess that I clung to any opportunity not to go, Cas," he cries. "Not because I didn't love you. I love you, and I love you very much, but I never knew how to react to death. The only two times I entered a cemetery, I spent the rest of the week feeling bad, with depressive thoughts. I also couldn't let Armys worry. I didn't want their 'Sun' to lose its brightness. I am so sorry for not being able to tell you this before. I didn't want to seem selfish."

I suppress a disbelieving laugh.

"Hearing all this, I realize how futile our apologies seem," Yoongi laughs weakly. "But they are true, Cassie... I understand what Hoseok says. You know about my history with depression, don't you?" he asks, and I nod. "It's the same thing for me. If I enter a cemetery, my thoughts don't stop. Some come in a worse form, and I feel like I'm going crazy."

"We were selfish, Cas," Seokjin says. "I was. I didn't want Armys to see us sad because I knew the chaos it would be. I have no words to express how special you are to me," he pauses. "Cassie, you are my sister, my family. You weren't crying alone; I cried with you. I just couldn't show it. I knew it would be worse if I saw you cry, just like I am seeing now."

There was a moment of silence. Until his voice broke.

"I am sorry," Taehyung says. "Damn, I don't even know what to say, Cassie. You are one of the most precious people I have ever met. I remember how you stayed with us through thick and thin. I also remember how happy you were for us at the beginning, and I know the genuine happiness you felt when we received our first award. You stood by my side when my grandma passed away. How could I not be by your side too? My God," he puts his hand on his head in an act of despair. "You stayed by our side when we thought about disbanding. It was you who helped us see why we are here, who helped us find reasons to stay," he looks at me anxiously. "How could I be so selfish?"

"We thought that regardless of anything, you would always be by our side. That you would understand us, even with our deplorable attitudes. We always thought we would have you next to us, so we neglected you," Yoongi shakes his head. I feel like he answered more to Taehyung than to me. "Damn, anjinho, I'm sorry," I lower my head as I hear him call me by the nickname I loved so much.

"The fact that we started a new friendship also influenced us," Jungkook says. "We were so excited that someone, besides you, wanted a friendship without interest that without realizing it, we put aside the one that had been with us from the beginning," I hear Jungkook say muffled, as his two hands covered his face.

"We don't deserve you, Cassandra. We left you at the most difficult moment of your life, and yet you never stopped loving us," Yoongi pulls his own hair, a habit he always did when he was nervous. "We can't let you leave thinking that we don't care about you because, Cassie, that would be a complete lie. With the stress of the comeback, things only got worse. It was rehearsal, recording, agendas to fulfill, productions, trips, tours. Our minds were a mess, and Park Ji-Hye tried to help us from there. We know she's not the one to blame, and it's not your fault either. It's ours and only ours. I know this will seem like a lame excuse, but I didn't want to let you go thinking that you aren't precious to us. You are Cas. And you always will be."

I close my eyes and try to control my breathing. If before I felt bad, now I feel ten times worse. It seemed like I didn't even know them anymore. The feeling of comfort they made me feel was replaced by anguish. By sadness.

I open my eyes, and for the last time, I look at my boys. I realize that Taehyung understood my gaze.

"Cassie, please... Please don't..." Taehyung starts, but is interrupted by Seokjin.

"Don't you dare say what I think you're going to say."

"But I can't lose her, Hyung. I can't lose her," Taehyung says, crouching down.

I think about going to him, but then I retreat my body. If I do that, I know my heart will weaken, and at the moment, the only person I need to think about is myself.

"I'm sorry, hyung, but I'll be selfish," Namjoon says to Seokjin, and I look at him confused. "I don't know what your decision will be, Cassie. I'll support you, even if you choose to leave without our friendship. But I beg you... Cassandra, I implore you, try to find in yourself a little piece that doesn't want to give up on us. It doesn't have to be now. I want you to heal, and I don't care how long it takes. The only thing I ask is that you don't forget us and don't give up on us. Come back to us when you feel ready. I don't want to lose you, Cas. I..."

"I really hope you find a way to forgive us, Cassie. But understand that if you don't, we'll understand. You, more than anyone else, have every right to hate us," Yoongi says, interrupting Namjoon. "I hope you don't forget about us because, with all my heart, we won't forget about you."

I feel my heart shattering with every tear that falls on their faces. I smile weakly. I will really miss them.

I bow in a sign of respect, and as I return to my normal position, I raise my hand to my heart.

"Thank you, my boys. For all the good moments. You were a very important part of my life, which I will carry forever. I will never forget about all of you," I smile faintly. "How could I forget my first true friendships? My first loves?" I whisper.

I take a breath and smile. A true smile. A smile of gratitude.

"Regardless of what happened, you guys deserve nothing but love and happiness. Don't let anyone say otherwise. Even far away, please remember I will always be cheering for your success. And whenever you feel unloved, remember I love you. Very, very much.'' I can hear their sobs getting stronger. ''Don't think I blame you for what happened; I think I finally understand that life has its ups and downs. People come and unfortunately go," I see Taehyung desperate, trying to find something to say. I look away. I need to be strong. "I hope that every day your friendship with Park Ji-Hye grows, and that you take from all of this a lesson.''

I take a deep breath, looking at them for the last time.

''From the bottom of my heart... I wish you to be immensely happy."

In a gesture, I send thousands of kisses. I see Tae wanting to approach, so I turn around and start walking towards the exit, and this time, I don't cry. I feel the weight of sadness in my chest, but the weight of peace for having put everything I felt out was greater. And for the first time in two months, I believe it when I say that everything will be okay.

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academically-stupid · 4 months

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Avalon | Prologue

poly!bts x male!reader | vampire!AU | reader x vampire!bts | ot7 x male!reader

Caught one night when bathing in the river by his home M/n is taken by a group of men. Realising the situation he has found himself in, M/n's number one priority is getting out of there alive. Easier said than done when you've got to get past seven bloodthirsty and ridiculously horny vampires hellbent on making him their newest blood bag.

A/N: I got inspired while reading @colormepurplex2 's series, so go show her some support!! This is my first fic so pls give me advice or write if you notice any mistakes. Yess DPR IAN is my face claim for M/n, I love this man too much. Thank you thank you, enjoy!

His hands trembled as he followed the black-haired man down the hallway, thoughts running and changing faster than his mind could keep up with. Was this it? Was this where his life would end? Not that there was much of a life to begin with, but he had so many things he had yet to do, so many sights and places he hoped he would one day be able to see, even if only for a moment.

Stopping in front of a large oak door he paused, leaving a good distance between him and his kidnappers, just what did they want with him? If they were going to kill him then do it already? Why make him wait, why prolong the inevitable?

The man in front of him sighed, causing him to freeze up. Shit. Did he say something? Has he somehow made his situation even worse by making it seem as though he had not been listening, choosing to actively ignore the all-powerful man in front of him? The man who held his very life in the palm of his hands, free to do with it as he pleased. Free to end it any way he wanted.

“You know," he said, looking back at him "for someone who doesn’t speak, you sure do have a lot to say”. Turning around he opened the door, with the taller man begrudgingly following shortly behind.

Beautiful. Truly whoever had decorated this building- this mansion- deserved the highest of praise. Deep maroon walls surrounded him, the colour seeming to match the aura of the brooding man before him. Only one window seemed visible, and even then, the curtains that hung from the high ceilings, cascading like a bloody waterfall, seemed to cover what little light managed to fight its way through.

“Well, are you going to come in or am I going to have to pull you in here myself?” Was all he said, cocking his head slightly, as though giving him a choice. Quickly he shuffled in as fast as his feet could make him. The illusion of a choice

Sure he didn’t really think this would in any way put a stop to his inevitable doom, but maybe listening to them would make the end less painful. Even if it sounded stupid in his head, the idea of there being even the slightest chance at a painless end spurred him to bite his tongue and do as the men told him.

Sitting down on the bed that stood in the middle of the room, the centrepiece, the man gestured to the space in front of him. Too close. He wanted him far too close for his liking. But what choice did he have?

Begrudgingly he slowly made his way towards the man. Though perhaps he was too slow because the next thing he knows he’s being pulled by the arm, tripping over his own feet, falling to his knees in front of a now annoyed vampire. Shit.

A rhetorical question. He was obviously not expecting an answer from the man kneeling before him who had yet to say a single word. Did he not know that staying silent was useless, that he could hear his thoughts over the span of an entire forest? The very thing that got him into this situation in the first place?

‘No’ Yoongi thought to himself, letting out a deep breath of frustration. There had to be more to it.

Of all the people Namjoon could have chosen from, why had it been him who was stuck on babysitting duty? No, babysitting was the wrong word for his current situation. The way that the man in front of him carried himself. The way he kept his legs tucked underneath him, hands clasped together on his thighs, the slight tremble visible only to the perseptive eyes of him and his brothers.

This felt closer to pet sitting if anything. He had not been blind to the way that he always kept a safe distance between himself and any of the guys in the house. Sighing he got up, for once having enough of the silence. The man was quick to jump to his feet. Whether to fight, run or hide Yoongi wasn’t certain.

"Stay here," he said walking towards the door he just came from. He had heard the front door open and close shut, signaling the return of the others. "I'll be right back, and I think we both know it would be in your best interest to stay put."

And with that, the door was closed. Sealing yet another victims fate.

Yet something kept bother Yoongi, as he walked down the corridor towards his brothers study, where the rest of them were bound to already be lounging about.

Why was this new humans scent so enticing? Was it even healthy for a living breathing human being to smell that much like death? Whatever it was Yoongi knew they were going to figure it out, with or without your cooperation.

One thing was for sure though;

This was gonna be a pain.

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jungshookz · 11 months

Text

smitten: jungkook's date is tonight but y/n's more stressed about it than he is

➺ pairing; jeon jungkook x reader

➺ genre; smitten!miniseries!! bff!kook & smitten!y/n!! university!au!! honk honk humour!! the boo hoo angsty wattpad-energy fic of your dreams!! unrequited love!! so much pining!! it hurts so bad but that's what makes it so good!! yoongi should really mind his own business!!

➺ wordcount; 6.5k

➺ summary; jungkook's dream date with ji-eun is tonight and y/n's going to do everything in her power to make sure everything goes perfectly.

➺ what to expect; "we've been planning and preparing for this date for the past week, jungkook. i'm going to do everything in my power to make sure that things go according to plan. your date is going to be perfect.”

➺ currently spinning on the record player; i wish [one direction]

➺ smitten: part one [the almost confession]; part two [the incriminating note]

»»————- ♥ ————-««

“pepperoni to garlic knot- pepperoni to garlic knot- come in- are you there?"

the sound of the walkie talkie crackling to life makes you perk up and you reach behind to pull it out from your back pocket, pressing down on the side button with your thumb before bringing it up to your mouth

“garlic knot to pepperoni- i'm here." you bite back a grin at the silly nicknames jungkook insisted on using before speaking up again, "the last of the fairy lights have been strung up, by the way! over."

“oh, sick!" jungkook gasps lightly, "okay, i need you to come down and help me because i've been trying to tie this tie for the last, like, half an hour and at this point i’m just going to have to wave a white flag and surrender. over.”

"roger that. i'm coming down." you tuck the walkie talkie into your pocket again before letting out a sigh and looking around the rooftop setup with your hands on your hips

you must admit it looks really good (as it should, because you've literally been setting everything up since this morning and it's about 5:30pm now)

the bubble tent's been blown up and you made it all comfy and cozy inside with fluffed up pillows and soft throw blankets

you strung the fairy lights up on the clotheslines and you made sure to use fresh batteries for them so that they'll last all night

and the little round table that jungkook and ji-eun will be eating dinner at was a little wobbly but that problem was easily fixed with some blu-tak

the happy smile on your face twitches slightly when the realization that you spent the entire day setting up a date that you're not even a part of hits you

"…oh, you silly girl.” you can't help but snort as you shake your head and turn around to head towards the rooftop door so you can go to jungkook’s apartment, "you silly, silly girl-"

all of this time

all of this effort

all of this everything for a boy you like who you know for sure doesn't like you back because if he liked you back he wouldn’t have asked someone else out

what exactly do you think the end result is here?

what exactly do you think you're gaining out of this?

literally nothing!!!!

so why are you doing all of this??

"because i'm a big ol' simp with no backbone, apparently-" you mutter under your breath as you open the door to jungkook's apartment, forcing the frown off your face and replacing it with an easygoing smile

you may be a simp with no backbone but…

well, no

that’s it. there’s nothing else to say.

"y/n? that you?"

"yeah! sorry, probably should’ve knocked or something- also, not to toot my own horn or anything, but i did a fantastic job with the decorations! i could be a party planner or something if this whole school thing doesn’t work out-” you kick the door shut behind you before looking around for jungkook, "where are you?"

"gimme a sec! i'm, like- i'm almost done, just wait-"

you plop down on the couch and tilt your head back to look up at the ceiling before letting out another quiet sigh

this is why you need to be constantly busy doing things, because if you get even a moment of peace, you start to think and think and think and you hate being alone with your thoughts because your brain starts to mock you and berate you and say things like hey, y/n? you have a paper due at midnight tonight that you're only halfway done with but instead you're prioritizing being a wingwoman to a boy who's head over heels in love with someone else-

"okay, hi!" you jolt in surprise at the sound of jungkook's voice from behind you and you're about to turn around when suddenly he speaks up again, "hold on! close your eyes until i tell you to open them."

"what? why?" you frown as you settle back against the couch again and shut your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest, “i already know what you’re going to wear, i’m the one that picked the outfit for you anyway-”

"i know, but surprises are fun-" you hear the shuffling of material and you resist the urge to turn around immediately as your impatience grows, "okay, i think that looks fine. turn around!"

"i really don't know why you had to prepare me to see you in-" you twist your upper half around so you can finally look at jungkook and almost immediately you feel your heart skip a beat at the sight

the crisp white button-up tucked into a pair of slacks are a stark contrast to the outfits you're so used to seeing jungkook in because most of the time he's drowning in a sweatshirt that's ten sizes too big for him and some slouchy cargo pants and a pair of chunky black stompers

but this? this is…

oh, wow.

"so?" jungkook's being uncharacteristically shy with you as he averts his gaze and reaches down to fiddle with one of the buttons on his shirt, "how… do i look?"

"-handsome." you blurt out, shaking yourself out of your slight daze as you get up from the couch so you can go over to him, "you look- you look very handsome, jungkook. you- yeah, you look very handsome.” you press your lips together, unsure if you should say anything else because you’re not sure where the line is between being a supportive friend or just ogling your friend like he’s a piece of meat

it's when you find yourself looking down at your own outfit (jeans and a t-shirt and socks with a hole on the right heel) that the little voice in the back of your head reminds you of the reality of the situation: that he's looking very handsome not for you, but for ji-eun, and in this moment you wish there was a way to just shut your brain off to cease all cruel thoughts

jungkook looks very nice. just focus on one thing at a time.

“oh my god-“ jungkook's nose immediately scrunches up before he lets out a little laugh, "you're totally hitting on me right now, you weirdo- you look very handsome, jungkook-” he mocks you in a higher voice and you can’t help but feel a little dejected that this is how he reacts to a genuine compliment from you

if anything, it’s more confirmation you didn’t need that jungkook most definitely doesn’t feel the same way about you

"well, i-" you stop yourself from walking any closer to him as you feel your entire face flush bright red, "i- well, i’m trying to be supportive here… you look nice, i’m not gonna be an asshole and say you look bad for this date-” you force out a nervous laugh as you reach up to rub the back of your neck, "whatever, you look fine-"

“thank you, i just- i’m not used to compliments but anyway-” jungkook interrupts you (thankfully, otherwise you definitely would’ve continued to babble and babble and babble) to hold up a black tie, "you need to help me with this."

"you know, i… i actually don't think you need the tie?" you tilt your head a little as you look over jungkook's outfit, "i think you'll look better without it on, and a tie seems a little too formal for the date- can i-" you shuffle forwards slightly before undoing a couple of buttons on jungkook's shirt and spreading the collar open a little, jungkook raising his head a bit so you can work your magic

"you really think this looks better?” he asks quietly, and your eyes flicker up to meet his for a brief second before you quickly look back down at your fumbling fingers

"yea,” you respond, pressing your lips together as you smooth out the collar before taking the tie from his hand, tossing it over your shoulder and stepping back to look at your work, "yeah. that's much better. okay, put the suit jacket on, lemme see the whole look-"

"dude, i've been, like- so nervous all day." jungkook lets out a breath as he pulls the suit jacket up off the back of the couch, "like- okay, obviously ji-eun and i get along really well in real life, but this is the first time we'll be in, like, a romantic setting, you know? like romantic on purpose.“

"it'll be fine. i mean, you already got through the hardest bit which was asking her out-" you shrug as you lean against the back of the couch and cross an ankle over the other, "and she said yes, so… obviously you're doing something right. you’re gonna be fine, you just have first date jitters! everyone gets the first date jitters.”

"i know, but-" he smooths the sleeves of the suit jacket out before looking back over at you, "ah, i don't know. i just feel like i'm gonna screw up somehow, you know?"

"you won’t,” you shake your head before offering him a smile, "just be yourself! don't put too much pressure on, like- on acting like how you think she wants you to act, you know what i mean? just be yourself. she likes you, jungkook. you're a total catch, so-" you cut yourself off before you wander into the ‘you’re a total catch which is actually the reason why i’m in love with you' portion of your pep-talk as you get up off the couch, "yeah! just- just relax. everything's going to go perfectly tonight. and like i was saying when i first walked in here, not to toot my own horn or anything but the rooftop looks immaculate.”

“i’m sure it does! i can’t wait to see it-“ jungkook pauses all of a sudden, his eyes widening in realization, "oh, shit!"

you don't even get the chance to ask him what's wrong before he starts to spiral and you blink rapidly at the sudden change in behaviour

"oh my god.” jungkook slaps his hand against his forehead, “i- fuck, i forgot to pick up the flowers and the- oh my god, i knew i forgot to do something today!" he gawks, pulling his phone out of his back pocket, "shit! shit, shit- damnit, i was gonna pick them up this morning and then i went to the gym and i forgot-"

“i-" you’re slightly startled at how stressed he is over some flowers and you can’t help but chuckle, “there’s even a little sticky note on the fridge to remind you-”

"i know!” jungkook whines, “i know, i don't know, i guess it just slipped my mind because i've literally been thinking about this date all week-“ he sucks some air in through his teeth before shaking his head, “okay, i guess i can just head over there right now and then come back-”

"woah, woah-" you skid over and press a hand to jungkook's chest to keep him from bolting out the door, “what are you talking about? you can't leave now! it's- it's 5:45- and not to mention, it's literally rush hour so the highways are probably all clogged up right now and- ji-eun's going to be here in half an hour so you'll never make it back in time and your suit's going to get all wrinkled because you'll be all cramped up on the bus-"

"y/n, the flowers and the teddy bear are two essential parts of the date,” jungkook looks at you with wide eyes, clearly desperate to leave the apartment, “i’m not gonna have anything to give her when she arrives, she can’t show up only for me to be empty handed-”

"hey, relax!” you snap, softening your tone when jungkook’s shoulders droop slightly, “listen, you are not going to leave the apartment because ji-eun is coming and i’m sure she’ll be disappointed if she finds me on the rooftop instead of you. this is what’s going to happen: you’re going to sit here and wait for ji-eun, i’m going to go and pick up the flowers and the teddy bear, and then you can give them to her after the date. it’s going to be fine, you are literally being so dramatic right now-”

"but-"

"look, i'm sure ji-eun isn't going to throw a tantrum if you don't present her with a bouquet of flowers at the beginning of the date- if she did, that’d be kind of odd but that’s not the point- the point is, it'll be fine. you go on your date, i’ll pick them up."

"yeah, but-!"

"kook, i've got it, alright?" you back away from him slowly but you keep your arm extended to make sure he doesn't move, "i'll take care of everything, you know i can handle it- just- i'm gonna go now and then- i'll leave behind the rooftop door as soon as i get them, okay? and i'll text you so that you'll know they're there-"

"y/n…" jungkook chews on the inside of his cheek anxiously, guilt swirling around in his eyes, "you've already done so much for me, i can't ask you to-"

"we've been planning and preparing for this date for the past week, jungkook. i'm going to do everything in my power to make sure that things go according to plan. your date is going to be perfect.”

“are you sure? i feel bad, i feel like you did so much and-”

“i’m sure, jungkook-" you interrupt him again before turning to grab your jacket off coat rack, “the only thing you have to think about tonight is how you’re going to charm ji-eun — and to be honest, you don’t even need to think about it because all you have to do is be yourself! now sit down and try to relax. and try not to wrinkle your shirt, i spent way too long ironing it earlier."

»»————- ♥ ————-««

your nose crinkles slightly as you look up at the sky, your brows knitting together in concern at the light grey clouds hanging in the air

the forecast did say it would be cloudy today (and it has been cool and cloudy all day) but you’re hoping it doesn’t rain because if it rains that’ll completely ruin the date and jungkook will probably be electrocuted by the fairy lights if he touched them

of course, jungkook and ji-eun can take cover in that bubble tent if it starts to rain, but hopefully it doesn’t… (why are you so hellbent on making sure this date is going to go smoothly?! you might as well plan their wedding for them as well at this rate.)

you perk up when you see the bus you’re supposed to take rounding the corner and you fumble in your purse for your bus card, stepping up to the stop eagerly

your phone buzzes in your pocket and you pull it out once you plop yourself down in a seat in the back

from: jungkook (5:58pm) — Holy shit I’m acc so nervous

from: jungkook (5:58pm) — What if this goes horribly

you can’t help but roll your eyes at how panicky jungkook is being because he really has no reason to be nervous

all he had to do was dress himself and make himself presentable because you were the one who did all the hard work of setting up (to be fair, you insisted on setting up alone because you like things done a certain way and jungkook seemed too jittery to focus)

to: jungkook (5:58pm) — you’re literally going to be fine

to: jungkook (5:58pm) — it’s going to be fine

to: jungkook (5:58pm) — you already know she likes you

to: jungkook (5:59pm)— just think of this as another one of your hangouts but you guys are dressed more fancy and you’re on a rooftop for some reason LOL

from: jungkook (5:59pm) — Okay

from: jungkook (5:59pm) — She says she’s almost here

from: jungkook (5:59pm) — Do you think I should’ve picked her up instead of her meeting me here

to: jungkook (5:59pm) — …you rented out a rooftop for her i think she’ll survive

you pause, setting your phone face down on your lap before letting out a yawn and leaning your head against the window

you got up far too early this morning and the gentle rumbling of the bus down the highway is very soothing

google maps said the journey to your stop was about 38 minutes which means you have approximately 35 minutes to take a quick nap and the remaining 3 minutes to wake yourself up so you won’t be too groggy after hopping off the bus

you’ve worked hard today, so you deserve a little snooze!

your right eye peels open when your phone buzzes again

from: jungkook (6:04pm) — Omg she’s here early

from: jungkook (6:04pm) — Okay

from: jungkook (6:04pm) — Wish me luck and also thank you for everything you are the best

a smile twitches at the corner of your mouth and you can’t help but think to yourself that yes, i am kind of the best, aren’t i?

to: jungkook (6:04pm) — yes yes

to: jungkook (6:04pm) — good luck!

to: jungkook (6:04pm)— :-)

another yawn slips past your lips and you tuck your phone into your purse before leaning your head against the window again and shutting your eyes

an additional benefit to getting some sleep on the bus is so that your brain won’t start to flood with reminders that jungkook doesn’t like you like that and that you are currently sitting on a bus going to get flowers for him to give to another girl-

okay, that’s enough of that, your teeth grit together slightly and you clear your throat, crossing one leg over the other as you get settled into the stiff, itchy seats, a quick power nap and then the overthinking can begin again.

»»————- ♥ ————-««

“excuse me-”

your eyes open immediately at the feeling of someone shaking your shoulder and you sit up straight, clutching your purse tighter to your body as you look up to see the bus driver smiling down at you in mild concern

“morning!” he jokes, raising an eyebrow before clicking his tongue and nodding towards the opened doors, “end of the line, miss. gonna have to ask you hop off.”

what?

in your half-asleep state you can’t help but wonder what you’re doing on a bus and where you were meant to be going in the first place… is the date over? are you heading home?

“end of the-“ your heart plummets to your stomach at the realization that you took more than just a little snooze because you are, in fact, at the end of the line when you were supposed to be at the flower shop and heading back to jungkook’s apartment now, “wait, end of the line?!”

“i’m guessing you missed your stop? happens a lot when people fall asleep on the bus.”

“i- yes-“ you pull your phone out to check the time (and your heart nearly stops beating when you see that it’s 7:13), “i was supposed to get off at crown street, how far are we from crown street?”

“not too far-“ the bus driver hums, “about fifteen-“

“minutes?” you get up from the seat, starting to make your way towards the door but still looking at the driver

“blocks.” he sucks some air in through his teeth, “fifteen blocks away. if you walk from here, it’ll probably take you about… twenty-ish minutes or so to get to the crown street stop-”

“twenty-ish minutes, twenty minutes is nothing, i can make it in ten if i sprint-“ you mutter to yourself, pulling your purse up over your shoulder and turning to smile at the bus driver before hopping off, “thank you, sir, enjoy the rest of your night-!”

it’s only a second later that you find yourself sprinting down the sidewalk, your runners smacking loudly against the concrete as you keep your purse tucked tightly underneath your armpit

unbelievable! something just had to go wrong tonight, didn’t it?

and it certainly doesn’t help that it’s drizzling right now — you don’t even have an umbrella with you!

“so stupid, shouldn’t have fallen asleep-“ you look up briefly when you hear a rumble of thunder, stopping at the crosswalk and slapping the button multiple times as if it’s going to make the walk sign appear faster, “c’mon, c’mon…”

you jolt when a flash of lightning lights up the sky before suddenly-

“oh, come ON!” rain suddenly starts to pour down from the sky and you resist the urge to just fall to the ground and completely give up because it seems like the universe is actively trying to tell you that what you’re doing is clownish behaviour and you need to stand up

of course, because one of your more prominent traits is your innate stubbornness, you pull your purse off your shoulder and raise it above your head as if it’s going to stop you from getting completely soaked

rainwater starts to flood into your shoes as you jog across the street and the feeling of your socks increasingly getting wet sends a shiver up your spine

you pull your purse back onto your shoulder and keep it tightly held under your armpit once your arms start to get sore — you’re already completely soaked so using your purse as an umbrella seems pretty redundant at this point

“don’t know why i didn’t bring a stupid umbrella with me either!” you huff to yourself, wiping your hair away from your face as you cross another street after looking both ways (safety first), “fall asleep on the bus, gets caught in the rain- stupid, stupid-“ you grumble, reaching up to wipe under your eyes and pressing your lips together in frustration at the wet mascara ink staining your fingertips

wonderful

just wonderful

and now you probably look demonic as well

you pick up in pace when you recognize the street the flower shop is on, speeding up even more when you notice someone standing in front of the doors with a set of keys in their hand looking very ready to close up shop for the night

“woah, woah, wait! wait, please!” you call out and the person immediately stops, looking over at you and then taking a few steps back in what seems to be mild fear, “so sorry, i just need to pick a bouquet up, i know you’re closing but i really need this bouquet- and-“

“did you run here?” he asks, looking you up and down as he adjusts his grip on his umbrella, “…you do know it’s raining, right?”

“yeah, i- woo, give me a second to catch my breath-“ you pant, bending over and putting both hands on your knees, wincing to yourself as your lungs constrict in your chest, “i don’t remember the last time i ran like this, jesus christ- i think i’m going to puke-“ you force yourself to stand up straight again, placing a hand on your hip as you continue to suck in puffs of air, “i need to pick up an order.”

“oh, wait! you’re the girl who’s in love with her friend, now i remember who you are-“ his eyes light up briefly before the deadpan expression returns to his face, “sorry, champ. we close at 7:30.”

“it’s 7:29,” you choose to ignore his first comment before holding your phone up to his face and he immediately deflates, “come on, yoongi- it’s yoongi, right? please. give me a break.”

“i’m just tryna go home-“

“please, my friend’s date is tonight and he was supposed to pick up his flowers this morning but then he went to the gym so he forgot even though there was a sticky note on the fridge reminding him to-”

“wait, you’re picking up his flowers for him?!” yoongi asks, eyes widening again before he throws his head back in a laugh, “hah! oh my god, you- you’re actually kidding me, this has to be a joke-“

“i will give you five glowing stars on google reviews if you let me in-“ you pant, wiping strands of wet hair away from your forehead again, squinting slightly because the rainwater has now fully fucked up your vision and yoongi is starting to look like a dark blob, “even though your customer service skills suck because you’re clearly laughing at me and i really thought you’d have the decency to share your umbrella considering the fact that it’s pouring-“

“my customer service skills are fantastic, you should see the way i flirt with all the older ladies who come in-” yoongi jingles his keys in his hands before checking the time on his watch, “they always leave with $15 silk ribbons on their bouquets and a boost in their self-esteem-“

“we’re wasting time here, i’m supposed to be back at my friend’s place like, now-“

“alright, fine.” yoongi sighs, shoving the keys back into the lock before clicking his tongue, “but i’m only doing this because i feel like saying no to you is equivalent to, like, leaving a puppy out in the cold or something. or stealing candy from a baby and then shoving the baby off of its high chair. or, like, taking a chainsaw and destroying a nice old lady’s rosebush in front of her for no reason while she’s standing there with a pitcher of iced tea for you-”

“alright, i get it, you pity me, just let me into the store and give me my damn order.”

“did you really run all the way here?” he asks, opening the door to let you in as he closes his umbrella and shakes the excess water off before shoving it into the holder

“i took the bus but i fell asleep and missed my stop. ended up at the end of the line and i thought running fifteen blocks would be faster than waiting for the next bus.” you breathe out, your shoes squeaking obnoxiously against the marble floors as you step into the shop and leave a generous trail of rainwater behind you

yoongi deflates slightly at the mess you’re leaving behind you and he quickly reaches out to grab onto your elbow, “do not take another step. i literally mopped up before closing and you’re leaving a trail everywhere.”

“sorry, sorry…” you apologize sheepishly, taking a step back closer to the front door and looking down at the puddle growing around your feet

you reach up to squeeze some water out of your air, freezing when you realize you’re just squeezing more water onto the ground for yoongi to mop up

yoongi gives you an unimpressed, blank stare before shaking his head and flicking the lights on, “there is nobody in the world i would ever run in the rain for. hell, there’s nobody i would even ever run for in general.”

“well, i’m sorry your heart is made out of literal ice and you don’t have the ability to feel love for another human being.” you respond sarcastically, yoongi turning around with raised eyebrows

“hey, for someone with an icy cold heart, i didn’t have to let you in, i could very well kick you out right now because i already clocked out for the night-”

“okay, sorry, i’m sorry- just- if i could just pick up the order, i’ll get out of your hair, i’m sorry-“

“why are you doing this in the first place?” yoongi asks as he gets settled behind the front desk, switching the monitor back on, “also, i promise i’m not stalling because i also want to get out of here as soon as possible, i just need to check what your order number is-“

“because jungkook forgot to pick the order up this morning.” you respond as if it’s the most obvious answer in the entire world (because to you, it kind of is)

“well, i get that, but you still didn’t answer the question.” yoongi hums, tapping on the keyboard and hitting the enter key obnoxiously

“sure, i did.” you frown, “i answered your question. i’m here because jungkook forgot to pick up the order this morning. he’s on his date right now and i told him i could pick it up for him. he’s on a date.”

“with another girl.” yoongi murmurs, propping his chin up on his palm, “you are picking up flowers for jungkook to give to another girl because…”

“because i’m his friend.” you feel your eye twitch slightly out of a mixture of growing frustration and impatience, “you have that order number yet? i’m on a time crunch here.”

“…okay, i think all the rainwater must’ve flushed the logic out of your head…” yoongi purses his lips as he gets up from the seat, offering you an overly polite customer service smile, “please wait here while i get your order from the back. i would offer you a glass of cucumber water and an apple rose whatever cinnamon pastry thing but we are technically closed, so you’re just going to have to stand here and wait.”

“funny.” you raise an eyebrow, about to squeeze some water out of your top before stopping yourself (you’ll wait until yoongi disappears to the back and then you’ll do it)

you’re picking up flowers for jungkook because you’re his friend

and on top of that, not only are you his friend, you’re a very good friend of his!

he would do the same for you if the roles were reversed (well, if the roles were reversed, you would’ve never forgotten to pick up the flowers so jungkook would never have to run in the rain to pick them up for you)

what does yoongi mean by why are you doing this?

isn’t it obvious??

if anything, he’s the one with no logic in his head if he can’t grasp the simple answer to his simple question

you’re doing this because you’re jungkook’s friend, and this is what friends do when they care about each other

“okay, one more time- what are you doing right now?” yoongi pops out from the back with a beautifully wrapped bouquet and an adorable little white teddy bear with a pink heart as its nose and you can’t help but pout sweetly at it

you know you said the teddy bear would be a little much but looking at it now… you want one too!

“picking up a bouquet and a teddy bear.” you point out, holding your hands out to take them from yoongi

“picking up a bouquet and a teddy bear for…”

“for my friend…” you trail off, making grabby hands at him only for him to pull back slightly

“for your friend jungkook because…”

“why do you care so much about this? you don’t know me and what i do is none of your business, your job right now is to hand me a bouquet and that teddy bear and you’re not doing a super good job if i’m being honest-”

“you’re right, i don’t know you, but i’m nosy as hell and you seem nice even though you’re oblivious as hell- you’re so close to the answer, too! what are you doing right now and why are you doing what you’re doing?”

“what are you doing right now? and why are you doing what you’re doing right now??” you snap, looking at the little clock sitting on the desk, “i’m running very late, just give me the damn flowers, man-“

“alright, fine.” yoongi deflates, handing you the bouquet and the little bear before shaking his head and turning around to grab the mop from the back, “guess you’ll figure out the answer on your own. by the way, let your friend know that if he wants to order another bouquet for you to pick up that we now have an online ordering form so he doesn’t even have to come in store anymore- by the way, i can lend you an umbrella if you didn’t wanna run in the rain again because like i said, our customer service is-” yoongi spins around and immediately clams up when the only indication that you were even here at all are the two dirty shoe marks staining the white marble floor and the puddle of water around them

he shrugs to himself and clicks his tongue

oh well

…you still better give the store a five star review.

»»————- ♥ ————-««

the journey back to jungkook’s apartment is a little less chaotic than the journey leaving his place, thankfully

you managed to get to the bus stop right as the bus came, and if anything, you took that as a sign that the universe was now on your side

it was rewarding you for being such a good friend!

of course, you still got caught in the thunderstorm jogging back to jungkook’s building from the bus stop (according to the forecast, it’s supposed to rain all night long) and the bouquet is a little soggy and the little bear’s fur is kind of matted now, but you tried your best to keep them dry under your sopping wet jacket, “alright, kook, don’t worry, i’m coming-“ you mutter, going up the stairs two at a time and ignoring the fact that you’re leaving a wet trail behind you

you can’t help but shiver at the feeling of cold, wet clothes clinging uncomfortably to your body, pausing when you accidentally use the bear as a makeshift towel to dry your face

“shit, whoops-“ you pull the bear away instantly, relieved to see that you didn’t leave any streaks of makeup on it

your legs slow down as you reach the steps leading up towards the door to the rooftop, and you pause at the top of the steps when you hear a melodic giggle from outside amongst the rhythmic pitter patter of chubby raindrops splashing against the cement

sucking your bottom lip in between your teeth as you slow your movements as to not make too much noise and ruin the moment, you press yourself against the side of the stairwell and crouch down on your hands and knees, placing the bouquet on the ground by the door and the little bear right next to it

the only thing to do now is turn back and head home before you catch a cold from staying in your sopping wet clothes, but the sound of jungkook’s laugh makes your ears perk up and soon enough, you find yourself crawling up the additional three steps up so you can peek through the crack between the door and the frame and-

kissing

almost instantly, your mouth goes dry and you feel a sharp pinch in your chest at the sight of jungkook and ji-eun kissing, their lips seeming to slot together perfectly as ji-eun curls up closer to jungkook and he reaches up to cup the side of her face, the two of them looking nice and warm (and dry) in the bubble tent as raindrops continue to bounce off the top of it

your eyelids flutter slightly as your brain catches up to what you’re looking at, and just like that, everything hits you like a ton of bricks

what the fuck am i doing?

you are crouched down in the stairwell like a creep, sopping wet from the heavy rain, still exhausted from sprinting fifteen blocks to get to the stupid flower shop before it closed, staring at the boy you love kissing someone else on a rooftop that you spent all day decorating and setting up

you look down towards the bouquet and bear, swallowing the lump in your throat as your eyes begin to glaze over because oh my god, what are you doing?

the bouquet of flowers is not for you

the cute little bear is not for you

the bubble tent and the fairy lights and the porcelain plates and fancy cutlery — all of it isn’t for you, it’s for someone else, it’s for ji-eun

ji-eun is the one that’s kissing jungkook right now, not you

in fact, it’ll never be you because jungkook doesn’t like you

you turn around so you can sit on the steps properly, folding your arms over the tops of your knees and propping your chin up on top of them

jungkook does not like you back

you helped him plan this date and you helped him set up the rooftop for his romantic date with ji-eun and you ironed his shirt and you ran in the rain to get the bouquet and the bear not just because you’re a good friend — you did all of this because you are hopelessly, hopelessly in love with jungkook and you would pluck all the stars in the sky for him and put them in a jar if he’d asked

“oh my god, y/n.” you breathe out, pinching the bridge of your nose as you shake your head in dejection, “what the fuck are you doing?”

you feel that all too familiar prickle in your nose as you get up onto your feet and head down the steps one by one, your heart heavy in your chest as you adjust the strap of your purse over your shoulder

(and as you stare up at the ceiling when you’re in bed later that night after taking a nice, hot shower and shoving your cold, wet clothes into the hamper, you can’t help but wonder if perhaps you’ll be pining after jungkook for the rest of your life.)

»»————- ♥ ————-««

from: jungkook (1:08am) — Thanks for getting the flowers and the bear for me you’re a lifesaver

from: jungkook (1:08am) — Like actually the best

from: jungkook (1:08am) — So grateful to have a friend as good as you

from: jungkook (1:09am) —The date went really well btw

from: jungkook (1:09am) — Hope you’re sleeping well :) Will text you tomorrow

🎙️ tell yoongi to mind his own business or console y/n (talk to my characters!)

📚 why not explore the rest of the library while you're here? (full fics!)

💫 or perhaps you want something shorter to read? (drabbles and mini series like smitten!)

🌟 or something even shorter? (teeny tidbits!)

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