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tamagoincident · 3 years

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To Lure a Bird

arthur morgan x reader

summary: The Van der Linde Gang plans to rob a train, too bad you hit it first. You, being the reasonable person you are, coerce rough-looking men to run a job with you in exchange for the stolen money, and everyone gets more than they bargained for.

chapter: 1/10

link: AO3

Chapter One - A Mutual Enemy

On the evening you first heard of the Van der Linde Gang’s presence in Valentine, you stood at the bar of Smithfield's Saloon disguised in men’s clothing. Not a typical Friday for you, as you tried not to make it a habit of sticking around places where reckless men became more reckless the further they disappeared into their cups. But years ago you’d helped the bartender, a giant man named Ernest, drum up enough money to pay off his debtors, and he held you in the highest of regards ever since. It was the only place you could drink without being disturbed. Ernest made sure of that.

“What’ll it be, the usual?” he winked at you, his large hands already reaching toward the whiskey.

You smiled and nodded.

“I have information you might want to hear,” he continued, pouring the liquor into a glass and sliding it towards you. You caught it easily.

“Oh?”

“There was a young lady here last night. Overheard her talkin’ to some fancy pants New Yorker who kept braggin’ ‘bout the luxury train he’ll be taking back to the North. She seemed awfully intrigued,” Ernest said. “And get this, it weren’t the only instance I’d seen her, neither. Few days ago she’d been traipsin’ around the outskirts of Valentine with a bunch of scary lookin’ out-of-towners.”

“Figure they’re planning on robbing the train?”

Ernest shrugged. “It’s easy pickin’. You know how naïve high society can be.”

Maybe easy enough for a one-person job, if done quickly and with care. You’d only robbed a train once with two people you used to run with. You didn’t run with them anymore. It hurt you to think of it.

You held up your glass for a refill and leaned forward, brimming with interest. “Tell me more about this train.”

—

The train tracks rattled underneath Arthur’s feet.

“Get movin’,” he said to Sean, pointing towards the trees hidden in the darkness. Arthur climbed atop the wagon they’d rode in on and placed in the middle of the tracks, which bore five hundred gallons of oil. He widened his stance for balance and pulled a bandana over his mouth and nose. “Here she comes.”

Arthur squinted against the blinding brightness of the incoming headlight, cocking his rifle as it approached. The train’s horn bellowed into the night.

It saw him. Good.

It came to a hissing and screeching halt. A uniformed man stormed out from the front cab. “What's goin' on here? What's—aw hell,” the engineer wailed, kicking the dirt underneath his feet. “Not again! Gettin’ real tired of this shit.” Behind him, a shadow of blurred movement. Charles, ready to strike him unconscious.

Arthur jumped off the wagon. “Hold it!” he yelled to Charles, who paused his assault and instead restrained the man with a pistol aimed at his head. “What d’you mean, ‘Not again?’”

“If y’all are trying to rob us, we’ve already been hit,” he wheezed.

“You’re bluffin’.”

“You and your boys are more than welcome to board and check. Reckon it’s a waste of time though.”

Arthur swore. “Let him go, Mr. S.”

Charles let go. The engineer stumbled forward, sputtering and coughing. In between heavy breaths he said, “Happened near the Heartlands. Strange feller in a mask robbed us blind and then pointed a shotgun at me, gruntin’ at me to start the engine or he’ll call for his gang to kill everyone on board.”

“Why in God’s name would he do that?” Arthur said.

“Beats me. But now that I think of it, he was probably expecting y’all. Here, he gave me this—” he moved to reach into his coat pocket, but ceased upon the chorus of rifles cocking. Sean and John had appeared to find what the holdup was.

“Don’t move a goddamn muscle,” Arthur growled. “Mr. S., if you could kindly grab whatever’s in that fool’s pocket.”

Charles complied, plucking out a wad of paper. He handed it to Sean, who read aloud:

Don’t want the loot, only your attention.

Have your lady informant go back to the saloon and talk to the bartender.

He’ll tell you where to find me.

Cause any trouble and you won’t see a cent.

Sean laughed bitterly, waving the note in the air. “Got us good, didn't he?”

“Give me that, you idiot.” Arthur snatched the note and tilted the lettering towards the train's headlight. “Goddamn it—”

A bullet whizzed by Arthur’s head. The engineer dove to the ground for safety.

“Get on your horses!” Arthur yelled to the gang and whistled. Once in the saddle, he spurred the horse on and rode hard into the trees, past the storm of bullets, and evaded capture.

He was the last to arrive back at camp, after making sure he hadn’t been followed. He passed Dutch’s closed tent and found Sean blackout drunk near the fire. John sat close by, clearly on the same trajectory as the Irishman, with the amount of empty beer bottles at his feet. Arthur cleared his throat. “Where’s Charles?”

John glanced up, eyes bleary and lined with red. In the firelight he looked small and exhausted. “Asleep.”

“You should be too.”

“Well, I ain’t,” John mumbled tipping the beer to his lips and draining it. He tossed the bottle aside with a crash.

“Need me to tuck you in Marston? How ‘bout a bedtime story?”

“Real funny, Arthur."

Arthur sat down across from John, allowing the sound of crickets and snuffling horses to fill the silence between them. When he spoke, his tone was softer. “Don’t think I’ve seen you this shaken. Not even when you was freezin’ your ass off after them wolves got to you.”

John’s gaze dropped to his lap. “I’m a bit rattled, s’all. I got a bad feelin’, Arthur.”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t you think the law showed up a little too fast?”

“Maybe,” Arthur said. “I’m more curious about the son-of-a-bitch who knew we was gonna rob that train.” He turned, pulling the note he’d stashed into his saddlebag and brandishing it.

“See? You’re worried too. S’not just me.”

“I’m not worried,” Arthur cast the notion aside. No use in admitting to being worried unless there was really something to lose sleep over, especially in front of John, who looked like he was fixing for an excuse to leave again. Arthur didn’t want to be the person to give him one. He would gladly take a bullet before he watched Abigail’s face twist back into sorrow and disappointment on account of John flying the coop.

“We gonna be okay, Arthur?” John asks.

“Can’t tell the future anymore than you can, Marston,” Arthur said, crumpling the note in his fist. “What we can do is find the bastard who pulled the wool over our eyes, and deal with the rest as it comes along. I’ll talk to Mary-Beth tomorrow. Ask her to go back up to the saloon.”

John watched as Arthur tossed the paper into the fire, the edges curling into black.

—

You waited across the tracks from the abandoned trading post in Roanoke Ridge, taking shelter behind a sturdy tree (you’d almost hid behind one crawling with poison ivy vines, what a sight that would have been). The instructions you’d given Ernest to pass on had been clear: Whoever is sent must be on time and arrive alone. You checked your pocket watch. Already a half hour late. Out of desperation you remained a few minutes longer. The sun was almost at its peak in the sky, and you were getting hot with your scarf obscuring the lower half of your face. You cursed yourself for wearing such bulky trousers and long sleeves.

In your mind, the heist had been preferable to wasting away in the heat. With a little theater and luck, you managed to rob the train heading north. You still couldn’t believe your good fortune. Keeping your voice low and husky, the passengers and engineer had mistaken you for some hardened outlaw. You’d threatened them with your non-existent gang that was supposedly trailing close behind. In reality, the only thing riding alongside the train was the horse you’d borrowed from Ernest.

You scanned the landscape with binoculars, on the precipice of calling it a day, when you saw a pair of figures ascend the hill behind the dilapidated structure. The taller of the two was wearing a fading grey shirt that you imagined was once white, which stretched across his broad shoulders. He staked a far contrast to the companion at his left, a leaner man with dark hair that extended past a deep scar on his cheek. Both looked tough and mean. Exactly the type of men you’d hoped for.

Though two against one, the odds weren’t good if things went south.

You dropped the binoculars and reached for your rifle. Steadying yourself, you squinted through the scope, drifting down the length of their bodies until their dusty leather boots came into view. You cocked the gun, exhaled, and took the shot, aiming inches away from them.

“Shit!”

“Thought I’d said to come alone,” you called out. “If one of you gentlemen doesn’t get going, the next two bullets will be right in the forehead.”

“Jesus Christ,” the dark-haired man yelped. “Is that a woman shooting at us?”

“Woman or not, doesn’t change the fact she’s got a goddamn rifle!” the other fired back. “Alright, miss, my friend here is gonna get on his horse and leave. Ain’t that right, Marston?”

“Rode all the way out here for nothin’,'' he complained loudly and whistled. When his horse came around, he placed his foot in the stirrups and swung his leg over the saddle. “If you ain’t back by sundown, I’ll come lookin’ for you, Arthur. Hear that, lady?”

Arthur waved a dismissive hand. You waited until the horse disappeared behind the hills before coming out from the brush. At this distance, you could discern more of his features. The first of which you noticed were bright blue eyes that writers and painters alike had mused over for centuries.

He directed them at you. “There,” he said. “Happy?”

You lowered your rifle. “We’re off to a poor start, I’m afraid.”

“Don’t want no trouble. Just didn’t know what we was walkin’ into,” he said, moving closer, hands up slightly as if to not appear threatening. “You were real vague in that note of yours.”

You reaffirmed your grip on your rifle. “That’s close enough,” you said. Any closer and he’d eclipse you, your neck within snapping distance of those strong hands.

“Then, how about you tell me how this is gonna go?”

In the days leading to this moment, you’d thought of the ways you were going to approach this. Never did you imagine getting this far. “Do you have any idea why I may have invited you here?”

“To gloat, perhaps? About beatin’ us to that train?”

An involuntary upward twitch at the corner of your mouth. “Not quite, sir. I value my time and yours, so I’ll keep it short. I need you.”

Arthur pointed to himself. “You... need me?”

“Yes, you.”

He dipped his head, obscuring whatever expression he was making beneath the brim of his hat. Rubbing his neck, Arthur said, “Can’t imagine why you’d need me, lady. Accountin’ for the fact you don’t even know me.”

“I’ll rephrase. It’s not you I need exactly, it’s somebody like you. And your friend, for that matter.” You paused. “I used to have partners, too. One is dead, the other is in need of rescue. She was kidnapped. I want to hire you to help get her back.”

“Why not go to the sheriff? Seems a hell of a lot easier than getting up to all this trouble.”

“The sheriff?” you scoffed. “You really think he’d risk himself and his men to help me save a working girl from outlaws? Most likely he’d look into my background, and then I’d be arrested before I could even blink.”

“So all we gotta do is save your friend from her kidnappers and what, you’ll pay us?”

“You’ll get the money from the train, and I’ll throw in seventy dollars on top of that,” you said.

“What’s the catch?”

“Pardon me?”

“The catch,” Arthur repeated. “Seems too easy.”

“Didn’t say it’d be easy. Are you familiar with the O’Driscoll Boys?”

A spark of recognition. He was, in fact, familiar. “Yeah, I heard of ‘em. Your friend Emma… them boys captured her?”

You nodded. “A former client of hers runs with that gang. He found us in a hotel room, shot Henry, and knocked me out. When I came to, Emma was gone, and I was alone.”

“Under ordinary circumstances, I’d be glad to help,” he said. “You see, there’s someone I’d need to run this by and he’s already got it out for their leader, Colm O’Driscoll. This’d be the perfect excuse for him to do something goddamn stupid.”

“Please. If you’re familiar with them, you can imagine how awful it must be for her. I’ll even give you half the money upfront,” you said, decocking your rifle and slipping it back over your shoulder by its leather strap.

“Can’t promise nothin’, but I’ll talk it over with some people tonight. Meet me at that saloon in two days, same time. If it goes in your favor, I’ll take you to see the man who makes all the decisions.”

“Are you going to make me wait again?” you asked.

“You’re the one asking for favors, miss.”

“I’m offering a job.”

Arthur’s lips set into a hard line. “A job that might get us into a world of trouble, adding fuel to a fire that’s been burnin’ for a long time now. Frankly, you don’t know what you’re getting into.”

And because you didn’t want to push your luck, you fell silent. You watched him call for his horse and mount it.

“I’ll be on time,” he mumbled as an afterthought, and rode off in the direction he came.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan fanfiction #rdr2 ao3 #rdr2 fanfiction #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x y/n #reader insert #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan/reader #tlab

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honeymoonjin · 4 years

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ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: exactly 7777 words how sexy is that || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

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ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: voyeurism, filmed sex, public sex/outdoor sex, oral (f receiving), jin being a little shit just because he can, vmin mxm scene, bath sex, unprotected sex, fingering/anal play, anal sex, creampie, the most tender smut scene in this whole fic goes to these fucking boys

ᴀ/ɴ: banner designed by @jamaisjoons, thank you to my sfhs girls who help with brainstorming every week xx, i’m so sorry if this feels rushed or too short, i didn’t want to leave you hanging for three weeks : (

DAY NINE

One thing you learn the morning after, is that Hoseok is a deceptively bad cook.

Of course you’re grateful for the breakfast in bed he kindly prepared you and Jungkook - the latter still half-asleep and unable to go more than five seconds without yawning - but it’s hard to comprehend that the man in front of you now, eating cereal with a fork, is the same one that wrecked you so elegantly last night.

“Why is the toast chewy? Are we still being punished?” Jungkook moans sombrely around a mouthful, eyes dazed.

Hoseok sets his fork back in the bowl with a clatter, reaching out to poke Jungkook with a foot. “Be grateful, brat. I made that out of love.”

The younger man stares bleakly down at his plate. “I’d love to have a pancake right now instead.”

You wince at Hoseok’s disappointed expression, taking a mouthful of the strangely floppy toast. “It’s… nice and warm,” you offer up, failing to find anything else to compliment.

Hoseok beams. “Thank you. While I was doing my cereal, it got a bit cold, so I heated it up in the microwave.”

Your heart sinks despairingly into your stomach, which roils at the prospect. “Ah,” you muse hollowly.

“Eat up!” the dom cheers. “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.” Still smiling proudly, he digs his fork into the almost full bowl of cereal and begins chowing down.

Jungkook shares a silent stare with you, and you turn back to your plate. “Thanks for breakfast, Hoseok,” you sigh, and brace yourself for the meal ahead.

After breakfast, you get dressed in a pair of shorts and a comfy shirt, planning on spending the day inside relaxing. But the moment you see Jin and Taehyung running around on the gravel outside, a small darting form evading their flailing arms, you realise how foolish you were to expect that a day in the villa could be anything remote to uneventful.

Rushing out the front door still in your socks, you step down to the base of the concrete entryway, staring in shock at the two men.

Taehyung’s face is bright with a boxy grin, laughing maniacally as he rushes to and fro, still in his version of pyjamas - loose boxer shorts and a Celine Dion t-shirt. “Hyung, that way!” he hoots cheerily to Jin, feet crunching noisily on the gravel.

The other man, considerably less happy (or perhaps the frown was one of absolute concentration), huffs at the command. “It’s your fuckin’ dog, Tae, why isn’t it going to you?”

Between them, panting and grinning, is a small dog with short fur, nails clicking on the gravel. It can’t be taller than knee-height, with wide eyes and a small black nose. It probably is white or cream coloured, but the thick crusting of dirt all over makes it hard to tell.

“It’s not my dog, I just found him!” Taehyung insists, before crouching down, clicking his tongue. “Mango, c’mere boy! Come to daddy.”

Jin comes to a stop with a groan, chest heaving. “Well, now you’re just going to scar the poor thing.”

Taehyung glares, but doesn’t stop cooing at the dog, who’s now eying him up suspiciously. “Come on, boy, daddy just wants to help, he’ll give you a nice, warm bath and some treats. Sound nice, Mango? C’mere!”

With the cool disdain that you’ve never seen in a dog before, Mango lifts his chin and turns tail, gracefully trotting over to Jin, rubbing his face against the man’s shin.

Taehyung gasps in abject horror at the betrayal, sinking fully onto the rough gravel of the driveway, but Jin just grins and bends down, gently scratching the dog’s head.

You let out a disbelieving laugh at the scene, drawing their attention. “What is going on?”

Immediately, the two men point at each other accusingly, the dog - Mango - snuffling at Jin’s hand when he realises his petting has ceased.

Jin calmly resumes stroking the mutt with a mellow expression. “Taehyung kidnapped a dog.”

“I did not!” the younger man protests vehemently. “I found him wandering around all by himself and I put out some food for him.” Taehyung turns to you with desperate eyes. “Jin called him filthy!”

“I did,” the therapist admits easily, “‘cause he is.” Crouching down, he gets closer to eye-level and pouts. “All this mud and dirt on you, hm? Not nice, is it? Poor bo-” Jin cuts himself off as the dog rolls over on its back, wiggling against the gravel happily. The three of you stare in silence for a few moments at Mango, before Jin slowly pans up to stare at Taehyung. “You thought Mango was a boy this whole time?”

Taehyung scratches his head with a helpless shrug. “Well, I didn’t think to check his dick for confirmation! I mean, her dick. No dick. Uh…”

Jin’s ignoring him, however, in favour of giving Mango tummy rubs, grinning at the whipping of her tail as it wags. “Oh, Taehyungie is so mean to you, isn’t he? Poor girl. I wouldn’t trust him with a cactus,” he admits in a mock whisper.

“I resent that,” Taehyung shouts lowly, voice getting louder as he gets worked up, “Cactuses don’t even have dicks, so it wouldn’t be an issue.”

“Neither does Mango,” Jin quips sharply.

“Hey!” the younger boy yells, pouting at the sight of Mango snuggling up to Jin so willingly.

From behind, the sudden bang of a fist on glass makes you jump. Whirling around, you watch in bewilderment as Jimin rushes outside, eyes wide and mouth rounded at the sight.

“What the fuck is all the racket about?” he exclaims in bewilderment. “We’re trying to watch a movie but we can’t hear a thing over the sounds you’re- is that a dog?”

“Mango!” Taehyung chimes. “H- She’s my dog!”

“That wasn’t what you said earlier,” Jin begins, and Jimin tuts loudly to break off the bantering.

“Goodness, she’s a skinny little thing,” Jimin says with worry, passing you to go crouch beside Jin. He holds a hand out and smiles softly as Mango presses her nose into his palm. “Dirty, too. There’s a hose out back that does warm water, let’s clean her off and get her some food.”

Your heart warms at the same fond tone in his voice that you’d heard at Mrs. Park’s house. “I’ll go get some soap and towels,” you offer, “I need to go get my shoes on anyway.”

Jimin, already fully dressed in tight blue jeans and a white t-shirt - the most casual you’d seen him yet - turns around to nod at you. “Thank you,” he chirps, “we’ll be around back.”

By the time you get ready and come back with the supplies, Taehyung is already manning the hose, running his fingers through the stream to wait for it to warm up as he chats away with Jimin. Clearly a fan of the oldest, Mango is still happily hanging around Jin’s ankles, whole body wagging as she gets her ears scratched.

Jimin glances up when you round the corner, and rushes forward to take the items from your hands. “Thank you, let’s hope-” He pauses, staring down at the bottle. “Is this my hand-soap?”

You suppress a sheepish grin. “It says mild and unscented, I thought it would be better for Mango than body wash.”

“Fair enough,” Jimin allows, before turning back around to the other two. “Alright, let’s hope Mango likes water.”

As it turns out, Mango positively thrives with the water, panting happily as her fur is soaked with the warm water. Crouching to your side, you squirt some soap out onto her back, and you and Jimin begin massaging it in on either side of her while Jin holds up her head to keep it free from suds.

It takes a while, but Mango is patient, and you’re determined to make sure all the grit and dirt accumulated from a life of sleeping rough is washed away. Beneath the matted filth is beautiful white fur, the palest brown in places. With tiny feet and delicate ears, she may be a mutt but she’s a beautiful one, and out of the corner of your eye you can see Jin’s fond smile as he stares into her baleful eyes.

Taehyung rinses her down, the suds collecting on the back lawn, and before any of you even think to get away, Mango braces herself and shakes, spraying droplets all over the four of you.

Closest to her body, it’s you and Jimin that cop most of the downpour, and you hiss at the feeling of it soaking your shirt and running down your neck. Taehyung gasps and ditches the hose to chuck a towel over her wet body, but the damage has been done.

Across from you, on the other side of Mango, Jimin’s pink lips are rounded gracefully in a gasp, eyes clenched shut. You can’t help but grin as he slowly blinks away the water in his eyes with a low moan of disappointment, the delicately-applied makeup now smudging, a watery layer of mascara ringing his eyes. When he stretches up into a crouch, his pants are spotted with water though mostly okay, and it’s clear his shirt displays the majority of the water.

Clinging to him obscenely, the thin white cotton is made see-through with the effect of Mango’s shake-off. It exposes the harsh black lines of his tattoo, which winds around his ribcage, nevermind. You’d seen it laid bare twice before, but you’d been too wound up from his teasing to even really look. Now, though, you admire the way it stands out so starkly even behind a layer of fabric, the edges blurred but still strong and pure black.

As he huffs and wrings out the fabric, Taehyung cackles behind him, and Jimin’s face darkens. Without any time for the younger man to react, Jimin’s grabs the still-running hose and turns it onto Taehyung, drenching him with a triumphant yell.

“Hey!” Taehyung screeches, hair covering his eyes heavily as his pyjamas sag against his body. “No fair!”

You jump away as Taehyung begins to wrestle with Jimin for the hose, the two grinning like idiots even as they scrabble.

Jin, calmly patting down Mango, chooses to instead lift her into his arms bundled in the towel. He crooks his head at you. “Let’s go down to the pool and dry off a bit in the sun,” he suggests. “Save getting caught in the middle of this battle.”

You squint against the glare of the late morning sun that glints off the pool. You’ve never been there yourself or seen anyone swim in it, and its lack of use is clear by the uneven layer of leaves that floats across its surface. “If you dunk me in that dirty-ass pool, I’ll kill you.” Even with the venom in your words, you follow him over, the chaos of the two boys left behind growing quieter and quieter.

“Don’t worry,” Jin assures you sweetly, “I’ll clean it first.” With that, he steps up onto the concrete patio that surrounds the large rectangle and makes his way over to the three haphazard pool chairs beside the edge. “You and Mango can relax here.”

Eying him suspiciously, you sit on the gauzy canvas of one of the lounge chairs and lean back, letting out a sigh as the warm of the sun settles onto your skin like a blanket. “Fine,” you sigh out, too comfortable to protest, “just while Mango dries off.”

Jin works quietly, without haste. All you hear as you throw an arm over your eyes is the occasional tinkling of water and the snuffling of the dog Jin sat down beside you.

With the sun beating down on you, warming your soaked shirt, you let your mind wander lazily. You hadn’t really had a chance to properly think after the elimination. Or lack of, you suppose. All of Monday had you feeling a strange mix of relief and guilt, until Hoseok served your penance and allowed you to put your mind at ease again. Now, though, you take a chance to think over how the game has changed.

It was moments like earlier, when groups of you were together and laughing, that made you happy to be here. The thought that you were no longer evicting one contestant a week felt like a hundred-year burden finally being lifted off your shoulders.

Though of course, with all the good, came bad, too. The guys said they wouldn’t take you personally, and at least now everyone would know the decision was based on sex alone, but it didn’t take a psychic to see how bad things could turn if someone took it wrong. Already you can picture fights, sulking, resentment, and the thought scares you.

And then the punishment for you touching them. It was something you hadn’t seen coming for a second, though all of Sejin’s twists had gotten you off-guard. The thought that the other guys would have control over what you wore if you ever slipped up gives you pause. You’re confident in your body, but they would be well within their rights to make you wear something humiliating. You bite down hard on your tongue. Just don’t fuck the outed members, you hiss at yourself. Easy as that.

Not so easy, perhaps, when the thought of every one of them made your heart ache and shift in your chest.

“You aren’t asleep, are you?”

You shoot up in fright at the sudden exclamation, startled out of your train of thought. “No, what?” your tongue fumbles, before you squint in front of you to the poolside and your mouth drops open.

As casual as ever, Jin stands on the far edge, leaning his weight on a long leaf skimmer, the net resting on the end of the pole, above his head. That isn’t what has your attention, though. As you raise a hand to block the sun, you feel your mouth water at the sight of him standing in nothing but a pair of dark grey boxers, hand on his hip casually like it’s nothing out of the ordinary.

“What the fuck are you doing?” is the only thing your mind can think to say.

Jin chuckles, the motion making his broad shoulders jump up and down. Your mouth drops wider open, eyes roaming his figure. Basking in the attention, he smiles broadly. “Cleaning your pool,” he answers easily, “Miss Y/n.”

Your brows knit together. “My po- Oh.” You take a moment to analyse the situation - single lady on the pool chair watching as a hot and scantily-clad young man cleans it for her. Pool boy. A bemused giggle bubbles up your throat as you remember Jin’s disbelieving reaction when he drew the card. “Really?”

Jin just shrugs. “I’m just here to do my job, Miss. Saving up money for college. But it’s so hot out here that-” Jin breaks off with a pout as you begin to crack up, curling over your own torso with the force of it. “Hey! Why are you laughing at me?”

You try to let your laughter die down enough to speak, still giggling wetly as your eyes tear up a bit from it. “Sa-saving up for college,” you make out before cracking up again. “You don’t have to pay to be a professor, Jinnie.”

His mouth drops open in offence at your quip, letting the leaf skimmer clatter onto the concrete dramatically. On the chair beside you, Mango wakes up with a start at the noise and flees, scampering off in the direction of the villa. Still offended, Jin turns and makes his way around the edge of the pool towards you with a huff. “The disrespect these days,” he declares, “I’m just a poor uni student trying to make a quick buck and all you’re doing is insulting me.”

You sit up, watching him keep your gaze step by step. The sun is beautiful on him, honeying his brown hair and bronzing the smooth skin of his chest, shoulders and arms. He’s beautiful, but of course he doesn’t need you telling him to know that. “You shouldn’t talk back to your employer, Jinnie,” you quip as he nears.

As intimidating as someone can be wearing nothing but underwear - you can spy his clothes haphazardly strewn on the concrete on the other side of the patio - Jin steps in front of the lounge chair, blotting out the sun with his broad back. “Luckily for you,” he answers smoothly, “I just finished. I’ll just collect the cash and get out of your hair.”

You stare up at him, eyes aching now that they’re not fighting against the glare of the sun. Even though you’ve never been in this situation before, and certainly don’t have much experience with role-play, the words come easy to you. “But I don’t have any money.”

His grin turns wolfish, like he’d been hoping you’d say that. Your stomach flips as he lifts one leg over the end of the lounge chair, straddling it. “I suppose I’ll just have to claim my payment in some other way.”

Your heart races as he sits down, boxers doing nothing to hide his straining erection. “Like what?” you ask weakly, breath hitching as his fingers stretch out to brush over the button of your shorts.

Jin’s eyes are hot on yours, twin points of heat everywhere they roam. First between your legs, then up to meet your gaze. “Will you let me taste you?” he asks, previous humour completely evaporated. He stares at you intensely, like nothing else is as important as this, and you find yourself nodding before you even process it.

“Wait,” you gasp as he slips open the button, zip sliding down smoothly, “out here? The others-”

“Have gone inside,” Jin cuts in easily, fingers dipping below the hem of your panties. Your breath hitches, hips lifting to help him slip them off your legs and onto the concrete beside, shoes and socks following. “We’re alone.”

The warmth of the chair’s fabric below you is strange on your skin, but Jin isn’t content with just your core being exposed. Tapping your arm, he guides you to raise them as he lifts your shirt, tossing it away in the same direction. Almost bare for him, the only thing that remains is your bra, and without hesitation his fingers find the clasp, leaning forward to capture your mouth with his suddenly as he slips the bra down your arm.

Naked beneath him, you whimper into his mouth as he presses his chest against you, arms caging you on either side. It’s been a long time since you’ve kissed him, and it feels just as heady as last time, his lips soft but so firm and thorough as they claim you.

Jin kisses with all his energy, like it’s his only purpose, and the intense way he works your mouth open and licks up into it, swirling his tongue dizzily over yours has you hooked on him, needing more even as he gives you more than you feel you can handle.

After a time, you feel him shift, and you groan past swollen lips as he slides down your body, trailing an unbroken line of kisses down your throat and chest until he’s cupping a breast in his hand, hot mouth descending on a stiff peak. You cry out, back arching with the delicious stimulation as he suckles on it needily.

“Still so sensitive,” he remarks with a chuckle, and any protest at his teasing tone is lost under the indulgent way he flicks his tongue over the bud, circling it deftly. It’s sinful, the way you watch him, watch his eyes close in bliss and your peak roll under the ministrations of his tongue, like a show of what’s to come.

Once he gives a final wet suck to bring it to its full stiffness, he moves across to the other one, thumbing the first lazily to keep those hot coals of pleasure burning inside you.

Sensing you can take it, he’s rougher with the second nipple, tugging at it with his teeth, sucking harshly and laving his tongue over it when you whimper at the sting. “Perfect for me,” his voice makes out in a gravelled tone, “you’re like a fucking four-course meal.”

You chuckle airily, though it’s cut off by a hitched whimper as he ventures lower yet again, letting his tongue and lips lead the way over the skin of your stomach, until you can feel the warmth of his breath where you need to feel him most. “Jinnie,” you breathe pleadingly, toes curling as he dips out his tongue to wet his lips.

“Will you be good while I taste you, hm?” Jin questions lowly, voice silken like his lips.

You nod with a swallow, but your throat has gone dry just watching him. The sight of his fingers digging in to the flesh of your thighs, his lips pursing, his eyes swirling with mischief and lust. “Need you, Jinnie,” you find yourself pleading again.

He hums in bemusement, and you unconsciously hold your breath as he finally dips his head down. The first contact isn’t his tongue at all, but his lips, pressed to the upper seam of your thigh. You gasp, core clenching, but he pays no mind, laying a delicate trail across your thigh, until he jumps over and begins the other side.

With a whine, you part your legs wider, bare feet grazing on the sunbaked concrete. The rough texture reminds you of the fact that you’re outside, bared to the world, and you whine again. “Jinnie, hurry.”

“Patience,” he chastises lowly, pinching the inner of your thigh between two fingers to make you jump. “I cleaned out the pool for you, the least you can do is let me enjoy you.”

You swallow down your needy moan, head falling back against the lounge chair. “Sorry,” you gasp out instead, hoping he appreciates your manners and takes mercy on you.

Instead, he just grins. “So polite,” the therapist muses, “I wonder how long that’ll last.” One at a time, slow like he’s drawing out your anticipation, he lifts your legs onto his broad shoulders, tilting your hips up to expose you to him better.

The moment he touches his tongue to your core, you know you’re fucked.

Languid, exploratory, he delves the muscle through your folds, swirling once around your sensitive clit before dipping back down again. You sigh out, enjoying every motion, but it’s far too slow, and he knows it.

As you glance down, his lips are stretched in a slick grin, which he makes no attempt to mask. Obscenely, he wraps his lips around one of yours and sucks, slurping at your juices without shame.

You sob, thighs tensing, but he holds you open calmly and gives the same ministration to the other side, collecting your arousal on his tongue like he’s savouring it. More and more leaks out of you at the feeling of him going down on your for his own pleasure, and he groans in approval.

In his grasp, you attempt to cant your hips down to angle your clit closer to his roving tongue, but he deftly ignores your attempt, devouring you at his own pace.

After the clouds pass, the sun pierces your eyes again, and you throw an arm over your face to block it out, body writhing under his slow stimulation. “Ji-Jinnie,” you hiccup, but he doesn’t even reply, fingers clutching tighter at your thighs and ass to latch you onto him firmer.

When a breeze picks up, it wafts over you, cooling the spit on your nipples and peaking them even more, and you shiver at the feeling. Hearing a distant swishing sound, you lift your arm up and glance towards the source, only to go stiff once you see.

About ten metres away, the outdoor dining area is not as empty as it was before, Yoongi pausing with two plates full of cooked meat and potatoes, eyes directly locked on you. With a flip of arousal and dread, you watch as more members of the house file out; Jungkook, Namjoon and Hoseok joining him and gawking when they see you and Jin.

Cheeks flushing violently, you push at Jin’s head. “They-they’re out here, Jin, you need to stop-” you break off as he pulls back and glances over, chin and lips shiny with your arousal.

“Lunchtime,” Yoongi calls out with a wry grin, and you groan as he continues to set the table outside, the younger ones following suit. Namjoon seems the most startled of the four, but not one of them has looked away. Jungkook’s eyes are so wide you can see them rounded from here, a hand pressing to the front of his crotch.

You make another effort to wriggle out of Jin’s grip, but without even looking at you he keeps you locked in, spread for him. “Thanks, but I’m already eating!” he quips proudly, and you sob in embarrassment at the pun, covering your hands and scrunching your eyes shut.

Unable to see, however, you’re taken off-guard when Jin suddenly descends on you like a man starved. You go stiff and shriek at the sudden strong suck on your clit, before clapping a palm over your mouth. The distant sounds of the guys having lunch just makes you drip more, and Jin doesn’t miss it.

“You like that, dirty girl?” You sob at the question, but he just chuckles lowly. “Acting all shy, all coy, but this pussy of yours just loves being watched. Shall we give them a show?”

You barely have time to muster a wordless cry in response before his tongue, lips and teeth are ravishing you with only one intent: to bring you to a screaming orgasm.

You writhe as much as his grip allows you, overtaken by the sudden onslaught of pleasure, but it’s inescapable. While you can muffle your moans with your fist, biting harshly on your knuckles, there’s no denying the four men dining outside can see the way you tremble and arch, and the thought just makes you cry out more.

Your high arrives quickly as you squeeze your eyes shut, not bearing to look towards the voyeurs or even Jin as his tongue delves deep into you, nose nudging your clit as he goes.

Risking a glance over to the dining area quickly, it’s the sight of all four men sitting down, eyes heavy on you as the food remains untouched that sends you over the edge.

You reach out desperately for Jin; one hand buried into his hair and the other clutching at his hand. He holds onto you tightly as he works you through your orgasm until your thighs are shaking and your chest is heaving with the force of it.

When the tremors finally subside, he presses one last kiss to your sensitive clit, and then lets your legs down. You pant quietly as he sits up and pats your pussy playfully with a grin. To your confusion, he then stands up and rubs at the red texture marks that the gauzy fabric of the lounge chair has imprinted, and begins to walk off towards the house.

You frown, sitting up with a still-racing heart. “Where are you going?” you question incredulously.

With a shit-eating grin, Jin sends you a wink, not even bothering to go collect his clothes or hide his straining erection. “Lunchtime.”

“Will Mango be okay?” Taehyung asks worriedly.

Jimin tsks, but his tone is warm as he levels a stare at the younger man. “She’ll be fine, Tae, she’s a big girl. Besides; Hoseok looked like he’d fallen in love. I bet she’s getting treated like a queen right now.”

Taehyung glances down the stairs morosely as they turn the corner. “Good,” he muses, “she is.”

Jimin doesn’t notice Taehyung following him until he steps into his room, only to see the masseuse still behind him. “Do you need something?”

Still in pyjamas soaked from the water fight, Taehyung looks nonetheless beautiful. Jimin takes a moment to look over the tanned boy, his lithe frame exposed by the clinging fabric and his hair hanging long with the weight of the water. His lips are delicately sculpted like from marble, and he can’t help himself from starting at the slight pout as Taehyung asks softly, “does your room have a bath? Jungkook said you did.”

Jimin blinks. “How would Jungko- Oh.” The already-faded memory of Jungkook barging in on his morning routine sharpens back into colour. Of course. “Anyway, yes, I do. Why’s that?”

“Just wondering.” Taehyung shifts, a ring of dark grey on the carpet around him from the water that drips off his body.

Jimin dares a glance at the cameras in the corners of the hallway. If the two of them soak the carpet much more, Sejin will have their heads. Sighing he steps further into his room, opening the door wider. “Do you want to use it?”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Taehyung brightens up, grin so broad it exposes his back teeth. “Yes, please, hyung!”

Jimin takes a deep breath to stop himself from mirroring the smile, simply shutting the door behind them both as Taehyung rushes into the bathroom, skidding on the floor with his wet feet. “Careful,” Jimin scolds quickly, “you’ll fall.” Avoiding Taehyung’s imploring gaze, he steps past him to put in the plug and begin running water, shivering at the feeling of his wet clothes cold against his skin. “Do you like it hot?”

“Always,” Taehyung answers without hesitation. Though Jimin can’t see his face, the low timbre of the masseuse’s voice gives him pause. “Can we have bubbles?”

Like that, the moment of tension is broken, and Jimin straightens up with a laugh, turning to him. “We?”

Taehyung pouts again, shaking the hair out of his eyes. “You aren’t gonna shower while I have a bath, are you, hyung? That’s a waste of water.”

Jimin feels his eyebrows rise, but the motion catches his attention in the mirror. He gasps at his reflection behind Taehyung; with the liner and mascara around his eyes smudged like a racoon and his foundation patchy, he looks like a mess. “Goodness,” he sighs, “why didn’t you tell me I look like this?”

Taehyung’s eyes are wide with uncertainty as Jimin rushes to the vanity, hastily fishing in the drawers for an oil cleanser to remove the dregs of pigment on his face. “You still look beautiful, hyung,” Taehyung offers softly.

“I look like a teenage girl that just got dumped.” Jimin scoffs a laugh as he viciously rubs at his skin, rinsing it off in the sink with a sigh. Straightening up again, he winces at the reflection that greets him. Red nose and chin, cheeks round without the illusion of contour, eyes looking too small in his face. Every flaw makes him bite down on his tongue harsher, until he whirls himself around, unable to look longer. With his jaw tense, Jimin tugs off the silver rings that adorn his fingers. “Fuck it, I’ll have a bath.”

Instead of cheering like Jimin expects him to, wants him to, Taehyung just eyes him with quiet concern. Over the loudly gushing faucet, his voice is barely audible as he repeats, “you still look beautiful.”

“Do you want vanilla or peaches and cream?” Jimin offers instead. “For bubbles, I mean.” Busying himself with picking out the bottles from the shower, he misses the frown on Taehyung’s face.

“Peaches, please, hyung,” the younger man requests warmly, shivering at the strange tension in the air. “Peach is my favourite scent, you know?”

“Is it?” The thought brings a smile to Jimin’s lips, as he discards the other bottle and begins drizzling body wash over the stream, bubbles frothing immediately. The bright yet sweet scent begins to fill the room, and Jimin’s smile widens. “It suits you.”

Once the tub is aptly full, and bubbles cover the surface, Jimin caps the bottle and peels the fabric of his shirt off himself with soapy hands, sighing as the weight is removed. He spares a glance to Taehyung, who still stands motionless in the middle of the room in a puddle of water. “You can get in now,” he provides, “I don’t bite.”

The blatant lie tugs a grin from Taehyung’s lips as he obediently begins undressing. “You forget I’ve seen your videos,” he quips wryly.

“Oh, I certainly haven’t forgotten, Taehyungie.” It takes more effort to strip himself from his blue jeans, totally waterlogged, but Jimin kicks off his shoes and does it one leg at a time. Naked, he seeks out the warmth of the water, sighing as he steps in and sinks below the bubbles, glancing over to Taehyung, who avoids his gaze as he slips off his boxers, the fabric slapping wetly on the white tiles.

It’s the first time Jimin’s seen Taehyung fully naked, and he can’t help his eyes from roaming. Smooth chest leading to a narrow waist and soft stomach, Taehyung’s cock standing at half-mast like he’s still unsure whether he should be aroused or not. Hastily, he steps into the bath, facing Jimin on the other side, and Jimin watches those delicate, slender fingers flex on the side of the tub as he settles in. Those fingers that played Y/n like she was an instrument. Those fingers that relaxed Jimin more than he’d felt in years, without even needing a release.

“I did what you suggested, hyung,” Taehyung says lightly, knees poking out of the water as he sticks as far to his end of the tub as possible. He pokes his chin forward, running a finger over his jaw and lower cheek. “I’m growing it out.”

Jimin smiles at the younger man warmly, the warmth of the water relaxing his muscles and softening him more than he’d normally be. Or perhaps it was the earnest, non-judgmental air Taehyung always held. Either way, he finds himself leaning forward slightly to brush his fingertips over the bottom of Taehyung’s face. The slightly sharp texture of exposed hairs and beginnings of a dark shadow evidence that he hadn’t shaved since Monday morning. “It’s growing in fast,” he comments, eyes darting to see the way Taehyung’s pulse thrums visibly on his neck.

Taehyung swallows, eyes locked on Jimin. “That’s why I usually shave everyday,” he explains lightly. Perhaps unconsciously, the masseuse’s legs part slowly, water rushing in to fill the void.

Shifting closer again, up on his knees, Jimin continues to inspect the 5 o’clock shadow on Taehyung’s face. “It looks nice,” he says softly; “handsome.”

Taehyung’s eyes blink widely. As Jimin’s tongue darts out quickly to wet his lips, he wonders if, had there been no bubbles, he’d be able to see Taehyung’s cock stiffening to a full erection below the water. The thought sends blood rushing down to his own dick, and Jimin sighs.

Sensing the silence has extended long enough, Taehyung swallows. “Do you think she’ll like it, hyung? What if it’s too rough?”

“There’s only one way to find out,” Jimin points out, voice coming out breathier than expected, and his hand snakes around the back of Taehyung’s neck to drag him into a kiss.

The black-haired boy squeaks in surprise at the first contact, but quickly he’s melting, reaching up to grasp blindly at Jimin’s shoulders with a whimper. The reciprocation simultaneously relaxes Jimin and sends him into a frenzy, and he slides himself closer, between Taehyung’s parted legs to deepen the kiss.

If Jimin angles his head just right, his chin feels the slight prickle of Taehyung’s unshaven face, and he makes a noise of approval low in his throat, nipping at the lips that have swollen under his ministrations. Of course the idea wasn’t for kissing Y/n, but if Taehyung could kiss that good with his scruff, Jimin couldn’t imagine what a joyride Y/n was in for when she’d feel that between her thighs. Jimin grins into the kiss at the thought.

The air is thick with arousal and peaches, and the heady combination has Jimin needing more, tongue slipping out to lave over Taehyung’s lips. The younger man whimpers, and Jimin takes the opportunity of his open mouth to run his tongue along Tae’s, leaning further and further forward until their chests are pressed together.

With a needy gasp, Taehyung pulls away, turning his head just slightly to the side to suck in some air, eyes blown with lust. “Are- Jimin?” he stutters out incoherently, the sound of his panting rivalled only by the sloshing of the water that their movements have stirred up.

Jimin’s heart races; thrill on top of arousal on top of concern, his grin falling. “Do you not want to?”

Taehyung narrows his brows like he doesn’t comprehend, and glances around the room. “But there are no cameras?” he supplies, voice lilting at the end like a question.

“I know,” Jimin explains, feeling his own brain struggling to keep time, “I don’t want the cameras.”

“Then…” The lost look on Taehyung’s face breaks Jimin’s heart, and he resists the urge to press a kiss right between his brows, where a crease has formed.

Jimin wills his heart to slow, taking a deep breath. “I- I think for once, I want to have sex not because it’s my job, but because I want to get closer to someone. I know you watch my videos, but… Taehyung, would you want to have sex with me? Just… just me? Not Park Jimin?”

Taehyung tilts his head, a confused smile beginning to tug at his lips. “But you are Park Jimin-”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jimin cuts him off, leaning back to get out of the tub. “It was stupid and I shouldn’t have-”

“Minnie.”

Jimin freezes, eyes finding Taehyung’s with a wide stare.

The younger boy’s gaze is soft behind black curls, imploring. “I like you, you know? It was never the videos or the persona. Just you. Whether we have sex or not, you should know that.”

The backs of Jimin’s eyes sting. He ignores it, instead settling back down into the now-lukewarm water. “I-” But it’s too much. He doesn’t know what to say, how to deal with the words he hasn’t heard for years and years. So instead, Jimin just cracks a shy smile, heart easing. “I do still kinda wanna have sex with you, though.”

Taehyung laughs, wide and squared, his eyes little crescent moons. “I want to have sex with you, too,” he assures. “Shall we continue?”

Jimin feels his lips stretch instinctively into a smile, before he’s leaning in and pressing them to Taehyung’s again.

Kissing Taehyung feels good; it’s more addictive and heady than he’s ever felt it in years, bar that night with Y/n. Letting his own want and desire take over instead of worrying about camera angles, lighting, viewers - is this why people like it so much?

Taehyung seems to enjoy it, too, gasping into Jimin’s mouth. The blue-haired man can feel the tickle of Taehyung’s lashes as his eyes flutter with every stroke of his tongue, and Jimin swallows a groan wondering what he’ll sound like later if he’s this responsive now.

Testing it out, he runs a hand up Taehyung’s side, seeking out a dusky brow nipple, wet with steam from the tub, and thumbs at it. Back arching suddenly, the masseuse moans into Jimin’s mouth, reaching both hands up to bury his fingers in Jimin’s hair to anchor him.

Jimin continues to circle and flick at it until Taehyung is positively squirming under his touch. Only then does he let his hand slide down again, this time delving beneath the warm embrace of the water, seeking out the hard length between Taehyung’s legs.

“Fuck,” Taehyung gasps out when he feels fingers wrapping around his cock, not stroking yet but with enough pressure to make him need more. “Want you inside me, Jimin.”

“Yeah?” Jimin confirms breathlessly with a grin. Fingers trailing lower, he easily locates the tight ring of muscle, making the younger man groan as he presses gently at the rim with a single fingertip. “Have you done this before?”

“Bottomed?” Taehyung questions. “Of course. I’m fine, hyung.”

Instead of responding, Jimin takes a moment to lift up one of Taehyung’s knees, unfolding it so that it rested over the edge of the tub. Wide-eyed, the masseuse lets Jimin give the same treatment to the other, until he’s spread open, ass no longer quite reaching the bottom as he floats in the water.

Though he can hear the spatter of water on the tile, dripping off Taehyung’s legs, Jimin ignores it and begins to work a finger past the boy’s rim, drinking in his groans as it sinks inside.

Water isn’t the best lubricant, so Jimin goes slowly, and it’s only once Taehyung grows restless with just one finger that Jimin starts to use two. It takes a moment, but as he crooks his fingers just right, Taehyung lets out a shaky cry, clenching down suddenly. “Just there?” Jimin questions with a wry smile.

Taehyung’s thighs tremble. “Right there, hyung, fuck.” The black-haired boy fusses so beautifully as Jimin continues to stretch him out, pads of his fingers focussing on that sensitive bud of tissue inside. “I-I’m ready, Minnie, I need you.”

Jimin’s heart hitches at the nickname again, and his cock throbs at the thought of finally being able to fuck him. “Are you sure?” he checks one last time, receiving a hasty nod.

The moment Jimin slowly bottoms out, hips flush against Taehyung’s ass, he knows he’s not going to last long. Luckily, Taehyung seems to share the sentiment, groaning obscenely and clutching at his own length, hissing at the contact.

“Fuck, Tae-tae, you feel so good,” Jimin sighs as he begins to set a languid but deep pace. It was natural for his tongue to run during sex; dirty talk was huge in his industry, and sometimes he felt like part of him ran on autopilot during his scenes. Slutty pussy this, dumb cock that; but this didn’t even feel like dirty talk to him. As he buried himself in Taehyung over and over, it felt closer to a confession.

“Ah, Minnie,” Taehyung whimpers, beginning to stroke himself in time, chest arching out of the water, “kiss me.”

His eyes are dark with lust but puppy-soft as he blinks up under his lashes at Jimin, and it’s impossible to resist. Not that he wants to, when Taehyung’s lips feel so perfect on his.

The younger boy whimpers delicately into Jimin’s mouth when they’re joined again, and Jimin feels his high creeping up on him. Embarrassingly fast, he’d think normally, but he doesn’t feel embarrassed now.

“I’m close,” he whispers quickly to Taehyung, picking up the pace so that the water sloshes loudly around them, bubbles dissolving.

Taehyung groans, wraps his free arm around Jimin’s shoulders to hold himself closer, and speeds up his hand. “Me too,” he confesses, “cum inside, Minnie.”

With a low curse, Jimin is spilling inside Taehyung, hips stuttering their pace. Taehyung chases his lips through his own orgasm, gasping so much that he can barely reciprocate. It feels dirty and exquisite; the way their lips and tongue join so messily together, shuddering in unison as pleasure wracks their bodies.

Once Jimin finally comes down from his high, he’s panting. Hair damp from the steam and face hot, for once he doesn’t worry about if his o-face was attractive or his voice gravelly enough. He feels beautiful.

---

Taehyung’s nowhere to be found by the time you and the other boys finish lunch, and so there’s nobody to protest when Jin suggests the two of you can look after Mango.

Although not trained, Mango is nonetheless polite, and it’s far past sunset by the time Jin and you finish up your photoshoots and online shopping, Jin happily spending a fortune on a dog bed, pedigree food and enough toys for a whole kennel. He insists it’s because Sejin would have his ass if he asked the producer to spend more of the show’s funds, but that doesn’t stop the therapist spamming Sejin’s personal cell with pictures and messages, determined to make a point.

The two of you are exhausted from a day well spent as you snuggle lazily in Jin’s bed, a laptop propped up on your lap as you yawn away to a documentary on squirrels.

“We can go to sleep if you want,” Jin reminds you as a deep baritoned narrator explains the child-rearing techniques of female squirrels. “It’s past midnight.”

“You’re past midnight,” you retort sleepily, before your brain catches up with you. “Ah. No. Maybe you’re right.”

With a teasing smile and kind eyes, Jin takes the laptop away, plugging it in on his desk before returning back. “I’m glad, you know,” he muses as he slips under the covers again, your arms and legs immediately latching onto his frame.

Once he settles, you place your head on his chest, the internal beating of his heart a soothing metronome. “Glad about what?”

“Glad that this week’s challenge was you sleeping in different beds. I never got to sleep beside you that first night.”

“You could’ve,” you point out.

“It was only the first night,” he allows, voice rumbling in his chest, “I didn’t want to cross any lines and you fell asleep before I could get an answer.”

You hum, snuggling closer even as your whole body is pressed against him. He’s just so warm, and he feels so safe when he wraps his arm under and around you, holding you there. “I was gonna seduce you,” you whine with a yawn. “Tonight, I mean. You didn’t fuck me before so I was gonna seduce you. But you smell so good. I just wanna sleep.”

Jin seems to share the sentiment, muffling the yawn he caught from you. “You can seduce me in the morning.”

“Promise?”

Jin laughs, wincing when it jostles you violently on his chest. “Fuck, sorry. But yes, I promise. Now go to sleep. I’ll be here.”

Your hand unconsciously finds the collar of his pyjama shirt, clutching at it. You feel the warmth of his hand wrapping around it, flipping it over to lace his fingers through yours. You think you could stay here forever, but perhaps tonight is a good place to start. “Goo’night,” you mumble.

Jin’s voice is barely audible, naught a whisper, but you feel it in his chest. “Night, sweetheart.”

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runfromreality-archive · 7 years

Text

1820 [oneshot]

pairing: jongkey rating: pg15 genre: dystopian!au, angst warning: mentions of attempted suicide, blood, mentions of violence, experiments on humans... length: ~4970 words

Test subject number 1820. Kim Kibum, male, twenty-two years old. Human, no disabilities or chronic diseases, high level of intelligence. Came to the laboratory at age eighteen. Admitted by his own parents because he was caught committing indecencies with another male individual.

Jonghyun resists the urge to cringe at the word ’indecencies’, lifting his gaze from the small data screen in his hands to take a proper look at the man on the other side of the glass wall.

He’s unconscious - as it should be - the percentage of sleep-inducing drugs in his system only just beginning to cease and it gives Jonghyun enough time to prepare for the man’s awakening. But not before scanning the rest of his profile to get at least a rough picture of who he’s dealing with.

No recent attempts at resistance, no major health complications, occasional lack of responsiveness, he reads, the listing followed up with the information of: Test subject in the sleep department since May of the previous year, sector Nightmares and Sleep paralysis.

And there’s something else that catches Jonghyun’s eye. The small note that’s been subsequently scribbled into the corner of the screen. Transferred from the Sexual science department after no longer being of use. Jonghyun nods to himself. Certainly not the kind of history he would wish on anyone.

Setting the screen aside, he goes to bring in the dark clothes the test subject had exchanged for a flimsy paper gown some hours prior, placing them neatly on the table next to the bed before checking the man’s stats once more.

Only fifteen percent of the drugs left. It shouldn’t be much longer now. In fact, one of the higher ups has probably already initiated the last phase of the test, so Jonghyun is quick to retrieve the rest of the means required to make the process of waking up a bit easier.

When he steps through the glass doors a second time - with a tray of what’s going to be the man’s breakfast in his hands - Kibum is sitting with his back facing him, unmoving but very much awake.

“Good morning,” Jonghyun tries to appear in good spirits, despite the blank stare on the other’s face, only noticing now how striking the man looks. Almost intimidating, in fact, even with the thin shakles restraining both his arms and his legs and the dead expression in his dark eyes.

He’s tall, too, his feet nearly reaching the foot of the bed and even though he manages to keep up his professional front, Jonghyun can’t tear his gaze away.

“Eat up,” It doesn’t seem like the test subject has any interest in even just touching the food he’s been offered - he isn’t looking up still, giving off the impression of not being quite there, really, which is what ’occasional lack of responsiveness’ must have been referring to - but it’s been clearly indicated to him that Kibum hasn’t eaten in twelve hours and Jonghyun can’t have him fainting.

So he nudges the tray into the man’s direction with a bit more insistence, telling him “I won’t leave till you have finished at least half of this,” and it’s only then that Kibum actually begins to zone back into reality.

“Fuck off.” It’s a little weak, but there is no denying the underlying hint of aggression. A sharpness that, coupled with such disrespectful language, leaves Jonghyun momentarily stunned.

“I’m sorry, but those are my orders,” Jonghyun explains after getting over the brief state of surprise, adding “I’m not allowed to leave until you have eaten something.”

And he’s sure Kibum must already know the drill. There is not a doubt in his mind. He’s been here for long enough, after all, and it isn’t as if the other interns or nurses are given instructions any different from his. But he doesn’t seem ready to surrender, still, the look of disdain stubbornly lingering on his face.

And it’s then that Jonghyun realises what it is about the situation that confuses him so much. Because it never happened before. The test subjects are too terrified of the consequences, usually, or their will broken so far beyond repair, they don’t even think about resisting, in the more extreme cases. Kibum doesn’t show an ounce of fear, though. And his will certainly seems as far from broken as can be. Both of which baffles Jonghyun, because he’s absolutely certain he has never met anyone like Kibum in his year of working at the laboratory. Someone who even in the most inhumane sort of environment managed to stay very much human; from the looks of it, anyway.

Jonghyun leaves some half an hour later, having managed to pester Kibum enough for him to take at least a few bites from his bowl of rice, which is better than nothing, really. Because at least he won’t be getting into trouble for failing to complete his duty. And that’s all that counts anyway. *** When Jonghyun saw Kibum last time, the nightmares had already been fading. Too blurred and intangible to cause much of a reaction in the man. Today’s different. A whole lot different. Because the experiment of the night is only just starting and Kibum is trashing from one side to the other and suddenly, Jonghyun doesn’t wonder anymore, what the restraints binding Kibum to his bed are for.

And he can see it all right there. Dark figures and dead bodies, distorted and bathed in an eerie light, the scenes repeating over and over without a chance for the test subject to jump awake and cool down.

Kibum is trembling, the monitor displaying the man’s body stats running wild in a way that’s concerning, to say the least. And Jonghyun finds that even watching his nightmares is more bearable than witnessing any of the physical effects caused by the torture Kibum’s put through right now.

So he does exactly that, his gaze fixated on the large screen in front of him, because at least he knows the dreams aren’t real. Or not quite as real as the test subjects suffering is.

Jonghyun has always found it to be a strange feeling, to watch someone else’s dreams playing out in front of his eyes. Like a movie he knows he shouldn’t be watching. But even more so, like a violation of privacy. Because even with the added manipulation of gathering the most terrifying of scenarios and replaying them like a broken record, the images are a part of the test subjects memory either way. The clear picture of a woman that has Kibum’s lips, smiling joyfully first, before her expression twists into something dark and menacing. And a man with Kibum’s eyes and nose, the warm expression on his face replaced by a disgusted sneer so abruptly, it leaves Jonghyun’s head spinning.

And it doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t feel right at all, to be gaining access to a part of another human being’s mind that isn’t for him to view. As convinced as he is that this can’t be a just thing to do, he doesn’t dare voicing his doubts, though.

Kibum was sent here for a reason, after all, and even if he doesn’t agree, Jonghyun shouldn’t question any of it. The consequences that would come with doing so are too gruesome to imagine, really and he isn’t going to risk being put through that. *** It’s nearing eleven in the evening when Jonghyun finally finishes up work the Friday of the same week. He’s exhausted - unbearably so - and as grateful as he is about being allowed to work for one of the very few government funded science labs in the country, it’s days like these when he not so secretly wishes for a more simple part time job. One that actually offers him the luxury of clocking out at eight and having time to complete his homework for university before midnight rather than multiple hours into the next day. It’s a good thing he doesn’t have classes during the weekend because he’d be up for one hell of a night otherwise.

Getting off the underground at his usual station, he lets out what sounds suspiciously like a whine when he realises it started raining while he was carried through the tunnels below the surface. Holding his messenger bag above his head to shield himself from the heavy downpour, he breaks into a run, knowing that if he keeps up the pace, he can make it home in a matter of minutes. And hopefully avoid becoming too drenched in the process, too, because there’s nothing he hates more than having his wet clothes stick to his skin.

Just as he is rounding the corner of the road leading straight to his apartment complex, he spots a bundle lying some twenty feet ahead - dark and large enough to be blocking almost the entire walkway. He writes it off as being a bag of trash, first, because it wouldn’t be the first time someone got rid of their litter out on the streets. But he can’t shake off the sense of dread that’s further growing in the pit of his stomach with every step he takes.

And his instincts prove to be right, because when he is close enough for his eyes to make out a mob of dark hair, it slowly begins to sinks in that there is no way to pretend that the bundle is nothing more than a lone bag of trash any longer.

Jonghyun has always been the type to worry about the people around him. It’s not something he is looked at very nicely for - ’You really need to start minding your own business,’ is what his best friend Taemin always tells him - but he has simply never been able to ignore such obvious signs of need and this time is no different.

“Excuse me, are you okay?” He realises it’s a stupid thing to ask the moment he notices the puddle of blood emerging from underneath the weirdly contorted body, but he tries posing a few more questions still.

“What happened? Do you need help?” He squats down to observe the situation a bit more closely, the rain pelting down on him entirely forgotten by now. From the looks of it, the person is already in a state of improvement, so Jonghyun assumes the self-recovery system hasn’t been damaged by whatever happened.

It’s a blessing, really, Jonghyun thinks, how something as simple as a strip of metal implanted underneath their skin is able to ensure that hardly anything at all is able to lead to their deaths. Because this poor being, too, would have certainly been a goner if it wasn’t for the self-recovery system kicking in.

Moving without much thinking, Jonghyun pulls the unconscious figure onto his back, swaying a bit at first - because damn, he didn’t think the person would be quite this heavy - but eventually managing to steady himself enough to make it the last twenty feet to his building. He’s sure he must be getting blood all over himself and the person is freezing, cold rain dripping onto Jonghyun’s arms and the back of his neck, but Jonghyun isn’t ready to let any of that stop him. Pressing his thumb onto the fingerprint scanner, he waits for the entrance door to swing open before dragging both himself and the additional weight on his back into the hallway.

The light leaves his vision blurred with dark spots for a moment, the short wait for the elevator barely giving his eyes enough time to adjust to the change, so it’s only when the elevator doors close behind him and his gaze moves to the mirrored wall, that he realises how familiar the face of the person on his back looks.

“Shit,” His knees are threatening to give out underneath him at the discovery and he almost loses his grip on the younger man, eyes wide with shock.

He somehow makes it to his apartment anyway, but he can’t help thinking that Taemin is right. He really needs to start minding his own business. *** It takes two full days for Kibum to regain consciousness.

Jonghyun called in sick to work the morning after, reckoning that he needed to keep a watchful eye on the man to make sure Kibum wasn’t going to be all alone and disorientated once he woke up.

It proves to have been a good decision when Kibum all but jumps awake during the evening of the second day, his breathing so rapid, it sounds like he’s choking, and sweat drenching him all over.

Jonghyun is by his side in an instant, scrambling for something - anything - to say, but every word directed at the younger man seems to only distress him further, so after some time, Jonghyun retreats back into his room with his heart pounding in his chest and Kibum’s terrified expression etched into his mind.

He doesn’t know what happens inside the human body if it’s quite this damaged - has never heard of anyone who ended up in bad enough of a state for the self-recovery system to take days to restore it all - but for some reason, he can’t shake off the feeling that Kibum’s distress stems from a different source entirely. *** Jonghyun wakes up at two in the morning with the intention of using the restroom, only to find an absolutely exhausted looking Kibum sitting on the couch in the living room, the man’s eyes blank and unseeing, but very much awake.

“Do you need something?” Jonghyun asks, his voice quiet as to not startle the younger man. Kibum doesn’t even look at him, however - doesn’t seem to register his presence at all - so Jonghyun repeats his words once more, only to fail at drawing the younger man’s attention to him yet again.

“I’ve got sleeping pills if you want-” He tries to offer, because it ‘s been two full days since Kibum returned to the living and he hasn’t slept once and that just can’t be healthy.

And this time, Kibum’s reaction is immediate, sheer terror flashing across his face as he violently shakes his head.

“What is it about ’I don’t want to sleep’ that’s so difficult for you to understand?” He hisses, his fear heavily masked by sharp venom. It’s a rapid change, leaving Jonghyun wary despite knowing that Kibum is acting this way because he is terrified, more than anything. But although he has no idea what to do to help the younger man, he refuses to make a fast retreat like he did when Kibum had been in a state of panic some days prior. So he settles down on the couch with a good foot of distance between them, wrecking his brain for anything to say to make things easier.

“Why did you run away?” Jonghyun asks at last, thinking that maybe, some kind of distraction will help Kibum forget about his fear for a bit. But it seem to be the wrong question to pose, because Kibum’s stance only becomes more defensive and Jonghyun swears it’s like he can see the man’s walls rising right in front of him.

“I didn’t,” Kibum talks back.

Jonghyun never finds out what he means by that. *** “You really need to sleep.” With how badly Kibum reacted last time, Jonghyun hadn’t planned to say anything, at first. He had been keeping quiet even when Kibum broke one of his teacups earlier this morning, and again when he walked straight into the floor lamp in the living room because the turn into Jonghyun’s bedroom had been too sharp for his fogged senses.

But hitting his head on the side of the doorframe had been the last straw, really and Jonghyun isn’t going to sit by and watch any longer.

“I can’t,” Kibum replies, but his determination is weakened to the point of being almost non-existent, exhaustion seeming to have crawled all the way into Kibum’s bones by now.

“Here,” Handing the younger man a glass of water Jonghyun assures, “I’ll stay awake.”

“And wake you up if you have bad dreams,” He nods to himself, hoping that the smile on his face is mildly encouraging if nothing else.

“I don’t trust you,” Kibum tells him, suspicion heavy in his voice, but against all reason, he takes one of the pills from Jonghyun, still.

The younger man is fast asleep only half an hour later, his chest rising and falling in a steady pattern, and for a while, Jonghyun doesn’t do anything but watch. Not because there’s anything particularly fascinating about the way Kibum sleeps or because he isn’t tired himself, but because he has so many questions. He’s confused and uncertain and he still has no idea at all how Kibum managed to escape the laboratory (or why he chose to do so in the first place) or how he ended up so badly injured. And he’s hoping - naively so - that somehow, he’ll find his answers if he keeps observing Kibum for long enough.

*** Jonghyun finds himself still in the living room the next morning, his back hurting and his neck stiff from the sitting position he’s spent his entire night in. Shifting a bit to try and bring back some feeling into his legs, Jonghyun is taken aback for a moment when he becomes aware of the heavy weight pushing down on them.

“Ohh,” He breathes when his gaze falls onto the dark mob of hair resting in his lap, the memories of the previous day returning to him just like that. Kibum is still completely shut down, a peaceful kind of expression having replaced his distress and Jonghyun feels strangely accomplished at the sight.

He contemplates wiggling out from underneath the younger man for a moment, because as happy as he is about Kibum finally having the chance to sleep through the night undisturbed, his legs have turned painfully numb at this point. But the small movement draws an immediate groan from the younger man’s throat and Jonghyun thinks that maybe, he can hold out a bit longer. Just a few more minutes. *** Kibum needs to leave.

It’s been almost six days and his self-recovery system has long completed the process of closing his wounds and healing his broken bones, and it’s about time, really. At least that’s what Jonghyun has been telling himself. So many times that he’s surprised he hasn’t blurted out ’You should go back to the laboratory’ instead of ’Good morning’ yet. But even though they’re having breakfast in silence today and the chances to bring up the topic have long become too many to count, Jonghyun finds himself tongue-tied. He doesn’t doubt that Kibum must have a feeling already, that Jonghyun can’t let him stay. They aren’t going to search for Kibum. That, Jonghyun is sure of. Test subjects are easily replaceable, after all, so one of them going missing will hardly throw the entire laboratory into a state of chaos. But if he’s discovered by chance, consequences will be merciless (not to mention the punishment Jonghyun would receive for providing refuge to the younger man). And yet, despite knowing all of that, the words refuse to be spoken out loud.

“What are you even doing working in such a terrible place?” It’s Kibum who breaks the silence, eventually, absently stirring his coffee with his spoon as he directs the question at the older man. And Jonghyun is so stunned, he merely stares at him, at first.

“I’m going to be a doctor one day,” He tells him eventually, surprised when Kibum only rolls his eyes in response.

“Hopefully not like the doctors who stick needles into your skin until you pass out just because they want to find out if it’s ’stimulating’,” Kibum drawls, each words heavy with pure hatred. And Jonghyun doesn’t even know what to say to that. He kind of wishes he would have no idea what Kibum is talking about. Wishes he wasn’t aware of all the cruelties happening behind the laboratory’s thick steel doors.

But he does. Everyone does. That’s the whole point of it, after all. Because very few people speak poorly of a system - or worse, even, rebel against it - knowing it can seal their fate of spending the rest of their life in utter agony. If not as a test subject, then maybe as a slave to be sold to a country far away. For sick sex games or work in the kind of factories that torture you with poisonous fumes and the bare minimum of rest in the examinations stead.

“I read in your stats that you came from the Sexual science department…” Jonghyun knows that’s not what he meant to ask the younger man about. But he can’t deny that it’s something that has piqued his curiosity from the very start (even some of the most experienced doctors at the laboratory have appeared to come back seriously scarred from the scenes they had found at the Sexual science department, so Jonghyun can only imagine how traumatic it must have been to actually be forced into the role of the victim in those exact scenes).

“I was there for less than a month,” Kibum tells him, not seeming to mind the topic in the least.

“They got rid of me ‘cause I couldn’t get it up,” He states, his voice sounding nonchalant, almost, and Jonghyun is left spluttering at the crude choice of words. It’s funny how he’s been in the man’s company for not even a whole week but has already heard a more colorful array of expression than ever before in his life. And it’s a miracle Kibum hasn’t yet been getting into trouble for speaking this way, either.

Then again, Jonghyun can’t deny that being a test subject in a government’s laboratory - treated like hell and put through all kinds of unspeakable torture - already comes fairly close to the worst kind of faith he could imagine for a human being. Hardly anything qualifies as worse ’trouble’ than that, really, so he guesses Kibum no longer has anything to lose.

“I’m broken, apparently,” The younger man continues, the words successfully breaking Jonghyun’s train of thought.

“Cause I like men, but I don’t particularly care about sex and that’s not how people are, is it?” Kibum is right, they aren’t. Or at least, they would never admit to anything other than being attracted to the opposite gender and caring very much about sex to the point where neither consent nor giving anyone the freedom of choice in the first place play much of a role.

In the end, Jonghyun doesn’t tell him any of that, though. It’s not like he is what could be considered the textbook version of a normally functioning human being, either, after all. Not by a great stretch. He had just done a pretty good job at keeping his occasional crushes on men a secret, so he doesn’t think his opinion is going to be of much help to Kibum.

And he doesn’t tell him that he needs to take him back, either. Because it hasn’t been long, but Jonghyun has come to like the company and Kibum is pleasant to be around - doesn’t filter his words or put on an act like so many other people Jonghyun has been surrounding himself with - and he doesn’t want to give that up.

It’s selfish, really, but he hates the thought of Kibum becoming just another test subject again. And he hates the thought of witnessing Kibum in pain again even more. *** “You’re just like everyone else, you know?” Kibum remarks as they sit next to each other later that day, the TV playing some speech of their countries great leader in the background.

“What’s that mean?” Jonghyun turns to look at him, confusion written all over his face.

“Brainwashed,” Kibum replies simply, and although Jonghyun still doesn’t get it, Kibum doesn’t seem to plan on elaborating. If there is one thing Jonghyun has learned about Kibum in the few days of living with him, however, it’s that he rarely ever leaves it at such a random comment. And he is right, because although it takes some time, Kibum eventually follows up with the very agitated question of “You don’t seriously believe that forcing me to spend all of my nights stuck in terrifying nightmares benefits anyone, do you?” Jonghyun blinks, taken aback, but before he even has the time to answer, Kibum is already talking again.

“If it wasn’t for this stupid self-recovery system, I’d be dead already and I’d seriously prefer it that way,” He glares at nothing in particular.

“But it keeps us alive,” Jonghyun argues, stunned that Kibum would criticise the number one revolutionary invention of their kind. Centuries ago, people died of depression, of heart attacks, of cancer and other terminal illnesses. They lived their lives as frail beings, at danger of their body or in giving up in them at any moment. An existence that Jonghyun is so, so grateful he has never had to experience. And yet Kibum talks as if it is nothing more than a nuisance, or a curse even, to be invincible. Or very close to invincible, anyway. Because there is ways around it - ways to damage the system beyond repair - but that requires a gun, or lots of determination and neither is all that easy to obtain.

“Yeah, maybe that’s great for someone like you, with a bright, beautiful future ahead of him,” Kibum retorts, his words full of sarcasm.

“But I don’t need that.”

“I don’t need to live my whole life being tortured with no way to escape,” Kibum gesticulates wildly, becoming more worked up and upset by the second as he adds, “But that’s exactly what’s going to happen, because I just can’t die and I hate it.”

“This country’s whole system is a bunch of bullshit,” Jonghyun struggles to stop himself from following his initial instinct to jump up and cover Kibum’s mouth because what if someone hears?

“You can’t say that,” Jonghyun tells him, eyes wide. He knows it’s bullshit. Unfair and inhumane and terrible. God, it’s a thought that’s been with him for years. Since he witnessed one of his elementary school teachers being dragged out of the classroom in the middle of his lesson and shot right outside in the hallway, to be exact. He had been all but glued to his seat back then, trying his best to imagine that what he heard wasn’t actually what he knew it was. But it took a mere minute for another teacher to take his place in front of the class (they had already been prepared, he realised years later, after learning that his teacher’s crime was stealing a few bags of rice from a store because his pay didn’t suffice to feed his family and one of his colleagues had tattled to the headmaster) and by the time break came along, there wasn’t a trace of blood - not even a trace of the teachers existence, really - left on the school’s grounds. All of which had made it so incredibly easy to pretend, at least, that nothing happened.

So he isn’t going to be the one to deny Kibum’s words. Especially not when Kibum’s probably one of the greatest victims of that exact system. But he certainly isn’t going to agree with them, either. He has always been way too much of a coward to do so. Because who knows who’s going to hear and carry the news to the nearest police station and who knows where it could land him. On the hard bed right next to Kibum’s in the Nightmares and Sleep paralysis sector, maybe. Or being tied up and marred with knifes by some Chinese nobility because that’s what gets them off. So when it comes down to it, it’s safer to stay silent. Much safer. *** “Kibum,” Jonghyun mumbles, sinking back into the cushions of his couch, his heart heavy with the kind of emotions he can’t even begin to put a name to.

It’s dark outside by now and Kibum has switched off the TV a long time ago because ‘It makes me fuckin’ sick to watch that man’s face’ is what his exact words were. “I still have to take you back.” Jonghyun tells him, and Kibum tenses up beside him but his expression stays blank and his voice comes out just as unaffected.

“Yeah, I know.” *** It’s only three days later that he sees Kibum again - in much the same setting as the last time, with the man lying unconsciously on one of the laboratory beds and him behind the glass windows, preparing everything for the test subjects awakening and meticulously checking the stats to make sure nothing goes wrong.

The data screen is lying in front of him, untouched, because today’s test won’t be over until six and it’s merely nearing half past five right now. When he finally does pick it up - after retrieving Kibum’s clothes and getting his dinner from the kitchen down the hallway - he almost wishes he hadn’t, though.

The stats are still the same - name, age, history - but at the far bottom of the page, another scribbled note has been added. Attempts of suicide: 5. Permanent damage to the system: none. Kept under twenty-four hour surveillance starting September 9th.

“Jonghyun-hyung, are you okay?” He faintly hears the call of his co-worker Minho behind him as he rushes from the room, his stomach churning as the word ‘suicide’ repeats in his head over and over.

He really needs some fresh air.

#this was supposed to be an entry for the jongkeysquadfic thingy but ugh #it's not even good #and i probably have to add another 5k words for it to actually make sense #fanfic #jongkey #shinee #myfic #jonghyun #key

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