Warning: hardcore impregnation kink, possession, dirty talk, vaginal sex, basically a major creampie bro.
A/N: I’m going through major baby fever, so please enjoy my imagination
You felt Jungkook’s hands press roughly into your hips as he pounded you from behind. The sound of your husband’s groans and whiny sounds filling the air as your face was pushed into the mattress.
“You like the way that feels baby?“ He asked as you gripped onto your marital sheets. You tried to nod, your words failing you but your back being bent unnaturally stopping you. “Oh god baby” He moaned as he felt your walls flutter around him. You squeezed around him again unconsciously causing him to buck harshly into you, the angle causing him to kiss the base of your cervix, a shiver running down your spine as you let out a wanton moan. The movement caused Jungkook to pause. You grew worried and tried looking back only to see the man you called yours with his eyes shut, head tilted as you watched him breathe through his nose heavily almost as if to keep himself sane. You called out to him with a weak call of his name catching his attention breaking him from the trance he was in, you watched his eyelids open slightly, his usual coffee coloured eyes now a lustful black eyeing your sweaty body.
“fuck” He let out as his eyes moved from you to where the both of you were joined, his cock twitching slightly at the filthy ideas running through his head. “Look forward again for me baby” He breathed out, his voice an octave deeper causing a submissive whine to catch at your throat before turning. His hands gripped your hips even rougher, this time his nails digging into your skin before pulling his hips back slowly and bucking back into you, knocking the air from your lungs. He repeated this before your body started fluttering around him again and all his thoughts began to slip from his mouth.
“Fuck baby wanna fill you up so badly, so f-fucking badly” He moaned as he pounded into you roughly. You moaned in response which only urged him on even more.
“Wanna cum so deep in you baby, wanna fill you with my seed pretty girl” He rambled as he threw his head back losing himself in you. “Jungkook please” You whined not knowing what you were even asking for.
“You want it too baby hmm? want me to fill you up and knock you up?” He pressed, his words sending a shock into your system at the thought of him getting you pregnant. It’s not like you both hadn’t talked about it, babies were a subject you just both silently agreed on that when it happens, it happens and apparently for Jungkook it needed to happen now. “God beautiful I’m gonna put a baby in you, would you like that hmm? like my cock hitting your womb baby” He asked, his voice straining at the end.
“Answer me baby, wanna hear you say it” He groaned as his hand sneaked between your thighs and started began rubbing harshly at your clit. You tried to figure out what was going on in your head but the mixture of Jungkook’s fingers pressed against your clit and his cock hitting your cervix was too much for you. You could feel your climax literally on the tip of your tongue but the thought was stopped the minute you felt a harsh slap on your clit sending your hips to jolt forward. “Baby-I told you-to answer me” He punctuated with harsh thrusts. You gasped, your eyes filling with tears as you tried lifting your head to give him what he wanted.
“J-jungkook please, fill me with your cum, want your b-baby in me, make me yours” You gasped out, his shit eating grin practically beaming even if you couldn’t see it.
“That’s right baby, you’re fucking mine” He growled, his fingers back on your clit his hips angling to press even deeper into you. “Can’t wait to show you off, all big and round with my baby” He whined, his orgasm catching up to him as yours hit you. Now you’ve never experienced a vaginal orgasm but with the way Jungkook’s cock hit the end of you, your body just went into overdrive. You felt like it was everywhere, causing your body to shake underneath Jungkook like a leaf in an aggressive wind. The feeling of your walls convulsing around him aggressively had Jungkook growling as hips forced his cock into you. “Gonna cum baby, g-gonna cum and fill you. take it, fucking take it- Fuck!” He let out as he pressed into you till you could practically feel him in your stomach, The heat of his orgasm filling you to breaking point. You let out small whines as Jungkook moved his hips slowly milking his orgasm “so deep, so fucking deep” He whispered as he watched his softening cock fuck his cum back into you.
“You good baby?” He asked breathless as he fell down next to you. You slumped your body down, wincing at the aftershock. “Ask me again in nine months” You breathed still catching your breath, your eyes closing but not missing the way he beamed at your words.
Extra
“Kook, what did you do to Y/N, she looks so pale lately” Hoseok asked as he plopped down next to the younger, the boys weekly catch up at your home.
“Yeah, I offered her the left over eggs from my plate and she literally gagged and ran off” Jin pitched in as snatched the remote away from Taehyung before scolding him.
Genre/warnings:ghost au, horror au, angst, small mentions of drinking but it’s not excessive, mention of possible drug use, mentions of murder
Word count:1,485
Summary: Every apartment building is a little strange, whether it be the residents or the history behind the building. But when Yoongi moves into Westfield Apartments, he finds that both his neighbors and the building itself are more than a little strange.
Genre/warnings:ghost au, horror au, angst, small mentions of drinking but it’s not excessive, mention of possible drug use, mentions of murder
Word count:1,485
Summary: Every apartment building is a little strange, whether it be the residents or the history behind the building. But when Yoongi moves into Westfield Apartments, he finds that both his neighbors and the building itself are more than a little strange.
Christopher ‘Chan’ Bang: A nice guy, but definitely wary of others outside his apartment. Protective. Polite, but seems to be a little nervous all the time.
Lee Minho: Blunt. Makes it obvious he doesn’t want to talk to anyone. Rude, but with intention. Tries to drive people away intentionally.
Seo Changbin: Quiet. Keeps to himself. Doesn’t say much, even when spoken to. Usually out at the bar. If he’s out at night, he doesn’t come back until after sunrise. Must know something.
Felix Lee: Innocent. Naïve. Too kind and friendly for his own good. Left in the dark by his roommates. Probably for the best.
Yoongi had swung back by Jihoon’s to grab the file, quickly scanning through whatever your father had gathered on the four roommates he was about to encounter. He was sure they knew something, but it seemed to be to the extent of whatever Wonwoo, Jeonghan, and Soonyoung knew: there was something going on in the apartment building that they should be mindful and afraid of, but they weren’t sure what it was.
With the file stuffed into a black backpack he was keeping on his back, Yoongi approached 206.
When he knocked, it was Minho who was at the door, leaning against the frame with a disgusted look on his face as he eyed Yoongi up and down.
“And what’re you back for?” he asked, definitely not hiding the fact that he didn’t want Yoongi coming back to their apartment.
“Minho, stop it,” Chan came up behind him, saying the words under his breath forcefully with a stern look. Then his eyes went to Yoongi and he offered a friendly smile. “What can we do for you?”
“Who is it?” Felix’s voice came from inside the apartment, before there was a harsh, “Shh!”
“As if you don’t know…” Minho muttered, rolling his eyes.
Yoongi flashed him a confused look before slowly looking back to Chan, “…D-do you know why I’m here…?”
“You’ve only been bothering everyone and their mother in the building,” Minho snapped. “Whatever the hell you’re digging around for, we’re not having any part of it. Kick rocks.”
“Minho–!”
“Hey,” a new voice cut in.
Changbin came out of the dark apartment that was only being illuminated by a TV screen. He kept his eyes down, only glancing up at Yoongi as he slipped between Chan and Minho, muttering, “Wanna get a drink?”
Not even waiting for an answer, Changbin turned the corner into the hallway and kept walking. Yoongi only glanced at his two roommates as Felix called for Changbin to come back to movie night before the older boy was jogging to catch up.
▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃
Yoongi found himself in a bar on the edge of the nearby city. It was the stereotypical tiny bar that one would see in the movies. It was a little bit of a shithole but it was nice enough for Yoongi to not feel gross drinking out of their glasses. It was also nice enough for Changbin to be a regular considering everyone there seemed to know him and the bartender knew his typical order – Yoongi just got whatever Changbin got.
Changbin had one hand around his glass while Yoongi held his with both to just give his hands something to do instead of nervously fidget.
“Listen,” Changbin finally began after the two sat in silence for a moment after getting their drinks – Yoongi wasn’t really sure what to say because Changbin was pretty intimidating, and he felt like he should wait for the younger boy to start the conversation, anyway, “I know you know things about the apartment. All of us do – ‘cept Felix, and we wanna keep it that way?”
“Why?” he asked, furrowing his eyebrows.
Changbin chuckled, “You’ve seen the kid: he’s too…pure and innocent and happy. Besides, it’s not his fault he’s stuck there. Kid has nowhere else to go so we took him in even though we didn’t want him exposed to what we have been. I feel bad because he wants to leave the room and make friends, but… I’m not saying everyone in that place is bad, but we don’t know who we can trust. That place changes people, we’ve seen it happen. Kihyun got fucked up by something on the fifth floor. Hell, Kibum was never as agitated as he is now. He used to at least be nice sometimes, but now talking to that dude is a surefire way to get your head bitten off. Even…”
He paused, looking down into the liquid in his glass, “Even Jihoon and Yuna were normal when they moved in. But then…Yuna started saying things that were just…weird. She was seeing things that weren’t there and mumbling to herself. She was always talking about these…dark shapes and shadows. Some people though maybe she was just acting normal to make friends but then got comfortable, and she was crazy all along. Some thought she was doing drugs. And because Jihoon was so close with her, he was deemed crazy, too. But…the longer I’ve lived in that stupid fucking building, the more I wonder…was Yuna even crazy at all? If I’m honest, I think she was perfectly sane, but she just had the power somehow to see the shit that’s changing everyone in the building. Maybe I’m lucky because I spend more time here than at that place, so I can see what’s happening. But I don’t know who or what or why.”
“Can I ask…what do you think happened to Yuna?” Yoongi wondered slowly.
“Think she was either locked up in a mental hospital, or whatever she saw got to her,” he stated blankly. “Everyone saw the cops take her out, assuming she murdered _____, but they never investigate any of the other murders here. If they investigated _____’s, they’d know that Yuna didn’t do it.”
“You don’t think it was Yuna?” Yoongi interrupted.
“No,” Changbin replied surely. “They were best friends. I think, like every other murder, that whatever Yuna saw is killing people. I think it’s tied to the Westfields, and they must have connections with the police since they’re not doing anything about it. So they either threw her in a hospital or they let whatever’s in that building get her. Either way, she didn’t deserve it.”
“How do you know all this? And if you know this, why haven’t you just left?” Yoongi asked.
Changbin gave a small, sad smile, “Because it’s…fine. Nothing bad has happened to us and we don’t have the money to leave. Westfield is dirt cheap. We mind our business. If anything, we just wanna get the kid outta there before something happens to him. Me, Chan, and Minho have had rough lives. We’ve done shit we’re not proud of. Felix, though? He’s good through and through. He doesn’t deserve whatever’s going on there.”
“Don’t you want to try and stop it, then?” Yoongi continued. “At least for Felix?”
Changbin took a gulp of his drink before he looked at Yoongi solemnly, “I know you know more than us, and I don’t wanna know anymore than I already do. But we know your intentions are good. But, Yoongi…your actions might be stirring up whatever’s in that building. You’re putting a big-ass target on yourself, and I don’t want any part of it.”
Yoongi leaned in a little closer, his stare intense, “Then who can I go to for help? I really need more answers, Changbin. Please.”
Changbin stared back as he weighed his options, then sighed, looking back down at his drink, “I don’t know who knows what, but Namjoon’s a smart guy. There’s no way he wouldn’t have somewhat of an idea of what’s up with the place. But…”
Changbin paused so sigh, hanging his head, “Look, it’s a longshot he’ll even answer you – and it might even get you killed – but…Jungkook might be your best bet. He was the closest with Yuna so he’d probably know more about everything. But Jungkook doesn’t really talk to anyone anymore. Guy hardly leaves his apartment.”
Yoongi felt a little bit of relief, but also a little anxiety. While he had a lead for some answers, he knew that the closer he got to the answers he needed, the bigger the target on his back became. But he was in too deep now. He had to keep digging.
“Thanks, Changbin,” he said as he put a hand on the younger boy’s shoulder. Then he stood to leave.
Changbin grabbed Yoongi’s forearm but didn’t look at him, “It’s not safe to go back now. I’ll get you a room at the motel I stay at.“
“N-no, I can pay,” Yoongi insisted. “You said you can’t afford to move out, so–”
“It’s fine,” he assured him, “I get rooms for cheap because I flirt with the girl at the desk. Place isn’t much but…it’s safer than going back.”
Please feel free to send me an ask or a message with your favorite BTS fics or writers, I’ll make sure to check it out and include in future parts. I’m still going to reblog my favorites, so if you want to keep up with my recommendation lists - let me know and I’ll tag you.
So how this will work?
Once a month (starting december 1st) I will list writers and their works that I find especially worth to be read, BUT if you see just a writer’s id, don’t worry - it means that they have a huge amount of works that I love, so I couldn’t pick just a few of them.
A bad breakup. A new company in need of start up funds. A competition in Vegas. Two strangers desperately in need of a new start. What could possibly go wrong?
Genre: Strangers to Enemies to Friends to Lovers (in no particular order ); rapper!Namjoon x producer!Reader
Warnings: seriously, 18+ only, minors DNI, alcohol consumption (legal age), mentions of sex, cursing, lots of angst, subject to be added to.
summary:Some things that are normal for most aren’t normal for you and Yoongi. He moved in and sleeps in the same bed with you, but still all you do is hold hands and kiss gently. Everyone has their own pace. Not everyone lives in the fast lane. There’s just… this nagging feeling. You have to be honest.
warnings: rated M (18+) - mentions of a previous physically and verbally abusive relationship; language; smut (penetrative sex); there’s so much fluff you might die; also RIP to their heads XD; non-idol!AU; music producer!Yoongi x dancing fanatic!reader
rated M because I know how sensitive a topic domestic abuse is.
You retreated your hand from the tuft of hair sticking out of Yoongi’s black cap. He turned around and raised his eyebrows at you. You ended up apologizing before actually doing anything or even touching the little black tail in the opening of his hat. He adjusted the brim and gave you a weird look.
“Something wrong?” he asked, tilting his head.
“No, uh… I…” You struggled to find the words. “I almost touched you. I wasn’t sure if you were okay with that.”
Yoongi smiled a little. “It’s okay. I know you’re there. And I know it’s you.”
He was sitting right next to you at your computer in your bedroom. You had set up a station for him, the two of you in the corner, occupying two computers ninety degrees from each other. All you had to do was turn to the right and he was there. He turned to the left and you were there. It was kind of cramped and not ideal, but it had to do for now. Yoongi worked on music at home. Some things Yoongi could only do at the studio, but some things he could do at home. You found him a decent computer and some hand-me-down equipment and it was good enough.
Actually…
It was miles better than it was before. He was surprised when you asked him if he wanted to work on his music at home. It wasn’t permitted in Yoongi’s previous relationship. But you saw he lamented sometimes, recording demos on his phone and wishing he had some sort of setup to do some things. You didn’t understand the technical aspects, but it couldn’t hurt to ask, right? It had become a fun project and now Yoongi was sitting beside you.
Yoongi spied the images on your monitor. "What are you looking at?“
You turned back. "Apartments. I’m just trying to see if there’s something bigger, so you can have your own music studio at home.”
He bit his lip. “I can’t afford that right now.”
You understood that Yoongi often mentioned money because it was a topic of arguments with his ex-girlfriend. You hadn’t gone into this expecting Yoongi to be rich. In any case, it was better for him to invest in his music. You had already told him this, but habits take time to be broken. Thankfully, your work paid well even though it was mostly clerical duties. There were perks to having worked at the same company for a long time.
“It’s okay. I want a bigger space too."
"You mean you want your dance studio back?” he teased.
You felt your ears heat. “I can use the living room… anyway, I want you to be able to work in peace. I haven’t seen anything good though.”
“Mmm, well, this kind of thing takes time and luck.”
You turned your head to look at him and found his face next to your shoulder. A handsome profile. His eyes shifted to look at you. Something flitted in those dark brown eyes. The nagging feeling came back, tapping inside your ribcage, rattling impatiently. You looked away, back at your computer screen.
Yoongi said your name softly.
“Is something wrong?” His voice wavered. “Did I do something?”
“No, Yoongi,” you replied, still not looking at him. The frustration inside expanded. You knew you had to communicate. You couldn’t not. If you avoided it any longer, you would be growing the seeds of doubt and you wanted Yoongi to trust you. To do that, you needed to be honest.
“I’m horny.”
Silence.
“What?”
You jerked a little in your seat, moving away from Yoongi before raising your head to make eye contact. Your chest felt tight, ashamed, even though it wasn’t supposed to be embarrassing.
“I’m horny,” you repeated, rubbing your fist on your thigh. “I don’t want to pressure you because I know that topic might be delicate. I just…” You kept looking at those wide cat-like eyes and then looking away, heart beating fast and heat building faster. “I find that I can’t really look at you that long without thinking about it. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
Silence. You felt your stomach knot.
“I don’t remember the last time I had sex,” Yoongi murmured. “I don’t remember the last time I wanted it.”
Ah. Right. That would make sense. Of course, that’s how he felt. Also, you weren’t exactly sexy. The octopus dancing didn’t really get the guys, so to speak. You could handle yourself. It was fine. He was just so… You wanted Yoongi to feel good with your touch, wanted his heart to flutter the way yours fluttered, wanted to see him breathless with want.
There was a weight on your thigh.
You started, looking down, breath at your throat. You were wearing loose gray shorts and the matching sweatshirt. Not a sexy outfit to get your freak on. But you were staring at Yoongi’s hand, kneading the fabric and your leg underneath and the heat was rising, heart racing.
“I think I need a reminder…” he murmured. “A reminder on how good it feels to be loved like that.”
Yoongi lifted his head and you stared into his eyes.
He leaned forward and closed the distance, kissing you softly, and you breathed him in, fitting your hand over his, guiding it up, gentle touches, turning in your chair to face him, and he was turning to you, holding you close, your hands skimming over his t-shirt, not trying to get more, just wanting to show your want, just demonstrating how you would run your hands over his skin if there was no barrier, and he stood up, making you stand up.
And then your heads banged together.
“Ow!”
“Motherfuc–”
You swore and Yoongi clamped a hand over your mouth, rubbing his forehead and shaking his head.
“Don’t ruin this,” he winced, removing his hand.
“My brain feels rearranged,” was your woozy response, cursing the narrow space.
Yoongi took your hand and pulled you away from the computers, towards to the bed, the same bed you two slept on, but didn’t touch, not like this. You only held hands or kissed gently. Late at night, when Yoongi was fast asleep, you would stare at his profile and wonder if he felt the same passion you felt, but it was weird to watch him sleeping, so you looked away and stared at the ceiling instead, thinking about him and his body against yours.
And now it was, his arms around you, pressing you to his chest, kissing your lips, cheeks, closed eyelids, making you laugh a little. Your fingertips on his back, tracing patterns, his gasp against your skin, cap falling off and tumbling to the floor, his black hair brushing your forehead.
“T-Touch me more…” he murmured.
He took your forearms and pushed them down, sliding your hands under his white shirt and then it was skin on skin, a needy noise between you two. With burning ears, you realized that was you, Yoongi’s hands on your shoulders as you explored his back, fingertips dancing up his spine, his pants in your ear, and then his fingers in your hair, messing it all up, rolling his body into yours.
Hardness.
You gasped, raising your thigh to press against it, and his hands slid down, and you looked up to see his half-lidded eyes hazy with desire.
“I want to follow your lead, Yoongi,” you breathed. “Any time you want to stop, we can stop.”
He nodded, leaning down to kiss you, deeper this time, tongue sliding in and playing with yours, your hands exploring the contours of his back. His skin, so soft, so lovely, smelling the vanilla and patchouli body wash you used because you shared the same shower and he used all your products. You shared so much with him, but there were some things you couldn’t share. Not yet. Not until he gave you his sign that he was ready.
You never told Yoongi, I love you.
The most precious words used in this world, turned to a poison dagger to hurt him, so you never said it, not until he was ready to hear it, not until he wanted to hear it. You knew Yoongi knew. You would hold his hand, draw a heart in his palm, small things like that, and he knew. He’d squeeze your fingers and smile a little smile and that was enough.
Maybe you were tiptoeing too much, but it was impossible to tell, because everyone is different and not even Yoongi himself knew what trivial actions or words would bring back unpleasant memories. He had spent so long repressing them that it was hard to tell reality from fantasy. He didn’t know what to be afraid of because he tried so hard to make them disappear.
You drew a small heart on Yoongi’s shoulder blade and he gasped, pulling you closer.
“I… like when you do that…” he mumbled, sounding a little embarrassed.
“Draw hearts?” you questioned, tilting your head.
“Yeah… on my skin…”
And then Yoongi surprised you.
He backed up a little and pulled his shirt over his head, taking your hands and placing them on his chest, not saying anything, but you could see it in his eyes, I don’t look very good, and you pressed your fingertips to his chest, over his beating heart, looking up at him.
“You will always be perfect to me, Yoongi.”
He gave you a wistful smile, believing you and not at the same time. “You have weird taste.”
You drew a small heart over his, feeling him shiver at your touch. You grinned brightly. “That’s how you know I’m devoted.”
He chuckled, closing one eye, looking sheepish. You waited, letting him work through the emotion, trying not to put himself down, taking it for what it was. It was not an easy thing to do. You had to be patient. Yoongi took your hand and pulled you to the bed, a familiar environment.
“I want to make you feel good,” he said.
“You don’t–”
“I want to,” Yoongi reaffirmed, looking you in the eye, determination in his tone. “I want my hard work to be the reason you feel good.”
You shouldn’t say it. Well, maybe it will lighten the mood. You struggled internally and then leaned forward, placing the back of your hand near your mouth.
“Hard work is a weird way to refer to your dick,” you whispered closely.
Yoongi burst out laughing, gums flashing, raspy and full, shoving you onto the bed. You bounced, hands flapping about, grinning at you own joke as Yoongi grabbed the bottom of your sweatshirt, yanking it up and over your head.
“This and your bad habit of moving your head at the same time as me–”
“It means we’re in sync!”
“I don’t want a concussion every time we make out,” Yoongi shot back, pinning your arms down and hovering over you, exasperated smile on his face.
He was so close.
Your grin slowly deflated, realizing that he was shirtless and you were shirtless, and Yoongi had you pinned down, gazing down at you with dark eyes and that open-mouthed smirk that was also disappearing, realizing he was on top of you, realizing this wasn’t innocent, realizing he was about to do something that should be normal but was made abnormal to him.
“You don’t have to do it,” you said gently.
“I know.” He looked at you under his black hair, messy and flat from being under the hat, brown eyes and pink lips standing out on his fair-skinned face. “But I want to.”
You always thought that parts of life were boring. It would be easier to fast forward and skip it.
But not with Yoongi.
He leaned down and kissed you, a kiss that you wanted to pause and live in forever, him inhaling you, pressing deeply, hands releasing your arms and cradling your head, his kisses like stars, precious light that brightened your whole world. But you also wanted to press play, kissing him back, your hands caressing his sides, drawing small hearts on his skin, your own heart swelling with the electricity of touching the one you loved, not knowing until now how nice it was, the simple sensation of dancing your fingers up his back and back down, his gasps on your skin, kissing down, down the curve of your neck and the swell of your breasts, so focused that his eyes were screwed shut and his brows were furrowed.
“Yoongi…”
His eyes opened slowly and Yoongi looked up at you with shaking pupils. Scared he was going to fuck up.
“It’s just me. You know, the one who dances like an octopus.”
His expression seemed to relax, turning into ruefulness. “How could I forget?”
“Should I wiggle a bit to jog your memory?” you teased.
“Please don’t.”
Your remark seemed to have calmed him, returning to your breasts, slipping the straps down, kissing along the curve of the cup, slipping his tongue under experimentally to make you jump, heart racing once more, a small smirk on his lips as he reached behind you and unhooked it, releasing them from their prison.
“O-oh!”
You yelped when Yoongi pulled your bra down, kissing your nipple directly, tingles flaring from the kiss, leaving you breathless as his tongue danced out, licking gracefully, slow circles that made you clench your jaw and tighten your core to avoid arching your back to get more. Yoongi seemed to sense your urgency and added more pressure, closing his lips around it, and your hands flew up, holding his head as carefully as possible but holy shit, holy shit, Yoongi’s tongue on you was pure ecstasy and he was doing it for you, showing his love for you and that’s why it felt so good, that’s why it was so fucking nice.
“Ah, fuck, Yoongi…”
He kissed to the other side, murmuring your name against your skin, seeped with desire and affection, pushing your wet nipple with one finger as he kissed the other, two points of pleasure that flowed through you, your gasps turning to moans, his hands coming up and encircling yours, lacing your fingers with his and holding them, whispering, faint, nearly silent, vibrating your sensitive skin with his lips and breath.
And then you heard it.
His whisper right above your heart and you looked down, Yoongi’s eyes looking up at you.
Apologetic for taking so long.
“I love you.”
If someone paused the tape right now, took it out, and your life ended right there, you would be okay with that. If that was the last moment in this world, if that was all that was and time stopped, you would be content.
But it wasn’t.
Play.
You smiled down at him, trying to prevent your voice from shaking.
“I love you too, Yoongi.”
The most precious words in the whole world.
“Should I stop?”
Your eyes widened. “N-no! I mean… if you’re…” You stopped speaking, seeing the playfulness sparkling in those dark eyes, pleased to have tricked you, even if only for a second.
“I’m kidding,” he chuckled, lifting himself up to kiss you lightly. “I only wanted to see if you would be bothered.”
“I am very bothered,” you responded, peeved. “Hot and bothered, even.”
Yoongi lifted a brow, small amused smirk on his lips. “Come to think of it, me too.” He backed up and you lifted your chest, only to have Yoongi press down on your collarbones, worry flitting his face.
“What?”
“Don’t bonk my head.”
You grimaced. “I’m not a serial head bonker.” You lifted yourself up and Yoongi swung his head back, eyes flashing with mock fear. You pointed to the nightstand, rolling your eyes, and rummaged around in the drawer, feeling to the back and pulling out the small box.
“How old are those?”
Your cheeks flushed. “L-Last month!”
“You wanted to fuck me since last month?”
“N-No, obviously earlier, but I didn’t k-know if you ever wanted…” you trailed off, flapping your jaw, holding up said box, the condoms tumbling out. You panicked a little, not wanting him to think you were expecting too much, dropping the box and scrambling to collect the pile, the tip of your finger hitting the box at the exact spot that would cause it to fly off the bed and hit the wall.
You stared at it, betrayed.
Yoongi burst out laughing. “I can hear you talking to it,” he chuckled.
“I’m not saying anything!”
“You wanna fuck me?”
Your head snapped back, eyes widening. Yoongi tilted his head.
“Yes,” you blurted. “Well, yes, I mean, you’re so…” This was awkward. It didn’t used to be awkward but, also, you had never been this invested. Your eyes widened. You were invested in a person. Actually invested, invested in Min Yoongi. You looked up at him and he looked back curiously like a cat, not realizing your epiphany. Oh shit. Now this was even more weird.
Do something. Do something. Not that. Oh no, you’re doing it.
You held up the plethora of condoms. “Pick a card?”
Living alone made you too fucking weird.
“Aren’t they all the same?” Yoongi snickered.
You shifted, putting them back down on the bed. “Ahaha… right…” Your leg pressed against his and you jumped, startled. “You’re hard.”
Yoongi raised his eyebrows. “When gorgeous tits are out, the human body reacts when there is attraction, even if you’re speaking nonsense.”
You blinked at him. “G-Gorgeous?”
Yoongi’s ears flushed pink and he reached over, ripping a condom off the others. “Y-Yeah…” He straightened, scooting back to between your legs, placing his hands on your shorts. “Ah… unless the mood is killed…”
“No,” you exclaimed, hands flying down to the waistband. “It is not. It is alive and well. Very well.”
Yoongi opened his mouth and shut it. Then he opened it again, smiling a little. “I’m beginning to think we are a bit strange.”
“it’s just because it’s the first time,” you rambled. “All first times are a bit strange.”
This wasn’t getting anywhere, so you yanked down your shorts and underwear at once, Yoongi gasping and snapping his head down as you kicked off your clothes, the sharp scent of your arousal suddenly very apparent. You felt your cheeks heat, unaware that you had such a strong reaction to Yoongi being above you, observing your wetness with round eyes, as if to say, I did that?
“Wow.” Yoongi raised his head, black bangs framing his beautiful eyes. “You’re stunning.”
Was it ever like this? Like every word was precious, every lyric in this song meaning more than the words themselves, like every single piece of the composition was perfect, special, everything pause-worthy, even the odd bits, you reaching up to cup his head, pulling Yoongi down for a kiss, him pushing his own pants down, sucking in a breath as your hand wrapped around him, moaning in his mouth, deepening the kiss, more erotic, more intense, his cock throbbing in your palm, getting harder by your touch, Yoongi whimpering in your mouth, backing off slowly, ripping the condom open, sliding it on, and you watching, oh, he’s beautiful there too.
“Thanks…?”
“… Uh, you’re welcome.”
You spoke out loud. Great.
“Do you need some prep?”
“Yoongi, please put it in before I say something stupid again–”
You cut yourself off as Yoongi pushed in slowly, both of you suddenly gasping at the sensation, you already wet enough because you had been thinking about this for so long, morning, night, morning, night, thinking about Yoongi, and if you could, if he was ready to have him inside you, filling you up, and it was happening, happening right now, sinking into you, looking into his eyes. And you could see the amazement, the wave of satisfaction that shimmered through his dark orbs, and the way Yoongi looked at you.
Like he was complete.
“I… oh, fuck…” His eyelids fluttered. “I might not be that good…”
“Are you kidding me, holy fuck, you feel fucking incredible,” you breathed, clenching around him, moaning softly at the perfection that was him, heart racing with every second. Your hands came up and held his cheeks, your breath hot and fluttering upwards. “You already feel so good, Yoongi. You can see it in my face, can’t you?”
His eyes searched yours, looking for the lie, the performance, but there was none, no need to lie when your hips were already slowly rocking into his, creating movement and pleasure, and he fell into the rhythm, complementing you. Your hands dropped and you put them over your head, grasping the pillows, letting out every cry and soft sound so Yoongi could hear and know this was the truth, your legs circling his slim waist. Yoongi bit his lip, breathing hard, whimpering a little.
“I mean… it’s been a while… and you feel too f-fucking good, oh fuck…”
You realized what he meant and you reached down with one hand, jolting as your fingertip touched your clit, rubbing it forcefully, shudders flying through you, gasping at your own stimulation, breasts pressing together, and Yoongi moaned, feeling you constrict and pulse around him, wetter, thrusting into you harder until there was a symphony of sound, heavy wanton breathing, slapping of skin on skin, chasing your climax as Yoongi chased his, eyes locked, almost there, almost there…
At the bridge.
Somehow you both knew the final chorus was coming.
“Yoongi…”
He breathed your name, drawing it out like the most precious word in this world.
You moaned deeply and it rushed through you, shooting up your torso and into your chest, an overwhelming pressure that took you under, making you throw your head back and gasp his name, pressing down on your clit to amplify every bolt of pleasure that made your muscles shake. Yoongi groaned, thrusting into you hard with his own gasp, cock jerking and shooting into the condom, surrounded by your suffocating embrace and you saw his eyes roll back a little, muscles in his arms tense, fingers bunching into the sheets, black hair sweaty and sticking to his face.
Hot breath mixing with yours, heavy pants of shared ecstasy.
“Whoa…”
His dark eyes flickered to yours, pupils blown out, blinking slowly as he exhaled. “W-What…?”
You felt your ears heat. “Oh… uh… it’s never been like that before. I’ve never felt… so much.”
A red flush bloomed over Yoongi’s cheeks. “Me neither…”
“Maybe we’re in love?” you offered lightheartedly.
A small smile grew on his lips. “Yeah, maybe.”
You began to raise yourself off the bed, but Yoongi put his hand on your collarbones quickly.
summary:Jeon Jungkook has fucked up big time. Unlike you, he woke up with perfectly clear memories of fucking you. He spends every spare moment of his shift staring at you and trying not to get caught. Your father is his, uh, bosswho very much knows how to use a knife, yikes. Jungkook definitely shouldn’t like you. But he does. Ah, shit.
warnings: rated M (18+) for language; Jungkook is low-key a horny mess at work; graphic descriptions of sexual acts (fem reader, penetrative sex, cowgirl); actually just fluff; non-idol!BTS; waiter!Jungkook x hostess!reader; Jungkook’s POV, ft waiter!JImin
–
“Fuck, that ass is illegal. Those fucking legs. Ugh, I don’t know how she does it, wearing those heels all night…”
“Lusting after your favorite hostess?”
Jeon Jungkook jumped ten feet into the air, greeted by the mischievous, perceptive expression of Park Jimin. The shorter man was dressed sharply in the restaurant’s waiter uniform – black vest, crisp navy shirt, black slacks, restaurant logo pin on the vest pocket atop a tucked, folded, patterned navy handkerchief.
“How many times do I have to tell you?” Jimin chastised the second Jungkook faced him, reaching over with his small hands and plucking the handkerchief from Jungkook’s vest. “Left over right, not right over left.”
Jungkook felt his cheeks burn as the blond-haired man refolded it. The restaurant was bustling with activity, loud conversations and utensils against plates enough to mask Jimin’s words to anyone but him, who was standing in front of his hyung.
“What’s with you lately? You were getting the hang of it and now you’re forgetting these details and nearly arriving late, looking all messy… Are you trying to make me look bad? After I helped you get this job?”
Debatable, but yes, Jimin had set up the interview when he asked for help job hunting. The restaurant had been looking to hire a few more servers. Jungkook felt eyes on him as Jimin returned the perfectly folded handkerchief to Jungkook’s vest with a pout, puffing one of his round cheeks as he continued talking. Instead of listening, he looked up.
Right into your eyes.
You gave Jungkook a teasing smile, the ever-so-slight sliver of pink tongue peeking between your painted scarlet lips.
Jungkook turned red.
Jimin jabbed him in the chest.
“Stop making googly eyes at the head chef’s daughter! You’re gonna get yourself killed!” he hissed.
Too late.
Jungkook was already remembering your hands on his waist, pulling him to you, kiss hot and passionate, your fingers sliding under his navy shirt, his own white t-shirt on your pretty frame, your sensual whisper in his mouth.
“I said I would give it back,” you had breathed against his moaning lips.
Jimin snapped him out of his thoughts by smacking him upside the head.
“Come on, back to work.”
Jungkook hurried to the kitchen, nearly colliding with the head chef himself. The older man raised an eyebrow and shook his head as Jungkook apologized.
“Pay fucking attention. You better not be running with the food,” the head chef snapped gruffly. “Kids these days, always making a damn mess of things…” he added with a grumble, rerolling his sleeves as he walked past Jungkook, revealing the pattern of intricate inked leaves on the muscular, spotted forearms, reminding Jungkook of his interview when applying for the job.
“No tattoos.”
The head chef was glaring at Jungkook right hand with flinty, hard eyes surrounded by lines of age that had seen far too much shit to be dealing with Jeon Jungkook right now. Park Jimin had been hiding behind one of the kitchen doors, wincing at the gruff dismissal. Jungkook sputtered, retreating his hand from the table.
“A-ah, I could wear a g-glove or–”
“Who cares these days, Papa?”
And there you were, waltzing in with your hostess uniform, floaty navy blouse with a black tie, restaurant logo pin gleaming in the center, tight black pencil skirt, sheer tights, black heels. You swooped down and grabbed Jungkook’s hand under the table, dropping it back on the tablecloth.
“They’re small and, look, one of them is a heart. What gang do you think he’s part of? Hm? Gang of spreading love throughout the galaxy?”
The older man rubbed his forehead, running his fingers through salt-and-pepper strands. “It’s going to look fucking terrible for our reputation if–”
“What looks terrible is you swearing in the back all the time,” you chuckled, taking the resume in front of your father. “He’s handsome. Think of all the customers he’ll bring, especially the younger crowd. They’ll think he’s cool.”
“Work is not about being cool–”
“Butappearances matter,” you cut off your father once again, framing Jungkook’s stunned expression with the paper and your hand. “Look at him. He’s a good-looking guy. People will come back to eat here just to see him.”
Your father sighed, relenting slightly but not too much. “His hair is too fucking long.”
“Then he’ll cut it.”
And then you finally, finally turned your head to look at him, sparkling eyes full of life, taking his breath away, your simple but exquisitely done makeup merely accenting your mirthful gaze and teasing smile, thoroughly amused with knocking down your father a peg.
“Mmm, maybe not too much though. You look pretty good with long hair.”
Jungkook’s lips parted, completely speechless.
You turned away from him and he could finally breathe again, still slightly dumbstruck at the whole exchange and amazed at how the harsh man in front of him produced such perfect offspring. He barely registered you speaking to your father.
“Besides, what are you acting so old for? You have tattoos.”
“Youth is so careless these days,” your father deflected, standing up.
You laughed, light and musical. “You too, weren’t you, Papa?”
The older man scowled at your bright, playful expression before sighing and admitting defeat. "Have Jimin show the kid the ropes,“ your father mumbled, placing a hand on your head for a moment before stalking off to the kitchen.
"Now I have to fix my hair,” you sighed, combing a hand through it.
Jungkook thought you looked wonderfully sexy with slightly disheveled hair.
“Ah, Jimin, there you are, you rascal, were you listening in? Could you…?”
Jungkook was cut out of his thoughts once again as orders were rattled off to him. He mentally noted them with ease, his short black ponytail bouncing with his movements, collecting the tray of streaming food carefully, balancing it well. He hadn’t known it at the time, too desperate for a job to consider it, but he was good at the work and, what’s more, he enjoyed it. There was something nice about feeding people good food and seeing their big smiles after a filling meal, thanking him with gratitude. Like everyone, Jungkook got his share of assholes (suspiciously, mostly men whose wives spent their time staring at him), but it didn’t matter, because at the end of the night, he would laugh about it with Jimin and his coworkers over dinner, swapping stories of funny things that happened.
And the best nights were the nights when you helped out.
You always ate later than everyone else and always your father, helping him clean up. Sometimes your mother was there too, and Jungkook would watch the three of you interact. You were a lot like your mom, more carefree and friskier, giving your gruff, stoic father a hard time. No one could joke around with the head chef besides you and your mother.
Jungkook spent every free moment he had to observe your attentive gaze tending to the customers, leading them with elegant steps and a gentle smile, on the cusp of playfulness but not quite. Jimin had noticed his infatuation immediately and teased him incessantly about it… until he realized Jungkook was serious.
“Are you crazy?” Jimin choked on his drink when he came over to hang out on their off day and Jungkook admitted to his crush. “You couldn’t lust after any other girl but the one with an angry father that has access to literal knives and knows how to fillet a fish in less than five seconds?”
“Uh…”
“… Do you have a death wish or what?”
Maybe.
But Jungkook also knew he couldn’t stop thinking about you. You were way too cool for him, too attractive, too capable, switching between hostess work, chef work, management, fuck, even waiting on the tables if someone suddenly called in sick. You knew all the ins and outs, always ready to help someone who was having some trouble. One time the men’s toilet was clogged and you tied up your hair, rolling up your sleeves and unclogged it yourself, not even batting an eyelash.
Jungkook did not think he would ever find anyone holding a plunger sexy, but he also hadn’t met you.
It was an absolutely terrible, no good, very bad idea to want you, his coworker, his boss’s daughter, his incredibly-skilled-with-a-knife and usually-wielding-an-iron-wok boss’s daughter. He tried not to think about it and stay polite and definitely avoided staring too long at your ass, because then he would have to run to the bathroom and calm his dick down, knowing he was never going to tap that.
Or so he thought.
Until that moment in the break room. Jungkook had ducked into the back to take a breath and hydrate from a particularly busy day, sweating a little from the hot kitchen. He nearly ran into you.
“Oh, s-sorry!”
“It’s okay, Jungkook. I don’t mind if it’s you.”
He had gawked at you and you gave him that gentle, almost teasing smile. Then your body turned a little, preparing to walk past, not asking him to move out of the way.
“Gotta get back to work.”
Your ass brushed against his crotch due to the narrow doorway, his body automatically following, pressing back, nearly pinning you to the doorframe. You paused, eyes shifting to him. Jungkook felt his ears heat, trying to pull away, not wanting you to feel his rapidly growing erection. There was a split second where you could have recoiled in disgust, maybe even yelled at him, but you hadn’t given him any time to move away or avoid you and he wasn’t trying to–
You leaned back, wiggling your ass on his already hard cock.
Jungkook’s eyes widened.
Now your smile was definitely teasing.
“Don’t take too long. I’ll miss you too much,” you purred, looking up into his eyes.
And you left.
Him and his dick.
Both very depressed about it.
Then there was that whole thing where he spilled rum on your jacket when he was out that one fateful night, not expecting anything, but it somehow led to conversation, more drinks, heated kisses, and finally going home with you to fuck like animals. He wasn’t supposed to like you in the first place and you weren’t supposed make him fall harder by being the perfect blend of wild and sexy. And to top it all off, you were endearingly confused and cute the next morning, slowly piecing everything together and wanting to stay with him once everything clicked.
Wanting him more.
Fucking him more.
Jungkook was, officially, well and truly screwed.
He watched you right now, chatting with a disturbingly handsome man – one might even say, worldwide handsome – looking so perfect and pretty next to someone like that, someone with a great smile and laugh, someone that didn’t wait tables for a living. It made his heart ache as you bowed politely, waving goodbye to the handsome man.
You seemed to sense his gaze and you turned your head slightly, smiling at him underneath your neatly pinned hair. Jungkook started and threw himself into the kitchen. If he bothered to look back, he would have seen you laugh a little, making the other hostess look at you questioningly.
It was all very bad and getting worse, because now Jungkook had memories of your nails raking down his back, your breath on his skin, pleading with him to fuck you harder, to drive his dick into your tight, wet pussy, to mess you up and claim you, pushing his head down so he could bite your shoulder when he came, ecstasy shooting through his veins, your thighs squeezing his waist. He now had memories of you wearing his shirt, laying in his bed, standing in his kitchen, eating on the couch with him. Memories of your smiling mouth against his, rolling your hips into his crotch, knowing you two were nearly going to be late if you started again, but you breathed his name into his mouth, saturated with desire, your bare thigh rubbing against his already hard, leaking cock.
Jungkook couldn’t say no.
Not to the most diligent, capable, beautiful hostess he’d ever seen.
A minor issue that your father sharpened his knives while glaring at anyone in his path, including Jungkook. Maybe a little extra violently when spotting Jungkook. He was getting less and less subtle about his attraction to you.
He tried very hard not to look at you, because if you caught him, you would give him that oh-so-familiar smile and then all he could think about was the way you rode him, hands on his shoulders, nails digging into his skin, head thrown back and messy hair floating around you, your tits bouncing right in front of his face. That harsh smack of hips to hips, the squelch of wetness mixing with moans, the pleasure racing through his spine, him wishing it would never end.
Sometimes you didn’t even have to look at him and he was already thinking it.
It was already the end of the night and you were shouting at your father.
“Don’t stay out too late!”
“What do you think I am, a fucking child? I’ll be fine. Stop worrying,” came the gruff response from the back. “Tell your mother the address if she wants to come.”
“She won’t, because unlike you she likes to sleep.” You were laughing in the kitchen, the other chefs already leaving with your father, off to a night of drinking with their boss. “What about me? Can I go have fun?”
“After you close up properly,” your father sighed.
Jungkook poked his head over the kitchen door, witnessing you grinning up at your father, everybody outside chatting as they waited. The older man frowned as you plucked the chef’s hat from your father’s head and put in on yours, taking his jacket as he handed it to you.
“That’s dirty. Take it off.”
“Why? You used to let me wear it all the time.”
“That’s because you were a kid, always trying to follow me around,” your father scoffed.
“I want to be like you. You will always be my hero, Papa.”
Jungkook noticed your father’s ears flush pink as he turned away, grunting. “Don’t forget to lock up.”
You hugged him and your father made a disgruntled grumble. “I love you. Be careful, okay?”
“Fuck, what are you, my mother?” the older man mumbled, but letting himself be hugged, patting your neatly pinned hair. You let go and he hurried off, letting out a puff of annoyed air.
“Bye, Papa.”
The head of salt-and-pepper stopped. Jungkook jerked his own head back as your father looked over his shoulder. He heard him sigh heavily, softer words now, words only meant for his daughter, words no one else was supposed to hear, kind and warm.
“Love you.”
Jungkook should really just leave. Everyone else was gone. Jimin had warned him multiple times not to stay behind, but Jungkook had pushed his hyung away, saying it was fine, telling Jimin not to worry because he had overheard that the head chef was treating all the kitchen staff to drinks tonight and that meant you weren’t going directly home with your father.
“Is it gonna be fine when I’m scraping your remains off the walls?” Jimin muttered and he pulled on his coat and shook his head. Jungkook had shooed him away.
He should really just leave, but he couldn’t, because, maybe, if there was a chance…
“Jungkook?”
He jumped, eyes shifting in every direction except your face right in front of him.
“Ah… yeah? It’s me?”
Smooth, Jeon Jungkook. He winced at his own response.
You tilted your head, swerving it this way and that to try to catch his gaze. “What are you still doing here? I thought you went home with the others?”
“Uh… I thought… I was hoping, maybe, if you want to…”
He finally looked at you and your playful expression, energetic despite the late hour, a true night owl and definitely not a morning person. Your smile grew. His cheeks felt hotter and hotter with every passing second. He really needed a few drinks before he could loosen up around you.
“Go eat something?” he squeaked.
You blinked at him. “Haven’t you eaten? I saw you devouring three bowls of samgyeopsal.”
Oh. Right. He did eat three bowls of pork belly. “Er… but you haven’t eaten yet. I saw you were cleaning.”
You nodded. “I could eat, yeah.”
Jungkook brightened, grasping at the little hope you gave him. “What would you like? I could order something right now and we could go pick it up. If…” He swallowed, realizing he hadn’t even asked if you wanted to spend time with him yet. “If you want to hang out with me for a little while, that is…”
You chuckled, shaking you head. “You don’t have to order anything.”
“O… oh.” He felt his heart sink.
“I’m already looking at my meal.”
He blinked at you. That gentle, teasing smile slowly graced your lips.
“I like Korean.”
Immediately Jungkook puffed his cheeks, whole face heating. “H-Hey–”
But you cut him off, leaning in and pressing your lips to his, hooking a finger on one of his belt loops and pulling him closer, arm gliding around his waist. Soft kisses, light and airy, murmuring his name, and he couldn’t help it anymore, his own hands landing on your hips and moaning into your mouth, squeezing that ass he had been staring at all evening.
“I want to hang out with you all night, Jungkook. You want that?”
Fuck yes, he did. But he also didn’t want to die.
“B-But, your dad…”
“Why do you think I spent all that time buttering him up, hm? Papa won’t mind if I tell him I’m hanging out with a friend… especially after a few beers.”
A/n: Wow, a once in awhile post? Maybe I’ll continue, it depends if I get inspired to write again!! Anyway enjoy!!!
Summary: Be careful who you love and be careful of others feelings, because in this world each heartbreak chips away at your emotions until you feel empty. (In other words, another AU similar to Hanahaki but not)
Prologue
The (h/c) haired man looked blankly outside the window, feeling numb and empty. There was no joy or sadness watching the birds fly in the beautiful sky as sunset, that he used to love so much, turned to night. There was nothing, and he wished he could hate it. But he couldn’t, right now he was just an emotionless doll waiting for a doctor to fix him and the man only wished he listened to his mom when she said to be careful. He laid down and closed his eyes to remember what brought him to the cold white room of a hospital.
The world was both lovely and cruel as humanity evolved where feelings and empathy mattered more than anything. People were more considerate on who they truly loved as they learned that each heartbreak will take away emotions from the person who has been hurt. Luckily, it wasn’t something small like unrequited crushes or small fights with a friend/lover or something unavoidable like death taking away a loved one. No, when someone you love and hold dear betrays you or crushes your heart and trust is when your heart is chipped, the more important they are in your life, the bigger the chip. Of course, the world has found a way around a feeling empty forever. If it’s a couple of chips then simple therapy and medicine will help heal you with time but for more severe cases and those who are completely empty, there is a procedure performed where doctors will piece and fix the broken heart but at the cost of the memories of those who broke it. May it be parents, lovers, best friends, anyone who hurt the person will be forgotten.
(Y/n) learned to be careful from his mother as his father left them when he turned 5 and saw his mom become less caring, not completely but her love became less apparent. While his father was never there enough for (Y/n)’s heart to chip, his mother suffered greatly, she got better after a few years but she had told him to make sure that the person he chose to love was true and to never hurt them like his father did to her.
He knew to be careful who he gave his heart to but then in college he met someone who made his heart beat fast, Kim Seokjin, an acting major who was slightly older than the other. They hit it off when they were paired up for a scene in an acting class, and were often teasing each other and trying to get the other to break character in class. On one of their practice days, Seokjin took the other back to his dorm to practice where he met his 6 bandmates. The 6 were enamoured by the scene they performed and cheered for their hyungs. After that, the (h/c) male often visited the dorms to hang out and cheer on his new friends as they trained and debuted.
(Y/n) found that hangouts were either loud and exciting as a whole or small group or a quiet one on one with a member. Of course, the male was never with one member for too long as another would join soon after, pouting (mostly the maknae line) and wanting attention. This escalated to a day where they all fought for (Y/n)’s attention and while the other found it flattering, it got tiring dealing with the same squabbling and confronted them about it. It led to the band looking away and turning red from embarrassment as they sputtered excuses. (Y/n) expressed his concerns of him not wanting to ruin their band if they’re going to fight because of him and he’s willing to leave them alone if he’s causing them too much trouble. They quickly went to him and tackled him to the ground in a group hug, yelling not to leave and saying it’s because they all were trying to court him and see who he would choose.
It was (Y/n)’s turn to flush red and let out a small “oh”. He then started to laugh, much to the others confusion and hurt. (Y/n) apologized and quickly explained that he didn’t realize that they were actually flirting with them and felt stupid(to which all of them denied and said he’s amazing). He admitted to having crushes on all of them but didn’t want to choose and hoped they would rather be friends rather than someone getting hurt if he chose only one. They all cooed at his sweetness and shared a look and nodded.
They said they’re willing to share if the other will have all of them and (Y/n)’s eyes widened as he asked if they were sure. The boys answered him with kisses making him laugh and kiss them back with the same enthusiasm. They were the happiest men in the world. This was it, this was love, it was all theirs to cherish and to hold.
Sequel to I know, You probably should read this to understand what’s going on.
Pairing: Past!Jung Hoseok x Male Reader
Genre: Angst, Hurt/comfort
TW: small unhealthy coping habits
A/N: Each side has slight differences in time period. Requested by @stan-joonies, hope you enjoy! Thank you for requesting!
(Side: Hoseok)
Hoseok laid on his bed in his new apartment, staring blankly at the ceiling. It’s been a couple months since his and (Y/n)’s break up and in those couple of months so much had happened. (Y/n) had the managers change schedules so they wouldn’t see each other and even asked them to prevent any meetings and collaborations with him, he had to move into a shared apartment with Jimin and Taehyung, Mina and (Y/n) “broke up” but they still hang out and while Hyuna wanted to stay together with Hoseok, he couldn’t find the love he once felt for her or the strength to stay with her and ended their relationship after a month of trying.
Just thinking about it made him tear up again and he ended up scrubbing his eyes to try to stop them but it was useless as he ended up sobbing. He only stopped when he heard knocking on his bedroom door.
“Hobi-hyung?” A voice called out before the person opened the door and walked in.
Hoseok looked to see that it was Jimin and Taehyung. They sighed and laid by his sides, trying to comfort him with cuddling.
“Hyungie don’t you want to eat? Jin-hyung came over and he’s preparing some lunch.” Taehyung asked.
Hoseok shook his head and continued to stare at the ceiling.
“Please? You haven’t eaten a proper meal in weeks. And Jinnie-hyung wants to see you!” Jimin tried but was only met with another shake of Hoseok’s head.
Taehyung sighed, “Fine, we tried to do this the easy way. Jungkook! He refused!” He yelled.
Hoseok looked at him in confusion before Taehyung and Jimin leaped up and wrapped him in his blanket as Jungkook came in and lifted him up.
“Hey! What are you- No stop! I don’t want to do anything!” Hoseok tried to get out but the blanket acted as restraints to prevent him from struggling.
Jungkook carried him to the living room where he saw the rest of the members waiting and sat him down on the couch beside Yoongi and Namjoon. Jin came in and put a plate of food in front of him before sitting on a chair with Jungkook. Hoseok freed himself and crossed his arms, pissed at his members for going against his wishes.
“I’m not hung-“ he said but was interrupted by Jin.
“Eat.” Jin said looking at him expectantly.
He shook his head so Jin got up and took a spoon full and lifted it to his mouth with a ‘smile’, “I said. Eat.”
Hoseok shivered at the look he was getting so he opened his mouth to have Jin shove the spoon in. He choked at the forcefulness but swallowed the food.
Jin rolled his eyes and offered the spoon, “Now do you want to feed yourself or do you need me to keep feeding you?” He asked.
Hoseok took the spoon with haste and started eating to please his hyung, Jin smiled and sat back down. It was uncomfortable as his members watched him eat and when he finished, he muttered a thank you and got up but was stopped as Yoongi and Namjoon took his hands and pulled him back down.
“We need to talk.” Namjoon said.
Hoseok shook his head, “There’s nothing-“
“Bullshit. Ever since you and (Y/n) broke up, you’ve been sulking. While it’s okay to do so, you’re not getting better and you need to stop wallowing in guilt and self-pity and try to move on because it’s affecting the whole group.” Yoongi said bluntly.
“Hyung!””Yoongi!” The others hissed at him.
Yoongi just shrugged, stood up and set a hand on Hoseok’s shoulder, “No, he needs to wake up. Us babying him and sugar coating everything isn’t going to help him. Hoseok, You need to move on and learn to forgive yourself.” He sighed.
Hoseok took a sharp intake of breath as tears welled up in his eyes. He knew Yoongi was right but it hurt to try to move on and he didn’t know how.
He let out a small sob, “How can I? How can I forgive myself when even (Y/n)-hyung, the most forgiving person I know, can’t forgive me?” He cried.
Jimin and Taehyung moved and hugged him as he cried.
“(Y/n)-hyung may not forgive you. But do you think that you wallowing in self pity and guilt is going to change anything? What’s done is done, hyung. You need to learn to let go of your past with him, learn from your mistakes, not stay stuck in what you could’ve done. Right now, he’s hurting as much as you are but he needs to heal from his hurt before he can ever forgive you and you need time to figure out what you need not what you want.” Namjoon spoke softly.
It was quiet for a moment saved for Hoseok’s sniffles.
“I don’t even know where to begin with.” Hoseok said quietly.
The small response was enough to make the others smile, “We’ll help you. Remember you never walk alone.” Seokjin said with a giggle and earned collective groans and giggles.
Hoseok smiled softly. Who knows? Maybe one day it’ll be better and (Y/n) will find it in his heart to forgive him. But for now, he’ll make sure to become a better person, someone worth forgiving.
(Side: (Y/n))
(Y/n) smiled in his cup of tea as he listened to Mina rattle off about her new choreography that was a little too hard. They had “broken up” a half a year ago but said that they’ll maintain their friendship which they did well. He chuckled as she groaned and laid her head down on his dinner table and sighed.
“Anyway, that’s how my part of life is going. Other than that the girls understand why I’m uncomfortable with Hyuna and don’t force me to interact with her more than I need to, thank god, but she still apologises from time to time. I don’t think I can forgive her though.” Mina said, getting quieter towards the end and putting her head down on the table.
(Y/n) put his cup down and reached over to pat her head, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. As long as you could work with her, you don’t have to forgive her just yet. You need time, we need time.” He spoke softly.
Mina looked up and smiled but it didn’t reach her eyes, “How are you doing? Is everything fine with BigHit? The boys? You haven’t spoken about them in so long.” She asked.
She saw how his eyes hardened and looked away, “The company understands my problem with working with Hoseok and does well with keeping us separate. The boys on the other hand, I don’t really talk to them at all. The first couple months, they comforted me and such but at some point they would always want to talk about Hoseok and how he is when I don’t ask and some point I asked them to stop and that I don’t want to talk about him. After that, I just haven’t wanted to hang out with them because they would always look at me with something of pity and I know that they wanted me to just talk to Hoseok. I get that they want to help Hoseok and he’s their friend but it hurts that they forget that I’m their friend too and that they expect me to forgive him just so everything can go back to the way it was.” He ranted quietly but no anger can be heard only sadness.
Mina frowned at his rant. It wasn’t hard to notice how the other changed and it concerned her to a degree. He wasn’t as outgoing or as nice to people as he used to be. (Y/n) had become less trusting and closed himself off from everyone else, bitter at the world. She remembered clearly when one of their other friends asked why he said that he trusted people too much and it hurt when it backfired on him. His fans noticed how his music turned into a darker theme than the lighter tones he used to produce, how his Vlives became quieter and less.
“(Y/n)…” She sat up and looked at him, “Listen I’m not trying to be mean but you can’t keep letting Hoseok’s mistake affect you. You need to let go of your anger at yourself and him, not necessarily forgive him but look how you’re letting it affect you! You pushed away your best friends instead of talking to them. You used to be able to talk to people you had problems with and fix them, not run away from them as soon as you were scared of being hurt.” She looked at him with concern.
(Y/n) sighed, “It’s not easy. I can’t- I can’t forget how no matter how I tried to talk about my concerns with Hoseok and how he still-“ he paused, and tried to clear the limp in his throat that formed, “How it didn’t matter. How in the end talking and trusting got me nowhere but hurt.” He whispered.
Mina went to where he sat and rubbed his back, she knew he still hurt from everything and it’s about time he confronted it. But she also knew that he needed time away from things that reminded him of Hoseok and asked their companies in advance for a vacation.
“Not everyone will do that to you (Y/n). You need to learn to trust others again. I know it’s not easy but it’ll get better, you’re right that it’ll take time so,” she paused to get something from her bag which got him to look at her as she pulled a plane ticket out, “Go take some time to yourself to find some peace. God knows I am.” She smiled.
He took a look at it confused, “But I still need-“
“BigHit gave you the green light saying it’ll do you some good to take a month off since you don’t take any breaks. At all. So travel for a while. That ticket to Hawaii is for tomorrow.” Mina smiled and got up to leave.
(Y/n) got up still stunned, “Wait. I-um. Thank you for-“ Mina interrupted with a giggle.
“No problem, think of it as a way of me paying you back for being my friend. Now go pack.” She shooed him before leaving.
“Oh and (Y/n)?” She called out before closing the door, “Talk to the other boys when you get back at least. Talk about what hurt you when you were with them, make them understand okay? You’ll at least do that for me?” She asked.
(Y/n) paused and nodded. She smiled before closing the door.
(Y/n) smiled and shook his head at her kindness. He went to his room and fell on his bed, looking at the ceiling before holding his ticket up to look at it, some time away will do him good.
He wondered what he would do for a month but didn’t let his mind wander too far, he had some packing to do. After all, he knew Mina was right, he needed some time alone to help him move on if being around here didn’t. Who knows, maybe he’ll find some peace being alone.
Chemical Xbyjvante – OK THIS ONE i have read multiple times it is so funny and cute and beautiful, basically Jungkook is whipped for Seokjin who teaches his cooking class and i love it
Here are some of the things I’ve added to my bookmarks in the past few months!
Blue FilterbyGinForInk – there is not a single fic by GinForInk that i dislike and this fic is no exception . sorry for that triple negative but, this is some high quality content. honestly marine biologist Namjoon is such an aesthetic I love it.
Apex predator, apex beatbyRose_gold715 – this is a vampire/human au, honestly everything written by this author makes me feel so many feelings so please give this a try
When Jungkook’s gaze fell back onto his face, Taehyung was looking at him with an expression that he couldn’t place— lips upturned as though he was holding back a warm smile, eyes warm and inviting, drawing him in.
A sudden, strange feeling came up from Jungkook’s chest that said, I want to marry him. His heart raced. He almost said it out loud, but stopped himself. He was being ridiculous. They had only known each other for a few hours, and Jungkook was going home to Korea soon; there was nothing long-term about this, as much as he wanted to pretend that there was. Was it possible that Taehyung felt this strange intensity, too? Maybe, he thought; that look on his face certainly said something.
“Jeon Jungkook,” Taehyung said. It wasn’t an address, or a greeting; it was just his name, infused with something warm and electrifying.
(it’s a paradise) it’s a war zonebyfatal (cumrich) – this is for sure one of my all-time favorites. Like the tension between them is so palpable and it is one of the best and most believable “enemies to lovers” concepts I have read. (i’ve read a lot)
the stars are fallingbypetrichorian – this is an adorable oneshot where Jimin is being sent into space and he and Jungkook still have some things unresolved
I wanted to recap all of my favorite fics that came out this year! It was really hard to choose because I honestly love everything that I’ve bookmarked but here are the ones that made the cut. Keep in mind that these are all memberxmember ships that include various pairings (although certainly some more than others), so if that isn’t your thing look elsewhere!
January
we’ve got chemistreebycygnus (sunsprite) – truly a masterpiece. this is a Jikook fake dating au and I love so many things about it, from the characterization to the sense of humor throughout. I’ve reread this several times and loved it each time
twenty-fourbyfruitily – yoonkook are handcuffed together for a social experiment. The author does such a wonderful job of slowly revealing the backstory throughout and it’s just altogether very solid
inside a sinking feelingbyCaptainButts – I’m literally always here for jinkook and this did not disappoint. Jungkook is part of a group that steals art
Sweet Like SiliconbyGinForInk – THIS FIC. WOW. ok I could not recommend this one more I love everything written by GinForInk but this one is like…up there with my all time faves it’s wonderful.
Unbelievablebymllevangogh – there is not enough quality namjin out there so this is very much appreciated
August
Swamp MagicbyGinForInk – I don’t think this was necessarily posted in 2018 but the most recent updates are QUALITY, honestly the entire thing is quality so if you have not yet read it I would suggest you do so.
golden hourbywhomstisthis – wow. this is namkook where Namjoon is home from college and JK lives across the street
Cowboys Love HorsesbyGinForInk – u know how i said I love GinForInk WELL. this is also an amazing story that I would definitely recommend.
i guess i want too muchbyjonghyunslisterine – I have too many for August but I couldn’t not rec this one. Jimin gets caught up with Jungkook and Yoongi who are kinda-but-not-really brothers
September
A Present for the Presentbyloindexter – basically Yoongi has a v significant response to receiving gifts and Seokjin continues giving him gifts
Fake Sugarbyminverse – i think this is THE fic of 2018. THE fic. minverse has such a wonderful sense of humor and writes characters so poignantly you feel like they right in front of you. This is truly a must-read.
Blue FilterbyGinForInk – yup im just gonna rec every fic by GinForInk bc they are all quality. This one was especially soft and I adore Namjoon as a marine biologist
Smoke and Mirrors: a magician’s trick, the art of making an entity appear to be floating through the use of smoke and mirrors. In figurative speech, something which, once examined, is proven to be an illusion. Like the moon reflected on water, or a flower reflected in a mirror. Unable to be touched.
Description: Listless idol Jeon Jungkook has lost his creative spark. Something just feels…missing. And between jet-setting across the world and constantly evading public scandals, Jungkook’s life up until now has felt like a movie. One thing Jungkook can count on, however, is video games. Y/N has been gaming forever. And when a new VR game called Arcana is released, both Y/N and Jungkook are all over it. But what will become of Jungkook’s online persona when life forces the two to work together? And will Jungkook manage to keep his identity a secret from one of his closest Internet friends?
Genre: Romance, Drama, Fluff, Angst
Pairing: Jungkook x (gender unspecified) Reader
Word Count: 12.1k
Tags: Solo Idol!Jungkook, Gamer!Jungkook, Makeup Artist!Reader, Manager!Seokjin, Florist!Hoseok
Warnings: Swearing and mentions of alcohol, although infrequently
A/N: Haha….ha….ha….um, well this is awkward isn’t it? I haven’t been active on here in a long, long time! But God does it feel nice to return. In the time I’ve been away, I’ve been working on a lot of things at once. Too many chefs in the kitchen, except the chefs are projects/responsibilities and the kitchen is me and is also on fire. I think right now more than ever, I’ve leaned into writing to help me feel a bit better about the world. So if this story can make you happy that’s honestly all I can ask for. I don’t think I’ll be keeping a posting schedule, as that feels like too much for me right now, but maybe in the future I’ll come up with a schedule that doesn’t feel overwhelming! Regardless, I’ve missed you guys and I’ve really missed posting my writing here. I hope you all still remember me! And I hope you enjoy this story. Really. As always, please feel free to send me any thoughts or concerns! Questions, critique, comments: send them all my way! I can’t wait to get chatting with you all again.
And I’m on Twitter! I’ll put the link here if you want to follow. I’m very active over there!
“Well work harder, damn. Tiki’s about to go down,” you say, gritting your teeth as you whip around toward the dragon staring your party down.
It circles you, never once looking away, several stories tall with glowing yellow eyes that seem to leave trails behind in the darkness of the cavern. You feel at once impossibly small and impossibly fragile in front of such a behemoth, all purple scales and saliva stringing across pointed fangs.
“Just focus on offense for now,” says Sapphire, grunting as he lunges sword-first toward the dragon.
Your brows shoot sky high as Sapphire, a DPS like you, runs straight for the enemy. His silver knight’s armor clanks in his wake. “Wait!” you call, but it’s too late. Your teammate has his sword plunging in and slicing out and slashing wild before you can even prep your next spell. “Jesus, Saph!”
Smoke and Mirrors: a magician’s trick, the art of making an entity appear to be floating through the use of smoke and mirrors. In figurative speech, something which, once examined, is proven to be an illusion. Like the moon reflected on water, or a flower reflected in a mirror. Unable to be touched.
Description: Listless idol Jeon Jungkook has lost his creative spark. Something just feels…missing. And between jet-setting across the world and constantly evading public scandals, Jungkook’s life up until now has felt like a movie. One thing Jungkook can count on, however, is video games. Y/N has been gaming forever. And when a new VR game called Arcana is released, both Y/N and Jungkook are all over it. But what will become of Jungkook’s online persona when life forces the two to work together? And will Jungkook manage to keep his identity a secret from one of his closest Internet friends?
Genre: Romance, Drama, Fluff, Angst
Pairing: Jungkook x (gender unspecified) Reader
Word Count: 12.1k
Tags: Solo Idol!Jungkook, Gamer!Jungkook, Makeup Artist!Reader, Manager!Seokjin, Florist!Hoseok
Warnings: Swearing and mentions of alcohol, although infrequently
A/N: Haha….ha….ha….um, well this is awkward isn’t it? I haven’t been active on here in a long, long time! But God does it feel nice to return. In the time I’ve been away, I’ve been working on a lot of things at once. Too many chefs in the kitchen, except the chefs are projects/responsibilities and the kitchen is me and is also on fire. I think right now more than ever, I’ve leaned into writing to help me feel a bit better about the world. So if this story can make you happy that’s honestly all I can ask for. I don’t think I’ll be keeping a posting schedule, as that feels like too much for me right now, but maybe in the future I’ll come up with a schedule that doesn’t feel overwhelming! Regardless, I’ve missed you guys and I’ve really missed posting my writing here. I hope you all still remember me! And I hope you enjoy this story. Really. As always, please feel free to send me any thoughts or concerns! Questions, critique, comments: send them all my way! I can’t wait to get chatting with you all again.
And I’m on Twitter! I’ll put the link here if you want to follow. I’m very active over there!
“Well work harder, damn. Tiki’s about to go down,” you say, gritting your teeth as you whip around toward the dragon staring your party down.
It circles you, never once looking away, several stories tall with glowing yellow eyes that seem to leave trails behind in the darkness of the cavern. You feel at once impossibly small and impossibly fragile in front of such a behemoth, all purple scales and saliva stringing across pointed fangs.
“Just focus on offense for now,” says Sapphire, grunting as he lunges sword-first toward the dragon.
Your brows shoot sky high as Sapphire, a DPS like you, runs straight for the enemy. His silver knight’s armor clanks in his wake. “Wait!” you call, but it’s too late. Your teammate has his sword plunging in and slicing out and slashing wild before you can even prep your next spell. “Jesus, Saph!”
You hear his laughter like bells echo through the cavern, seeming to bounce against the domed ceiling and drip like water from the clinging stalactites. “Tiki! Distract!” you call as the dragon whips wildly: first toward Sapphire and then toward you. “Shit,” you whisper, examining your mana with a hiss. “I need a second to recover!”
Tiki, a massive green orc and also your team’s tank, rushes in with his battle axe. Upon the first hit, the dragon writhes in pain and turns toward Tiki, ire in its yellow eyes. Tiki says nothing, just lets out a string of labored breaths as he swings his heavy weapon. Sapphire is quick to attack at the dragon’s heels. The dragon opens its mouth to spew flames across the charred cavern, aiming right for Tiki, but before it can Zero finally heals him with a flash of white light and a bolt straight to his broad green chest. You jump, turn to the side to see Zero is standing beside you about twenty feet from the dragon.
“Get spelling, Nova!” he shouts, long blonde hair flying in the breeze his spell created.
His voice, deep and gruff, doesn’t suit his pretty, dark-skinned elven body: particularly the well-rendered female…curvature. Every time he talks, it takes you off guard. You shake it off and nod once.
“Loli! Get punching!” you call to your resident monk as she idles near the dragon’s tail. She says nothing. You sigh, rest a hand on your hip. “Loli!”
She jumps to attention. “Sorry! My roommate needed me,” she says with a laugh, rubbing the back of her half-shaven head.
“Tell her to piss off!” calls Tiki as the dragon, halted by Zero’s healing spell, recovers and swings a mighty paw his way.
Your mana is finally restored and, shutting your eyes, you summon a bolt of ice. With a shout, you spin your staff over your head before slamming it down with a thunderous clap. Ice splinters dizzyingly fast from the ground beneath your staff and crawls like frost until it hits the dragon, stunning it still for a few seconds.
“Health’s low! Saph, go for the kill!” Lolita shouts as she lands a solid punch on the dragon’s belly that shatters your freezing spell.
Without waiting a second more, Sapphire shoves his sword into the dragon’s heaving chest as it writhes from pain. It looses a cry that sends vibrations through the cavern. A few rocks tumble from fissures in the cave walls, and a stalactite cracks and careens toward the ground where it explodes into shards.
And, with that, the massive beast falls to its stomach, its head clunking to the ground in front of Tiki’s feet. The ensuing silence rings in your ears as the five of you stand completely still, waiting. It wouldn’t be the first time an enemy has fallen only to reveal a dormant ability that results in a second battle. None of you says a thing until the massive body before you begins to dissolve into pixels, leaving you with only the skull as a prize and a bag of loot in place of a carcass.
Lolita is the first to break the silence with a loud hoot. “Wooh! Hell yeah!” she shouts, clapping her hands.
You chuckle, lean on your staff. “Loli, you can only celebrate halfway since you missed half the fight,” you tease with a fond sigh.
She rushes toward you, wipes off her blue robes and crosses her arms. “My roommate came in!”
“And you didn’t warn us,” Zero chides as he smooths a few flyaway hairs, smiling. That model of his is just too pretty…
“I-,”
“Guys!” Sapphire shouts, jumping once as he examines the loot bag. “Look at this!”
You spin your staff in your hand and jog to stand beside the knight. His red eyes are bright, digging through the bag until he produces in one gloved hand—
“Is that a Philosopher’s Stone Fragment?” asks Tiki, similarly enraptured as he comes up beside Sapphire’s flank.
Sapphire nods. “Which means—,”
“Which means we’re one step closer,” you say, and you lock eager eyes with Sapphire who only nods. “Well shit!”
“Also means we were right to come this way,” Lolita says, holding up one finger as if correcting us. “And whose idea was that?”
Zero shoves Lolita by the head and turns back toward the loot bag. “Anything else?” he asks.
Sapphire digs around before shrugging. “A shield,” he says.
“Don’t need it,” Tiki says.
“And…mm…,” he pauses, brow furrowing as he pulls out a piece of paper. He purses his lips, runs a hand through his blue-black hair, cocks his head to the side. “Schematic?”
“For what?”
“Oh!” he exclaims, turning to you as he hands you the paper. You look it over and scoff. “Superior elemental staff.”
“Cuts down the mana I need to do spells,” you say, rolling your eyes as you pocket the paper. “Coulda used that today.”
Sapphire claps your shoulder. “Next time! We’ve still got three fragments to find before anyone else does.”
You nod. “Well, with that settled…,” you begin, itching to use the bathroom.
“Ah! You gotta leave?” asks Sapphire.
You nod. “Got work in the morning.”
“Eugh,” he sighs, shoulders slumping. “Me too.”
“Me three,” says Zero.
“Ah, the working world. We’re lucky, huh Tiki?” Lolita says with a wistful sigh as water from overhead drips onto her shoulder. She jumps a little, but settles easily. “Don’t you miss your reckless college days?”
You laugh. “I only graduated last year,” you say, turning toward Sapphire. “Speaking of which, Saph did you ever go to school?”
He stiffens. “Ah, uh…,” he begins, glancing at his feet. He’s quiet for a moment. “No. Not past high school,” he says with an almost sheepish nod.
You don’t say anything, but it seems like there’s something he’s keeping to himself, something he doesn’t want to share. Sapphire is always like that, but this feels a little different.
“Hm,” you say, sensing his discomfort. “Welp, I’m gonna peace out for the night. Message me when you guys wanna go for the next fragment. I’ll keep researching where it might be.”
“Mm, sounds good,” says Tiki. “I’m starving. Loli, wanna get some food?”
Lolita glances at Tiki out the corner of her eye. “You mean, like, real food?”
Tiki sighs. “Obviously real food. I don’t wanna waste money on game food.”
She laughs and nods. “Alright. I’ll meet you at your dorm.”
“Mm.”
Without another word, both Tiki and Lolita blink out, leaving nothing behind them. You turn toward Zero and pat his back. “Sorry for getting on your case tonight,” you say. “I was worried Tiki would fall and then…well, you get it.”
Zero shrugs, examining one of his perfect fingernails. “No, I wasn’t on my game tonight. I’ll be better next time.”
“Me too,” you say, waving as Zero too blinks out.
You turn toward Sapphire and offer a smile. “Sorry for asking about college,” you say.
He stiffens, brows raised. “Hm? Oh, no it’s fine,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck with a smile. “It’s just, uh…well, you know my dad always wanted me to go to college so…”
You wave your hands, shake your head. “Forget it, alright? I won’t bring it up unless you do first.” You smirk. “You played tank tonight, didn’t you?”
He laughs. “Yeah, a little.”
“Don’t do that shit,” you say, but you can’t help your smile. “What would we do if we lost you in the middle of a battle?”
You can see his posture go a little straight. He turns to you, blinking. “You…?” he begins, but cuts himself off with a laugh. “Ah, mm, well…I’d better get going.”
“Mhm. Message me if you get any new info about fragment locations,” you say, then chuckle. “Or if you just wanna talk about The Bachelor or something.”
He laughs with you. “I don’t watch The Bachelor!”
“Well, whatever you watch!” you call as you jog a few paces away. You offer a wave which Sapphire mimics before pressing the disconnect button on your headset.
You shake your head, disoriented as you return to your bedroom, your window sitting before you, the outskirts of Bucheon spreading out in spindly arms around you. Your head throbs a little and you wince, removing your sensor gloves and setting them gently on the light wood table beside your computer. You guide one of the philodendron leaves to the side so it won’t tickle the gloves. You shuck off the sensor jacket too and leave it draped over the back of your gaming chair. Slowly, you return your attention to the window, smiling down at the sea of lights undulating in the dark. It’s a nice evening, you notice as you press the pads of your fingers to the cool glass.
Your phone, until then sitting dormant on the tabletop beside your potted jade plant, pings to life with a notification. Your eyes widen and you grab for it, stretching your torso as you do to work out your aching muscles. Tonight’s session with the group had gone long, and the fatigue on your back is severe from slumping in that gaming chair like a shrimp. And even though you have to move your upper body to activate the full range of Arcana’s sensor controls, your ass feels like you’ve just sat through back-to-back, four-hour lectures.
BeastSlayers™
SacredSapphire: miss u guys already :-(
You laugh, watch as Tiki begins writing a message in response.
TikiTikiRoom: ..
TikiTikiRoom: dont be soft bitch ill kill you
You pad down the hallway, watching your phone as you stumble through the dark apartment with one hand on the wall bracing you. You connect your phone to the TV speakers and play some lofi something or other, bop your head as you enter the kitchen and flip on a flickering yellow light. You rifle through the freezer, produce a cherry red popsicle. You press it to your lips and smile.
Lolovely: I haven’t even made it to Tik’s dorm wtf why are you being sappy already?
CodenameZer0: Looool, Saph? More like SAP.
TikiTikiRoom: press f
SuperNova: I think it’s sweet :’)
SuperNova: Wanna voice chat?
SacredSapphire: nonono
SacredSapphire: someone’s coming over lol
Lolovely: ominous…
You chuckle and take a bite of your popsicle. But as you do, the thing turns to mush and slides from the stick like slop, staining your white shirt and your lips red. “Shit!” you exclaim, then rush to the freezer.
With a sigh, you notice that a layer of ice is frosted over the back. And as you jam your hand in, you can feel that the temperature is higher than it should be. Hence, melty popsicle. You groan, take to it with a knife from the creaky drawer. You chip away at the ice and keep chipping until the back of the freezer is visible once more.
“Cheap piece of crap,” you mumble, kicking the fridge with your socked toe.
You return to the group chat to a slew of messages.
TikiTikiRoom: WAIT SAPH DO YOU HAVE A BOY/GIRL/THEYFRIEND??
TikiTikiRoom: IM GONNA HAVE AN ANEURISM
Lolovely: !!!!!!!!!
Lolovely: ??????
CodenameZer0: Hohohoh
CodenameZer0: Could it be?
SacredSapphire: NO!!
SacredSapphire: i don’t have a boy/girl/theyfriend! i’m too busy, rip
SacredSapphire: it’s just someone
SacredSapphire: don’t worry about it lol
Lolovely: sus…
Lolovely: nova’s better at this stuff
Lolovely: interrogation
Lolovely: think if i scream hard enough nova will come back?
Lolovely: NOVAAAAAA
You laugh and take a few photos. First of the old laminate floor which now resembles a crime scene in cherry popsicle red. Next of your shirt, now streaked in slush. Third, of your face, lips stained like you’ve smeared lip tint on your skin. You pull a pout before snapping the shot, then send all three together.
SuperNova: I crave death.
SuperNova: Stupid cheap fridge. Freezes over literally monthly.
SuperNova: I hate it here.
Lolovely: oooh that pic…
Lolovely: kinda….sexy hehe
SuperNova: ???
You set your phone aside and take to cleaning the floor. Last thing you need in this shithole is an ant infestation. Your music bumps gently through the sound bar beneath your TV. Sure, your apartment is decked out in tech, but the place itself?
You glance around the kitchen, a sanitary white with pretty fixtures, and suppress a sigh. It’s all for show anyway, this apartment. Like almost all the others in the area, it only looks nice. The reality, however…
Well, it’s melted popsicles and a shower that only runs lukewarm.
You check your phone with a hip against the countertop.
TikiTikiRoom: lewd lol
SuperNova: Shut up lmao nothing lewd about my shitty fridge.
SuperNova: Anyway, no I’m not gonna help you bully Saph.
SuperNova: Leave him alone or I’ll bite your ankles.
Lolovely: !!!
Lolovely: qu'est-ce que pas?
Lolovely: Nova…you’ve been defending Saph lately…
Lolovely: hold on i’m seeing something…
CodenameZer0: Don’t threaten my ankles.
SacredSapphire: nova baby ur the only loyal one here
Laughing, you type your response and make your way to the couch, falling flat on your stomach with an unpleasant thump.
Jeon Jungkook sits still, swiveling in his gaming chair with a soft smile as he watches the messages surge through the Discord group chat. Even though they’re busy teasing him, Jungkook can’t help the swell of fondness in his chest for his group mates. He leans back precariously far, the room nearly pitch black save for the shifting LEDs on his keyboard and the purple screensaver on his monitor.
SuperNova: It’s you and me, Saph.
SuperNova: Now come here and get your kith :3
Jungkook chokes a laugh with his hand, covering his mouth as his eyes squint. He tosses his head to the side, lets out a sigh. Quietly, he touches the photo you sent and lets it spread across his screen. He chuckles, examining your expression. Displeased, you eye the camera with furrowed brows and a pout. Briefly, Jungkook considers telling you it’s cute.
But he quickly clicks out of the photo, clears his throat, and catches up with the chat.
CodenameZer0: God, barf.
TikiTikiRoom: no kithes for zero
Lolovely: lolol i want a kith :(
SuperNova: Get in line then. Saph first.
SacredSapphire: i….*blushes*
SacredSapphire: N-N-Noona!
CodenameZer0: FUCKING BARF GOODBYE
Zero’s icon goes offline and Jungkook laughs in earnest now, his head lolling back. But before he can respond, the door to his studio opens with a robotic jingle. He jumps a little, turning his whole body toward the door. He nearly falls off the chair as he swivels.
In the doorway, Kim Seokjin shuffling across the threshold with two cups of coffee in a carrier. He looks a little disheveled, hair windswept and eyes scanning the room round and round. His gaze lingers here and there: resting on Jungkook’s wall of figurines, then on the futon still pulled down and covered in a messy heap of sheets, then on Jungkook’s face as he sits perfectly still, perfectly redhanded. Jungkook’s mouth agape, his fingers poised to type another message to the group chat, his computer monitor showing no lyrics, no notes, no Ableton. Just his screensaver.
Jungkook had planned to pull up his WIP song before Jin arrived, but the opportunity to do that has long since passed.
“Uh…,” Jungkook says, dumbfounded with round eyes glowing in the flashing keyboard lights. “Hey, Seokjin.”
Jin’s nostrils flare, his expression fiery. His attention flashes to the sensor gloves, the controllers sitting beneath them, the sensor jacket left astray on the ground, haphazard.
“Jeon Jungkook-,”
“I can explain!”
Seokjin glares at him, cocks one single brow. “Uh-huh?”
“I…,” Jungkook begins, flustered as he rises to his feet. He feels like he’s in school again. Seokjin’s gaze is disarming, intense, and his knuckles are white as he crushes the cardboard handle of the coffee carrier. “Uh…I was taking a small tiny little break.”
“A small,” Seokjin begins, placing the coffee on Jungkook’s work desk and resting his palm beside it, “tiny,” he continues, leveling his eyes with Jungkook’s, “little break?” Jin’s jaw is clenched.
Jungkook swallows hard. “Mhm…”
Jungkook expects Seokjin to bare his canines, to sneer at him, to scold him to kingdom come. But his manager simply eases into a sigh and leans away from Jungkook, rubbing his forehead. It’s clear the will to fight with Jungkook is slowly leaking, and before long Seokjin has fallen backwards onto the futon, crushing the blanket mountain in his descent.
“Listen,” Seokjin says, fatigue in his voice. “You’ve got…so much going on in the next few months, you know?”
“I know!” Jungkook says, quick to sit beside Seokjin, brows knitting. He feels like a kid again, and the disappointment laced through Jin’s words feels like his childhood. “Trust me, I’m not just…like, procrastinating. It’s not that.”
Jin eyes him sidelong. “Then what is it?”
Jungkook stiffens, his back straight as a board. He clears his throat, stares at the coffee. “Let me get those,” he says, rushing to his feet with a clumsy stumble and grabbing the coffees before returning to his spot beside Jin. He hands Jin a coffee, expectant and, begrudgingly, Seokjin takes it and sips.
“Don’t avoid the question,” he says, stern. “If anyone’ll understand, it’s gotta be me, right?”
Jungkook nods. “No, you’re right!”
“Like, we’ve gone through some hard shit and where have I been? Right behind you. From day one,” he says, leveling a serious look at Jungkook. The lighthearted mood has fled from the room through the cracks in the walls. “All I’m asking is for you to put in the effort.”
Jungkook sighs, rests his forearms on his knees, laces his fingers around the coffee cup. He stares at the space between his toes. “I just…,” he begins, voice choked with insecurity. He doesn’t want to say it. In fact, he’d rather do just about anything else.
Because, after all, saying it means it’s real.
And if it’s real, then it’s a real problem.
“Listen,” Jin begins, patting Jungkook’s back. “I get it. Making music…it can be really tiring, right?” he says. Jungkook can only shrug. “And sometimes you might not feel like you can do it. Like you don’t have the inspiration.”
“Mm…”
Seokjin gives another pat, stronger this time. “But that’s how life is, Jungkook. Work doesn’t just wait. You’re an adult now. You’ve got adult responsibilities. And when you make a passion into your full-time job, you kinda sacrifice the freedom. Deadlines are a thing. You can’t just…be flippant and casual about it.”
“I’m not being casual,” says Jungkook, and for the first time since Jin walked in his voice is strong and steady. He sits up straight and meets Jin’s imploring eyes.
Seokjin offers a small smile. “Good,” he says. “I trust you. And, you know, you’ve got a whole team of producers behind you who wanna see you succeed. All you’ve gotta do is call.”
“I know.”
“You’re not doing it alone, alright?” he asks, and Jungkook’s throat tightens a little. “That’s the good thing about making your passion into your full-time job, huh? Now…well, now it’s not just your responsibility. It’s divided.”
“Yeah.”
“Well…,” Seokjin says, patting his thighs as he pushes to his feet. “Just wanted to drop by and check on you.”
Jungkook offers a smile and nods, standing with his manager. “Yup.”
“You do remember what’s on deck for tomorrow, right?” asks Seokjin, cocking a brow as he takes another swig of coffee.
Jungkook nods again. “Screen test with the drama people.”
Jin smacks the side of Jungkook’s head and crosses his arms. “Not the drama people!” he says, rolling his eyes. “It’s IJBC.”
“IJBC, right,” Jungkook says as he tenderly rubs the side of his head. “I remember.”
“Do you even know the name of the drama?” The younger boy falls silent, sheepish. “It’s called Give Up Generation, Jungkook.”
“I remember,” Jungkook says, pouting a little. “I just…forgot for a minute.”
Jin can’t help chuckling. “Get to bed early then so you don’t have dark circles,” Jin says with a smile, nodding as he turns toward the door. “Ah!” Seokjin pivots around, casting a disdainful look over Jungkook’s shoulder at the foldout futon. He pulls a scowl. “Sleep at home tonight, will you?”
Jungkook chuckles. “Alright. Stop nagging now,” he says, patting Jin’s back as he guides him out the door and into the hallway. “Bye, Jin!” he calls, not awaiting a response.
Slowly and with his head down, Jungkook shuffles back inside and slumps into his gaming chair, staring at his screensaver. He heaves a deep down sigh, lets it escape through his lips nearly pinched shut. Like exhaling cigarette smoke.
His phone pings to life with an incoming message.
SuperNova: Alright, I had your back before but I don’t cosign the Noona Agenda. I don’t even know if I am your noona.
Lolovely: seconded.
Lolovely: plus it’s icky.
TikiTikiRoom: boooooo
SuperNova: Wait, I think I just heard something in the hallway. Hold on.
Lolovely: SCARY!
TikiTikiRoom: burglars lol
Lolovely: ctrl z yourself, tiki
Lolovely: what if it is though…?
TikiTikiRoom: doubt it.
SuperNova: !!!
SuperNova: Lol it was a package…?
Lolovely: so late…?
SuperNova: Yeah…Lemme open it hold on.
The next message that comes through is a photo you send. Jungkook sits up straighter, opens it quick, and grins once he realizes what it is. A cardboard box, relatively big, sitting torn open on your kitchen floor, the photo features a look inside at several pretty makeup palettes and brushes. Jungkook doesn’t know the names of everything he sees, but he knows why it’s a big deal.
SacredSapphire: !! they finally sent it!!
SuperNova: They did!!
Lolovely: wait what? what did who send?
SuperNova: Lol, sorry. Uh I guess I only told Saph. But the brand I’ve been communicating with actually sent me a PR package! I’m gonna use it on my next job.
SuperNova: This shit’s super expensive too, so I’m lucky I’ve been in contact with a rep.
SuperNova: Gotta use the best to be the best!
TikiTikiRoom: i forgot ur a makeup artist lol
TikiTikiRoom: .-.
SuperNova: …
SuperNova: We’ve been group mates for like four months jfc
SuperNova: Anyway, yeah I’m glad. I guess they sent it to the wrong apartment? So my neighbor brought it over. He just got back from work.
Lolovely: neighbor?
Lolovely: cute neighbor?
SuperNova: He’s like seventy so no, not really my type.
SacredSapphire: nova, that’s super cool. i’m sure you’re gonna get big gigs soon.
SuperNova: Well, I can hope haha.
SuperNova: No, well…all I can do is work hard.
SuperNova: >:-)
All you can do is work hard, huh?
Jungkook tosses his phone to the side and rubs his hands up and down his face. He pinches his eyes shut and relaxes into the back of his chair, feeling the lull of sleepiness finally pulling at him.
And instead of going home like Jin asked, Jungkook simply pads over to the futon and, without moving the blankets, collapses atop them and falls asleep where he falls.
“I’m very sorry.”
“No…uh, no it’s fine.”
“Of course, you can keep the fees or whatever.”
“Oh, um, I…no, I’ll refund those too.”
“Really? I’ll give you a really good review!”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“I’m really sorry.”
You sigh, plant a hand on your forehead and heave a sigh. Forcing a smile, you shake your head and press your phone into the crook of your shoulder, bending down to give your fiddle-leaf fig a hose down with your watering can.
“It’s fine. Things come up, you know?”
The girl on the other side of the phone, a young independent model going in for headshots, had called you an hour ago and had spoken at length about why she has to cancel her appointment with you today. How the photographer did this or that, how she actually watched a few tutorials online and figured she could do it herself, how she felt so so bad. You feel bad for her, of course. Kind of.
“Listen, I’ll give you a shoutout on my page, alright? I’ll tag you in my story,” she says.
You shake your head. “No, that’s fine. Just, um…you know, take care. Remember to clean your brushes.”
At this, she laughs. “Thanks for being so cool. I was actually super nervous to call and cancel. I’ve had to cancel a few things like this before, and I’ve had bad experiences,” she says. “Anyway, I’ll recommend you!”
“Alright.”
“Thanks!”
You nod as she hangs up the phone. Gently, you rise to your feet and set your watering can aside on the kitchen table. You set the phone beside it, pausing to glare at the black screen. Well…there goes your Sunday. You turn over your shoulder, pad to the window, crack it open a little. A bracing breeze whistles through, cooling your skin. You shut your eyes against it — only for a moment — before you turn on your heel, shove your feet into your sneakers sockless, swipe your phone and house keys, and shove out the door.
The florist’s is a healthy walk away, but the weather is nice enough and you’re too tired to brave the subway even if it’s only a few stops. You pass buildings and parks as the landscape becomes more and more urban and the high rises look like they could puncture the cloud layer. Before long, you’re standing in front of Happy Garden and, stepping through the sliding doors that are always left open and all-but nonfunctioning with the lush green plants climbing all around. You breathe a sigh of relief, pat your chest a little as the fresh, grassy scent settles your heart.
You aren’t there for more than half a minute before Hoseok stumbles out from the back room, grinning wide with a bouquet of hydrangeas in his hands, wrapped in butcher paper and twine. He curves around the stumbling greenery littering every surface and encroaching on every walkway and comes to a stop in front of you. He smiles.
“Hey,” you say before he gets the chance. You hold up one limp hand in a lazy wave.
He glances up and down, from your head to your toes, and sighs. Still holding the hydrangeas, he rests a hip on the checkout counter and cocks a brow.
“That is the opposite of encouraging,” you remark with a scowl.
He chuckles, pats your arm. “What’s up?” He jerks his head toward the front of the store where bouquets are displayed and you follow behind him as he leads you there. “Unsuccessful raid?”
“Contrary to popular belief, my life doesn’t revolve around video games, actually,” you say, but his laugh wipes the grimace from your face.
His fluffy hair bounces as he bends down to add the hydrangeas to the display and when he stands upright once more he crosses his arms. “You know what I mean. You’ve been in here a lot lately.”
“Pardon me for trying to raise plants,” you say with a pout.
Again, he laughs. “Jesus, stop trying to pick a fight!” he says. “You must be in a really bad mood if you’re here acting like this.”
“Well what’s that supposed to mean?” you begin, outrage all over your face, before locking eyes with Hoseok and composing yourself. You sigh, nod your head. “Yeah, no I’m being annoying.”
He smiles, heart-shaped, and the apples of his cheeks grow rounder. What a joyful guy, you think to yourself with a wistful sigh. “Tell me about it then.”
He pulls one of the empty display boxes over and offers you a seat as he begins tending to the plants all around. You oblige, settle in, and sigh again. “It’s just…everything kinda feels like a dead end right now.”
“Hm?” he asks over his shoulder, graceful hands guiding a waxy leaf back in place.
“Like with my work,” you say, then shake your head. “No, that’s not it. Not entirely.”
“What do you mean?”
“Like…things are okay, you know? I’m getting PR gifts. I’m growing my following on Instagram. I’ve got consistent clients,” you say, nodding. “Like everything is fine, you know?”
“But something feels…missing maybe?” Hoseok offers as he moves to spraying the ferns with water.
You shake your head. “More than that, it’s…like, I feel like I’ve hit the ceiling of what I can do, you know? Like what if this is the best I’ll ever do?”
“Is that bad?” he asks.
You sigh. “Not bad, just…disappointing,” you say. “I wanna work on movies. Red carpets. Editorials.” You rest your chin in your hand and your elbow on your knee. You stare up at Hoseok, now trimming brown leaves from another plant across the store. “I don’t wanna be stuck doing birthday parties forever.”
Hoseok hums, turns toward you with his hands in his apron pocket. He offers a smile. “You sound like a brat.”
You stiffen, eyes wide. “I-,” you start, but there’s really not much you can say to retort. So, softly, you slump once more and shrug. “Yeah…”
“And if you keep that attitude, you’re never gonna be an editorial makeup artist. I can promise you that,” he says with a nod as he approaches once more and crouches before your knees, still smiling. “Everyone has to grow somehow, you know? Be grateful you’ve got opportunities to build your resume.”
You nod. “Yeah.”
“What brought all of this on?”
Shrugging, you glance away toward the big croton plant in the corner, basking in morning sunlight, leaves all stiff and red and green. It’s a pretty plant. You tilt your head to the side, stare longer.
“That model bailed,” you say, but you’ve almost forgotten the self-pity of a moment ago. You stand to your feet and wander toward the plant, hitting halfway up your thigh. You crouch before it and look it over. “Hoseok, this is a really big croton.”
He laughs. “Mhm.”
“How much?”
“With the pot and given its height, it’s going for thirty-five-thousand won.”
You raise your brows. “I expected worse.”
“We’re fair here!” he protests, wagging his finger at you as he comes to stand beside you.
You smile softly, run a finger along the edge of a leaf. “It’s really pretty.”
“Suits you,” he says.
Without noticing, your anxiety begins to subside. “I think I’ll take it.”
“I’ll give you five-thousand off since you’re having a bad day,” he says, patting your back.
You turn to him with a smile. “Thanks.”
He chuckles. “I’ll loan you the dolly so you can get that thing home. Just bring it back before two.”
You stand up, stare down at the plant, nod once. “Mhm.”
Hoseok makes his way toward the cash register, punches in a few numbers. You linger a few steps behind, still staring at the croton. You get a good feeling off that one. Hoseok would tease you if you said as much, but you know when to listen to your intuition.
“Your big break will come Y/N,” Hoseok says as he rings you up, not once glancing to meet your eyes. “Just keep going.”
Jungkook sits with his head leaning against the rattling van window, eyes half-shut. Seoul blurs past him in shades of silvery grey and it’s all he can do to keep himself from falling asleep. For all his nagging, Seokjin had been right about one thing: Jungkook was sporting purplish bags beneath his eyes from a restless night’s sleep. Jin sits beside him now, frowning at his phone as he scrolls through Twitter. He’d given Jungkook a very stern talking to once he’d seen him, and really Jungkook deserved it. He knows that.
“Your voice is in good condition, right?” asks Jin.
Jungkook sits up straight, clears his throat. He shrugs. “Yeah. Why?”
Still stewing over his phone, Seokjin waves his hand without looking up. “Don’t worry about it.”
Jungkook sighs, leans back once more, gazes out the window once more. His phone buzzes once and he grabs it quickly, eager to distract himself.
BeastSlayers™
SuperNova: [image attached]
SuperNova: check him out OJO
Jungkook clicks the image you sent and chuckles as it loads up. The photo features nothing of you save for one hand, reaching out from behind the camera, throwing up a peace sign. Behind your hand, a houseplant. A pretty big one at that.
Jungkook smiles and drafts his reply, but the others are quicker.
CodenameZer0: Another plant? Lol isn’t your apartment overflowing with them by now?
SuperNova: Hush. Look at him.
LoLovely: cute!
LoLovely: does he have a name?
SuperNova: I don’t name my plants.
TikiTikiRoom: lol
TikiTikiRoom: because THAT would be weird
CodenameZer0: At least Nova can care care for a plant in the first place.
CodenameZer0: Let’s be honest here, Nova’s probably the only one among us who is even remotely responsible enough.
SacredSapphire: Nova it’s cute!
SacredSapphire: name him after me ;3
SuperNova: Sapphire?
SacredSapphire: hmmm say my name hehe
CodenameZer0: STOP IT FOR THE LOVE OF CHRIST
CodenameZer0: IF THE FLIRTING DOESN’T STOP I’M GETTING YOU A TWO-WEEK BAN ON ARCANA
SacredSapphire: SHIT okay okay, let’s just take it easy
SacredSapphire: talk this out like adults…
SuperNova: Once I’ve finished setting up my new plant, I’m gonna play Animal Crossing. Anyone free to join? I’ve got oranges and mums.
SuperNova: Also had a meteor shower last night and have leftover star fragments first come first served.
The offer is tempting, to be sure. Not only would he receive star fragments, he’d be able to wander your island with the others. It might feel like you guys are side-by-side for real. Jungkook reaches into his backpack, slumped between his knees, and rifles around for his Switch. But as he produces the case, Seokjin shoots him the evil eye.
“If you’ve got time to play games, you’ve got time to review your lines,” he says, cocking a brow.
Jungkook sighs a little, slides the Switch back inside his bag. “I’ll look them over again.”
“Good.”
He takes one last look at his cell phone, checking the group chat with a frown that pinches the sides of his lips.
TikiTikiRoom: MEMEMEME
TikiTikiRoom: if any of you fakes get there before me ill go apeshit
TikiTikiRoom: i need so many
LoLovely: don’t need fragments, just wanna see ur cute face hehe
SuperNova: /blushes
SuperNova: I’ll open the gates once Sapphire Junior is nice and settled.
CodenameZer0: I’ll come too. I wanna shop.
SuperNova: Can’t you be cute like Lolita?
CodenameZer0: /gags
SuperNova: You coming, Saph? I’ll save a few fragments for you.
TikiTikiRoom: FAVORITISM
SuperNova: I am transparent about my favoritism toward Sapphire.
SuperNova: Because he is indeed my favorite.
LoLovely: *shocked pikachu face*
SacredSapphire: soz :-( i can’t
SacredSapphire: working
SuperNova: :-(
SuperNova: Next time we’ll all come to your island.
Jungkook tries not to feel that twinge of melancholy that tugs at his chest. That one he always gets when his friends go out for barbecue or grab drinks and hit the karaoke rooms. The one that feels like he’s really, deeply, fundamentally missing out on something important.
No, he doesn’t feel it. Instead, he focuses his attention on the printout Seokjin had given him three days ago. He scans the lines over and over, committing them to memory.
“No! That’s the thing, she didn’t even tell me!” says the girl below your brush.
You attempt to guide the highlighter across her cheekbones, but before you can make contact with her skin she’s jerked away once more, talking so animatedly that you can’t even tell if you’ve made her eyebrows even.
“That’s shitty,” says her friend beside her, likewise preoccupied as Jieun struggles to match her skintone.
The two of you lock eyes, both hovering over the two women as they chat over matching cups of coffee. Jieun puffs out her cheeks, raises her brows, and goes back to work, smoothing foundation on to the client’s chin with a brush.
You stand in a nice apartment — all marble floors and high ceilings and windowed walls overlooking Seoul. When you’d gotten the offer for a Seoul gig with Jieun, you’d been hesitant. The subway ride is long and you prefer to stay relatively local. But something made you agree. You don’t know exactly what. Call it divine intervention or epiphany or Jung Hoseok, but the words just keep going had been replaying in your brain since you last saw your friend. The pair of women — likely in their thirties — had booked both you and Jieun to do their makeup for a Sunday luncheon.
“And you know she’s looking out for him,” says Hyejin with a scoff. “As if I’m gonna bite the kid’s head off.”
“Maybe you will,” jokes the other woman, laughing just as Jieun reaches in to apply some liquid blush to her cheeks. “You know she’s got a soft spot for him.”
“Yeah well it’s a soft spot in all of our wallets if he doesn’t get his shit together,” says Hyejin, sighing. There is real woe in her expression and you can feel from the shift in atmosphere that things have turned serious. “He’s talented, you know? But…sometimes I think she goes too easy on him,” she continues, and this time her tone is decidedly softer, the movement of her face less pronounced.
You use the opportunity to work some powder beneath her eyes with a sponge. “Well, that’s motherhood for you,” says the other, flippant.
“Have you seen what the folks are saying on Twitter?” asks Hyejin as you apply shadow to her eyelids. “About his voice.”
“Hm?”
“Well some of his bigger hate communities have been compiling all the footage of his stage mistakes and they’re spreading it around,” Hyejin says with a huff. “Stupid, honestly. They’re making it out like he makes those mistakes all the time.”
“Netizens are like that, Hyejin,” says the other woman, now easing into her chair with her eyes shut as Jieun can finally get to work setting her base.
“Still…”
“Nowyou’re the one defending him,” she remarks with a laugh.
“It’s not that,” Hyejin says, scoffing. “It’s just…like if he doesn’t prove himself soon, all those commenters are gonna have more ammunition, you know? Which is annoying for all of us.”
“Sounds like you care a little bit.”
“I dont.”
“Hm.”
You focus on Hyejin’s full lashes, applying mascara with delicate, steady strokes. She hums a little as you use the pad of your fingertips to tame stubborn eyeshadow into blending more seamlessly. It seems, at least, that the conversation has died down. For that, you are very grateful.
“Say, do you two know anything about k-pop?” asks Jieun’s client.
The two of you lock eyes once more. It’s true that you are well-versed in pop culture: video games, TV shows, YouTube drama. But you’d be lying if you said you tune in to Inkigayo every week. And despite Jieun’s age and her trendy look, you know she’s not the type to keep updated on current idols. And you see in her brown eyes your own shock mirrored.
“Um…no, not particularly,” you answer for the both of you. Jieun releases a breath she’d been holding and smiles her thanks. “Do you two work in the field?”
Hyejin waves her hand and sighs. “Don’t go bothering them with those sorts of questions,” she says, and you notice for the first time the easy poshness that this woman has. Even with her head tilted back and her eyes shut tight, she seems sure of herself.
You envy her just a little for that.
“What? They’re young,” says the other woman, grinning with her eyes shut as Jieun works on her eyeliner. “You ever heard of RTE?”
“Hey now,” says Hyejin, warning in her voice.
“I’m just curious,” the woman continues with a sigh. “Look us up if you haven’t.” The woman chuckles, reaching out blind to smack Hyejin’s upper arm. “Hey, maybe even tweet something nice about our artists!”
“Knock it off and let them work,” Hyejin says, prying open one eye to meet yours. She offers a smile, apologetic, and sighs. “She’s just playing around. You can ignore her. It’s what I do.” She nods her head and leans it back once more.
Quietly, you get back to work. But you can’t help but feel like this woman’s incredible presence makes you paler somehow.
“What’s the point if it makes me unhappy?” Jungkook shouts, brows knitting, eyes growing watery. “The money, the lifestyle…what good is it?” his voice settles into a bare whisper, cracked.
“You only say that because you’re young! You’re stupid! You’re naive! You think things work out just because you want them bad enough?” says his costar, glancing down at the script every now and again as the two stand across from one another.
The set bustles on behind them, crew carrying tall lights and fixtures as they scuttle by. But Jungkook and his costar — a man named Namjoon acting as his older brother — continue their scene under the watchful eye of the cameras, trained right on them. Less of a screen test and more of a chemistry check between actors, Director Lim watches the monitor closely with his scrabbly chin in his palm.
“So what if I fail?” Jungkook asks with a quiver, referencing his script once to make sure he got the line right. “What’re you gonna do? Tattle on me to Dad?”
“I won’t have to,” Namjoon says, sighing as he grips the bridge of his nose. “He’s got his watchdogs trained right on you.”
Jungkook stiffens. “He’s been…following me?”
“I told you you’re too naive for the real world, Jiwon.”
Director Lim claps his hands and in an instant the tension and the scene are broken. Jungkook takes a respectful step back from his costar, and Namjoon offers him a bow of the head. Jungkook returns it, fighting off a nervous grin, and turns to the director as he circles around the equipment to stand in front of them. He’s a middle-aged man, handsome in a way with salt-and-pepper hair and eyes that seem to grab you and hold on like a snare. Jungkook is pinned in place like a bug in a shadowbox.
But Director Lim’s face splits in a crooked smile and Jungkook feels himself ease, exhaling long and slow. “Great job, boys!” he says, clapping both of their shoulders. “You were selling it well.”
“Thank you, Sir,” Jungkook replies too quick, like an eager child.
Director Lim chuckles, pats him again. “I’m praising you, kid. Don’t look so scared.”
He swallows hard. “I…I know. Um…thank you, Sir.”
Behind the trio, a group of stylists cart a rack of costumes quickly to the other side of the set, snagging the back of Jungkook’s shoe as they do. Jungkook stumbles to his knees, caught off guard, and the girls jerk to a stop as they catch themselves on the clothing rack. The two stare down at Jungkook, wide-eyed, and each of them covers their mouths. Immediately, they bow their heads in apology, both muttering sorry, so sorry almost too quietly to hear. Jungkook shakes his head and stands to his feet.
He too bows his head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been standing there,” he says gently, hoping to assuage their concerns.
But the girls remain bowed, as if too afraid to even lift their heads. Jungkook, puzzled, leans down slightly to meet their eyes, but they glance away so quickly that he can’t even get a proper look at either of their faces.
“Um…it’s really not a problem,” he says, but before he can say more Director Lim approaches with a grim severity in his eyes. Jungkook, quick to stand up straight and face the director, stutters a little as he settles himself in front of the stylists. “It’s no big deal,” he says to Director Lim, but it’s like the man can’t even hear him.
“We were distracted, Sir,” says one of the girls, raising her head slightly to meet Director Lim’s gaze. “We are very, very sorry.”
“It really isn’t-,” Jungkook begins.
“You think it’s appropriate to crash into my actors? In the middle of a conversation about their performance?” Lim asks, but it’s clear the question isn’t meant to be answered. His tone has shifted into something cold. “You could have very well injured Jungkook.”
“I’m fine-,”
“But what if you weren’t?”
Jungkook shuts his mouth, staring helpless at the girls as they both stand up straight once more, eyes on the floor and hands knitted in front of them. He feels a hand on his back between his shoulder blades and jumps a little, turning quick to find Namjoon standing close.
“Don’t,” is all he says, voice terse and so quiet Jungkook almost doesn’t hear it, before dropping his hand and taking a half step back.
Jungkook’s jaw clenches, his hands work into balls as he stares. The lighting is low, dramatic as if a scene composed by Lim himself. The two girls lift only their eyes to gaze up at him.
“We’re very, very sorry, Sir,” says one of the stylists, guiding a lock of dark hair behind her ear.
“Mhm,” he says, looming. “Make sure it doesn’t happen again. Can’t afford to replace two stylists and a makeup artist in the same week.”
Jungkook simply stares, Namjoon’s warning freezing through him like ice. His limbs feel leaden. And as the two girls rush off, dragging their rack behind them, Jungkook focuses again on Director Lim.
He swivels back around to the two actors with a bright, fatherly smile. “Pardon me,” he says, waving his hand with a warm laugh. “Gotta keep the crew in check otherwise they’ll slack off.”
“Ha,” Jungkook puffs out in response, smiling in turn.
Namjoon hums a little. “Why don’t we try the reconciliation scene?”
“What in the world do you mean?” Hyejin yells into her phone just as she ushers you into her apartment. You eye her as her face grows red, her brows coming together. “He’s not quitting!”
Hyejin pauses to offer you an apologetic smile. She’s dressed in a modest pajama dress, padding barefoot along the cool marble floors. She leans against the arm of a nice black leather sofa, raises a hand to her flushed cheek, looks at her toes with vexation. Carefully, you set your makeup kit on her kitchen island, meeting her eyes with raised brows as if asking permission. She waves her hand, nods once before pinching the bridge of her nose between her index finger and her thumb.
“Listen, we knew Lim was difficult. But this is a huge opportunity for his career.” Hyejin rubs her kneecap, massaging. Her short hair falls along the line of her jaw as she dips her head in a deep sigh. “I know you know that, Seokjin. But you’re his manager. You’ve gotta keep convincing him.”
You begin unpacking your things, setting them neatly along the edge of the countertop, and try not to eavesdrop as Hyejin continues letting out chopped sighs. You can hear her fidget around the apartment behind you. She’d called you again, only a few days later, to secure you for another important event. A meeting, she’d said. You didn’t want to agree. Wanted to say you were too busy, that the commute was too much.
“Hey,” she whispers behind you. You jump, but turn nonetheless to find her cupping one hand over the phone’s receiver. Her eyes are severe, jaw clenched. “How long can you stay? This call might take a while.”
You raise your brows, think back over your schedule. “Hm…,” you respond, then shake your head. “I’m free all day. But…when’s your meeting?”
She stiffens, eyes flashing to the clock on the oven. “Shit,” she mutters. She approaches you with a frown. “I’ve only got two hours to get everything ready—Yes! Yes, I’m still here Seokjin. Stop panicking, for Christ’s sake—,” she says, her shoulders pinching. She glances at you again. “Um…”
You glance around the apartment. It’s spotless, as usual. But you spy in the corner beside a massive potted umbrella tree a taupe pantsuit, hanging beside a steamer. You’d have thought someone in her position would have sent it to the cleaners to be properly steamed, but perhaps it had slipped her mind. With the way she’s pacing around the apartment, still dressed in her pajamas, you wonder if perhaps she’s not as put together as you thought.
“I’ll steam that,” you say with a nod, pointing to the suit.
She stares at you, wide-eyed. “Oh, no. You don’t have to do something like that-,”
You shake your head. “No problem. What else do you need done here?” you ask, consulting your wristwatch with a hum. “If we keep it light, I can have your makeup done in forty-five minutes.”
She blinks at you. “Uh…well…,” she begins, then jumps a little as a voice in the phone shouts loud enough for you to hear. “No! No! Can you relax? I’ll talk you through it in just a minute! I’ve gotta sort some things out,” she shouts back at the phone. She turns her attention back to you with a sheepish smile. “Um, I need to steam the suit, wrap the fruits — they’re a gift for the client —, call the restaurant to confirm the reservation, shine my shoes, organize our documents chronologically and set them up in a binder,” she says.
You have to admit that the sheer volume of busywork has you taken aback. But you steel yourself with a bracing sigh, nod once, and offer her a smile. “Consider it taken care of,” you say.
“Ah! I…I really feel bad dumping all of this on you,” she says, crossing her arms with knit brows. “Normally I’d have my assistant doing all of this, but she’s ill.”
“Not a problem,” you say, smiling once more. “Just take care of your phone call and leave the rest to me! As long as we’ve got forty-five minutes for makeup, we’ll be fine.”
She lets out a sigh that seems to deflate her, shoulders slumping as if in profound relief. She nods once, smiling, and turns on her heel. “I’ll be in my office, alright? I promise I’ll be out in time!”
You give one wave as she rushes through a clouded glass door and shuts it behind her. You roll up the sleeves of your sweater and get to work on the suit.
Two hours later, and you’re accompanying Hyejin out into the apartment hallway. She pauses as the door clicks shut, waiting for it to give a chime, and turns to you with a sigh. She looks pretty. You had to rush a bit once she emerged from her office, and after taking care of the other chores you found it difficult to focus on her makeup, but you’re proud enough of your work given the circumstances. You’ve managed to match her eyeshadow to her pantsuit with gentle oranges and reds.
Since you were rushing to finish everything in time, the two of you hadn’t had a chance to exchange words. Perhaps you are curious — just a little — about the emergency she had to quell over the phone. Or maybe you just want a proper thank you. So you linger beside her in the well-lit hallway, you let your eyes wander to a potted fern in the corner by the elevator, wait for Hyejin to say something.
“I’m sorry,” she says, sighing. She glances at you through her lashes.
Your eyes go wide. “Hm? What for?”
“For having you do all of that,” she says, flitting one manicured hand. “I feel guilty.”
You shake your head. “No,” you say with a smile. “It’s no problem at all, honestly. You had me booked for an hour and a half anyway.”
She sighs again. “I really feel bad.”
“Don’t worry about it…,” you say, eyeing her. She crosses her arms, vexed, and purses her lips a little. “Um…was that call about an artist?” you ask.
She snaps back to herself, glancing at you. “Oh? Yes. That was about our biggest artist actually,” she says. “I think I’ve got it taken care of though, thanks to you.” She guides the two of you to the elevator. “I’ll pay you extra, alright?”
You laugh. “No, no. It’s fine! I’m just glad it all worked out.”
She stares at you, scanning you for a very long moment as the elevator rises to your floor. You try not to fidget, not to shrink under her scrutiny, but you feel yourself recoiling just a little. Her gaze is intense, knowing, as if she can see right through you and she’s looking for something. And as the elevator arrives, she gives a hum that sounds contented and you wonder if she’s found it.
Jungkook glances around the empty pavilion, scanning the cobbled streets for any sign of escape. From above, a dark mage is laying waste to the small shanty town. Not a single player has ventured out this way, all following a lead in the Elysian Forest to the west. But after you had mentioned a tip you got from researching at the Library of Arcana, you’d suggested visiting the seaside nook on the far south of the map. A legendary evil slumbers hidden, you’d recited over voice chat with a laugh, Sounds about right.
Only now, Jungkook’s alone. His hands are sweaty around the controllers in his palms and the realistic graphics are serving only to make him more nervous as the mage swings low near the central fountain and sets off a spray of fire just in front of him. Jungkook can almost feel the heat.
Jungkook had set out to do some scouting. Nothing extreme. Just a simple peek about, seeing if he could find any clues. He sent a message to the group chat, but he hadn’t waited on a response before he signed in. He’d had no idea that the Big Bad herself would come flying from the fountain the moment he touched the water with his sword. And now she’s circling him like some sort of hawk. Quickly, Jungkook calls up his inventory menu and searches through his items. A few extra swords he picked up, some ritual herbs, his old chainmail armor, some healing potions and…
The fragment…
If this mage takes him out, he’ll end up dropping his entire inventory. Including the fragment.
And by the time he can make his way back over here, other players will have come running from the commotion.
And the fragment will be gone.
“Shit,” he hisses out, dismissing the menu and focusing back on the mage as she releases a chilling cackle.
The quaint village is smoking, with thatched roofs catching fire and whole storefronts crumbling into piles of simmering stone. The sky is nearly blotted out with ash, and all he can see is that mage, swirling around up there in billowing black robes and shiny white teeth exposed in a wicked grin.
Jungkook glances over his shoulder toward the street he’d taken in to the village, but it’s too smokey to see anything more than the outlines of ruined buildings. There’s no way he’ll be able to navigate his way out of here without a lantern. And if it’s this smokey, he’s absolutely positive that nearby players have noticed. Which means more competition.
And more people to snatch his fragment when he falls.
The mage gives a cry, shouts her line, “Not enough yet?!”, and swoops down at a dizzying pace. Jungkook stumbles back, but he’s not fast enough. She’s approaching in a dark blur, too quickly for him to counter. A flash of regret washes through him as he squeezes his eyes shut inside his VR headset. He doesn’t want to see this.
He waits for a tense moment that way, anticipating the melancholy piano chords that accompany in-game death, but none come. Instead, he hears very keenly the sound of the mage grunting as if in pain. And, in an instant, he opens his eyes wide to see standing on the other side of the fount
Request: fluff: Friend group travelling (wherever inspires you most! I’m thinking someplace like Hawai where they visit secret beaches and stuff! Site-seeing in the city could also be interesting!). Jimin and and OC know eachother through friends. OC is independent and not TOO into the whole adventuring deal but does it to enjoy some quality time with her friends. Jimin is flirty and playful and makes the trip all the more interesting for her. (I don’t know how you want to set it up but maybe two friends are dating and they invite their two seperate friend groups on this trip to meet. Or maybe it’s a wedding and OC is a bridesmaid? Anything works honestly!) - @silviasgotyourback
Description: You’re not too keen on…you know…risk-taking. In fact, it scares you to your core. But when your close friend Kim Namjoon gets in your head, you agree to a crazy trip to Fiji with him and his pals. But what happens when one of those pals – specifically Park Jimin – sweeps you off your feet not only figuratively, but literally?
A/N: Wow what a long break I’ve taken haha! But I’m back (kinda) to post some one shots (slowly)! I’ve been working really hard on my graduate school writing sample and auto statements, and I’ve just started my senior year of college AND started a new job so I’ve been incredibly busy! I apologize nonetheless for my absence. It’s felt horrible being away. Very guilty lol. Anyway, thank you my dear for requesting and for being so so so SO patient with me. I hope you like the result!
Also, if you want to follow me on Twitter please do so! My handle is @/nirvana_namu. I would post a link, but rumor has it Tumblr killed links and I’m not taking any chances.
- Mercury
You’re not sure why you agreed to this.
Standing at the tippy top of a mountain, looking out over the entire surf as it roils in the golden island sun, you watch your best friend get strapped into a harness with a laugh that echoes through the humid air. His gaze is focused downward, along the slope of treetops leading to the water. A zipline. A really steep, really fast one. One of the longest in the world! Namjoon had proclaimed with no small measure of wonder in his round eyes before you’d boarded the plane side by side only a day prior. If you weren’t so scared, you’d want to paint it.
You really don’t know why you agreed to do any of this.
The vested employee adjusts the straps secured around Namjoon’s hips, tugs them once or twice — not nearly enough by your standards — and mumbles something unintelligible into the receiver of a walkie-talkie. Enveloped in greenery, Namjoon pauses to turn and look at you and, upon snagging your eyes, offers a big, stupid, dimpled grin. He waves one hand over his head at you as you wait to be loaded into the next harness. And it looks like his eyes are squinted against the sun, but really they’re squinted from the sheer force of his joy. A joy too big to be contained in a smile alone.
That’s exactly why, you think to yourself with a grimace as you shamble forward along the worn footpath, second-to-last in line, arms crossed over your torso as if they can protect you from whatever fresh hell Namjoon’s planned out.
The employee pats Namjoon’s bare shoulder before releasing him and sending him speeding down the swaying cable with a scream so loud it pierces your ears. His body falls out of sight for a frozen millisecond before the cable gives a mighty bounce and his head reappears, bobbing up and down as he slides toward the bottom. You wince, more out of fear than discomfort, and pause to peek over the edge of the loading platform, following the line of the cable all the way to the bottom. Your heart races as your eyes trace the dense tree line, seemingly endless, and the sheer drop that had claimed Namjoon just seconds before.
And that’s when, as you sweep your twitching gaze out behind you, you lock eyes with Park Jimin. Standing behind you, the very last of the group to depart down the cliffside, his lips are quirked into a smirk that reads cocky and his brows are raised, unyielding eyes stuck on you like tree sap. Of all people to be stuck with on the top of a mountain…
Your face goes hot and your spine stiffens by a few degrees. You stare back at him, trying to discern any measure of fear in his smiling expression, his half-exposed teeth, his rosy cheeks, his teasing brown eyes. But instead all you see is, as usual, a perfect facade of composure.
Well, that and a sinfully handsome face.
He saunters up beside you, scans you from head to toe, and hums a little. “Nervous?” he asks, as if he doesn’t already know.
You clear your throat, fan yourself with your hand as a futile defense against the jungle heat, and nod your head once. “Mm.”
Upon hearing your response, Jimin’s demeanor shifts a little. He uncrosses his arms and his smirk slips, brows raising. He leans closer to examine your face and you avert your gaze, heart hammering. “Whoa, you’re actually spooked, huh,” he remarks before glancing around the platform. “Shit, I don’t think the guide’s gonna let you turn back now.”
You’d expected him to make fun of you, perhaps laugh at your weak constitution. But this…
This is new.
Though well-meaning, Jimin’s words serve only to set your palms sweating and your heart racing faster. Your throat feels a little funny, tight like asthma. You shift your weight from foot to foot. “I-It’s fine,” you mumble, sliding past him as the employee beckons you forward with a lazy wave. “I’ll just…do it.”
Jimin hangs close behind you as the employee begins strapping you in, not sparing even a single word for you. “Hey, uh, my friend’s a little nervous,” Jimin says lowly to the young man working on hooking the harness around your hip. He glances up to meet your eyes before looking toward Jimin. “Any way you can, like, go gentle or something?” Jimin offers a convincing smile, the kind of grin that could get anyone to do anything.
The employee surprises you by releasing a puffy laugh and straightening to his full height, pausing to pat the dust off the backs of his legs. He chuckles and pats your back. “I can’t control the cable,” he says, then pauses for a moment to think. “But…,” he continues as Jimin turns pleading eyes his way, “if you’re feeling really nervous, I’ve heard it helps to shut your eyes and count to ten. Like, tell yourself you’re definitely gonna do it once you reach ten and just…go.”
You swallow hard and inhale sharply through your nose. “Alright,” you say, but his words have fled from your brain as soon as they’d been uttered. Your voice is shaky. Almost as shaky as your hands as you raise them to grip the straps of your harness.
Have you always had such a strong grip?
Your brain goes a little fuzzy, looking out over the precipice on which you stand, unsteady feet and rushing pulse. It’s dizzying. Like the world is spinning, but you’re not spinning with it. Or perhaps you’re spinning and it’s the world that’s gone still. Either way, the stretch of trees extending far beyond the tips of your hiking boots looks like it’s swaying on an axis, and each blink tilts the view some different way. You wonder if you’re breathing enough, or maybe too much, because your head is spinning. Like when you stand up too quickly after sitting for a while. You wonder if you’ll pass out before you reach the bottom.
If you reach the bottom.
Jesus, you hadn’t even considered the possibility of this stupid cable snapping. It doesn’t look too stable, upon closer inspection. Bouncing in the breeze. And as the employee finishes strapping you in, you pause for a moment to move your legs about and find, to your horror, that the straps are slightly loose.
Oh God.
You’re gonna throw up.
“Hey,” says a soft voice from beside you.
You feel a warm hand slide along the skin of your upper back, resting to cup your shoulder. Slowly, you turn your toward Jimin, standing with one arm wrapped around you and the other braced on his own knee so he can level his eyes with yours. He’s smiling a little. A different one this time, a soft one. The wind blows his dark hair from his eyes and carries the scent of his cologne. Somehow, you feel yourself relax a little against his side.
“It’s gonna be okay, alright?” he asks gently, and this is an entirely new Park Jimin to you. A tender young man with kind eyes. He smiles again and gives your shoulder a squeeze. “I’m right behind you.”
And for some reason, that comforts you. You don’t have time to dissect it however, as the employee takes up your other side and raises his brows, asking silently if you’re ready to go. Of course, you aren’t. How can you be? But again, Jimin squeezes your shoulder and seizes your attention with another smile, this one turning his eyes to crescents as he nods his head.
“Um…yeah,” you say, taking a moment to focus on your breath.
“Remember,” says Jimin as he steps away from you. “Count to ten, okay?”
“Okay,” you say, shutting your eyes.
One.
You’re gonna do it.
Two.
On ten, you’re just gonna go.
Three.
It’ll be fine.
Four.
Joon did it, and he’s fine.
Five.
And Tae before him, and that guy Jimin brought.
Six.
Nobody’s died yet.
Seven.
You can do it too.
Eight.
And even if I’m scared, at least you’re not alone up here.
Nine.
Jimin’s right behind you.
Ten.
Your scream rips through the valley below.
And, seconds later, so does your unfettered laughter.
You met Park Jimin on the worst day of your life a month ago. Freshly laid off from your job as a financial analyst — a job which Namjoon disliked from the start —, and disappointed by a string of bad dates after a catastrophic breakup, you’d agreed to meet up with a few college friends for a drink at your local stomping ground. You’d found Jimin sitting in the middle of a smoky bar with a girl on one arm and a guy on the other. Gross, was all you’d thought in passing. You’d paid him little mind, too busy wallowing in your own self pity to think too hard about any one thing, but it seemed he was incessant on grabbing your attention by any means necessary.
You’d sidled up to the bar, awaiting Namjoon’s I’m here text, and had only just ordered your drink when the strange young man with the unusually bright smile took up the space beside you. Now alone, he offered you a grin and his hand for you to shake. For a few seconds, you only stared at his outstretched palm. At the lines cutting across it. What was that long line called? The life line?
Eventually, however, you realized he wasn’t going anywhere, planted firmly in the wobbly barstool to your right, and you relented with a handshake. But that wasn’t what this stranger was after. He yanked you just a little once your hands connected.
“Hey, honey!” he said as he pulled you in toward his chest, sweeping you up in a tight, firm hug that knocked the wind from your lungs.
You were neither playful enough nor drunk enough to reciprocate and instead sat there stiffly, arms pressed against your sides as the stranger with the cute face hugged you close. Over his shoulder, you locked eyes with the girl who’d previously ornamented his left arm, watching you keenly, and it didn’t take you long to understand what was going on.
“Dodging an ex?” you whispered without moving your lips too much.
You felt a wave of shivers trace up your spine and it only took you a few seconds to realize why. It was just the sort of thing you imagined Hanseul doing if he ever bumped into you…
He chuckled. “Two, actually,” he responded as the young man he’d been entertaining also lifted his eyes from his drink to give you a once-over.
You sighed. “You’d better be buying my drink,” was all you said as the two of you broke away.
He’d laughed — that melodic sort of laugh that made you feel a little floaty — and rubbed your shoulder with a grin. “I’ll buy you twenty,” he joked, sliding the bartender a bill as he returned with your cocktail.
“So how’d you manage to get caught up with two exes at once?” you asked, nursing your glass.
He rubbed his jaw and shook his head, smiling at the bar table before him. “They were friends to begin with,” he said. And when you said nothing, only recoiled slightly, he met your eyes with a bright laugh. “C’mon don’t give me that look!”
You cleared your throat, turned away, and worked your straw between your teeth. “I dunno, sounds like maybe you brought it on yourself then,” you said, taking a healthy sip.
The stranger laughed again — more like a disbelieving scoff — and adjusted one of the several rings on his slender fingers. “Well I didn’t ask the two of them to come out tonight,” he said with a shrug. “And besides, neither of them looked unhappy to see me.”
“Ugh,” you mumbled, eyeing him sidelong as he chuckled.
He smirked and leaned across the bar toward you. “What?” he asked, and something about the heavy-lidded look he gave you, the simmering something in his eyes, made your pulse quicken. He rested his cheek in his hand and cocked his head to the side, now close enough to smell a whiff of his cologne. “You think I’m a bad guy?”
You swallowed hard before downing the rest of your drink and slamming the glass back on the bar. You waved the bartender over and pointed to the empty glass. Wordlessly, he began fixing you a replacement. You peeked back at the guy to find him smiling at you, musing perhaps, with the strangest mix of curiosity and pity in his expression.
You were definitely going to need another drink.
“Do good guys usually do stuff like that?” you asked, watching the bartender as he shook your drink around his metal tumbler.
He chuckled. “Can goodness be quantified by things like who we date?” he asked.
You stiffened. “Not by who you date,” you continued, shaking your head as memories of your own ex resurfaced. “But who you hurt, sure.”
He rolled his eyes, swiveling in his barstool to look at you head on. “Why’s it my fault who gets hurt?” he asked.
You cocked a brow. “You…can’t be serious…” But from the expression he wore you were certain that he was indeed quite serious.
He shrugged. “It’s not my intention to hurt someone, so why do I have to take responsibility if they get hurt?” he asked, then smirked and gave your thigh a nudge with his knee. “The way I see it, if you get hurt you’re the one whose expectations were too high.”
“That’s gross,” you said, inching away. You were inclined to simply leave, abandon this conversation and the bar at large and call it a night. But the bartender wasn’t finished with your drink and you weren’t about to piss him off. Not on a day like today. “If you’re dating someone, you’re committing to them.”
“What about polyamorous people?” he countered with a smug grin.
You rolled your eyes. “I’m not talking about polyamorous people. I’m talking about monogamy.”
“But why does everyone expect monogamy?” asked Jimin, tossing his hands up in the air with a breathy laugh. “Anyway, I always make it clear from the start that I’m not the kind of person who wants to be…well, you know…,” he started, then furrowed his brow and waved his hand. “Like, in a relationship.”
You sighed, nodded your thanks to the bartender as he slid you your drink, and watched as Jimin again offered cash in return. “And that’s fine, but you can’t expect someone to stick around and be okay with that.” You rubbed your temples as memories swirled together. “Be okay with half of you.”
If you really loved me, you’d understand that I could have any person in the world and you’d still be my number one!
Scumbag.
This gave him pause and, slowly, he shifted his eyes your way once more, scanning you. “Half of me?”
You nodded and downed a gulp of your drink with a wince. “Giving half is fine if the other person is giving half too. If you both only expect half,” you began, then ran your hands along your neck. Your skin was feverish, alcohol making your head light. “But if one person wants more, it’s not fair to string them along.”
He stared at you gravely, eyes hard and jaw set, and furrowed his brow. “That’s too old-school,” he said.
You huffed and crossed your arms. “It’s not old-school!” you said, wagging a finger at him. “It’s about respecting the other person enough to let them go when you realize you can’t be what they need.”
He pouted a little and rolled his eyes. “You sound ancient,” he said, then paused to give you a knowing smirk. “Wait, don’t tell me,” he began, scooting closer with a conspiratorial look. “You were scorned by your ex. Like…I dunno, like they cheated or something. Broke your heart, ruined your trust, blah, blah, blah. And now you’ve got this vendetta or something because you got hurt.” He grinned and wiggled his brows.
You stiffened, eyes wide, and stared at him. “I…,” you began.
He laughed from his gut and nodded. “Ah, nailed it, didn’t I?” he asked.
There was a cruel edge to his teasing, an ill-intentioned bite that felt like it was made to injure. You couldn’t quite put your finger on why, but you knew you felt it in that hazy bar, surrounded by throngs of people gathered here and there, enveloped in smoke and conversation. But like a heat-seeking missile, it seemed his words were engineered to uncover the softest parts of you and destroy them.
Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was something else, but your eyes welled with tears and your throat constricted. You stared at him, this stranger who had pegged you without err, and felt the weight of your frustrations pressing down on the tops of your shoulders like sandbags. And as he perceived the shift in your expression, his own face changed from a cold sort of scrutiny to a round-eyed concern that washed away all evidence of his previous behavior.
“Oh shit,” he said, standing up and blocking your face from view. You felt a few hot tears spilling over and were quick to wipe them, but the humiliation was there on display whether you cried or not.
He’d gotten you.
Luckily for you, Namjoon’s timing had been particularly impeccable that day and he’d barreled into the bar with a lopsided grin and clapped both you and the stranger on the backs, Taehyung and Yoongi sauntering behind him. You’d startled a bit, jumping slightly at his approach, but once again luckily — or perhaps unluckily — Namjoon seemed to have little regard for the poor mood he’d stepped into and didn’t seem to notice your glassy eyes as you buried your nose in your drink.
“Well jeez, look at you two already getting acquainted!” Namjoon exclaimed with a big laugh.
You paused your sipping for a moment to slide only your eyes up toward your friend. “Huh?”
He blinked down at you, one hand still clamped onto the stranger’s shoulder, and raised his brows. “Didn’t I tell you I was inviting some work friends?”
You spat your drink, sending droplets of sweet alcohol splattering across the bar. Quick to right yourself, you faced Namjoon properly and, sputtering, replied, “Him?”
Namjoon laughed and rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell me you guys didn’t introduce yourselves,” he said, adding theatrics to his heavy sigh. “This is Park Jimin. That choreographer I’ve been telling you about? He’s coming with us to Fiji.”
Still coughing up the remains of your rum and Coke, you pat your chest. This was the kind-hearted dance major wunderkind who dazzled everyone at Namjoon’s entertainment company? This was the kid who, at the age of twenty-four, had more accolades than both his predecessors combined? This was the guy who befriended all the trainees and brought them sports drinks during long days of practice?
This was the guy you were going to spend two weeks with on an island in the middle of the Pacific?
Namjoon, standing between the two of you, moved to taste your drink and as he leaned forward you locked eyes with the acclaimed young choreographer over the plane of his back. Park Jimin stared at you with wide eyes and lips parted as if to speak. But even after Namjoon had straightened up and begun complaining about your drink order, Park Jimin, still with mouth agape, said nothing.
And so, as you go ripping through the jungle on a wobbling cable, screaming and laughing and crying just a little, you wonder how exactly that very same Park Jimin is the one who comforted you into taking this leap of faith. Below your dangling feet is a patchwork of different greens, all bleeding into a motion blur as your body is propelled down toward the bottom platform. As you slide along, you can just see Namjoon’s figure, reduced to a small silhouette amongst the trees, as he stands waving like mad at the edge of the platform. Laughing, you shoot both hands above your head and wave them around, causing you to sway on the cable. Startled, you quickly return your hands to gripping the straps near your chest.
You feel like a bullet whizzing through humid air and then, all at once, friction takes hold once more and you seize, eyes squeezing shut from the whiplash, head throbbing just a little, suspended over the platform. You are greeted by a chorus of applause and hollers of encouragement as the employee begins the process of disconnecting you from your harness and, as your feet land stiffly on the concrete slab, you lift wild eyes to meet Namjoon’s. You find him still with that grin plastered across his face, hair windswept, shirt askew.
“Wow!” is all you can say as the group laughs.
Namjoon smiles and claps your shoulder. “Right?” he asks and you can only nod and turn your eyes back up toward the cliff from which you’d descended.
Now far too distant to discern amongst the foliage, the loading platform sits somewhere lost in green. And, without meaning to, your mind wanders back to Park Jimin and you wonder idly if he’s counting to ten.
Sunset drenches the island as you lounge on the warm sand, leaning back on your elbows with eyes half-shut as you gaze out at the glittering ocean touching the horizon line. The sky is darkening by degrees, with vibrant reds and oranges spreading like watercolor into the navy blue edges. And for a blissful moment, you’re alone with it. Alone with the profound. And you’re not thinking about the new job you’d taken, or the text messages Hanseul left you this morning, or the bills you know you’ve got to pay soon. You’re not thinking about anything.
It’s beautiful.
Of course, it’d be more beautiful with a pina colada, but you don’t let your mind linger there too long. After all, Namjoon said this trip was supposed to be about adventure and ‘finding yourself’. You aren’t sure how much of yourself you can really find at the bottom of a fruity drink.
Namjoon invited you on this trip a year ago. He’d done it in typical Namjoon fashion: calling you up at two in the morning and rambling incoherently for a while before eventually getting to the point. You’d become so used to his pipe dreams that you’d half expected this plan to fall through like the others. The second the words left his lips, you’d rolled your eyes.
“What I’m saying is,” he began, breathless over the phone, as you push yourself up onto your bottom, bed sinking beneath you, “let’s go to Fiji.”
“Joon…,” you groaned. “Please, I have work tomorrow-,”
“Listen, fuck your job,” he said and you could practically see him waving his hands like a man gone mad. “This is important. Like…might be the most important thing we’ve ever done together, you know?”
“Where is this even coming from?” you asked, stifling a yawn. You glanced out your window and saw the city painted black, pinpricks of yellow office building lights.
He sighed. “I was looking up tropical music for this new song I’m working on for the trainees and I stumbled upon this incredible video about Fiji.”
“Like a generic white girl vlog?” you asked with a laugh, but Namjoon seemed deathly serious as he remained silent. You paused a moment. “Wait, you’re like…for real with this, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, of course.” He was quiet. “I just…I dunno…I guess, while we’re still young enough to do it, I wanna experience something incredible. While we still can. While things are still like this.”
“What do you mean?” You raised a hand to open your window, let in some cool night air, but as you jammed your hand along the pane, the thing only rattled dumbly in response. You huffed, focused.
“I mean life is transient and nothing’s guaranteed,” he said. “Who knows who we’ll be tomorrow, you know? Who knows how long these moments will last?”
You stilled for a moment, staring out your closed window, hand still poised to force it open. You glanced over your shoulder at your tiny apartment — clothes strewn over every piece of furniture, easel gathering dust in the corner of your living room, unused for the better part of a year, paintings still unhung propped against walls on the floor — and couldn’t help but sigh. As silver moonlight filtered in through your curtains, you felt an unfamiliar tug in your chest. A longing that didn’t make sense.
You had the job, the boyfriend, the social life…
You had it all.
But why did Namjoon’s words make you feel so hollow?
And before you even realized what you were doing, you replied, “How much is it gonna cost?”
“What’re you thinking about?” asks a soft voice from beside you.
Startled, you scramble slightly, sending a spray of sand flying through the air. You sputter a little, having inhaled too quickly for your lungs to handle, and squint against the golden sun. But as you settle enough to face the person beside you, you’re surprised to see it’s Jimin. Sunset drenches the expanse of shoreline, catches in the ends of his black hair, outlines the side of his rosy cheek as he gives you an easy smile.
You raise your brows. “Hm?”
He chuckles, rubs the back of his neck, and shrugs as he digs the heels of his hands into the sand, leans back on them. “Just…looked pensive.”
“Pensive…,” you repeat, mulling it over. You purse your lips. “I guess just…thinking about this trip.”
“What about it?”
“Just…why I even bothered coming,” you begin, then chuckled and eyed him sidelong. “You saw how I was today. The whole…adventure thing isn’t really my scene.”
He smiles, revealing on closer inspection one charming crooked tooth, and tilts his head to the side. “What do you mean? You looked like you were having the time of your life!” he says, nudging you with his elbow.
You smile at your knees, now pulled toward your chest, and sigh. “Thanks for saying that, but you know I was a mess.”
He pouts a little. “You weren’t.”
Glancing his way, you find him with furrowed brows staring distantly at the ocean. “Mm…,” you mumble in response.
He sighs. “You were scared,” he begins, then shrugs. “But you did it anyway. What’s so bad about that?”
You sense that he’s perhaps talking about something else while talking about you. Like he’s saying two things at once. But you don’t bother prying. Instead, you simply sigh and join him staring at the surf.
“It’s beautiful, huh?” you remark as the two of you sit side by side. And there’s a gentle sort of quiet between you, one you never expected to share with someone like Jimin.
But somehow, here he is. And looking at him as he watches the waves splash forward and recede, you can’t help but feel a little guilty for your attitude towards him. Guilty for the dread you’d felt as you boarded the plane behind him. Guilty for the scowl you’d worn as he walked beside you on the trail up to the zipline today. Guilty for the complaints you’d aired to Namjoon about him.
“Yeah,” he says with a pleasant, lazy smile.
Birdsongs welcome you to the fresh island morning. Lazily, you roll onto your side and peel your eyes open, straining against the sunlight pouring in through your ocean-facing windows. You yawn, pushing yourself up onto your bottom to stretch sore arms above your head. You twist your torso this way and that, crack your knuckles, point your toes as you extend your legs before you. The room is filled with bright morning light, all hardwood floors and tapestries on the walls. You glance around your bedroom – one of eight private rooms in this massive Airbnb – and realize with a start that this is the first morning in years that you haven’t immediately grabbed for your phone to check for work emails.
You expect, perhaps, to be unnerved by this. This lack of structure, lack of organization.
But, perhaps more unsettlingly, you are…
Surprisingly calm.
You shake your head and pad on bare feet into the bathroom beside your room. As you brush your teeth, you lock sleepy eyes with your reflection and can’t help but crack a little smile. For the first time in a long time, you look like you’ve had a proper night’s sleep.
You emerge in the living room a few moments later to find Taehyung – Namjoon’s stylist friend – and Seokjin – Namjoon’s actor friend – still sleeping on the couch, the TV still droning on as they’d likely forgotten to turn it off. And, standing in the kitchen by himself nursing a cup of coffee and a calm smile, is Namjoon. He’s caught a bit of a tan, glowing in the gentle sunlight, and his eyes are warm and fond as he looks out across the living room at his friends.
As quietly as you can manage, you maneuver around the sleeping boys and take a place beside Namjoon, resting a hip against the marble counter. “Morning,” he says softly.
You nod once. “Morning,” you repeat, and hold your hand out for his mug of coffee, wiggling your eager fingers. He chuckles and relents without much fight, offering the handle to you carefully. You take a warm, welcome sip and sigh. “How’d you sleep?” you ask.
He hums a little and adjusts the sleeve of his loose tee. “So tired I didn’t even dream,” he says with a laugh.
Smiling you reply, “Me either.”
He eyes you with a knowing smile and squints a little. Like he’s teasing you. “You like it here, don’t you?” he asks.
You roll your eyes and give his shoulder a healthy shove. He laughs in response, but says nothing more as you sweep your gaze out toward the wall of windows leading down to the beach. It’s immaculate in the morning time. Not a single silhouette dots the shoreline, only fishing boats just beyond the surf. Tourists are still asleep, you reckon, and you feel a little proud to not be one of them sleeping away the most beautiful hours of the day. You can see faint traces of clouds ringing the horizon, and the pastel yellows of sunrise giving way to the azure blue sky.
“It’s…really nice,” you admit with a nod, sipping the coffee once more. And, without meaning to, you think of Jimin yesterday. His hand on your shoulder, his comforting words reminding you to ground yourself before you floated away. “Yeah…,” you add, concealing an unintended smile.
Namjoon, however, has always been the smarter one out of the two of you and, predictably, he catches this shift in your expression and turns to you head on with raised brows. “Whoa!” he remarks with a grin. He points to your face with his index finger. “Look at that!”
You swat his hand away with a laugh and roll your eyes. “Lay off, alright? I’m having a good time. Isn’t that the whole point?”
He chuckles and sighs as he rests once more beside you. Gently, he lifts a hand to softly pat the top of your head. You’re certain your shock registers plainly on your face as he pats again. “I’m proud of you,” he says.
And in the simplest of phrases, he’s managed to pluck something profound from inside of you. You don’t need to ask to know precisely what he means.
Why does it make you want to cry?
“Morning,” says a quiet voice from behind Namjoon and, leaning slightly so you can see around your friend’s broad chest, you notice Jimin standing there and can’t help but smile.
He glances between Namjoon and you for a few seconds, brows lifted as if in question, before Namjoon clears his throat and wordlessly excuses himself, snatching his coffee on his way back into the living room where he begins rallying the boys awake.
You sigh, running a finger along the countertop’s perfect edge. “What’s on the agenda for today?” asks Jimin as he settles beside you.
You pause to think. “Um…,” you begin, tapping your lips with your fingers. “I think…,” you continue, musing as you begin to work your lower lip between your index finger and thumb. “Something about ATVs.”
But before you’ve even finished your sentence, Jimin has seized your hand in his and is now standing so close you can smell the scent of his detergent wafting up from his pajama shirt. He stares down at you with heavy-lidded eyes and a smirk, gaze flashing around your face before landing on your lips as he pulls both your hands down toward your shoulder. Your heart begins to race, eyes wide, skin hot where his fingers touch yours, and you swallow hard as he chuckles a few times, his breath fanning out across your warm face.
“Sorry,” he says, voice low and breathy. “It was distracting.” He then drops your hand and swivels on his heel, back toward the hallway from which he’d come. He pauses, however, to shoot you a wink over his shoulder. “Hard to focus when you do that,” he says, tapping his own plump lower lip with his fingertip before offering a wave and meandering down the hall.
And you stand there dumb, heart pounding so loud you can’t hear the crashing waves just outside the window.
You were shocked when you found out Hanseul had been messing around behind your back. Gutted, really. If it hadn’t been for Hanseul leaving his Instagram logged on to your phone, you’d probably never have found out to begin with. He’d always been that sort of guy, though.
Reckless.
And how very cliche, you’d thought as you read through months of exchanged messages, that he’d exchanged you like a used car for a newer model once he’d gotten tired of you. You dragged your finger almost lazily across the screen, brows raised as you rested on your couch, reruns of The Office blending into background noise. And where perhaps you’d expected hurt and resentment, you found only a grim acceptance.
Of course, you thought to yourself with a strange chuckle as you read the most recent message. A sappy sort of love IM that made your stomach churn. Riddled with sentimentality and grand platitudes, the messages reminded you of the ones you’d exchanged with Hanseul in the beginning. The ones that made you hopeful. Of course.
Somewhere amongst that grim acceptance, however, was something you didn’t expect. Something primal. A sort of fear that had no name.
Fear, perhaps, of the implications.
Fear of all the things that would have to change, all the comforts you’d known for years chipping away like old paint left on the wall too long.
And so, like a house of cards, your world shook and crumbled mightily down to its very foundation.
You’re slack-jawed as you stare at the row of ATVs standing equidistant before you. Eight identical machines pointed down the rolling hills behind you. An instructor standing with a grin and hands on her hips as she watches you scan the locomotives with your eyes wide and round. Beside you is Namjoon, smiling too broadly for his face to accommodate, with Seokjin and Taehyung drowsily fighting yawns. Jimin stands on your other side, arms crossed as he smirks at the ATVs like he’s done it all and seen it all before. His friend Jungkook is practically vibrating with anticipation, and Hoseok – another choreographer from the company – stands whispering in low tones with Yoongi, the young PD Namjoon never stops talking about.
The imposing green trees sway in the breeze around you: all potential threats as your group nears the line of ATVs. You wonder just how long you can manage on one of the things before hitting one of those tall waving trees. Anxiously, you glance over your shoulder at the hills extending as far as you can see. More possibilities for horrific injury.
As you tromp through the yielding sand underfoot, you feel someone step closer to you and you don’t need to lift your eyes from your boots to know who it is.
“You know, if you’re scared-,” Namjoon begins, but you silence him with a look, gaze severe.
He raises his hands in surrender before chuckling and patting your shoulder. He says nothing more as he swerves around you to hook his elbow around Taehyung’s neck. The two, laughing, continue toward the row of ATVs. Taking a moment to manage your breath, you press your palm against the rubber handle. You shut your eyes.
One.
You’re getting on this fucking ATV.
Two.
You’ve come this far, you can’t chicken out now.
Three.
You always chicken out.
Four.
When was the last time you did something that scared you this much?
Five.
Well…yesterday.
Six.
Before that though.
Seven.
When was the last time you took a risk?
Eight.
When was the last time you did something you wanted to do?
Nine.
Something you really wanted…
Ten.
You take a long inhale, nod once, and swing your leg over the side of the ATV. With both shaking hands gripping the handlebars, you glance to the side to see everyone else has mounted their vehicles, except for one. Jimin stands at the end of the line, talking with the guide too quietly to hear, but the way he’s waving his hands makes it seem like there’s a problem. The guide glances around, brows knit, before shrugging his shoulders and cupping a hand around the side of his mouth to shout.
“Hey guys! Looks like we’re one ATV short! Someone’s gonna have to share!” he calls, and grumbles resound around the group.
Beside you, Namjoon and Taehyung complain about having to share, both clearly not too keen on offering Jimin a spot on their ATV. You briefly feel bad for him, standing on the edge without a place to go to. You wonder if he feels left out, or if perhaps he’s considering staying back so the guide can show you the way. Without meaning to, you turn your head and lock eyes with Jimin and the instant you to you wish you hadn’t. Because now his eyes have lit up and his face is splitting in a small, hopeful smile.
And you know you’re cooked.
With a sigh, you raise your hand and wave it like mad, beckoning Jimin over. After all that, the breathing exercises and everything, after finding your courage, here you are handing over the reins.
“You can ride with me,” you say with a sigh as Jimin emerges at your side, smiling bright.
“Thank you,” he says with a laugh before hoisting himself up behind you.
“Oh!” you exclaim as Jimin rests his hands on his knees, right beside your thighs. He leans around your side and eyes you with wide brows. “I figured you’d wanna drive…,” you say, face going hot.
He blinks at you for a moment longer than normal before splitting into a grin and nudging your hip with his knee. “Well why would I do that?” he asks, rolling his eyes. “You looked really determined.”
Just like that, he understands exactly how you feel.
Startled, you turn to face him halfway, twisting your torso awkwardly as you lock eyes. He’s still smiling, still bright. The apples of his cheeks are redder than yesterday, and the bridge of his nose. A sunburn. He looks peaceful. As if he trusts you to drive this massive machine. As if it’s not even a thought that’s crossed his mind.
As if he never even considered taking this ATV from you.
“You guys ready?” shouts the guide with a hoot.
The boys around you holler their responses but you stay silent, still just staring at Jimin as he shields his face from the sun with one hand, still smiling, still peaceful.
You grip the handlebars and kick the ATV to life.
You first met Namjoon when you were in high school. He was a grade above you, so you’d never had reason to speak with him. Aside from passing him in the halls every now and again, you didn’t really interact with him at all. But things changed when he approached you after class as you finished cleaning off the blackboards. You’d stayed behind not because you wanted to, but because your classmate had pawned their classroom duties on you after a miserable game of Gin Rummy at lunch. You hadn’t protested much once the responsibility had fallen on your shoulders.
Another excuse to avoid going home.
Bony knuckles rapped against the blackboard beside your head and you jumped out of your skin, releasing a scream several octaves higher than you anticipated. But as the moment of panic passed, you realized with a start that the one who’d roused your attention was indeed upperclassman Kim Namjoon. And there he stood with a small dimpled smile and gentle eyes scanning you. You weren’t sure what he was looking for when he looked at you, but the way he tilted his head to the side made you think that perhaps he’d found it.
“Hey,” he said, face outlined by the last golden rays of autumn daylight.
You swallowed hard and took half a step back toward the podium. “Uh…hi…?”
“This yours?” he asked, dangling a sketchbook before you with one hand.
It took you several moments of squinting at the Strathmore sketchbook to realize that, in fact, it was yours. Your name was right there in the right corner where you’d scribbled it a month ago. And there was the tear in the cover from when your mother had tried to rip the thing from your hands – unsuccessfully.
A rush of fear swelled through you and you snatched the pad from his outstretched hands like you were a prisoner and he was offering you food. Scared he’d rescind his offer if given even a moment to think it over. And as you clutched the thing to your chest, you scanned him with narrowed eyes.
“Where did you get this?” you asked. You were certain you had kept it safely in your bookbag since lunch. But glancing at the bookbag again, you found it surprisingly empty.
Namjoon raised his brows and raised his hands in surrender. “I didn’t steal it, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he said, then chuckled with a shrug. “What kind of thief would return the thing they stole anyway?”
You paused for a moment, brows furrowed, before sighing and nodding. “I guess that’s true,” you admitted before gently guiding the sketchbook back into the mouth of your backpack. “Um…,” you hedged as you turned back to the guy. You held out your hand to him and he rolled up the long sleeve of his uniform cardigan to take it in his own. “Thanks,” you finished with a shake.
He shook his head. “Don’t mention it,” he said, laughing a little. “Had to ask around to find out which class you were in though.”
You felt a warm bloom of embarrassment and pulled your hand away, shoving it back into your pocket and averting your eyes. “I don’t have a job or anything,” you said.
He blinked at you. “Hm? What’re you talking about?”
You rubbed the side of your arm and shrugged. “My family’s kinda poor too. Like, we do fine, but my parents are really serious about money so…,”
“What’s your point?” asked Namjoon with wide, curious brown eyes.
You stared at him for a moment, puzzled, before continuing. “Aren’t you gonna ask for, like, reward money or something?”
He released a booming, chesty laugh before waving his arms like mad and shaking his head. “No! God, do I look like a thug to you?”
You eyed him from top to bottom and shrugged. “I don’t really know what a thug is supposed to look like.”
He sighed and gripped the bridge of his nose between his fingertips. “Forget the money,” he said, pausing to give you a warm smile. “I just wanted to meet the person who made those drawings.”
You went stiffer than a board. For a moment, time stood still. Namjoon froze before you, the gently falling leaves outside the classroom window froze, and you froze too. Like your feet were rooted to the ground.
“You…did you look through it?” you asked softly, too horrified to raise your voice above a bare whisper.
He nodded. “Of course,” he said. “I was looking for a phone number or something on the inside flap, but then I got distracted by the art.”
“You…”
“You’re really talented,” he said, offering another big smile. “Like, you could go pro if you wanted to.”
You swallowed hard, your throat constricting, and chucked the dirty blackboard eraser on the podium with a puff of fine dust. Without another word, you zipped up your backpack and slung it over your shoulders. You walked past him quickly, not even sparing him a glance, and walked faster when he followed you, calling after you and begging you to turn around.
Namjoon followed you around for a month after that: waiting outside your classroom after school, catching you off guard as you sketched in the courtyard during your lunch break, walking his bike behind you as you led the way to the bus stop, cheering for you at the sports festival and causing you to miss the volleyball coming straight for you. Every time he’d come around, you’d turn grey with horror and you wouldn’t say a word. But luckily for you, Namjoon said plenty enough for both of you. It was always, When are you gonna join the drawing club?or,You should start working on a portfolio, or, If you love art so much, why aren’t you applying to an arts college?
You didn’t bother asking how he knew where you were applying. As you’d gotten to know him, you’d begun to understand his uncanny ability to secure sensitive information from teachers. It seemed they all loved him about as much as you despised him. Not long after that comment, you finally began responding when he spoke to you. And you even began bickering like real friends.
After a while, you grew accustomed to him being around all the time. To the point that, when he graduated a year before you and went on to pursue a degree in music, you’d felt almost lonesome without him. And to the point that, when you texted him about your choice to pursue a degree in business, you were almost relieved when he caught the late bus out to your house to scold you.
One day you’re gonna snap, he’d said that night in a moment of calm. You’re gonna finally have enough of living for them. And it’s gonna hurt when it happens. Bad.
But the scolding had never been enough.
Because, in the end, that persistent fear ran like still waters through your body.
You’re realizing more and more that it’s the same fear. That it’s always been the same fear. Back then when you were so scared of losing Hanseul that you considered not even telling him you’d found the messages. In high school when you were too scared to show anyone your sketchbook. Even now, as you straddle the vibrating ATV, Jimin’s arms wrapped lazily around your middle as he giggles behind you, you’re scared to make a single sound for fear of messing up your focus on the hills before you.
If you really think about it, it’s all the same.
When you boil it down to its core, it’s always been the same.
Fear of fucking up.
Like you’ve been walking a tightrope from the start, and any small misstep will result in you plummeting, face first, into the ground below.
Your knuckles go white against your skin as you clutch the handlebars. Stiff, you follow the guide as he vaults over a hill, having no choice but to do the same. You launch your ATV over the sandy bump, sending both you and Jimin flying through the air. And even though a part of you expects to go splat in the dirt, after a few weightless seconds of flight, the two of you return to earth in one piece. This time, it isn’t Jimin’s laughter that startles you.
It’s your own.
“Holy shit!” Namjoon shouts as he runs toward you, face covered in fine dust. He grins at you like you’re his child, and as you slide off the side of the ATV, he sweeps you up in a big hug, laughing. “You did so good!”
You laugh too, patting his flexed bicep, and lean away slightly to get a better look at his dirty face. “God,” you say with a laugh, running the pad of your fingertip along his cheek, leaving behind a stripe of clean skin. “You need a shower, Joon.”
He nods and peels himself away, turning his attention to Jimin behind you. “You don’t look so good,” he remarks with raised brows.
And as you turn to see for yourself, you notice that in fact Jimin doesn’t look so good. Up until then it had been all laughter and smiles and playful squeezes, but now that he was standing in the dirt, arms crossed, leaning back against the ATV with his helmet in his hand, he looked…less than pleased. He watches you and Namjoon with narrowed eyes.
Oh God, you think in a moment of blind panic, I bet he wanted to drive the ATV after all…
But the moment Namjoon approaches and claps his hand against Jimin’s shoulder, the latter perks up and his eyes go bright once more. He turns a grin towards you and offers a big thumbs up. The sky above his waving hair is a perfect blue, and the sun is unrelenting, but somehow his smile is brighter. Carefully, you join the duo and pat the ATV with a sigh. Looking at it now, it doesn’t seem so scary at all. And after all the tips your guide had given throughout the course, you feel ready to do it all again if you get the chance.
Jimin eyes you with a fond smile. “How’d you like it?” he asks.
You hum. “It was…really exhilarating,” you say with a grin. Gently, you reach out your hand for Jimin to shake and without missing a beat he laughs and takes it.
But instead of shaking it, he gives a sharp yank and you go tumbling into his chest. Heart hammering, you struggle to regain your footing, but before you can process what’s going on, Jimin wraps both arms around your back and holds you tight. You’re sure your face reveals your chagrin, so you’re careful to keep it buried in his chest. And although it’s muffled through the fabric of his shirt, you can hear Jimin’s heart thumping quick.
“Thanks for letting me ride with you,” he says quietly against your hair.
You swallow hard, nerves making your hands sweat, and nod once. “Um…yeah, of course.” You can’t help the nervous laugh that escapes your parted lips and, hesitantly, you reach around to pat Jimin’s back with one hand. “It was fun.”
He backs up with a smile, but keeps one hand on your shoulder. “Yeah. Let’s do it again when we get home.”
You laugh again, eyes wide. “Are there ATV courses at home?”
Jimin pauses, purses his lips, and shrugs. “Let’s find out.”
Namjoon snaps his fingers. “Shoot! What time is it?” he asks, brows knitting.
You check the watch around your wrist and squint at it, but it’s hard to focus on anything with Jimin still touching you. “Um…half past two,” you say, brain foggy as Jimin steps closer.
He glances over your shoulder to stare intently at your wristwatch. Easily, he slides his hand along your shoulder blades before letting it rest at the small of your back. You can feel the ends of his hair tickling your hot cheek. He hums a little beside you and nods once, as if he is simply verifying the time. Perhaps he is simply doing that.
“Shoot!” Namjoon exclaims again. “If we don’t leave, like, now we’re gonna be late for snorkeling!”
Without meaning to, you slide your eyes toward Jimin and raise your brows only to find him staring at you with the same expression. The two of you share a knowing look before breaking into small smiles.
“Wouldn’t wanna be late for snorkeling,” Jimin says under his breath as Namjoon jogs back toward the guide, all the while frantically miming with his hands.
You grin. “God forbid.”
Hanseul said something once that really stuck with you. Not the sort of sentimental thing that you thought might’ve stuck with you, but something entirely mundane. Something trivial, something said in passing.
It was a Sunday afternoon. Neither of you had work, so you’d decided to take a nice long drive through the city. The sky was endlessly blue and beautiful, and even though you were just one car in the infinite stream of vehicles on the highway, you felt somehow free. With the windows rolled down all the way and music bumping softly through Hanseul’s car’s speaker, you remember shutting your eyes and just…breathing for a minute. And that was enough.
“Jesus Christ!” Hanseul shouted with a belabored sigh, and your eyes snapped open once more. You were quick to locate the source of his frustration and found, merging into your lane from the right, a massive freight truck. “I will never understand the hubris of semi drivers who think it’s a good idea to pass other semi drivers.”
Settling your racing heart, you sighed and breathed a laugh. “Impatience I guess,” you remarked, but he was prickly beside you and you knew he wasn’t finished.
He scoffed. “As if passing that guy is gonna get him there any faster,” he said, then rolled his eyes and tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “Everyone should just go their own pace.”
And with that, he stopped talking. And you returned to leaning your head against the passenger doorframe, gazing out at the line of cars entering the highway.
The sun is white hot on your bare skin as you tread water, face bobbing just below the ocean’s surface. Floating like a buoy, you squint into the endless blue to catch a glimpse of some wildlife. It’s not as easy as it looks on Instagram, that much is clear to you now. The waves waves are gentle but restless as they rock you around and the plastic of the snorkel pushes uncomfortably against the sensitive skin of your lips. Your arms and legs are still sore from the previous day’s hike, and now your thighs ache from gripping the ATV. But somehow, despite the hardiness of it all, as you float parallel to the ocean floor, you can’t help but stare with wide-eyed wonder every time a flash of red fin or plume of underwater dust catches your eye. And so, mystified, you swim onward.
You feel someone swim up beside you, but it’s too much labor to look and you can’t tear your eyes away from a particularly beautiful fish cresting over the top of some coral beyond your fingertips. It’s only when that someone taps your shoulder that you finally snap from your daze and, blinking quickly, burst out from beneath the water and shove your snorkel to the side. Fearing catastrophe, you turn gasping toward Jimin as he wades beside you with a grin.
And your heart settles down.
You pat your chest a little and sigh. “Jesus,” you mumble.
“Scared you?” he asks, and from this close it’s hard not to get caught up in the brown of his eyes, in the wet ends of his dark hair as they dangle just above his eyebrows.
With the saltwater and the sunlight kissing his skin, he’s practically glowing.
You shake your head. “What’s up?” you ask.
He points with one finger toward the water below and wiggles his brows. “You wanna go down with me? The instructor said it’s really awesome.”
You stare at him for a long moment, trying to discern any malintent or ulterior motive and, upon gleaning none, settle for a nervous, breathy laugh. “Ah, I dunno…,” you say, rubbing your nose with the side of your finger. You look away, toward Jungkook’s fins as they flap violently against the glassy surface of the water. “I’m happy just looking from up here.”
Jimin hums a little. “You sure?” he asks, eyeing you like he knows something you don’t. “You seemed really into it when I came over.”
You swallow hard and your mouth tastes like seawater and anxiety. “No, I’m…,” you start, but it’s weak. The sentence trails into nothing.
He smiles bright enough to blind and you almost have to shield your eyes. “Come on,” he says, offering his hand toward you. “We’ll go down together and come back up together. I’ll hold your hand the whole time.”
You stare at his outstretched fingers, pruny and slightly sunkissed, and ponder for a moment. Were you always so tepid? So lukewarm? Wasn’t there ever a time in your life when you did things just because they sounded fun? Thinking back, it’s hard to pinpoint the precise moment you became so pragmatic, so afraid. Perhaps when your parents told you a career in art wouldn’t work out for you. That you didn’t have the stuff. Perhaps even before that.
But deep down, buried deeper than you’d like you admit, there’s a part of you that’s always wanted to zipline through the jungle. To ride ATVs. To see the coral up close.
That slumbering part of you is beginning to awaken.
And you wonder as you take Jimin’s hand with an uncertain smile if this has been your pace all along.
He giggles and the two of you dive in unison. You follow the instructions the snorkeling teachers gave you on the boat, and you hold your breath just the way you’re supposed to. Nonetheless, the deeper you swim, the cooler the water becomes and the more your nerves begin to rattle.
Only this time, you don’t find it unpleasant. Not at all, actually.
Because Jimin’s hand is warm.
The two of you coast to a stop in front of the vibrant red coral as a school of orange fish rushes by in a wave. You both reel back for only a moment and then, catching each other’s eyes, exchange the biggest smiles your snorkels allow. And boy is Jimin right. It is awesome. You swear you’ve never seen colors like this. Juxtaposed against the perfect blue all around, the coral reef stands like a mountain underwater, fish flying like birds around the jagged pink peaks, hiding in the deep purple. Anemones wave so close you’re tempted to touch them, and as you lean closer for a better look, you see a red seahorse nestled beside a green sea plant. As if sensing you there, the tiny fish scoots out from its cover and makes its way toward you. Eagerly, you extend your index finger and the creature nudges you just slightly before continuing on its way to the other side of the coral barrier.
Your heart is pounding, racing like a sports car and loud like one too. You turn toward Jimin with eyes blown wide and he’s grinning at you, so fond. He gives your hand a squeeze and you can’t help but squeeze back. Wordlessly, he jerks his head toward the surface, and the way the water plays with his hair makes it look like silk. You’re distracted for a moment by how beautiful it is, how beautiful he is, but he squeezes your hand again and once more jerks his chin upward. Ah! You need air!
You only realize it as Jimin makes a motion toward the surface, but now that you’re conscious of it it’s all you can think of. Q
⤑ Paring: Jungkook x reader (with a little bit Namjoon x reader and Taehyung x reader)
⤑ Genre: wolf!au, soulmate!au, collage!au
⤑ Summary: y/n has been feeling a certain darkness ever since she got her period. Something was calling her and one day that ‘light’ came into vision. You’d never thought however, that it would be a werewolf.
⤑ Rating: 18+
⤑ Warnings: mentions of rape, depression, smut, oral sex, window-sex, shower-sex, knotting, marking and animalistic behaviour.
⤑ Wordcount: 9.5k
⤑ A/n:hey!! This will be my first story on this account. I used to run another tumblr account, but I felt like I needed a new start hehe. Hope you enjoyed this one!
‘why is it so dark?’, you ask yourself as you try to see, but nonetheless fail to do so. It’s too dark. You can’t understand what you feel, but it has been the darkest feeling you have had in your whole life, though you might not yet be that old. It is creeping up on you, like a tiger or some other creature. It might’ve always been there, but never this strong. Never since this very moment. A white ray stands tall in front of you, all too sudden but not unwelcome. You feel like you need to be there, like this might be the place that brings you the peace you have been seeking. You know the feeling, the dark feeling, ends with this light. It all fits too well…
You take a step forward, but when you look down to see where you are walking on, you don’t see your feet. It’s only you, like a floating conscious. Even though it got you distracted for the smallest second, you knew this wasn’t important enough. The only thing worth doing right now is taking another step towards this warm and sunny light. Another step was taken and you feel your body heating up. Even though the light is your answer, you are still reacting to it in all the negative ways. ‘Is this what I need? It’s probably better than that horrifying darkness around us. Around me and this light’.
So without another thought, you take three more steps. There it is, right in front of you. You can feel your whole body reacting in heath, but you still feel save somehow. It’s resisting and it feels unnatural, but you haven’t felt as connected in so long with such a simple thing. You want it. No, you need it. And it also needs you. Two sides, two consciousnesses needing one another. But it doesn’t feel enough. You need more. You need to be closer. You need hi-.
‘Y/n? You are burning up! Are you okay? Wake up!’.
The sudden voice wakes you up in one simple snap. Your eyes spring wide open as you look scared towards your friend, who just as well returns that look. Namjoon puts his hand on your forehead. You flinch as he retracts his hand as fast as lighting, making a gesture as if your forehead is about a 100 degrees. ‘Damn y/n, that should be illegal. It’s way too hot. Please go to the nurses office’, he exclaims.
You put your hand on your heart, feeling how fast it’s beating. It’s so fast that you can feel it in your whole body. You are trying to recall your dream, but you only seem to remember that you felt a dark feeling. It must’ve been a nightmare. You check out your surroundings as you felt quite out of place, but you soon notice you are still in the comfort of your school’s library. You let out a breath, shaking off that weird experience and you try to calm down your body. ‘I think I had some kind of nightmare’, you inform Namjoon before picking up your pencil.
You have been working all night with your classmate. You were assigned to work together on a project. Since the both of you had a hard time to find a good spot in your agendas to work together, you found that only today you could really work on it. So you both took the chance and ended up working all night. You pull out your phone and you notice it’s already 11 pm. Your eyes widen. ‘Namjoon, why didn’t you wake me up? We really need to get going. Can we still get out of the building?’. He chuckles and shrugs. ‘Thought you could use some rest, you’ve only been gone for twenty minutes, so don’t worry. But you’re right. We should go home’. You let out a small sigh before clearing out your desk. He didn’t mean it bad, so you let it go. You both pack your things and go home.
As you walk your way to your dorm, you can’t help but feel that same creeping feeling. You feel that darkness. It’s not uncommon for you anymore. It has been a few years already, the moment you had your period. You have felt it ever since that moment. You can still remember the first dream about it. It was like just now, dark and alone. As if there was something or someone missing from your life. Your mother showed her concern about it and took you to a doctor, who gave you a number of a psychologist. There we thorough experiments, but no one could really tell what it was and how to get rid of it. At some point you found yourself at a more spiritual room. That was even more traumatic, as she just looked at you in fear and told you to leave within a few seconds. It got you thinking. Are you some kind of devil? Some kind of lost soul from another world, what certainly isn’t holy? This time though, this last dream, it was different. Different from your other dreams. You did feel the darkness, but there was something else. It felt refreshing and warm, something you haven’t felt in so long. Whatever it is, you hope that same feeling will return to you. And this time you won’t be woken up. This time it will stay with you.
![yonkimint: All I Need Is Me [Namjoon x Reader] - COMPLETE A bad breakup. A new company in need of st](https://64.media.tumblr.com/6cd16b36b14e6425b3ef8d5f8f47725f/55c9d430f3811908-2d/s1280x1920/50cbebe5625468aa7c3aa5e01a02d8abb8e63995.png "yonkimint: All I Need Is Me [Namjoon x Reader] - COMPLETE A bad breakup. A new company in need of st")
