Sajangnim, just checked Y/N out of the recovery center. She seems out of it, but I am hopeful that with the proper care, we should be back in Korea by the end of the year or early next year at the latest. - Text from Baek Ha-joon to Bang Si-hyuk, September 2021
She won’t eat. She won’t talk. She won’t write. She won’t sing. She won’t let me play music. She just lays in bed and refuses to move. She stares at the wall — she doesn’t even cry. I don’t know what to do. - Text from Baek Ha-joon to Alton Kuang, September 2021
She keeps complaining that Santa Barbara is too white and that if she has to be subjected to microaggressions, cultural ignorance, and being othered one more fucking time by the staff she will make sure she’s much more thorough on her next attempt. Are there any out-patient programs in Los Angeles? - Text from Baek Ha-joon to Alton Kuang, October 2021
Sajangnim, I don’t think it would be a good idea for Y/N to attend the BTS PTD concerts as a way to reintroduce her to public life. She says she doesn’t want to distract Namjoon or the other members from this historic moment. She would prefer they and their staff not be informed that she is now in Los Angeles. - Text from Baek Ha-joon to Bang Si-hyuk, November 2021
She’s a wreck. - Text from Baek Ha-joon to Alton Kuang, November 2021
Sajangnim, I don’t think Y/N will be back in Korea this year or even the next. I am recommending she not renew her contract with us in June. - Text from Baek Ha-joon to Bang Si-hyuk, December 2021
We need to start making plans for who will take care of Y/N when her contract ends in a few months. Unfortunately, I will not be able to stay. I am not confident that she will be able to live on her own safely. - Text from Baek Ha-joon to Alton Kuang, February 2022
March 2022
“Everyone keeps asking me if I can get them BTS tickets, oppa,” you said. “And they want to know if I’m going to Vegas.”
“Do you want to go?” Ha-joon asked carefully, as if you were fragile and he was always breaking you.
“No,” you replied definitively.
You noted his sigh of relief at not needing to tell you it was a bad idea for you to attend. Anything related to BTS or meeting up with people who used to know you — really, peopling in general — was a bad idea.
You hated yourself for turning your once open, confident, and tough love manager into an anxious, guarded person. You knew he was exhausted and you were the cause of his burn out. You were the reason he was going to be without a person to manage in three months’ time. You were the reason Ha-joon was switching departments at HYBE. You were the reason Ha-joon now hated his job.
How he must despise you.
“Do you still need me to get them tickets? I can, you know,” Ha-joon offered kindly. Even now, he was doing his best to take care of you. You did not deserve him.
“You should go, too, oppa,” you suggested softly. At his bewildered expression, you continued. “I’m sure you miss your colleagues and I know you enjoy BTS’s performances, too. I’ll be fine. If you’re worried, I can ask a friend to stay with me for the weekend.”
“Aish,” Ha-joon replied brusquely as he moved to the fridge, pulling food out to start preparing dinner. “I’ll see them all soon enough. I only have you a few more months, Y/N. Stop trying to get rid of me early.”
You merely stared after him, brain futzing. “Oh.”
Everything in your being rebelled at accepting his words as truth. You didn’t realize you were sobbing until Ha-joon enveloped you in his strong, dependable arms.
“Ah, Y/N,” he murmured. “Oppa will miss you so very, very much. But don’t cry just yet — we have three more months together.”
You nodded into his chest and didn’t move for some time. Lies circled your overwhelmed mind like vultures, except for once, you allowed yourself to sink into the hope that Ha-joon was here because he loved you and not because he wanted a return on his company’s investment.
You vowed as you always did that tomorrow, you would make it up to Ha-joon and Alton. You would make them proud one day; you would repay all the sacrifices they had made for you.
———
The next morning, you woke up feeling as you always did: grayed out. The world was muted as if you were underwater and all you could hear was the pounding of your pulse. It did not matter that you were surrounded by luxury in Alton’s understated mansion in San Marino, a wealthy suburb of Los Angeles.
You spent your day like you did every other day: refusing to budge from your bed until your bladder could no longer hold and then crawling back under heavy blankets. You zoned out on mobile games until your elbows hurt. If you sensed Ha-joon down the hall, you would toss the covers over your head, pretending to sleep.
One day slipped into the next and once again, time lost all meaning.
———
“Stop avoiding me, Y/N,” scolded Alton through the tiny screen of your phone, “and before you lie to my face and say you’re not, I have it on good authority that you spend all day locked in your room pretending to sleep.”
“Who says I’m pretending?” you scowled. “I have years of sleep to catch up on.”
“I don’t think that’s how it works, mèi.”
Alton sounded so disappointed. He had to be. He’d settled tens of millions of dollars on your behalf and you repaid him by wasting away your life in bed. Nevermind that you had no idea how to settle the debt given that the thought of singing or performing made you want to vomit. Nevermind that Alton waived it away as if it was nothing. Even if it was nothing to him, it was not nothing to you.
Mattie couldn’t understand why you weren’t more relieved. You didn’t dare confide in him about your sense of despair and indebtedness. The one time you had when he’d visited, Mattie had flown into a rare temper.
“Why can’t you just accept this good thing, Y/N? Why do you always have to be such a martyr? As if you’re the only person in the world who can save us?” The fact that Mattie — calm and collected and easygoing Mattie — had raised his voice at all had thrown you into disarray. “Don’t you fucking dare do anything stupid to pay Alton back. I will never forgive you if you do.”
He had sounded near tears and so you had promised. “I promise, Mattie,” you had said. “Could you clarify what you mean by ‘stupid’ though?” you had teased in an effort to lighten the mood. Mattie had not been amused.
“Anything that jeopardizes your life is stupid, you get me, jiě?” Your brother had growled, his voice flinty and hard.
“I get you, dì.”
“I know you sacrificed for me so I could have an easier life, but I don’t want it. I’m 24 years old and I don’t need it. What I need is my fucking sister to be alive.” Mattie had glared, his hands fisted at his side. “I need you to live, Y/N.”
You had stared at him and perhaps had seen him for the first time. He was no longer a child. He did not need you to take care of him anymore.
“Okay, Mattie,” you had said.
Mattie had stared back, unsure if he could trust you. You hadn’t blamed him. “Okay,” he’d replied as he dragged you into a tight embrace. “Okay.”
Your little brother, who’d established that he was no longer quite so little, had held you for a long time. Somehow, the weight of living had seemed even more ponderous than all your other debts.
You were dragged back to the present when Alton said, “I have a proposal, mèi.” He looked as if he was trying not to seem worried and settled on nonchalance.
“I don’t even get a fancy dinner?” you quipped.
“Dinners are for ladies who put out.”
“Problematic.”
“Just checking to see if you were feeling more like yourself,” he replied. “Glad to see you’re still putting me in my place.”
You grunted. Even this little bit of banter took a lot out of you and you wanted to lay back down, but you didn’t want to face Alton’s judgment.
“What’s your proposal?” you asked. Anything to move the painful conversation along.
“I know you hate feeling like a charity case — and that I can assure you until we’re old and gray and still, you would not believe me,” he said.
You nodded at his assessment. He wasn’t wrong.
“So, hear me out: you want to earn your keep? Then I have a list of demands.”
You raised an irate eyebrow. “Demands?”
“Alright, alright. Suggested work specs,” Alton amended.
“I really can’t work on music, Alton,” you whispered. “So if that’s the work, you’ll be even more disappointed in me.”
Alton rolled his eyes. “I’m only allowing this bullshit about you disappointing me slide — as if you could ever — because I’ll be there in person in June and I don’t want to fight before I get to LA,” he said.
You gestured for him to continue.
“Your work is to physically get out of bed — and stay out — before noon every day.” Alton held up a hand to forestall your burgeoning nitpicking. “And yes, including weekends. And no, you cannot just use another bed.”
“Spoilsport.”
“I also will need you to eat at least one nutritionally balanced meal a day as well as do some sort of physical activity twice a week. Oh, and spend at least fifteen minutes in the sun every day.”
You narrowed your eyes at him. “You ask too much. You know how I feel about the sun.”
“Mèi, I’m worried about you.” Alton’s face softened. “You spend too much time in your head.”
You had nothing to say. Panic pulsed at the edges of your mind. Surely, he wasn’t asking too much of you? And yet, it felt like too much.
“I love you, Y/N. You know this, right? Please tell me you know this.”
You nodded, a curt, abbreviated motion. “Just know I’m making you pay for the laser treatments if I get sun spots.”
“If you must,” you sighed, hoping Alton could tell you were teasing even if the tone didn’t sound quite right.
“I must,” he insisted.
After Alton ended the call, you sank back under your covers and thought of his blatant ploy to get you back into the motions of living. If you were to start working tomorrow, you might as well get in one last wallow.
You did not know the way out, but you hoped maybe duty and obligation to Alton would carry you through.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“TFW old friends refuse to let you accept judgment instead of grace.” - Y/N L/N, Twitter (January 2024)
January 2024
“It’s good to see you again, noona,” Jungkook said as he wrapped you in a tight hug. “Don’t let it go so long next time,” he added, leaving unsaid so much of what Taehyung and the rest of his members had wanted to say for the last few years.
You flushed prettily, eyes remorseful and shimmering. “Thanks for agreeing to have dinner with me,” you said as you sat down in one of the private booths at Ossu Seiromushi.
It had always been one of your favorite places to eat. Taehyung appreciated the fact that even after all these years, you still remembered to support Jin’s older brother. It reminded him that though you had dropped off the face of the earth, you still cared in tiny, ingrained ways.
The four of you made slightly strained small talk. You asked about their year-end performances and families while steering clear of mentions of your own. Taehyung could not help but notice your near constant sipping of the hot sake and how you obviously felt ill at ease. His heart twinged at the years lost between you. He couldn’t stand it any longer.
“I’m sure you don’t really care about how we feel about the weather and our schedules, noona,” he broke in gently. At Jungkook’s shocked gasp, Taehyung wondered if perhaps he was not as gentle as he’d thought.
Panic flicked across your countenance before you shut it down, smoothing over your features. “I suppose you’re right, Taehyung,” you said.
Taehyung pretended he didn’t hear the quaver. He loved you, but he owed it to his leader to ask. Your elusiveness had gone on long enough. “Where have you been, noona? What happened between you and Namjoon hyung? And why did you come back?”
“Taehyung!” rebuked Jimin.
You placed a hand on Jimin’s arm. “It’s alright, Jimin. You deserve answers. Feel free to tell your hyungs, just — just please — let me tell Namjoon myself?”
At Taehyung’s nod, you downed the remainder of your sake and launched into the most heartbreaking story he’d heard in a long time. He wanted you to stop but it was as if now that the dam was released, you couldn’t. Before he knew it, he and his bandmates were sobbing and reaching for their own cups of sake just to make it through.
Taehyung wondered if he had ever known you.
“Noona,” breathed Jungkook. “Oh, noona. I’m so sorry.” His eyes welled over again and you squeezed his outstretched hand across the table.
“I’m sorry for laying it all on you like this,” you said. “I suppose there’s no way to ease into it — at least not when I have so much to answer for.”
“We would have helped you, noona. Surely you know this?” accused Jimin.
Taehyung could tell he was seething just underneath his calm exterior. An angry Jimin was terrifying to behold. You sighed. Taehyung could tell you’d likely heard this from any number of your friends — especially Alton. You knew enough wealthy people.
“I know,” you said, fiddling with your napkin. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I am perhaps a little too proud.”
Jimin barked a startled laugh. “I suppose you are,” he conceded.
“I saw you ask for help all the time though,” Taehyung observed.
“Family’s different,” you said. “You all have such good and kind families — how could I even begin to tell you what my father was like? I —” You swallowed. “My mother disowned me,” you continued dejectedly. “What if — what if I told you everything and you wanted nothing to do with me? If my own parents didn’t want me — how could any of you?”
Your voice broke and you threw your napkin into your lap. You gazed longingly at your empty sake cup and it seemed to Taehyung that you’d come to a decision. You picked up the cup and settled it back on the table upside down.
“We love you, noona,” Jungkook said, resolute. “You’re good through to your core.”
“I — I really am not,” you croaked.
“You think we can’t read people after over a decade in this business?” Jungkook continued. “We’re not naive children anymore, noona. We can’t afford to let the wrong people in our circles — and you’re good people. That’s why it hurt so much when you disappeared. We couldn’t understand how all seven of us — especially hyung — could have gotten it so wrong.”
“It doesn’t matter what your father did or what your mother said. We’re only upset because you had to go through it alone and without us. We love you,” declared Jimin. His tone brooked no dissent.
Taehyung figured it was time for him to say something lest you thought he disagreed. “I’m glad you finally told us, noona. And I’m glad that writing your memoir was healing. I look forward to reading the Korean translation.”
Taehyung’s subject change brought the conversation back to safer territory and he was relieved to see your body finally relax. The four of you chatted a bit more until you looked at the time.
“I know it isn’t even close to midnight except the jetlag is still kicking my ass. But before I forget, I have something for you.” You got up and reached into the shopping bag you’d brought with you and handed them each a gift bag. “It’s nothing fancy, but I — uh, I hope you like it.”
Taehyung took out the tissue wrapped package and ripped it open. He found a thick cable-knit scarf in a deep, forest green shot through with silver-gray embellishes. When he looked carefully, he noted a cuddly bear embroidered on one end and a tiger cub embroidered on the other. He caressed the soft cotton fibers and felt himself choke up.
“This is beautiful,” murmured Jimin. “Where did you find it?”
Taehyung looked up to see Jungkook and Jimin holding up similar scarves except the maknae’s was in charcoal gray and red accents and embroidered bunnies while Jimin’s was a rich indigo blue and silver-gray with embroidered chicks.
“Ah,” you hemmed, flushing slightly. “I knit them. I hope you like them.”
“Noona, I didn’t know you knew how to knit,” gushed Jungkook. “I love it.”
Your mouth quirked ruefully. “I had a lot of spare time,” you said. “I made one for each of you — if you don’t mind passing them along?”
You placed the shopping bag into Jimin’s hands and he nodded.
“I — I don’t know if Namjoon would want — he must hate me but I, I didn’t want to leave him out.” Your voice faltered and you cleared your throat. “Maybe if I — if you could hold onto his until you think it’s the right time?”
Jimin looked torn and Jungkook’s face was filled with anguish.
“Of course, noona,” Taehyung said, wanting to relieve some of the burden Jimin likely felt as the eldest of their condensed group.
“It was good to see you again, noona,” Jimin said as he stood to hug you, his voice thick. “Don’t be a stranger in March, okay?”
You nodded, blinking rapidly. Taehyung and his members chattered among themselves, gathering their things to give you a moment to compose yourself.
When they were outside, Jimin requested one last photo and it hit Taehyung once more just how much he’d missed you over the last three years. You had been like a big sister to him and he had relied on your steady and indulging presence for so much. You had kept him grounded.
He watched as you caught a cab and waved as the car pulled away.
It still smarted when he thought of how much of yourself you’d hidden away out of fear and a misguided attempt to shield them. Maybe it was time they protected you for a change.
———
“The chickens have come home to roost.” - Y/N L/N, Twitter (March 2024)
“What does it mean when the man you’ve spent your life with calls you abusive? Does that mean he saw something inside you — something you thought you’d hidden?” - “Telling a Truth Is a Slippery Slope” (Red Lantern Publishing House, October 2023)
March 2024
Taehyung almost ran into you as you rounded the corner at top speed. “Noona, are you okay?”
It was a stupid question. You obviously were not.
“Do you want me to sit with you?” he asked, though if he was truthful, he was more worried about Namjoon. If you were a wreck then how was Namjoon faring?
“No, I — I’m fine. Really,” you lied.
Taehyung chose to believe it and let you go as he hurried to Namjoon’s studio.
“Hyung?” Taehyung said as he opened the door right after knocking.
All he needed to see was Namjoon’s head buried in his hands and Taehyung was at his leader’s side, throwing his arms around the older man. He just let Namjoon turn into him and weep on his shoulders. Taehyung felt it was about time Namjoon let others carry his burdens, too.
“I suppose you know what happened?” Namjoon grated out after collecting himself.
“Just now? Or in noona’s missing years?”
“I guess everything.” Namjoon shrugged. “You must hate me.”
Taehyung wrapped his arms around the older man again and squeezed. “Why would I hate you, hyung? You didn’t know. How could you be blamed for something you knew nothing of?”
“Am I a monster?” he choked out. “Is that why she didn’t trust me? She tried to explain and I only said horrible things —” Namjoon started sobbing again. “I’m just so, so angry. I thought if I just got a reason from her, I would feel better — but I feel worse. I’m even angrier and I didn’t think it would be possible.”
“Ah, hyung,” Taehyung soothed. “Of course you’re angry. It’s a terrible situation in general. You both did the best you could.”
“Did I, though? I don’t think I did the best of anything today except be a dick.” Namjoon wiped his face on his shirt.
Taehyung smoothed his hand over Namjoon’s back in small, comforting circles.
“You’re allowed to be angry. You’re allowed to be a dick and not have a perfect response,” said Taehyung. “You’re a person and it’s all been a shock to you. It doesn’t matter even though now you know what happened. She still hurt you, hyung.”
“She really did.” Namjoon shuddered a wet breath. “And the worst part is that I still love her. I love her so much, Tae.”
Taehyung just gazed at his friend sorrowfully. “I know, hyung. I know.”
“I’m so stupid. She’s clearly moved on. As soon as Alton saw an opening, he took it.”
“What?”
“You remember Alton. I always hated him. It was her perfect revenge,” mumbled Namjoon.
“Noona’s not with Alton. She’s not with anyone,” Taehyung said carefully. “She hasn’t dated anyone since she left.”
“She’s not dating Alton? But — but she made it seem like she was?”
“Did she ever say that or did you assume something and she didn’t disagree?”
Namjoon paused. “Oh.” Namjoon looked up and Taehyung hated the spark of hope in his friend’s eyes.
“I thought you were angry. Angrier than you were before,” reasoned Taehyung.
“I am. But that doesn’t negate how much I still love her.” Namjoon hung his head again. “I’m pathetic.”
“I thought you were going to try and love yourself a little more, hyung,” Taehyung said gently. “You feel what you feel and what you feel is real.”
“It’s been years. Why are you still quoting ‘Frozen 2’?” Namjoon questioned with no heat.
Taehyung shrugged. “I can’t help that it’s valid.”
“I don’t know what to do.” Namjoon’s entire body slumped.
“First, give yourself some time to absorb this new information and process your grief and anger,” suggested Taehyung. “And then possibly consider that the noona you love is not the same as the noona she is now — and perhaps she never was.”
Namjoon rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms. “When did you get so wise, Tae?”
“I’ve always been this way,” he chuckled. “It’s just that you finally realized it.”
“I suppose you’re right,” conceded Namjoon. He leaned back into the couch and spread out his body and legs. “Thanks, Tae.”
“‘Course, hyung,” he replied. “We’ve got you.”
“Yeah, you really do.”
———
“Y/N L/N returns to her esoteric roots with the scathing ‘Whore of Babylon’ (Big Hit Entertainment, 2019). While her previous two albums were more mainstream and still managed to hit hard and fun, longtime fans (including this critic) are euphoric at what seems to be L/N revisiting the deconstruction of patriarchy and Christianity. We missed her skewering society while couching it all in brilliant barbs and badass beats.
“The album opens with ‘Revelations,’ a wordplay on how L/N bares all as well as the closing book of the Christian Bible where she gets the title ‘Whore of Babylon.’ L/N examines how patriarchy punishes ambitious women who buck expectations and seize what they want. L/N references Lady MacBeth and kumihos on their own tracks, and in ‘Harlot’s Portion,’ name drops famous biblical fallen women such as the woman at the well and Rahab, the prostitute who helped the Israelites capture Jericho and became the ancestor of Boaz and thus, Jesus.
“But without a doubt, ‘Defenestration’ is a love song and rallying cry for her fandom which is also called the Jezebels. While the Bible paints Jezebel as the harlot queen, used throughout history to vilify beautiful women and those who used makeup, L/N flips the insult much as she did with her Korean debut album ‘Shameless.’ Instead, she tells a story of a rightful ruler whose son was murdered and resisted a coup but then was ultimately thrown out a window by the followers of a power hungry prophet who claimed to be on the side of God.
“Smashing.” - The Hankyoreh, July 2019
“After two mini-albums that clearly catered to trends and veered away from Y/N L/N’s signature ‘fuck you’ to mainstream tastes, L/N is back in fine form. ‘Whore of Babylon’ (Big Hit Entertainment, 2019) is everything we hoped the previous two releases would be: experimental, speaking truth to power, and a slap in the face to incels and religious conservatives.” - Rolling Stone Korea, July 2019
“Fucking fantastic.” - NME, July 2019
[1] Revelations [1:06] [2] Harlot’s Portion [3:48] [3] Out, Damned Spot! [4:07] [4] Se7en [3:15] [5] Casting the First Stone [2:56] [6] Pluck Out Your Eye [4:22] [7] Kumiho [3:39] [8] Until the Stars All Fall [4:30] [9] I’m Glorious [2:45] [10] Defenestration [3:27] - Track list, “Whore of Babylon” (Big Hit Entertainment, 2019)
Score us victorious I am utterly meritorious Notorious, uproarious I want you to adore us
No abstentions or declensions Predicated on inflections Apprehensions, dimensions You have no comprehension
Excoriated, excruciated Your vision’s become corrugated Adjudicated until I abdicated I shall not be eradicated
Censorious, spurious Dismiss the vainglorious Greek chorus Implore us, laborious The weight of story is glorious - “I’m Glorious” (Big Hit Entertainment, 2019)
“Big brain energy + big clit energy = WoB!!! We stan a BAMF!” - Twitter user, July 2019
“Can’t wait for the backlash from tiny, insecure men and the religious hypocrites. Jezebels, go!” - Twitter user, July 2019
“oh fuck the mv for im glorious is glorious” - Twitter user, July 2019
“Did she get a new tattoo? If so, who is the lucky fucker who gets to see ‘taste and see that the lord is good’ on her inner thigh?” - Twitter user, July 2019
“all the leather and corsets and chains and boots and bursts of color and lingerie and tiddies and ass cheeks and *faints*” - Twitter user, July 2019
“Y/N kink activated” - Twitter user, July 2019
“Y/N reading thirst tweets on BuzzFeed is everything! The way she isn’t phased by a damn thing.” - Twitter user, July 2019
“I love how Y/N doesn’t need any fucking explanations. And shit, that low chuckle of hers combined with her eyebrow raise? STEP ON ME, QUEEN!” - Twitter user, July 2019
“SHE READ MY TWEET SHE READ MY TWEET FUCK SHIT SHE WINKED AASKJFADSKDF ASDF;LKJASDF;KLJASDKFJS” - Twitter user, July 2019
“DID SHE ACTUALLY TELL THE PERSON TO OPEN THEIR MOUTH AFTER THEY ASKED FOR HER TO SPIT ON THEM OMG FUCK ME” - Twitter user, July 2019
July 2019
“Oh, shit.”
Taehyung looked up at Namjoon’s comment and noted how flushed his leader was. “You alright, hyung?”
“Noona dropped her new M/V,” he replied, voice cracking.
Jungkook lurched at Namjoon’s phone. “I wanna see! Is it good? She wouldn’t send us any pictures from the set and made us promise not to watch teasers.” When Namjoon wouldn’t relinquish his phone, Jungkook’s face lit up in mischief. “You do know we can just look it up on our own devices, right? Where’s my iPad?”
“No — it’s inappropriate!” Namjoon choked out.
Yoongi smirked. “You can’t stop us, Joon. It’s on the internet and we’re all of age.”
“That’s beside the point. She’s my girlfriend.”
“Oh, fuck. Now I really want to see,” quipped Seokjin. “Hurry up, Kook.”
Taehyung and the rest of his members knew that Namjoon tried to keep his jealous streak in check, and it rarely reared its head enough for them to take advantage. So, of course he joined the rest of his members to watch Y/N’s latest M/V just to piss him off. Taehyung knew from Namjoon’s lack of further protest that his leader knew it was a lost cause anyway.
From the opening black and white shot of Y/N’s back — naked except for a tiny leather waist cincher — Taehyung did not quite know how to react in an appropriate manner. The inky dragon, prowling tiger, and cyborg rooster rippled down your muscular back while the hanja at your neck stood out, bold and fierce. He’d never much paid attention to your tattoos but this time, he was mesmerized.
Plus, the globes of your ass were pert, round, and bare. Fuck.
“Is she rapping ‘I’m Glorious’ over a sample of Biggie’s ‘Notorious’?” Hoseok asked. “Oh, she’s fucking amazing.”
“What does her tattoo say? Is that new?” Yoongi paused the video and squinted at the screen.
Now that the video was stopped, Taehyung stared closely, too. He followed a beautiful script up the length of your inner thigh except it was either too hard to read or he was too distracted by the lines of your leg.
He heard a burst of laughter from Yoongi. “‘Taste and see that the Lord is good,’” he read in English. “Y/N is fucking hilarious.” At Namjoon’s grumble, Yoongi added, “Well, Namjoon. How does the Lord taste?”
“Is it real?” Jimin couldn’t resist asking. “When did noona get it?” At Namjoon’s sputtering, Jimin collapsed over himself cackling. “You haven’t seen it yet, have you? You didn’t even know!”
“We’ve been on tour!” Namjoon defended hotly. “Noona said she had a surprise for me and — ah fuck. I won’t even see her until next week. She did this on purpose,” he groaned. “Why is she like this?”
Taehyung joined his bandmates in their good-natured ribbing. “Doesn’t seem like you mind the way she is, hyung.”
“So, what’s this BuzzFeed thirst tweet video with noona that YouTube is recommending next?” asked Hoseok.
“NOOOOOOO!” cried Namjoon in despair. “Why does she do this to me? This is her revenge on me being on tour this past year and half, isn’t it? She just gets hotter and adds secret tattoos and flirts with her fans and I can only watch through a screen.”
“Stop pretending that you hate it,” Seokjin snickered. “You love that you’re the only one she lets touch her.”
Taehyung ignored the twin twists of desire and envy roiling in his belly as he watched the BuzzFeed video, only understanding some of the references. He understood enough, though. Many of the tweets were similar to what he saw under his own.
He divested his body’s response from his mind. You were Namjoon’s girl. Had been for years. He knew better than to lust after you. They all knew better. And yet, sometimes Taehyung could not help but wish for someone like you in his life.
His hyung was the luckiest man alive.
———
“Former singer Y/N L/N is back in Seoul after a three year absence but this time, it’s as an author. The Korean translation of her New York Times bestselling book, ‘Telling a Truth Is a Slippery Slope,’ has surprisingly flown off the shelves and has even broken records in Korea for books written by a celebrity. Likely, many gossip hounds are curious for clues about who her mystery boyfriend of five years was.
“They will get more than they bargained for. ‘Telling’ is a gorgeous piece of writing — and utterly heartbreaking. L/N said she hoped that her book would shine a light on domestic violence in Asian American households as well as breaking stigmas about mental health and suicide. She wished to give courage and hope for those who are suffering.” - The Korean Herald, June 2024
“No surprise, Y/N L/N is in the headlines for stirring up controversy again. Men’s rights activists and multiple government officials are calling for a ban on ‘Telling a Truth Is a Slippery Slope’ because she promotes harmful feminism and lacks filial piety. Extra security is being hired for her reading events and local authorities are recommending attendants proceed with caution.” - JoongAng Ilbo, June 2024
“I’m so excited!! I got tickets to Y/N’s book tour stop in Seoul!! I wonder if her old labelmates will attend to support her?” - Twitter user, June 2024
[ + 107,892, - 12,389] “Y/N is a disgrace. A real man would have kicked her to the curb years ago. She had an entire album called ‘Whore of Babylon’ a few years back and now she’s back with this shit. Why do we keep allowing a self-admitted prostitute back into this country? Send this Chinese slut back to where she came from.” - internet user, Pann, June 2024
June 2024
It never failed to surprise Taehyung when he saw all the security and protesters surrounding your events. In theory, he understood it. After all, he was constantly protected by a detail due to his international celebrity status, but you were markedly more lowkey. He could never grasp what it was about you that enraged so many men.
Could they not see how you were a warrior artist of unparalleled caliber? Or maybe that was the problem; they could and were terrified.
He followed his bandmates into Starfield Library and gazed at the 13 meter book display. Though he didn’t think it was your style of bookstore, he understood that the venue was chosen to accommodate BTS, TXT, and some of their other HYBE groups.
“I thought we were supposed to be a surprise,” whispered Jungkook. “But it seems the press already knew?”
“Of course the press knew,” Namjoon remarked acidly. “How else could they drum up publicity for noona’s book? We’re here to do our part. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have flown back from Japan and just continued with the Asia leg of our tour.”
“Why did everyone tell me it was a surprise then?” Jungkook pouted.
Namjoon sighed loudly. “Because it’s a surprise to the general public, Jungkook. They probably didn’t want us to spoil it.”
“Like I’m the one they need to worry about,” Jungkook grumbled back.
“Are you going to be okay?” asked Seokjin quietly. “Yoongi or I can speak if they ask for our opinion. I can be extra ridiculous today if you want.”
Taehyung’s heart warmed at the gesture. Even though he knew Seokjin loved Namjoon, he also knew how much his eldest hyung adored and passionately protected you. Between Seokjin, Yoongi, and Jungkook, you were well defended among his bandmates.
It was good to see Seokjin remind his leader at a critical moment that he was on Team Namjoon, too.
“I’m fine,” Namjoon snapped. He took a deep, calming breath. “I’m fine, hyung,” he tried again, this time with more care. “Sorry for being a dick, Kookie.”
“‘S fine, hyung,” replied Jungkook, eyes wide and full of concern. “Let’s grab a seat, yeah?”
Taehyung and the rest of his bandmates joined the section where all the HYBE artists were expected to sit and chatted with the members of TXT in the row behind them. He glanced over and saw you sitting by yourself in the very front, back erect and proper. He took a moment to take you in and understood exactly why Namjoon still wasn’t over you.
You had buzzed the sides of your hair into a perfectly faded undercut leaving a shaggy mohawk that was styled like the rock star you used to be. Your ears were covered in so many piercings it resembled armor and Taehyung mused it probably was meant as such. He couldn’t see the rest of your outfit but it was black and framed the shape of your back in flattering angles.
He wondered why you were alone and was about to discuss with his members about greeting you when all 180cm of Alton Kuang swept in, clad in Tom Ford and looking every bit the chaebol he was. Alton crushed you to him in a bruising hug and after, you melted into his tender and intimate touches.
Maybe Namjoon had been right and it was another omission of yours that they’d missed. Or maybe it was a recent development. With you, they could never really be sure. You sure seemed like Alton’s girl through and through.
Taehyung flicked his gaze to Namjoon who had stiffened in his seat and was being comforted by Hoseok, who had tasked himself with occupying their leader. As much as Taehyung wanted to support you, he really wished it didn’t have to be in such a public setting and at the expense of Namjoon. The whole situation just made him sad and he wasn’t even a main participant!
Taehyung decided to peruse the program instead and before he knew it, the program was starting. He clapped politely in all the expected places, waved when BTS was highlighted and thanked, and then, it was your turn to read.
You walked up, head held high and looking regal in a sweeping modern Tang Dynasty style jacket covered in embroidered white cranes. Your movements revealed glimpses of a lacy bralette and black linen harem pants paired with black stiletto boots.
Taehyung’s breath caught. He’d forgotten just how devastating you could be and sent up a prayer for Namjoon. They would all need one.
I don’t know why you’re here,but I know why Iam,you began.
Taehyung found himself seduced by your reading voice, a resonant contralto so different from your normal speaking voice. If he had heard your reading voice without context, he would have never connected the sonorous, rich timbre with you. You were so deep and he was lost.
I write this book as an altar; it is my pile of rocks in the middle of the Jordan, you continued. In the future, my children will ask me, “What do these rocks mean?” I will tell them, “The water almost swept me away but the people who loved me would not let me drown. These rocks will always remind me: I was here. I am here. I made a promise, and I will continue to be here.”
Taehyung had always appreciated your lyricism before, though he’d paid more attention to your vocal abilities and musical stylings. It wasn’t that your words hadn’t been important — it was more that he had never been a lyrics guy. And now that he heard your unvarnished prose, it occurred to him for perhaps the first time that you were an extraordinary writer.
By the time you were done with your excerpt, there was not a dry eye in the house.
The emcee made a few remarks and the program switched to the question and answer portion from both members of the press and the floor in general. All seemed to be going smoothly until a male journalist representing a conservative paper got the mic.
“Some say that you’re just desperate for attention — that your suicide attempt was faked and that your book is an attempt to revive your lackluster singing career,” the man inquired. “That as per usual, you relied on the sensationalism of sex instead of actual talent to make headlines. What would you say in the face of such observations?”
Taehyung saw Hoseok place a placating hand on Namjoon’s knee and forced himself not to react. He would not give the press any satisfaction of provoking any drama from him or his members.
The corner of your mouth lifted and Taehyung knew to brace for impact.
“I would say that it seems as if you’re projecting,” you replied serenely as people in the audience stifled nervous snickers.
The man sneered. “Don’t think you can dodge the question with a quippy remark. We know what you really are.”
Your face was unfailingly polite. “And what am I?”
“An opportunistic upstart leveraging all your scandals in the absence of talent,” he said.
All the oxygen snuffed out of the room.
“Is that right?” you drawled, your eyes belying your lazy calm. “Then it is as you say.”
“That’s it?” the man challenged. “That’s all you have to say?”
You shrugged. “Let’s not pretend you care about facts or truths or my interpretation of them. We all shape our own narratives and you have already chosen yours. It’s always nice to see new fiction writers make a name for themselves.”
Taehyung wanted to cheer and some audience members actually clapped as you dismissed the man and said, “Next question?”
The rest of the time continued without incident. Of course, there were several attempts at asking for spoilers about your mystery boyfriend, but you accepted them goodnaturedly and skillfully sidestepped the attempts. There were even several moving moments where fans and readers explained how you comforted them in their hardship or gave them courage to ask for help.
Before Taehyung knew it, the emcee was explaining logistics for the ensuing book signing and then ushering BTS and his label’s groups into group photos with you. He waved quickly to you as he was shepherded out of the venue and the last he saw was you addressing and signing one book after another.
He wished they had more time to properly celebrate your book, but they were rushing back to Japan for the start of his last tour. They’d decided to start their military service in September at the same time as Namjoon so that they could all be back together as a group of seven as quickly as possible.
Taehyung did not realize that he wouldn’t see you again for another two years.
Ha-joon — I don’t know how you did it, man. I’ve been here a week and we’re going to starve. I had to buy a new house because we’re worthless and spoiled and cannot get our lives together. Why didn’t you tell me you were doing all the cooking and cleaning? If you ever decide you need a change in career, there will always be a place in my organizations for a logistics and solutions king such as yourself. - Text from Alton Kuang to Baek Ha-joon, June 2022
Forced Y/N into all sorts of outside and physical activities. I think your sister hates me. Actually, I know she does because she tells me at least ten times a day. This is awesome. - Text from Alton Kuang to Mattie L/N, June 2022
Please take lots of videos and send them to me. Ohohohoh make her go hiking and visit museums. She despises nature and art. - Text from Mattie L/N to Alton Kuang, June 2022
HALP I’M GONNA MURDER ALTON HE’S THE WORST HE MAKES ME GO OUTSIDE YOU KNOW I DON’T BELIEVE IN WATER OR THE SUN OR ART - Text from Y/N L/N to Mattie L/N, June 2022
On a scale of 1 to nuclear, how upset do you think your sister would be if I threw her a surprise birthday party? - Text from Alton Kuang to Mattie L/N, July 2022
You really like skating right up to the edge of death, don’t you? I’m in. - Text from Mattie L/N to Alton Kuang, July 2022
You are cordially invited to a surprise party celebrating Y/N’s 29th birthday on the weekend of August 26-28 in Malibu, CA. Details to come. - Text from Alton Kuang to various friends and family of Y/N L/N, July 2022
STFU HAS Y/N BEEN IN LA THIS WHOLE FUCKING TIME - Text from Ellie Poon to Alton Kuang, July 2022
Um, no? - Text from Alton Kuang to Ellie Poon, July 2022
All men do is lie, huh? - Text from Ellie Poon to Alton Kuang, July 2022
Is she okay? - Text from Ellie Poon to Alton Kuang, July 2022
She’d be better if you showed up for her surprise party. ;) - Text from Alton Kuang to Ellie Poon, July 2022
Does this shit actually work on people? - Text from Ellie Poon to Alton Kuang, July 2022
You tell me. - Text from Alton Kuang to Ellie Poon, July 2022
I’ll need a larger sample size. - Text from Ellie Poon to Alton Kuang, July 2022
Oh, I have a larger sample size. - Text from Alton Kuang to Ellie Poon, July 2022
So predictable. Pics or it didn’t happen. - Text from Ellie Poon to Alton Kuang, July 2022
August 2022
“Promise you won’t get mad,” said Alton.
You leveled a pair of guarded eyes at your dear friend. “I promise no such thing.”
“Ok, fair. But like, hear me out before you go ballistic,” he replied, both hands held out placatingly.
You tilted your head in a wary prompt.
“So, I wanted it to be a surprise but then it occurred to me that you hate surprises — except it’s a little too late and uh —”
“What did you do, Alton?”
“Happy Birthday, Jiě,” your brother said as he popped into the kitchen.
Before you could register his presence, Ellie, Sarah, and Angela followed in his wake and screamed variations of “Happy Birthday, you sexy bitch!” As if that wasn’t already somewhat overwhelming, the next thing you knew, Danny, your best friend from high school, strolled in, too.
“Surprise?” Alton threw out weak jazz hands and seemed very unsure.
If you were honest, you weren’t particularly pleased about the sudden influx of people in Alton’s kitchen. Even though you loved them dearly, they all knew you a little too well to let you hide effectively. Guilt crashed through you as you acknowledged that you had a lot to answer for — especially to your girlfriends who all lived in the area.
You wanted to scream. Instead, because you loved your brother and your friends, you acquiesced into the role expected from you. You screamed, “Oh my god!” You opened your arms wide. You embraced your loved ones tight and long.
You lied with every molecule of your being.
———
Ellie exhaled an impressive amount of smoke considering it was from a vape pen. You idly admired her lung capacity.
“When did you start vaping?” you asked. “I didn’t know you needed the nicotine hit.”
Ellie chuckled. “Oh, you darling. I’m vaping weed, honey.”
You tried to be cool. “Oh,” you gulped.
You were no longer in Korea and though you had known people who smoked marijuana during college, you had never been tempted to try it. The idea of getting high and losing control had seemed anathema even then. When you tried to reason out on how it was any different than how you now used alcohol, you came up at a loss. But either way, you’d been in Taiwan and Korea where cannabis was highly illegal. You did not fuck with it.
“I know you’re judging me,” she said, still staring over your balcony and down at the pool instead of looking at you directly. “It helps me chill the fuck out — you know how I get anxious.”
“Ah,” you grunted.
“It got really bad after Ryan left me.”
“Fuck, Ellie. I’m sorry.” Guilt flooded your brain. You were the worst of friends.
She took another hit. “Just another casualty of COVID,” Ellie cracked. “Apparently, I was a workaholic and emotionally unavailable.”
“He’s a fool.”
“He wasn’t wrong. I did work too much and was emotionally unavailable.” She sighed. “Nothing like being forced in your husband’s presence 24/7 to make you realize that you’ve grown apart and that one of you no longer wants to try and work things out.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, Ellie,” you said. “I’m sorry you had to go through such a hard thing alone.”
“You had your own problems.” Ellie was far too gracious.
The two of you sat in silence as the sun continued setting and the sky slowly darkened.
“Does it work? You don’t feel too high to function or out of control?”
“You know those times when your brain is just a bundle of anxiety and useless and you have to wait until the voices quiet so you can finally think?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s like that. Antidepressants made me feel too wonky and I hated it so I tried cannabis instead. You’ll have to figure out what works best for you — or if it’s not your bag — but it’s been the only reason I could make it through the day sometimes.” Ellie passed you the vape pen. “Wanna try? I know having us here has been hard for you.”
“I love having you all here,” you protested.
“Hmmmm,” she hummed. “They can both be true.”
You stared at the innocuous looking pen. You’d vaped regular e-cigarettes before — was this really any different? “Is it going to make me hungry all the time?”
She laughed. “Maybe. But more likely you’ll get super horny.”
“Hungry for that dick, huh?”
“At least you live with Alton. He looks like he’d be more than happy to help you with that.”
“You know we’re not like that, Ellie.”
“He bought you a Lamborghini for your birthday. I don’t know what you’re like.”
“Not like how you’re implying, s’all.” It had been too long without Ellie in your life. You’d forgotten the roundabout way she could be sometimes; you connected the dots. “He’s all yours. Don’t break his heart too badly.”
“The only thing I plan on breaking is his bed,” she retorted. “I don’t know how you’ve been able to resist him all these months. Like, I get before — you were with Namjoon. But now? I would have been on his dick as soon as he arrived in LA.”
“I could barely get out of bed when Alton got here,” you said. “Now he’s the source of all my pain and suffering. His dick is the last thing on my mind.”
Ellie snorted in disbelief.
“It’s true. You know he’s making me take surfing lessons with him?” You took a pull from your beer. “He makes me go on hikes and then roped me into playing beach volleyball with him and some of his bros. All that salt and sun — I have had to spend a fortune on skin care.”
“Remember when you used to start off every morning writing morning pages?” Ellie asked, abruptly changing the subject.
“You mean when I’d write three pages of crap every morning? I recall hating it,” you remarked. You were not sure where this was going.
“I decided to try it this last year. You might want to take it back up,” she said. “You seem near to bursting with words you refuse to say.”
“I don’t understand what you mean,” you replied, stomach dropping.
“You keep so much inside now — it’s not good for your health,” she replied sadly. Ellie stood up, brushing her clothes absentmindedly. “I know you don’t want us to worry — and perhaps your thoughts aren’t coherent enough to speak out loud. But morning pages might help when the voices are on loop or the lies in your head get too loud.”
“What would I even write about?”
“Whatever you want, Y/N. There are no rules except that you fill three pages.” Ellie bent over and wrapped you in a tight hug. “I love you, roomie.”
Your throat constricted. “Love you, too.”
She slid open the balcony door to your room.
“You forgot your pen,” you called after her.
“Keep it, babe. You seem to need it more than I do.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Sometimes the idea of a multiverse is comforting. Out of my infinite versions, surely there exists a me who is happy. Other times, the thought that there are countless iterations who are just as — if not worse off — I can’t breathe.” -Y/N L/N, Twitter (April 2026)
April 2026
“You know it’s not true, right?” asked Taehyung.
You froze in the doorway.
“What’s not true? That the musical parts of me are broken? I think I would know.”
Taehyung carefully gentled his voice. “The part about you letting your father die. You didn’t abandon him.” He refrained from going to you. You did not seem as if you’d appreciate his touch. “He made his choices.”
“I abandoned him.”
“You freed yourself,” he insisted. “You’re right: he wasn’t a monster. But your father, the man, was killing you.”
Even from several feet away, he could see you tremble as you turned back to face him.
“It was just money. Let’s not overdramatize.” You sounded so mean and Taehyung almost flinched.
“What would have happened if you were beholden to the Lau family in your father’s stead, noona? Alton hyung told me —”
“Since when do you talk to Alton?”
“You think he just lets anyone stay at his home with you? You’d think Yoongi hyung and I were common criminals with the way he investigated us.”
Taehyung never wanted to go through such an experience ever again. He shuddered at the memory of Alton’s congenial demeanor as he had threatened Taehyung with utmost and complete destruction should either of them harm you. Even the unflappable Yoongi hyung had seemed rattled. Either that or he’d been aroused. Taehyung wasn’t sure which would’ve been more disturbing.
“At any rate, hyung said that the entire family was dangerous — especially their youngest son. Hyung’d said that he was a known abuser of women and had been uncommonly obsessed with you.”
“I would’ve handled it,” you replied.
Taehyung wasn’t so sure about that. “Maybe,” he acceded. “But at what cost to yourself?”
Your hands tightened into hard fists. “We’ll never know,” you grated out.
“Thank you for telling me, noona,” he said, attempting to mollify you. That, and he really was grateful. “I won’t tell anyone.”
“You can tell Yoongi,” you replied. “I — I don’t know that I can say it again.”
“Okay,” he replied. He decided he would ask if you wanted a hug. “Noona, could I hug you?”
“I — I don’t think I can handle that right now, Tae,” you said, voice tiny. At his disappointment, you added, “I appreciate you asking, though.”
“Of course, noona,” Taehyung said. “You know we love you so very much, right?”
You gave him a curt nod and left him alone in the kitchen. Taehyung tried not to feel discouraged or wonder how he was to act as if he were in love with you — let alone enact the love scenes — if you couldn’t even let him hug you.
———
“When blips think they’re mains. Oh, bebe. A vague subtweet is the best you can aspire to.” - Y/N L/N, Twitter (May 2026)
May 2026
“Do you want to go home?” Taehyung inquired in your ear as he slid next to where you stood by the outdoor bar, noting only that the white man speaking to you bristled when Taehyung’s fingers possessively grazed your bare arms. It always amused Taehyung how differently secure and insecure men reacted to him.
You shook your head lightly. “Taehyung, this is Gary,” you introduced in English. “Gary, this is Taehyung.”
“Nice to meet you,” Taehyung said in careful English as he extended his hand in the way of westerners.
Gary’s handshake was unnecessarily firm. Poor Gary, so eager to prove his masculinity.
“How do you know Y/N, Taehyung?” Strange how Gary sounded so protective and oddly clingy.
“We work together,” Taehyung said, sticking to the agreed upon script.
Though you had assured him that your college friend, an Allen Tsao, had only invited your mutual college friends — most of whom were already married and had kids — the longer people didn’t realize who he was, the better. Taehyung was banking on the racist nature of Americans assuming all Asians were the same, though most of your friends from college seemed to be Asian so perhaps this man wouldn’t actually be confused.
Taehyung just hoped that Allen was used to high profile guests due to his occupation of being a movie producer. You had mentioned he was someone to watch, producing edgy indie and Asian American films. It certainly seemed like he was a big deal due to the fact that there was a live trio playing light jazz and pop in the corner of the patio as well as an actual manned bar for a simple backyard party — well, as simple as the backyard of any Malibu mansion could be.
“For the movie?” Gary asked. “You said it starts filming soon?”
“Something like that,” you replied cagily.
Gary seemed on the verge of asking you something but clearly didn’t like the fact that Taehyung was present. Taehyung could always tell who was a social climber or if they had ulterior motives. Gary definitely was one or the other; Taehyung did not like his face.
“Am I in it?” Gary asked, sharp and unsure.
“In what? The movie?”
What a weird question. Oh, unless —
“I have a family now, Y/N,” he said. “I’m an elder in our church.”
Taehyung recognized the way your face pinched in annoyance — you didn’t even bother trying to plaster over it with politeness.
“It’s not an actual biopic, Gary. You weren’t even in the book, why would you be in the movie? Jesus.”
Every bit of you vibrated with irritation. Taehyung suddenly wished Yoongi wasn’t talking to Allen in the corner. Yoongi tended to unruffle your feathers better than most — although perhaps you didn’t need unruffling so much as this man needed a rescue before his imminent death.
“How do you know Allen?” Taehyung interrupted.
Gary seemed startled, as if he’d forgotten Taehyung was still there. “Oh, Allen and I lived in the same dorm in college and we hung out occasionally. A few of our friends overlapped and we hung out a lot more after college.”
“Fascinating,” said Taehyung. “What do you do for work?”
“Ah, I’m between jobs right now. I decided to take some time off to help my wife with our new baby,” replied Gary.
“Oh, congratulations on the new baby! How old are they?” Taehyung asked. He knew how to make polite small talk despite it boring him to tears.
“He’s three next month.”
Fascinating. Before Taehyung could ask some more banal questions, Allen was tapping into the mic, gathering everyone’s attention.
“Hey, everyone! Let’s have a round of applause for my intern and his band, ‘The Rice Rockets’!” Allen paused to let everyone chuckle at the name and then cleared his throat. “As I’m sure you’ve all seen, our very own Y/N L/N is back with us and gracing us with her presence after years away.”
Taehyung sensed your entire body tense as you painted on a good-natured grin and waved.
“It’s been years since we’ve heard you sing — would you grace us with a little something, Y/N?” Allen added.
You flushed and shook both your hands in an obvious attempt to duck this unwelcomed spotlight. Taehyung thought he could see a slight tremor as you fluttered in embarrassment.
“You’re not too good for us now, are you?” Gary asked, voice pitched to carry. “You never used to be so modest.”
Your eyes flashed violence but all you did was smile. “It’s been a long time since I’ve sung anything,” you croaked out. “I would hate to subject anyone to that.”
“Oh, nonsense,” encouraged Allen. “What do you say, everyone? Do we want to hear Y/N?”
The twenty to thirty people in Allen’s backyard cheered and started chanting your name.
Taehyung wanted to reach out and comfort you but he could already tell that you were at maximum tension — he did not know if you would break.
You crooked a wry smile. “Ah, alright. You’ve twisted my arm,” you chortled as if you were secretly pleased. “But don’t blame me if it sucks.”
You sucked in a deep breath and whooshed it out and then sashayed to the makeshift stage, periodically bowing and clowning around. If Taehyung hadn’t just spent a month with you trying to squeeze music out of stone, he would have never known you were likely desperately attempting to seem normal.
You asked for the acoustic guitar from Allen’s intern and bought yourself some time tuning the instrument — as if the man hadn’t just been playing on it. You took one more deep breath and began playing. The notes were incredibly familiar to Taehyung and then you began singing “blackbird singing in the dead of night / take these broken wings and learn to fly / all your life / you were only waiting for this moment to arise.”
Taehyung watched as you sang in your lower register, your voice husky with disuse and smoke. Though he was angry that you’d been publicly manipulated into singing and playing again, he had missed you. When he snuck a glance at Yoongi, the older man seemed visibly moved — and no small wonder. The song itself was already intimate and moving, but something about your energy imbued it with even more poignancy.
He wanted to cry.
When you finished, you’d bowed and at the whistles for encores, you again tried to wave off. You laughed nervously into the mic. “Unfortunately, I haven’t picked up a guitar in over five years so that will have to do.”
Your friends’ groaned in what Taehyung considered friendly disappointment until he heard Gary’s now familiar voice heckle, “Maybe we’re just unsatisfied because you chose something every beginning guitarist knows!”
A smattering of “fuck off, Gary” and “Jesus” and other disgruntled murmurs peppered the yard.
Allen hovered by the mic, looking as if he was going to rescue you but ultimately, giving you the choice of whether to continue or not.
You sighed and went through the motions of tuning the guitar again, taking the moment to think. “Will John Mayer’s ‘Neon’ suffice, Gary?” You huffed a colorless laugh as you shook your head. “Ah, fuck it.”
Taehyung didn’t recognize the song but he assumed by the rising buzz from the group that it must be difficult.
“Here goes nothing,” you hummed.
You began to play a complicated slap rhythm guitar with syncopated beats and elaborate fingering. It was dizzying and by the whistles of appreciation, your college friends agreed that you were amazing. And then, you started to sing, too.
Taehyung could not understand how you could keep track of all the different rhythms and fingering as well as carry a tune — let alone remember the words. And this was after five years of not touching the guitar? Who knew how long it had been since you’d played this particular song.
Minutes later, the makeshift audience gave you a standing ovation. You bowed with much brandishing, twirling, and exaggerated good cheer and made your way out of the limelight. Taehyung and Yoongi beelined it to you and all seemed well until he took note of your face as Allen was busy making apologies to you about Gary.
“Don’t listen to him, Y/N,” Allen begged. “He’s an ass and we only keep him around out of misplaced nostalgia.”
“Don’t worry about it, Allen,” you assuaged despite you clearly wanting Allen to actually worry about it. “I know it’s an awkward situation. All the same, I’m — I’m going to head out.” At Allen’s protest, you added, “I appreciate the invitation, friend. It was good to see you all.”
It took at least another hour before you could actually leave due to your endless goodbyes, all of them telling you to stay longer.
As it was, the drive home was a stilted silence and by the time the three of you got back to Alton’s home, you were unable even to fake a smile.
You didn’t even say goodnight as you closed the door to your room.
———
“Noona,” Taehyung said as he knocked on your door. “Noona, please come out. It’s been three days. Hyung is worried and I don’t know how long I can keep him from calling Alton hyung.”
He heard some scuffling and shifting weight on your bed. After a few moments, your door cracked open a bit. You looked awful and were wrapped in your blanket despite the heat of the day.
“Noona? Are you okay?”
You shook your head.
“Do you need a hug?”
You winced but nodded. That was all the permission Taehyung needed as he bounded into your room and enveloped you into an embrace that was perhaps erring on the side of too tight but he was a human octopus and you knew that so you knew what you’d been doing when you’d agreed to terms.
Or at least, that’s what Taehyung was hoping would be the case. At any rate, he was hugging you and you were not pushing him away. That seemed to be a good sign.
After an unspecified number of minutes and Taehyung’s arms were starting to cramp, he said, “Noona, don’t take this the wrong way but you need to shower.” At your sputtered indignance, he added, “Not because you smell — well, not only because of that — but because you’ll feel better. Honestly, we’ll all feel better.”
You shoved him lightly. “Rude,” you complained. “I smell delightful because everything about me is a delight and wonderment for all humankind.”
Taehyung only stared at you mournfully. “You learned all that Korean just to what? Spout words that make Seokjin hyung sound modest?”
“My goal is only to make oppa sound reasonable,” you replied, adding in English, “I can do all things through oppa who strengthens me.”
It all sounded vaguely ominous to Taehyung.
“I have no idea what that means,” he admitted after a few beats.
“Don’t worry about it. It’s only funny if you can quote the Bible ironically.”
“I can see why people hate you.” He hoped he wasn’t pushing his luck.
You sighed as if even your bones ached. “Fair.”
Suddenly, you leaned over to remove your sleeping shorts and Taehyung squeaked. “Noona! Wait until I leave first!”
You huffed a bleak little puff of air. “We’re supposed to be fake naked with each other in a few months, Tae. I’m sure I’ll be even less dressed then.”
“But we’ll have an intimacy coach present — and only after we have blocked out the scenes!”
Taehyung did not want any of his members — especially Namjoon hyung — to accuse him of swooping in on your vulnerable state. He would maintain proper decorum because it was the right thing to do. You deserved all the respect — especially after the way your so-called friends had manipulated you the other night.
You stopped and pierced Taehyung with your unfaltering gaze. His insides churned with guilt despite him having done nothing to merit it.
“You’re right, Tae. I’m sorry for making you feel uncomfortable. I forget that not everyone wants to see me naked.”
He promptly shoved images of you spread out underneath him out of his mind. Utmost. Respect. “You’re really giving hyung a run for his money, huh?”
You shrugged. “Some days, it’s the only thing giving me purpose.” You sighed again. “Come on, now. Get out and let noona rid herself of this scaly dragon skin and finally emerge a human again. It requires sharp claws and teeth and perhaps may shed some blood.”
“You’re speaking Korean and yet, I don’t understand a single word out of your mouth,” he mused.
“They probably translated Lewis into Korean differently than I phrased it,” you replied.
Despite not knowing who this Lewis person was, Taehyung merely harumphed an acknowledgment as he left your room. It probably was some literary reference that Namjoon would have immediately recognized. Not for the first time did Taehyung feel out of his depth around you. He resigned himself to the fact that it would not be the last.
———
I’m sorry, Yoongi. I hope you at least got the bones of songs for future usage. - Text from Y/N L/N to Min Yoongi, June 2026
Don’t worry about it. Technically, I have until a few weeks after they’ve finished filming and editing before I have to hand anything in. - Text from Min Yoongi to Y/N L/N, June 2026
Then why did you insist on coming out to LA and making me feel bad? - Text from Y/N L/N to Min Yoongi, June 2026
Free trip to LA. Also, I’m a dick. - Text from Min Yoongi to Y/N L/N, June 2026
You were hoping Alton would come out and visit, huh? - Text from Y/N L/N to Min Yoongi, June 2026
I don’t know what you’re talking about. - Text from Min Yoongi to Y/N L/N, June 2026
I’m depressed not stupid. - Text from Y/N L/N to Min Yoongi, June 2026
Also, because I’m awesome, he loves it when people talk interior design to him. Like, REALLY likes it. - Text from Y/N L/N to Min Yoongi, June 2026
Like, wainscoting? Enfilade? Etagere? J-box? - Text from Min Yoongi to Y/N L/N, June 2026
Watch your fucking mouth, you heathen. I’m a good girl, I am. - Text from Y/N L/N to Min Yoongi, June 2026
Anytime you want to watch my fucking mouth, baby. I can make you bad if you want. - Text from Min Yoongi to Y/N L/N, June 2026
No quippy rejoinder? That’s what I thought. Coward. - Text from Min Yoongi to Y/N L/N, June 2026
Hyung, I’m remodeling my spare penthouse. Was debating between trompe l’oeil or coffered ceilings. What are your thoughts? - Text from Min Yoongi to Alton Kuang, June 2026
Oh? Talk square footage with me, friend. - Text from Alton Kuang to Min Yoongi, June 2026
Quick. Tell me everything you know about Min Yoongi. - Text from Alton Kuang to Y/N L/N, June 2026
June 2026
“Noona, I feel like I need to see where you grew up. Walk the streets you walked. Breathe the air you breathed.”
Taehyung didn’t know what quite possessed him to ask you, but ever since the idea seized him one late night as he watched you and Yoongi battle it out morosely over the MIDI, he couldn’t let it go.
You flicked your gaze up at Taehyung, the tightening of your grip on your hot tea your only tell.
“Oh?” you murmured. “I will have to find out from Mattie when my mother will be out of the house. But I suppose I can take you to the country club and you can get in a few rounds of golf.”
Taehyung’s eyes lit up. “Really? I didn’t even know you could play golf, noona!”
“My parents made me take lessons as a kid. I wasn’t very good,” you muttered. “And then Alton made me golf with him so I got better under protest. Let me make some calls.” You paused a bit. “Do you want a tour of UCLA, too? A lot of the dorms have changed but we can do that before we go up north unless you want to wait until we film there on location.”
“Yeah, let’s do it!”
“It will have to be a quick trip, though,” you added. “Filming starts in two weeks.”
“Should I ask my manager to book flights?” he asked.
You pondered for a few moments. “You know what? Let’s drive and help you practice driving stick. Plus, I’ll show you some of California’s famous vistas. We can even play a round at Pebble Beach.”
“Thanks, noona,” Taehyung said, practically bouncing with excitement. “You’re the best.”
“I’m not, but you’ve been a good sport these last few months. It couldn’t have been very much fun.”
“It wasn’t, but Allen and I got along well enough after I made sure he cleared up the misunderstanding with Gary,” Taehyung shared happily. At your furrowed brows, he realized he’d misspoke.
“What did you clear up, Taehyung?” you asked quietly.
Taehyung rubbed the back of his neck.
“Oh, uh, just how, you know, it was really shitty of Allen to have put you on the spot like that and then not put Gary in his place.” Taehyung presented you with his best innocent boxy grin. “Allen is a good guy so he apologized more and offered to take me to various places in LA and introduce me to his network. He even volunteered to film future M/Vs at a severe discount so now we’re friends.”
“Allen is a decent person, but he’s definitely always looking out for himself, Taehyung. Be careful,” you warned. “Your network is 100% more powerful than his.”
“I’m a grown up, noona,” he retorted. “You know I have a good vibe check.”
“Hmmmm.”
“Plus, he’s fun and knows all the cool spots in K-town despite not being Korean.”
“Ah, the truth comes out,” you grinned.
“Someone has to take care of me, noona,” he pouted. “You’re always working — either with a trainer, learning choreo, or fighting with hyung about music.”
“Well, Yoongi is back in Seoul so at least you’re spared that,” you replied. “Want to leave tomorrow? If we head out early, we can grab a late lunch at my favorite Chinese restaurant in Berkeley.”
“Sounds good, noona,” Taehyung replied as he headed toward his room.
“Oh, and don’t forget to pack some warmer clothes! June Gloom is a thing in California — especially along the coasts!”
“Yes, mom!” he hollered back, not bothering to hide his laughter at your indignant “Yah! The disrespect!” You sounded like Seokjin the more time passed and it comforted him for some reason.
It was going to be great.
———
It was not great. It wasn’t terrible, either. But it wasn’t great.
It just was… anticlimactic.
But mostly, Taehyung was not prepared for the understated wealth you’d grown up around. He was ridiculously rich now, and still, he was impressed with the house you’d grown up in. It was massive, filled with art and expensive furniture and rugs.
When he asked if your mother would be upset at you entering the house without her, you merely shrugged and said, “It’s technically my house, Taehyung. I certainly pay all the property taxes and utilities.” You drank in your surroundings greedily. “Besides, she can’t possibly hate me more.”
He let the topic drop, content to soak in the house and its atmosphere. He noted how there was not a single picture of you on the walls — a marked contrast to his parents’ home. Your brother was very present, but you? You were invisible.
“Which was your room?” he asked quietly.
When you indicated the room but made no move towards it, he went ahead on his own. If it had ever harbored a teenaged you, Taehyung could no longer tell. It was a perfectly appointed guest room and part of him grieved.
You had been so thoroughly excised. He could not imagine a family that operated as such. You might have grown up rich, but to Taehyung, your family wallowed in poverty.
You soon took him to the local country club and he had a perfectly tasteful country club lunch and then a round of golf in the golden California sun where he summarily trounced you (though Taehyung had a sneaking suspicion you were letting him win).
Taehyung wondered at how he’d never thought to question whether the small, sleepy town you’d grown up in was awash in money or not. He remembered how you had made it seem as if you’d grown up in some backwater town and not one filled with huge estates hidden in the rolling foothills — as well as the many country club golf courses from which he could choose.
“Noona, you said you grew up in the boonies,” he protested.
“It was, in a way,” you replied as you drove the golf cart to the next hole. “It was super white, super sheltered, and super out of touch with reality.”
“It doesn’t seem so bad,” he remarked.
You cut him a glance. “You of all people should know that the surface is never as it seems. It was stifling. I couldn’t wait to escape.”
“People seem nice enough.”
“My parents received a letter in their mailbox the day after they moved in, telling them to go back to where they came from,” you said. “We were one of, like, six Asian families in this gated community and we were constantly treated like shit. It was obvious they didn’t want us here.”
“Oh,” said Taehyung. He should have known better based on how his band was treated in the U.S. and other western countries.
“Make no mistake, Tae, money only buys you the illusion of being protected from racism. But the instant they’re alone, we’re nothing but chinks and gooks.”
Taehyung nodded, chagrined that this was the universal experience of being Asian in the U.S.
You spent the next two days showing him your old high school, your old church, and introducing him to a few more of your elementary and high school friends. Taehyung was even happily surprised to see Danny — one of your friends who had visited you in Seoul — and pumped the older man for more embarrassing stories about you.
Before he knew it, the two of you were taking the scenic route down the 101 back to Los Angeles. This time, he made you choose the playlist though you insisted all your playlists were five years out of date. He merely scoffed and said that he’d made the two of you listen to old jazz standards on the drive up — and those were definitely old.
When Taehyung added he’d been surprised that you’d already known most of the songs, you replied that you’d been in the jazz choir during high school.
“Anyone worth their salt knows the American songbook, Tae,” you said. “Well, at least if they grew up here. I don’t expect you to know anymore than you’d expect me to know Korean classics.”
“You do know a decent amount of classic Korean music though,” Taehyung remarked.
You unsuccessfully tried to wipe the smug expression from your face. “Well, music was my job for a while,” you said and returned to queuing up songs as he concentrated on the road to Monterey.
The next few days were filled with you hugging the curves of the 101 at a reasonably thrilling speed as he stared out at the Pacific, stopping to take photos of elephant seals or look at historic landmarks like Hearst Castle or the Madonna Inn. Taehyung felt inexplicably warm whenever he caught you smiling in genuine happiness.
On the last night before returning to Los Angeles, the two of you checked into a swanky resort in Santa Barbara and while Taehyung would never call you a relaxed sort of person, he could see you noticeably tense as the night carried on. After eating lots of rich foods and killing a bottle of wine between you, he suggested a stroll down the beach and though you seemed as if it were the last thing you wanted to do, you agreed.
“Thanks for taking me on this detour and showing me around your home state, noona,” Taehyung said.
“Of course, Taehyung,” you said. After a long silent spell, you added, “The recovery center I stayed at is a few miles down the road, you know.”
“Oh,” he replied.
You never spoke about that time and most days, he could forget that you’d gone through such a devastating period. Most days, he just thought of you as his depressed noona who was a lot like how Yoongi used to be.
He chided himself for having totally forgotten.
“I would take you to tour the facility, but I don’t ever want to go back there,” you said.
“Were they bad to you?” he asked.
The wind whipped your hair across your face as you shook it. “It wasn’t that they were bad so much as they were culturally ill-equipped.” You shuddered and Taehyung gave into the urge to wrap his arms around you. “The house manager-nim and I stayed in was a little further away, but that had at least slightly better memories of Ha-joon oppa.”
Taehyung absentmindedly planted a light kiss on the crown of your head. “I’m so glad you had Alton hyung and manager-nim to take care of you, noona.”
You just nodded and brushed wayward tears off your cheeks. Taehyung was surprised you let him hold you as long as you did, but he was content. You smelled a little sweaty but also like the citrus shampoo you favored. He would hold you until you pushed him away.
“I have a confession to make,” you whispered after a few more moments.
“What is it, noona?” he asked. “You can tell me.”
You turned around in his arms and flicked your gaze to his before focusing on an indeterminate point behind him. You really were Yoongi hyung.
“I — I haven’t kissed anyone since Namjoon and — and I’m worried I’ll be awful on screen — the movie rides on our chemistry, Taehyung — and I don’t want to just kiss anyone to practice with — and maybe you wouldn’t mind since —”
Taehyung raised a finger to your lips, effectively shushing you. Your face burst into flames as your eyes fixated on his mouth.
Taehyung smiled softly at you. “If you wanted to kiss me, noona, you could have just said so. You don’t have to make up a reason.”
“I’m not —”
Taehyung didn’t get to hear the rest of your sentence because he was already pressing his lips into yours. He decided that the less time you had to freak out, the better. Your lips were slightly chapped but overall, he enjoyed the shape of your mouth slotting with his.
Except though you kissed him back, he could tell you were not fully present. For one, your whole body was way too tense — perhaps due to shock. And two, well, he’d figure that out later because quite frankly, he was a little distracted in trying to open you up.
“Relax, noona. You’re thinking too much.”
“Taehy—”
Taehyung took advantage of your lips parting to risk a little flick of his tongue and at your throaty “oh,” he knew he had you.
“That’s it, noona,” he husked. He lifted a hand to cup the base of your neck and you melted.
You let him in and Taehyung was determined to make it worth it. You tasted like the cabernet you’d shared at dinner and a hint of salt from the sea. Every now and then, a tiny gasp would escape and Taehyung would feel the sighs go straight to his groin.
You were going to be trouble.
Eventually, the wind became too much and Taehyung broke away, however reluctantly. You stumbled back a step, eyes glassy and lips swollen, hand touching your mouth reverently.
And then, before Taehyung could gather his bearings, you closed the distance between your bodies and devoured him whole.
Taehyung was so utterly fucked.
———
“V of BTS was seen on set at ‘A Slippery Slope’ though he is not slated for any scenes until filming moves to Korea. Sources close to the movie claim V is often in the trailers of Y/N L/N and is even staying at her Malibu and San Marino residences. Could there be a romance brewing between the attractive co-stars?” - The National Enquirer, July 2026
July 2026
The thing of it was, Taehyung didn’t technically need to be on set, let alone the country. All the flashback scenes they were shooting had nothing to do with him except he found himself really wanting to be present.
It was just that after your trip up and down California — not to mention that massive makeout session on the beach — he felt much closer and possibly even more protective of you than before. So if his only purpose was serving as your moral support, it was enough for him.
You were required on set because quite simply, you were the source material. Also, you and the Asian American actresses portraying the younger selves of Vikki Yu needed to have a consistent narrative as well as continuity of mannerisms.
Taehyung watched as all of you grew to rely on and trust the actor playing Vikki’s father. He was a kind gentleman who constantly checked in on the actresses after portraying particularly abusive scenes, adamant on ensuring everyone knew he was acting and in no way an actual threat — especially for the young girls playing Vikki’s elementary, middle and high school selves.
When you weren’t needed for consultation, Taehyung helped as you ran your lines repeatedly in a quick, monotone voice. He wasn’t necessarily the fastest at reading English lines but you mostly needed him to provide an auditory stop as you memorized thousands of words. He tried his best though he wasn’t sure why you chose him to run lines with instead of the Asian American actor who played Roland Tan, the Alton Kuang facsimile and other potential love interest in the movie.
He hoped it was because you found him a source of serenity and not because you were looking for ways to occupy him because he was otherwise in the way.
It was, however, somewhat confusing, too. Part of Taehyung felt as if he were betraying his hyung with his tumultuous feelings and so, he tucked them away until they could serve him in his scenes with you.
You didn’t have to tell Taehyung how you grew increasingly anxious as your scenes with your pretend father and those depicting your recovery approached. Every cell of your being vibrated with terror — a fact you unsuccessfully attempted to hide from him.
It got worse after your filming started.
You often required Taehyung to gently be a touchstone so you could snap out of that dark place you sunk into for those sequences.
“Hey, noona,” he would say in Korean as you’d blink slowly, surprised at his presence. “It’s me, your Taehyungie. You’re safe, noona. No one can hurt you here.”
You would come back, slightly embarrassed but still grateful. But as the days dragged on, you disappeared more and more into yourself and Taehyung worried, unsure of how to recall you back to the present.
Some days, you were so emotionally worn that you would toss him the keys to your yellow Lamborghini, only piping up occasionally that he was grinding your gears into dust despite all your efforts to teach him how to drive stick properly. Taehyung knew he was actually a pretty good driver — even with the manual shift — so he just let you blow off steam in the manner in which you felt most comfortable.
Those nights, Taehyung knew to leave you alone on your balcony as you smoked blunt after blunt. You were a little worse for wear the next morning, but you were always on set by the first call time like the professional you were.
How Taehyung wished he could cradle you in soothing murmurs and kisses, except ever since the trip, you’d been exceedingly cautious on crossing any physical boundaries with him. You’d even pulled back on hugging and general touch — which Taehyung missed something fierce.
He was starving for any sort of human contact and thus, he found himself taking the Lamborghini out every now and then to party with Allen. If he occasionally took a person — male or female, he wasn’t picky — to a hotel for a few hours before he drove back to San Marino, that was his own business.
At least his English rapidly improved due to daily usage.
Taehyung not only gained more American friends, he gained more insight into your character’s background so that he could ponder how Choi Eun-seong could possibly push Vikki Yu’s buttons with his own particular mannerisms in his future scenes. He started up a notes document so he could refer to it when he was back in Korea.
Taehyung bent all his energy into preparing his lines, making sure you weren’t spiraling too terribly, and channeling any pent up emotions into humming the occasional melody or scrawling a few incoherent lyrics and sending them to Yoongi.
Except, Taehyung couldn’t help but feel as if everything was crashing forward to a head — and he didn’t know who would emerge from the rubble.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Reference Notes:
1) The first song Y/N plays is “Blackbird” by The Beatles.
2) The Bible verse Y/N quotes is: “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” (Philippians 4:13 NKJV)
3) The story Y/N references is Eustace in “The Voyage of the Dawn Treader” by C.S. Lewis.
summary; a disney enchanted!au, where a cynical divorce lawyer’s life is turned upside down when he sees you hanging from a disneyworld billboard. looking for your prince, you shake up jungkook’s life by warming his life and warming his heart. disney cliches, harsh realities and animal sidekicks ensue pairing; divorce lawyer/dilf!kook x princess!reader genre/warnings; fluff, crack, angst, dad!koo, modern fantasy au, fairy tale au, jungkook’s a hot dad but a hot mess, this is absolute chaos, humor in its worst form, sexual exploration, smut in the form of female masterbation in the flowery-est way possible, virgin!reader, a whole lot of disney puns w/c;11.6k a/n; thank you thank you thank u for yet another supportive and loving year. im happy to end of the year with ever ever after, and to start the year off with ever ever after! bonus points if u find all the disney references! happy new year all, stay safe and stay sweet
It’s been a day.
First it was the case with the couple Myra and Jubilee. Jubilee is decidedly not joyous or celebratory in any way, and gives Jungkook a hard time when it comes down to the settlement of their marriage.
Then he got a phone call from Nari’s school, her teacher citing how worried she is that Nari’s grades are dropping in reading. “Her reading is at a Fountas and Pinell level J and it’s already the middle of third grade,” the teacher babbled in his ear during his five-minute lunch break. He doesn’t know who Fountas and Pinell are, but they can go suck it.
Finally, Krystal and Nari got into a fight right before he picked her up. It’s been a couple years since he and Krystal made the leap, so it’s been a long time coming. Jungkook isn’t necessarily worried about the relationship between his girlfriend and daughter, but since day one it’s been decidedly so that their personalities do not mesh comfortably. They try, really. Krystal isn’t really a kid-person, but he supposes they love each other and that’s all that matters.
“How could she,” Nari babbles, cheeks still ruddied and read from her previous scream-fest, “I just wanted one story, daddy! She wouldn’t read anything! Can she not read?”
“Nari,” he sighs over the wheel, watching the pitter-patter of rain streaming down his windows, “you know how busy Krystal is with work. She was probably just as tired as you.”
“But daddy, you’re always busy and you make time for me.”
“You are a smart one, aren’t you?”
“Because of you, daddy.”
At least the night can end off sweet. He can’t help the little smile that takes over his features. It’s a tired smile, due to the fact that it’s almost 9PM and the buttons on his suit are way too tight for this late hour, but nevertheless his daughter always manages to cheer him up.
“Let’s get some McDonalds?” he knows he doesn’t even have to ask the question, “chicken nuggies?”
“Chicken nuggies!” Nari cheers.
So they get some chicken nuggies and share an Oreo McFlurry on the drive back to the apartment. Nari is still babbling about school and whatever nonsensical information she deems important to her father’s ears. Jungkook half-listens, still thinking about the non-jubilous Jubilee and the stress that will roll over to the next morning.
The rain’s mostly stopped, and Jungkook shoves a handful of fries in his mouth as soon as his car is parked, pulling himself out of the car. Nari’s first, hopping out of her booster and threading her arms through her My Little Pony backpack.
The pavement is still kind of gross, that type of city grime that tacks onto the tar and never goes away. He sighs, looking over to Nari who’s jumping up and down and pointing to whatever billboard is above their complex. Nari’s always seeing things, making up imaginary friends in her head so he thinks nothing of it.
“Daddy, daddy!” Nari cries, pointing to the sky, “the princess is falling!”
“No, baby,” Jungkook sighs tiredly, grabbing his briefcase from the side door. “The expression is, ‘the sky is falling.’ Remember when we watched Chicken Little? No one believed him because things don’t really fall from the sky—”
“Daddy catch her!”
At the command of his adorable, sweet daughter, he blinks the sleep out of his eyes. You, hanging on top of a billboard wearing the most ridiculous wedding dress.
Jungkook shakes his head at least a dozen times while Nari is crying at him. This isn’t a dream. It’s 9:00 in Seoul City and a woman in a fifty-layer white wedding gown is hanging by the nails on a Disney World billboard.
You shriek, losing your grip and falling right into Jungkook’s arms.
There’s some weird metal cage around your waist and legs, jabbing him uncomfortably in the abdomen. You smell like the city, and he wonders how long you’ve been outside and who’s your designated caretaker because you cannot possibly be sane.
“Ow! What the hell, lady?”
“Oh my goodness,” you don’t even care that he shoved you off like a bug, sitting prettily on your knees as you cup your hands over your face, “I am so sorry, are you alright?”
“Are you?” Jungkook bites back.
“I could be better,” you reply lightly, tilting your head with a smile, “thank you so much for saving me, I feel so lost without my prince.”
Your voice is reminiscent of bells, not the annoying ones that clang and bang in convenience stores. Your voice is like the tinkle of soft little silver chimes at the hint of wind, pleasant and soothing. It scares Jungkook.
“You have a prince?” It’s Nari that says that, hugging Jungkook’s leg.
You sit up eagerly, staring wondrously at her. “Oh, my prince. Have you seen my prince?”
“Who?” Jungkook scoffs, “Prince Charming?”
Your eyes widen, and Jungkook can swear he sees the stars reflected in your eyes. How is that even possible, he’s living in a city! “You know him, then!” you beam, “Prince Jimin!”
“Nari, back away from the crazy cosplayer.”
“Cosplayer!” you gape, putting a hand on your lip, “what’s a cosplayer?”
Jungkook’s eyes are wide. Are you for real? Forcing a smile he grits, “If we were in Comic Con, that’d be some excellent acting.”
“What’s a Comic-Con?”
“Like I said,” Jungkook forces Nari to turn around, giving her the keycard to their complex, “excellent acting. Good night, princess.”
“Oh, I’m not a princess yet,” your eyes are darting towards Nari, a small smile melting on your dirty features, “have a wonderful night.”
Jungkook thinks that’s that. The city really is full of freaks. He scurries up to his apartment, telling Nari to finish up her food so she can get ready for bed. Jungkook practically rips his clothes off, excited to slip into warm sweatpants and an oversized sweater. It’s a pair that he harbored from college, the collars slightly frayed but washed enough times to be the perfect sleep time texture.
He’s tired but not tired enough to skip over story time. He walks into Nari’s bedroom, wearing her favorite heart pajamas. However, she’s not in bed, but looking sadly out the window.
“She’s still outside, daddy,” she whispers, tiny hands gripping the windowsill.
Jungkook steps behind her, noting in fact that you are still outside, still on the ground where they left you. A little bit of guilt stabs him as he watches the rain pick up the pace, pattering you ruthlessly as you move under the faded Disney World billboard to take shelter. The metal rungs provide very little shelter, but it seems that you’ve given up for the night, tired and spent.
You are a pretty thing. Pretty sad, and pretty pathetic as you rip part of your dress to fold over your hair, but nevertheless pretty. White dress billowing across your lap, you lean against the railing, eyes drooping.
He sighs, looking guiltily at Nari. He may not care much for you, but he does care for Nari, and she’s probably disappointed that he wasn’t more proactive about the situation.
Pulling out his phone, he pulls in a favor from a friendly co-worker. While he waits for the line he urges Nari to go back to bed, assuring that everything’s going to be fine.
“Namjoon?” Jungkook plops down right next to Nari, pulling her to his chest, “can you do me a favor and call a cab for someone downstairs? I would do it now but I’m putting Nari to bed. Make sure she gets somewhere safe.”
Namjoon’s a dope.
An intelligent dope at that. Jungkook and Namjoon attended the same law school together, Jungkook an eager freshman with his tail tucked and Namjoon, the president of Mock Trial. An unlikely pair, Jungkook immediately followed Namjoon the day he got hired at the firm, brought under his wing and taught him everything he knew.
But today Namjoon’s especially dopey. He’s singing, for real singing, during his office hours and munching on a home-cooked meal. Namjoon is a man of many talents, and cooking isn’t one of them.
Jungkook steps into his office noting upon closer inspection that Namjoon’s grey pin-stripe suit looks freshly cleaned and pressed, and for once his dress shirt doesn’t have a slight crinkle or burn mark. Namjoon offers Jungkook a dimpled smile and gestures for him to take the seat in front of his desk.
“Where’d you find her?” he asks, and Jungkook makes a face at the wonder that laces Namjoon’s tone. Namjoon’s lunch smells delicious, a pot roast so tender it falls off the bone, seeping gently into the freshly cooked rice and potatoes.
“Hanging off the top of a Disney billboard,” Jungkook replies dryly, fingers playing with the edge of his manila folder, “where’d she end up going?”
“She stayed the night.”
“The fuck—did you sleep with her?”
“Keep it down—no! She fell asleep on my couch, would you shut the door?” Namjoon doesn’t even wait, gets up with his long stride and slams it for the both of them, “first off, she seemed perfectly sane. A little quirky, but sane. Knew her ABCs and everything.”
“You could’ve just sent her to the police and they could’ve taken care of it.”
“I could’ve, but alas I am still a young bachelor and I’m out to take risks,” Namjoon takes another bite of his pot roast, and Jungkook stares longingly at it. Suddenly his Big Mac Meal doesn’t look so appealing. “Besides, she made breakfast, lunch, and pressed my suit as a thank you!”
“And where is she now?”
“Mm, roaming around the city,” Namjoon shrugs, moving the rice around his container, “I think her fiance left her at the altar or something? She won’t say, but she said she’s searching for her Prince.”
Jungkook tilts his head, wondering what you’re up to. Wandering around the sleek city in an ugly wedding dress, a ditzy look on your face as you walk aimlessly for your supposed fiance. “Must look silly, wandering around like she belongs on a street performance. I wonder if this guy’s actually real.”
“Okay, she did look a little funny last night but she isn’t silly,” Jungkook tenses under Namjoon’s cool reply, looking at his younger companion with a frown.
Namjoon and Jungkook have known each other for years, way before Nari, Krystal, and even his ex-wife. He’s seen Jungkook grow, maybe aid in a little bit of the growth as he graduated from law school and moved on to bigger things in life.
Ever since Jungkook’s ex-wife committed the move that turned her into an ex-wife, Namjoon has done his best to keep Jungkook’s pessimism in check. He knows that deep down, a livelier, more hopeful version of Jungkook is there somewhere. Namjoon’s a patient man, but not patient enough to wheel his young friend in the right direction.
“In fact, she’s coming back for dinner if she doesn’t find him,” Namjoon says pointedly, “you should invite Nari and Krystal, if you want.”
“Didn’t know your apartment was an AirBNB,” Jungkook replies, furrowing his brows.
“It’s not like she’s living here for free, she offered to cook dinner and said after she looked around she’d go grocery shopping.”
“Ah, so like a maid?”
Namjoon sighs, “You’ll like her, get your head out of your ass and just come.”
“The only reason I’ll come is if I don’t have time to cook dinner.”
Of course, Jungkook does not have time to cook dinner.
There was a time where Jungkook designated his hours for both work and Nari. Not to say that he is neglecting Nari, the schedule just is a bit more, sloppy. It’s so much easier for Jungkook to dive into work nowadays, that he loses track of the time and lets himself get lost in a world far away from his personal life.
Lately he’s been feeling the brunt of his actions, Nari and Krystal are fighting more often than not, or icing each other out in separate rooms. There is such a thing as too much time together, much like how brothers and sisters get sick of each other, and maybe Jungkook’s doing that to his two favorite girls in the world.
By the time Jungkook picks Nari up from Krystal’s it’s dark, and he has to mentally figure out if he has enough ingredients and time to cook a decent dinner. Spaghetti and meatballs sounds passable, but it’ll take a bit of time to defrost the meat and—
“Daddy, I’m famished,” Nari cries dramatically from the backseat, mirroring a starved animal as she sticks her tongue out like she’s dead.
Jungkook scoffs behind the wheel, plastering a small smile on his face, “Well, Uncle Joonie did invite us to dinner but if you’re too tired—”
“YES!”
“Alright then, Uncle Joonie it is.”
Jungkook didn’t know what to expect when coming into Namjoon’s apartment, but he didn’t expect this.
The apartment looks nothing like the bachelor pad Namjoon hoped for when moving into the city. There’s still the monochrome furniture and sleek corners of every table and counter, but there’s a feeling emanating from it that Jungkook naturally gravitates to. Warmth.
It’s the feeling of coming home to a loving family, and Jungkook almost pictures his mother waiting for him with a kiss and his favorite side dishes. It smells full, from the cinnamon-honey candle centered at the coffee table to the smell of fresh tomato sauce wafting from the stove.
One thing is missing from the apartment, however.
“Are—are you wearing Namjoon’s curtains?”
You pull yourself out of the open fridge, giving the divorce lawyer a thousand-watt grin as you grab a carafe of juice, “Hi, Jungkook and Nari! I hope you had a wonderful day today. And yes, isn’t the fabric just divine? Namjoon disagreed and said it looked like an old tablecloth.”
It’s like you’ve been plucked out of a Disney movie, and pasted into the ugliest, most unfitting scenario possible. Jungkook can’t deny that the familiar floral curtains did make a presentable dress. You twirl around a bit, making a show of the whole affair as the violet printed curtain halos around your legs. Jungkook wonders if you’re aware that you’re flirting.
“Only because it was a housewarming gift for my mom,” Namjoon jests from behind, pulling out a bottle of wine from his mini-cellar. Jungkook notes how much you and him look like a young couple, preparing dinner for his pathetic single dad-friend and his daughter. “You know how much I’ve wanted to install those electric blinds. I just got them shipped, care to help me after dinner?”
“Did you make that?” Nari blurts, running past Jungkook’s legs to fist the fabric between her pudgy fingers.
“Nari,” Jungkook tests, “we don’t just grab people’s clothes—”
“Yes! I just made it this morning, as you know it wouldn’t be practical to walk around the city in a wedding dress,” you make a point to put down the carafe on the dining table, resting on your knees to make eye-level with Nari, “in fact, I can make one for you if you’d like. There’s enough curtain to go around!”
Nari giggles, unconsciously curling up to your form. Jungkook tilts his head, debating on his next move. It softens him to see Nari so relaxed in front of an adult, but at the same time he doesn’t want Nari to get too attached. You look like a fantasy, a princess dipped in pastels that has his daughter’s eyes sparkling in awe. “Nari-bun, don’t bother her. She’s had a rough couple of days and she just made dinner. She probably wants to rest after we eat.”
“It’s quite alright Jungkook,” you assure kindly, giving him a reassuring smile, “I would love to make a dress for Nari.”
“As long as your friends don’t stop by and help,” Namjoon warns ominously, waving the cork in your face.
“Friends?” Jungkook asks, but Namjoon shakes his head and leads them to the dining table.
The dining table is overflowing, an amount of food much too exorbitant for a bachelor such as Namjoon. The leftover roast from this morning, added with a very kid-friendly mac n’cheese with garlic mashed potatoes. The fruit arrangement is in the shape of a chipmunk, and Nari reaches over to pluck the green-grape nose from its head. Jungkook’s stomach agrees with what’s on the table, and he almost tells you he’s grateful for being fed a homemade meal in what feels like forever.
“Wine?” Namjoon pours half of your glass in the velvety liquid, pushing to your side of the table.
You tilt your head, and Jungkook can see your eyes distorted by the clear glass, “I’ve never had wine before.”
“Careful,” Jungkook teases, “it’s poison.”
That causes you to freeze, lips edging over the crystal nervously. Your eyes peer into the liquid, so far that your nose is in it. “Y-you don’t mean that, right?” you force a laugh, looking at Jungkook with pleading eyes.
“I promise it’s not poison,” Nari looks at you convincingly, a piece of pasta hanging from her lips, “I’ve tried it once, tastes like old grape juice!”
“Nari!” Jungkook blushes, eyes wide.
Namjoon laughs heartily, “Starting her early, eh?”
“It was an accident,” Jungkook grumbles, his fork picking at his dish of rice and mixed greens. He regards you with a balanced look, “I know we’ve only known each other for two days, but I didn’t mean to scare you. We wouldn’t poison you, promise.”
“R-right,” you give him a tentative smile, one that barely reaches your eyes.
With a small sip, you take an experimental taste at the cold liquid. It’s crisp, and dark, and reminds you of black magic. It’s nice. You hear Namjoon chuckle once you take more sips, wanting to swallow as much darkness as you possibly can.
Jungkook is still unsure. You two look about the same age, not young enough to be spritely but certainly old enough to prepare settling down and starting a family. However, your eyes sparkle with innocence, you soak up Nari’s elaborate story about her fight with Wendy at lunch, you listen with rapt attention whenever Namjoon talks about his current case.
“So, you two both work in a facility that specializes in breaking up couples?” you’re horrified, your eyes are practically watering. You push away your dessert, crossing your arms.
“Well, they’re already broken up,” Namjoon replies gently, putting a hand on your shoulder, “we’re just here to divide up the assets and make the process as amiable as possible.”
“So you don’t even try to help them get back together?”
“By the time they get to us, it’s usually far too late. Sometimes relationships don’t work out.”
The frown that graces your lips is sad, feeling undefeated before you can get a proper argument out. More importantly, you look like you’re thinking too hard, trying to wrap around your head that you’re in a society that values individualism.
Jungkook’s glad it’s Namjoon that explains it to you. If he explained it, you’re sure you’d further flip your shit. He supposes wherever you live is rather backwards, preferring to wallow in sadness in a loveless relationship for the rest of your life.
The rest of the night is a lull, Jungkook and Namjoon install the new electric blinds while you and Nari plan out a brand new dress. It’s relaxing, Namjoon and him exchange songs to critique while they turn Namjoon’s apartment into the bachelor pad he’s always wanted. By the time it’s ten in the evening he knows that Nari’s probably ready to tuck in.
Jungkook doesn’t barge in right away, only because he’s curious. The two of you are sitting on the floor of Namjoon’s office, one he rarely uses because nowadays he prefers to keep all his work at work.
There’s fabric everywhere, all remnants of what were once floral curtains, courtesy of Namjoon’s mother. Your skirt billows out, haloing you in the middle of the floor while you put away the templates for Nari’s dress.
“I will make you as many dresses as you like,” you barter, holding out your hand, “and in exchange, you’ll teach me long division! Such a fascinating concept.”
“It sounds like an unfair deal,” Jungkook stifles a chuckle at Nari’s pointed tone. “I’ll also teach you multiplication and whatever I learn in Civics. Deal?”
“Deal.”
“Nari-bun,” Jungkook opens the office slightly, “time to go.”
Surprisingly, his daughter doesn’t hesitate to wrap her tiny arms around your neck. His heart aches at the scene, thinking back to a time where sweet hugs and kisses were the norm in his home. Not to say that there is a lack of affection with the two of them, but he always thought with Krystal in the picture it would take awhile for the three of them to warm up together.
And yet, it took you only one meal.
Nari runs to the living room to put on her coat and backpack, and you and Jungkook trail after her.
“She’s lovely, Jungkook,” you say, clasping your hands under your chin, “you must feel very lucky.”
“Yeah, she’s… my everything.” Jungkook smiles fondly when Namjoon stands by the door to scoop Nari up in his arms, laughing
“Stop by tomorrow to pick up her dress, I’ll have it done by then.”
“Thanks, Princess. I appreciate that, it’s been awhile since she’s been able to talk to a—” motherly figure.
“Princess?” you make a face, “I’m not a princess, yet.”
He doesn’t know what you mean by that, maybe you’re starting to get a bitter taste of reality, but he lets it go for tonight because Nari’s all smiles.
“Nari’s sick,” Jungkook blurts the next week, looking quite grave. “How could I not have noticed? A one-hundred fever and she’s got a cold. Namjoon, we’re not even a quarter of the way done with this case. Hoseok’s gonna have my neck.”
Namjoon barely looks up from the bridge of his reading glasses, “Can’t Krystal pick her up?”
“You know Krystal doesn’t like her work being interrupted. That’s why she gets Nari in the afternoon.”
Namjoon’s brows rise at the easy reply, and he fights back the urge to retort back that’s messed up. Krystal and Jungkook have been together for years, since Nari was potty trained. Krystal has only seriously conversed with Nari up until two years ago after graduating from “casual fling”.
In Namjoon’s eyes, it still isn’t enough. Nari isn’t a coat you can hang up and wear when you want to—she’s Jungkook’s daughter and Namjoon wishes they’d both get their heads out of their asses to have a serious conversation about their future together.
“I have an idea,” Namjoon pulls up the Facetime feature on his iMac, dialing a number, “I’ll call up my roommate.”
“Roommate? What room—you’re still letting Princess live with you?”
Namjoon shrugs, “She’s harmless, and it’s not like she’s freeloading. She cooks and stuff, and it’s not like I’m home anyway.”
“Namjoon, hello!” your face takes up the entirety of Namjoon’s screen, from corner to corner. “This cell phone thing is amazing! How do you fit into that little screen, is it akin to a magic mirror?”
“You gave her a phone, too?” Jungkook mouths exasperatedly, but Namjoon waves him off.
The older one chuckles at your question, but this only makes Jungkook more antsy. It’s one thing to make a dress for Nari, but to take care of her the whole day? The scenery behind you is moving, a litany of greens and greys as you blur through the city. “What are you doing out and about?”
“I’m trying one of those hobbies you’ve suggested,” you press one of Namjoon’s philosophy novels to your cheek, smiling brightly, “I’ve decided to try out what you call, ‘me time.’”
“Mm, I think ‘me time’ will have to wait. Nari’s sick at school and we got a really serious case on our hands, we were wondering if you could pick her up.”
“Oh, goodness, of course! Nari’s health is more important, I’ll make a turn now,” you start darting your head back and forth, “where is her school?”
Jungkook kicks Namjoon’s swivel chair so he can see you eye-to-eye (or, screen to screen.) “I can pin you the address and send you all the forms to pick her up,” Jungkook says, “and Nari has a house key in her backpack. All her medicine is in the bathroom cabinet.”
“Sounds good, is she allergic to anything?”
“N-no,” Jungkook scratches his head, unable to put his thoughts together. What else is he supposed to tell you about his sick daughter? Everything is jumbling in his head, swimming in his brain like a perpetual toilet flush.
“Jungkook,” you say, regarding him with a tender look, “don’t worry, I’ll take care of it. We’ll be fine. Go do what you have to do.”
He squirms under his tight tie, akin to feeling like a fish out of water. Namjoon hangs up the call for him, and teases, “You liiiikeher!”
The tag team doesn’t have any more time to waste, so all the teasing and previous worrying has to be unfortunately put on the backburner. Jungkook works himself ragged, fills his body up with McDonalds and glowers when Namjoon offers to share his prepared bento when it isn’t enough to keep him sated.
He doesn’t know what worries him more, the fact that you’re not calling or the fact that you haven’t called. It’s been hours since he gave you permission to retrieve his daughter. The sky is dark and Jungkook is a pile of mush.
Once Namjoon hauls himself out of the office, Jungkook is quick to follow. Despite their exhaustion, both of them zoom up to their respective apartments, eager to make dinner and crash.
The apartment is quiet when Jungkook returns. A bowl of hot soup sits on the stove, simmerling lightly to stay warm. The house is also spotless, he’s pretty sure there were coffee rings on the wooden table but they’ve been scrubbed away and now glistening with lemon-scented Pledge. You sit on the couch, your usual posture slumped slightly as you tilt your head over Namjoon’s novel, the quietest he’s ever seen you. It’s a side of you he never thought you could reach, a serene wave of calmness as you flutter your eyes to his.
“Good evening, Jungkook. I hope work wasn’t too bad,“ your voice is light, making sure not to disturb the ambiance in the room, “she’s in bed, snug as a bug,” you say before he can ask, your eyes flickering to the hallway.
His muscles relax considerably when he creaks open his daughter’s bedroom door. Nari’s out like a light, her onyx black hair in a disarray as she swaddles herself beneath the layers of blanket. When he touches her forehead she’s a tad warm, but not as bad as he thought.
Jungkook makes quick work of freshening up, throwing his suit in the hamper in exchange for basketball shorts and a hoodie. He doesn’t want you waiting too long. Strangely enough when you return, you’re in the same spot he’s left you. The only thing that’s changed is there’s a hot bowl of soup on the kitchen island, ready to be consumed.
“Thank you, really,” Jungkook brings the mug of soup to the coffee table, sitting next to you.
You stick your thumb in the navy blue novel, “Anytime, Jungkook. I think Nari will be good to go back to school so long as you give her the cold medicine in the morning.”
“You really did me a solid, I don’t know how I’m going to pay you back,” Jungkook gushes, taking a big gulp of your soup. Damn, that’s tasty. “So if you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to call me.”
You shrug, playing with the trim of your dress, “I‘ve been thinking actually, what I’m actually doing. What I’m waiting for and—I’m starting to believe he’s not coming.”
It takes a second for Jungkook to register your words. He’s never seen you so… reflective. Maybe it’s partially his fault for never considering your feelings, and how absolutely and utterly ditzy you can be in the daytime, but he doesn’t know how to respond.
“Jimin, right?” he takes your silence as a yes, “well, maybe he’s not the one for you.”
“Is that what divorce lawyers are supposed to say in this world?” you whisper, “are they just supposed to tell you to give up on the people you love?”
Something sour sits in Jungkook’s throat, blending harshly with the creamy texture of the chicken soup. He’s sorely reminded of another life, where he thought he could live the life you’re longing for. “I’ve tried the whole marriage deal. Commitment, trying over and over. And honestly? The only thing that I’ve realized is that true love hurts. It’s taken me years to open up to another partner and even then, I’m still relearning.”
You blink away the tears, steeling yourself. “So you’re telling me it’s going to take years to recover from this? I shouldn’t just be hopeful and invest in Jimin as much as you’re investing in whoever you love now?”
“Well yes—no, I don’t know, Princess. How long have you known your fiance?”
“A fortnight,” you sigh dreamily, “Namjoon, he says that’s fourteen days.”
What the fuck.
You say it so seriously, with all the adoration and affection in your heart that Jungkook’s only defense mechanism is to laugh in your face.
“Two weeks, really?” he sneers, “what, is this an arranged marriage or something? Did your parents hold you hostage or something? Is there a dowry someone’s after?”
“N-no,” you gasp, holding your book to your chest, “since when does time equate to how much I feel for someone?”
“Because you tried marrying a stranger!” Jungkook replies exasperatedly, “that’s like a Vegas wedding!”
“I have no clue what a Vegas wedding is, but I do know your heart is clouded,” you get up, brush the invisible dust off your petticoat. “How dare you say these things to me. You make me feel so—so—” you shake your head, stuffing your feet in your shoes. You rub a hand over your face, and Jungkook’s exasperated face drops when he notices that your cheeks are rudded and your eyes are glassy, “good night, Jungkook. Tell Nari I said to get well.”
The slam of his door not only hits the frame hard, but also a niggling feeling in Jungkook’s brain.
Unfortunately, Nari does not get better by the morning. While her fever isn’t in the 100s, she still feels crummy and can only function in the fluffiest of pajamas and the most mind-numbing of cartoons. Despite the case on his hands, Jungkook can use an off day, especially with his best girl.
It’s the most in a long time that Jungkook has to coddle her. It feels good to sink between the couch and catch up on Miraculous Ladybug, gorge on ice cream and be lazy together.
“She says a spoonful of sugar makes the medicine go down,” Nari snuggles closer to Jungkook’s chest, recalling the events of yesterday.
Jungkook listens silently as Nari’s relays the events of yesterday while he was at work, trying to picture you as the only adult figure in his apartment. His daughter explains in great detail how you put cold water on her forehead, and told her fantastical stories about a cottage in the woods. While drowsy, Nari says in exchange that she shared her multiplication table with you, and you’re making great progress with your nine and twelve times tables.
“We should take her out once I get better,” is the last thing Nari says before she drifts off for her afternoon nap.
Jungkook doesn’t have the heart to tell her that he probably hurt your feelings last night, and he isn’t sure if you would agree to a meal at this point. As per routine, he suppresses his confusing feelings by playing some League of Legends, calling Krystal for a quick check-in, and taking care of some work. In-between he takes sips of your leftover chicken noodle soup, which tastes simultaneously savory and bitter.
“Hey, JK,” Namjoon calls just short of 3PM, interrupting Jungkook’s kill streak, “why don’t I bring pizza over? Pizza always makes me feel better when I’m sick and we can talk about the new case.”
“That’s cool, bring some wine and invite Princess,” Jungkook replies coolly, hoping you’ll show up so he can muster up an apology.
“What? She didn’t come home last night, I thought she found her fiance or something,” Namjoon’s relatively unbothered, “she said if they found each other she’d want to go back right away.”
Jungkook’s fingers are still across his keyboard. He blinks once, twice. He swivels around his chair, taking a 360 of his room. Nari’s knocked out on the couch, the kitchen is clean, and there’s a candle burning on the coffee table. The traces of you are palpable, and it makes Jungkook uneasy.
I’m starting to believe he’s not coming.
“Joon, change of plans,” Jungkook tamps down the bile going up his throat, “can you watch Nari for a bit when you come by? I need to go meet a friend.”
You’re talking to a cat.
The cat isn’t speaking in a human language—it’s meowing back.
And you seem to understand the litany of meows, because you’re replying back with such fervor and passion. It confuses Jungkook, but then again what hasn’t confused Jungkook in the past two weeks?
Now it is somewhat normal to talk to your pets, although that really applies to old cat ladies. Normal people with animals use that high-pitched “pet voice”, a tone spoken only because of the human’s sheer love for that animal. But he’s pretty sure it’s not your pet. It’s definitely a stray, a black slender feline with the straightest posture he’s ever seen on a cat. You’re sitting idly on a path of grass at the park, pointing in Namjoon’s book as if the cat can read what you’re dictating.
“In Namjoon’s book, I read about a philosophy concept called the Happiness Pump,” you say, hugging your knees together, “it’s the concept of giving happiness to other people at the expense of your own happiness. For example, back in Tandalasia I didn’t mind sewing two-hundred placemats with pearl stitchings for my wedding, or making meals for all the animals in the woods,” you close the book softly, patting it on the grass, “but for some reason, ever since I’ve arrived in this strange place, I’ve felt a willingness to be more. Have you ever felt that way, Yoongi?”
Jungkook watches the both of you from his hiding spot behind a tree, wondering when it would be the best time to interject.
“I mean, it’s always been assumed that me and Jimin would be together, and that was fine. But what if Jimin isn’t enough? I love him but, he doesn’t know long division like Nari does! And—and there’s no college in Tandalasia! I just feel that—no, Yoongi. I’m not saying that Jimin or Tandalasia is filled with, in your words, idiots, but they don’t seem to have the motivation that the people have here.”
The cat’s eyes narrow, and he scratches at his whiskers. He lies flat on his back, as if to say he seldom has motivation as well.
“This city is loud, and rough, and sometimes there are people who have lost their way, but it’s still so beautiful. For example, Jungkook has a wonderful family,” you run a finger over Yoongi’s dark fur, “he works so hard but he always seems so stressed and all I want to do is to help him—naturally that’s the first thing I would want to do! But he’s also so, so,” your face scrunches up, and you look like you have a little bit of a stomach ache, “I can’t explain the feeling, yet. What should I do, Yoongi?”
“It’s not about what you should do,” Jungkook steps out of the tree, tentatively sitting next to you on the grass, “it’s about what I should do.”
You furrow your brows, unable to believe he found you.
“You didn’t go back to Namjoon’s last night,” Jungkook says slowly, pulling his knees together.
“I don’t know why you would care,” you huff, crossing your arms. Yoongi hops up on your lap, glaring defensively at Jungkook, “why are you even here?”
“To apologize.”
“Why apologize for speaking the truth?”
“Because I’m a bitter, sad old man who’s just raining on your parade,” Jungkook forces a little smile, nudging your shoulder, “I shouldn’t judge your relationship based on my relationships. The things I said last night were out of line, and I’m sorry.”
Your face softens, and your hands sink for comfort in Yoongi’s fur. “I forgive you,” you don’t look him in the eye, focusing on getting little leaves between the black fur to soothe the cat’s back itches, “as long as you forgive yourself.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’re not a bitter, sad old man,” you push Yoongi off your lap, dusting off your skirt and offer a hand to Jungkook, “you’re handsome, successful, and a wonderful parent. Nari and your lover are very lucky to have you.”
Jungkook is constantly surprised by you, and this time is no different. Your grip is firm as he clutches it, and when he towers over you he notices that your hair is a little greasy and in need of a washing. Despite that, you still smell like flowers and fresh rain as you two take the walk back to the apartment.
“Her name is Krystal,” he mutters helpfully, shoving his hands in his pockets.
“What a beautiful name,” you reply.
“Also, I don’t know if she is my lover, as you say,” he puts air quotes around the forbidden word, adding a little shrug as you tilt your head at him, “I mean, it’s been three years but I don’t know. I do love her but—
“But how does she know you love her?” you frown.
“Because… we’ve been together a long time,” Jungkook answers awkwardly, “and time takes effort.”
“But time is irrelevant! Hypothetically, you can fall in love with me right now,” you make a point to bat your eyelashes at him, and he scoffs, shoving you away gently, “and all that time you’ve had with Krystal wouldn’t matter! Isn’t Krystal a girl worth fighting for?”
“First off, she’s a woman. An adult woman who doesn’t want to be swooned like she’s seventeen again.”
“But how does she know that you really really, truly love her?”
“I… don’t know,” Jungkook finally concludes, “you think that’s why I’m unable to move forward in our relationship?”
You’re sparkling, your mood considerably improved at the reconciliation with Jungkook. The sun is setting and you’re absolutely glowing despite the fact that you’re still in yesterday’s dress and your hair is tied away and slightly sweaty. “Oh Jungkook, I’m so happy you asked that. Does Krystal like grand gestures of love?”
“Absolutely not,” Jungkook deadpans, “she fake-vomits at public displays of affection.”
“It’s uh, name brand,” Jungkook shrugs unhelpfully, “it’s a display of wealth.”
“Ah,” you find that little gesture doesn’t matter too much, at least in your heart. “Okay, what’s a date?”
The two of you walk into the lobby of your apartment complex. You run to the elevator first, insisting to Jungkook that you’re a master at using the elevator buttons. You squeal in excitement when it dings open, and you have half a mind to click all the buttons just to see them light up.
“A date is kind of like, a romantic meeting to determine whether you want to be together long-term,” Jungkook says slowly, sneakers slapping in the empty hallway for Namjoon’s floor, “the activities vary depending on how far you’re in the relationship, but usually it starts with dinner and wine, maybe a movie.”
“Ah, and the end result is marriage?”
“Yes, uh—sometimes?” Jungkook questions, “depends how serious you are about the relationship.”
“Well, what’s the immediate result then?”
“Another date, sometimes—sex,” Jungkook’s face falls at the door to Namjoon’s apartment, noting the classy black paisley sock hanging off the doorknob. “That fucker,” he mutters under his breath, grabbing your shoulders and moving you back to the direction of the elevator. “You can’t stay over tonight, Namjoon’s got a friend over.”
“Oh, a friend! I would love to meet one of Namjoon’s friends!” you swivel your shoulders back into the direction of the door, and Jungkook has to tug your waist back to stop you from moving forward.
“It’s a special friend, Princess.”
“A dating friend? Oh, so they’ve been on dates and they’re about to now have—”
“Let’s go.”
The two of you wind down the long hallway, back into the elevator so you can go to Jungkook’s apartment. Jungkook’s tugging on the collar of his sweatshirt, trying to avoid the question marks going off in your brain.
“Jungkook,” you murmur between the terrible elevator music.
“Whatever you’re going to ask, please don’t ask.”
“You know I’m going to ask what sex is?”
Ah, Jungkook feels a headache coming along. “Well, you’ve been asking an awful lot of questions.”
“I’ll take a break for now,” you frown, “but just so you know, I’ll ask again.”
He chuckles, letting you exit the elevator first. When they enter Jungkook’s apartment, Nari sits in front of the television, belly out as she comically eats a slice of pizza off her lap. Her eyes widen at the sight of you, and she quickly wipes the crumbs off her lavender pajamas to say hi to you.
You don’t hesitate to pick her up in her arms, looking unbothered carrying the weight of an 8-year-old. Jungkook pats her head, “Nari-bun, when did Uncle Joon leave?”
“One episode ago?” Nari hums, head craning to where her television show is playing, “it’s okay though, he has access to the camera and the baby monitor—which I told you I don’t need anymore.”
He swallows his sigh, looking longingly at the baby monitor that lay on the nightstand. It’s an older model, but it connects to his phone and does the trick.
“Right,” Jungkook doesn’t have the heart to tell Nari he is saving the monitor in hopes of a second child, because honestly he doesn’t know what’s going to happen with his future with Krystal. Of course, Nari will always be his baby girl, but at one point he hoped for at least a second child. “Anyway, can you get some clothes from my clean hamper? She needs to take a shower.”
“You still smell good,” Nari whispers into your ear before you put her down, and you can’t help but giggle as she leads you to the bathroom.
After your shower, Nari introduces you to the joy that’s pizza. Doughy, yet crunchy goodness. The cheese on top and the greasy sensation is something so strange to you, but you can’t stop eating it! Especially with the wine cutting through the grease, it just makes everything go down smoother.
“Wanna know something strange about my daddy?” Nari asks, curling a tiny finger to pull you closer, “he drinks his alphabet soup. Alphabetically.”
You can’t help but snort at the foot of Nari’s bed, placing your now empty plate and glass on her nightstand. For some reason, Nari doesn’t want a bedtime story tonight, and instead is sharing multiple facts about Jungkook. You don’t know why she’s trying to give you the whole spiel about her father, but you think the stories are quite adorable. In particular, you want to hear more about the time Jungkook participated in a pizza pie contest just to make Nari smile.
It makes you think about the family you want to start one day with Jimin. Nari’s a beautiful kid, and Jungkook has raised her well. It’s almost like looking at his spitting image, from the onyx black hair to the bright, curious almond eyes.
“Princess?” Jungkook knocks on Nari’s door, “I put pillows and sheets on the couch, you must be sleepy.”
“Okay, good night Nari,” you pull her comforter up to her chin, and you melt when she snuggles further into her koala stuffed-animal.
“What were you two giggling about?” Jungkook asks as you shut the door behind you.
“Ah, the pizza contest,” Jungkook scrunches his nose at that, and you fight the strange urge to put your finger on that scrunch and iron it out, “and your process to drink alphabet soup.”
You two talk a little more, Jungkook leans casually on the coffee table while you sit on the couch. It gives you an ample view of Jungkook’s chest, peeking out of his fluffy burgundy bathrobe. You try to stray away from the strange thoughts that invade your mind. The skin beneath the furry robe looks smooth and tanned, and while you don’t know much about workout regimens you have a feeling that Jungkook’s is very good from the way his pectoral muscles spread across his robe. It’s then you start to feel warm, a little too warm in Jungkook’s spare pajamas, swallowed by the simple navy sweatshirt. Not the kind of warmth you get from a hot summer day, but a burning sensation, one that swells under your belly and makes you question what more you could desire from life—
“Ah,” Jungkook says, “you’re curious about my tattoos?”
His what? Whatever he’s referring to is a wonderful excuse, so you tack on a smile and nod, “Yes! What are those?”
You feel yourself perspire a bit when he moves his robe slightly, revealing something that warms you in a different way. You inhale deeply at the sight.
“You… look like you’re about to cry,” Jungkook winces, watching the way your eyes glass over the black ink.
“I—I’m sorry. It’s just so beautiful,” you drink in the deep ink embedded in his collarbone, a very sweet notation of a cursive I love you in Nari’s best handwriting. It must be recent because the handwriting matches Nari’s current writing perfectly, and maybe a tad neater because she knew it was going on her daddy’s skin. “How do I get one?”
Jungkook chuckles, “You don’t just get one. You have to put a lot of thought in it, and it can be painful.”
“I think if my tattoo is as beautiful as yours, it’ll be worth the pain.”
The room is frozen, at least you think it is. Maybe it’s only you who feels the fluttery, heart-racing feelings, since Jungkook is a divorce lawyer and apparently has a hard time accepting his emotions. You feel your hand act on it’s own, fingers lifting to trace the pattern across his collarbone.
Jungkook’s breath is coming out heavy, for whatever reason. You ignore it however, intoxicated at the smooth planes of ink, dipping down to his chest. Your fingers linger across the soft, tanned skin, the warm feeling in your body returning. The lower you go, the more that feeling increases. You’re about to go lower, and float your fingers near the center of where his cleavage starts, when Jungkook grabs your wrist.
“Princess,” he says softly, “you can’t do that.”
He’s so tall, and you have to crane your neck to look up at him. You pride yourself at being empathetic, able to read other’s emotions in a snap. However, you’re perturbed to the wall over his visage, and you have a feeling he’s hiding something.
His mouth opens to say something else, but the words are knocked right out when the door slams closed. You squeal, and your first instinct is to pull Jungkook closer to you, hiding your body between his.
“Oh, shit,” Jungkook mutters, turning his head and pushing you away, “Krystal.”
Hand hovering over your mouth in shock, you get on your tippy toes to peek over his shoulder. The woman at the front door is stunning. She’s sleek, nothing like the fluffy, warm comfort that Tandalasia brings. Her hair is pin straight, complementing the dark makeup that paints her eyes and the shiny black pants hug her figure. Mature, sophisticated, and nothing like you.
“That’s your lover,” you exhale, feeling a pit in your chest.
“Hello there,” Krystal drawls, fingers twiddling in an unfriendly wave, “that’s me. His lover.”
“Namjoon,” you say firmly, unable to touch your french toast, “I think I’m ill.”
Last night was a rush. Jungkook said that you needed to go back to Namjoon’s, citing that his special friend must have left by now. You’re pushed out the door, feeling like a stranger all over again as you’re forced to make the trek downstairs in thin pajamas and an ache in your chest.
You couldn’t even say a proper hello to Krystal. In fact, this worries you even more. Despite the fact that Jungkook ushered you out of his apartment like an unwanted bug, normally you would find your way to at least extend pleasantries to a person, especially to Jungkook’s lover. This awful, green feeling bubbles in your body by morning. You barely get out of bed early enough to cook Namjoon breakfast. You can’t even find it in you to change out of your clothes and into a fresh dress,
Namjoon finally peels away from his electronic device he calls an iPad, powdered sugar dusting his plump cheeks.
“What do you mean you’re ill?” Namjoon doesn’t seem to see it, tilting his head to the side.
“I’m not myself, my schedule is completely muddled. First off, I woke up late and almost didn’t have time to cook breakfast. I feel lead-heavy and I didn’t even bother to put on a clean dress and the french toast is subpar—”
“Whoa, whoa,” Namjoon gestures to his empty plate, the only thing sitting on the china plate being a lone blueberry, “your french toast is impeccable. And there’s nothing wrong with waking up a little late and not wanting to put your best foot forward. We all have those days,” Namjoon folds his hands together, resting them on his chin, “I’m not a doctor, but why don’t you explain your symptoms and I’ll verify if you’re actually sick or not.”
“Okay,” you frown at your plate, staring at the untouched brioche bread and butter pad, “well, it started last night. Jungkook was showing me his tattoo on his chest and I don’t know. I felt so… hot,” you shake your head, fisting Jungkook’s long top on your body, “not feverishly hot. But I felt it down, in my stomach. Like a weird, aching—”
“I’m gonna stop you right there,” Namjoon holds up a hand, and it looks like he’s doing an impersonation of someone but don’t catch the inside joke, “I really don’t wanna hear about how horny you are for Jungkook.”
“What?” you feel weak, unable to break apart Namjoon’s expression, “I don’t know what that means.”
“It’s fascinating, really,” Namjoon sounds like he’s talking to himself, taking a sip of his coffee and looking at you intently through his horn-rimmed glasses, “you’re not crazy. I’ve lived with you long enough to know that. And yet, there’s so little you know about this world. It’s like you’re, I don’t know, Rapunzel or something.”
“I’ve met Rapunzel, Namjoon,” you deadpan, dissatisfied with his vague conclusions, “I’m definitely not her.”
“Right,” Namjoon gets up and puts his plate on the sink. He leaves you at the counter, leaving you to mull over knowing just as little as you did when you asked him for help. Over his shoulder, he spares you a look that again, you can’t read, “I suggest that you take a long, hot bath. I have some bath bombs in the cabinet. I recommend the pink one. I think that will cure a bit of your sickness.”
As soon as Namjoon leaves for work, you take Namjoon’s advice very seriously. A hot bath will do wonders, especially Namjoon’s. You love the washrooms in this city. You love how they’re inside, and leave you to complete and utter privacy. No nosy mice or bird can disrupt your cleaning process, and the magic box perched above the showerhead plays whatever song you want.
“Alexa, please play Mixtape #3.”
“Sure, Princess.”
“Thank you, Alexa.”
“You bet!”
Alexa is a lovely companion. She comes and goes, and Namjoon says that she can answer a vast number of questions. Today, you choose to just let her play music, the playlist that Namjoon made for you because he claimed you’re missing out on a litany of musical genres. As soft, dulcet sounds play in the background you prepare your hot bath.
You do as Namjoon says, and retrieve the round soap Namjoon calls a bath bomb. As soon as the water gets to a comfortable heat, you strip and let yourself take a dip. As soon as the bath bomb touches the water, you smile at the soothing scent of jasmine. The soap fizzes and bubbles, creating a luxurious experience that has your muscles softening and your skin melting.
After a couple of songs, you decide to ask the question you’ve been dying to ask all day.
“Alexa, what does horny mean?”
Lately, you’ve been starting to feel a little silly. Not just silly, but almost stupid. It pains you to say this to yourself, because you never ever thought of yourself as that. In Tandalasia, everything is so simple and straightforward. Here however, this city has twists and turns and double meanings.
You think about Krystal the other night, and how she looked like she had the world in the palm of her hand. Even though she was doing something as minimal as visiting her lover late in the night, she seemed vast with knowledge and maturity.
“Horny is an adjective. It is informal term defined as the feeling or arousing of sexual excitement.”
The midtoned pitch of Alexa’s voice does nothing to placate you, however. Sex is the subject that’s been toeing around your mind since yesterday. Jungkook and Namjoon don’t tell you straight away, as if you should already know. It upsets you.
Not wanting to waste the bath and the luscious soap, you decide to think a little harder and try to think about where your sickness came from. The heat, when did the heat first start?
You think the heat bursted in increments. From simple things, for example when Namjoon hugged you for the first time. His body made you feel warm and protected, and you felt that heat flicker in your belly.
Yet that heat in your body was definitely more intense around Jungkook, especially last night. Something about the way he presented himself triggered it. Was it the ink? No, you didn’t even notice it until he pointed it out.
Closing your eyes, you focus on the image. His hair, dark and curled at the ends. Undried, so it’s dripping with water fresh from the shower. The image of him from last night, with his robe on and his tattoo barely peeking from the soft fabric.
With a sudden itch, your fingers reach curiously for the ache. You brush against your breasts, feeling the heat spike but you continue further south, until you’re cupping your sex, curiously poking and proding at the bud.
It’s then your middle finger presses with intention, and you let out an involuntary moan. It’s foriegn to your ears, especially in this setting. Normally you’d be pleasured by the fact that you’ve mastered a new dish, then you’d moan in pleasure of how good the food is. This is a different kind of pleasure however, and you’re hungry for something else.
“Oh, this feels quite nice,” you murmur to yourself.
Eventually the water drains, yet you don’t stop rolling your fingers between the bundle of nerves, soothing the ache. You’re huffing and puffing, and when the water finally drains you take note of how erotic the image is: your bare body squirming against the marble tub, your hips arching into your touch like a magnet.
And it’s the thought of Jeon Jungkook that took you over the edge.
When you feel the pressure release and you slack against the tub, you lift your fingers to your face. You grow hot in your cheeks, watching with wonder as you take note of your fingers, coated in a thin essence produced from your slit. Licking your lips, you immediately turn on the faucet to let the slick fall into the drain.
“Alexa, call Namjoon!”
Getting out of the tub is wobbly at first, you feel like a baby deer as your toes reach for the grippy mat. When Namjoon finally answers he asks if you slipped in the tub again.
“No,” you scoff, wiping the mirror down with your towel, “but I just wanted to tell you I feel miles better.”
“That’s great,” Namjoon’s voice husks on the line, and you hum in agreement. “Did you figure out what was wrong?”
“Lovesick,” you taste the word on your tongue, “it must be because I’ve been apart from Jimin for so long.” You miss the way Namjoon’s brows furrow at the reply, focusing on drying your hair and putting on your robe, “thank you Namjoon. I will see you at dinner.”
You do the routine Namjoon instructs you to do whenever he’s having an off day. You play mindless television, the magic screen that clicks to a bevy of shows to get you lost in a story. You keep yourself in Namjoon’s bathrobe, feeling freer without a cinched waist and layers of tulle. Finally, Oreos. The chocolate and cream cookie that Namjoon swears by.
For some reason, the romance dramas that Namjoon recommended don’t hold your attention as they initially did a month ago. The characters are fun and compelling, but the way they run circles around each other is absurd.
You let the sappy poetics play in the background while you read off Namjoon’s large anatomy textbooks. Even though he’s not a doctor by any means, Namjoon said he kept his favorite university textbooks for sentimental reasons. You wonder what university would be like for you. When Namjoon explained it in detail, you can’t imagine finding such a large facility for both men and women alike to advance their education.
Yet, it sounds absolutely brilliant.
Pouring over the sections of male and female pleasure, the science of it fascinates you. You suppose they’re all symptoms of love sickness, the way your body stimulates and among… other things.
“Huh, so babies don’t come from storks?” you chuckle to yourself, fingers rubbing against the soft yellowed page. “A fool I was.”
You’re halfway through the sleeve of Oreos when the doorbell rings. Wiping the crumbs off your lap you scurry to the door, reaching on your tiptoes to view through the peephole. You can’t help but frown, seeing Jeon Jungkook standing at the door like a lost puppy more so than the hard-headed lawyer he always portrays. Composing yourself, you open the door and tack on a smile.
“Good morning Jungkook,” you say, letting him in, “did you not follow Namjoon to work?”
“No, I took a day off.” Jungkook scratches the back of his head, avoiding your gaze.
“Oh, I have something for you!” you pad across the kitchen table, grabbing the manila folder you borrowed from Namjoon’s study. You place it into his palm, despite his confusion. “It is a case!”
“A case,” Jungkook says slowly, opening its contents.
“Yes, my case on how you should tell Krystal how much you love her,” you say proudly, puffing up your chest.
Jungkook huffs exasperatedly, finally relaxing his shoulders and throwing you a smirk, “That isn’t what a case is, Princess.”
“Well! At least have a look! I couldn’t sleep last night, so I spent all night handwriting recipes and detailing your perfect evening. It was a shame I couldn’t ask Krystal more about her interests last night, she seems like a lovely girl,” you talk yourself off, shooting round after round of gab that has you reeling in your own head, “a very beautiful woman, I correct. She’s a great match, I can feel it.”
“Thanks,” Jungkook replies shortly, looking at the folder as if he’s unsure about it’s contents. “Actually, that’s wh
Series Warnings (Will Be Updated): Mentions of Drugs and Drug Deals, Blood, Smut, Emotional Damage, Love
Warnings For This Chapter: Feelings, Yoongi Opening Up
When you left the compound with Yoongi the sun was still high in the sky.
Now as you drive down the asphalt roads with the top down and the wind caressing your bare shoulders, the sky is a multitude of pastel colors.
The drug lord hasn’t told you where you’re going but the hand that’s intertwined with yours keeps your suspicions at bay.
You find yourself thinking as he switches the headlights on that this just feels so right.
It feels so completely, wonderfully right.
“Why’re your hands so cold? Are you chilly?” Yoongi inquires, tossing his finished cigarette out of the car.
You haven’t even noticed the sudden drop in temperature, you’ve been so focused on your thoughts and the way the colors have been painting the sky.
“I’m okay. I didn’t even notice,” you reply.
The silence between you two carries on for a while, the indie rock music bleeding through the car’s speakers is just enough to keep the mood relaxed.
The roads you’re taking are winding and sharp but your boyfriend hits each curve with accuracy.
“Why do I get the feeling that you’re feeling awkward?” the scarred man breathes, slowing down the vehicle.
Tilting your head to him, you watch as the setting sun highlights every gorgeous feature of his handsome face.
It’s almost impossible to stop yourself from sighing dreamily.
His scar which normally is an angry red seems softer somehow as if the pinkish hues of the once cut skin is healing even now.
You feel caught between a second and forever as the car finally stops.
The drug lord turns his head to you, tilting it playfully and it snaps you out of your reverie.
“Feeling awkward?” Yoongi inquires again.
Shaking your head, you smile up at him. “Not awkward. Just comfortable,” you promise, turning to look at the sight before you.
The car has stopped on a cliff high above the city below. It’s breathtaking to see the multitude of lights that dot the skyline as the sun sets.
“Wow,” you gasp, unbuckling your seatbelt and standing up.
“This is my favorite place to come when I need to take a break and think,” your boyfriend breathes, shutting the car off.
Yoongi looks up at you, watching how your face lights up in the soft rays of moonlight. With your arms crossed atop the windshield, you look completely ethereal.
“Jesus,” he mutters, completely floored by your gorgeous silhouette.
When you rest your temple against your knuckles and smile down at him, he takes a sharp breath between his teeth.
There’s this unspoken conversation you both are having. You’re taking each other into your sights for what feels like the first time and both of your bodies are teetering on the edge of exploding.
Yoongi pulls out both of his phones, the prepaid and his regular one, he switches them off without a second thought.
You watch with curious eyes as he exits the car and grabs the throw blanket and the bottle of wine. He wraps his arm around your waist, hoisting you up effortlessly out of the car and you can’t help but squeal happily.
He smirks, throwing the blanket down in front of the car and flickering on the headlights.
The high beams highlight the flowery patch in front of you and you feel absolutely speechless. You’ve never had a man do anything like this before.
Well, you’ve never had a man do anything for you before unless you’re counting Jeongguk buying you dinner. But he doesn’t count, not really.
“This is a date,” you find yourself uttering as your boyfriend sets you down on your feet.
The drug lord smiles, sitting down on the blanket and patting the spot beside him.
He leans back against the hood of the car, unbuttoning his dress shirt until the black ink of his tattooed torso is on view.
When you sit down beside him, he slings his arm over your shoulders.
“We’ve been on dates before. I’ve taken you out to lunch and dinner numerous times,” he breathes, drifting his thumb over your exposed arm.
“Not one that hasn’t been interrupted,” you reply, opening the bottle of wine.
He hums in agreement, looking over the lit city below.
“This is really beautiful, Yoongi,” you murmur, setting the bottle down beneath you.
“You’re really beautiful,” he vows, putting his index finger beneath your chin and turning your face to look at him.
You can feel the tips of your ears burning with the early hints of a blush at his sweet words.
“No one knows about this place, it’s my own little haven.” the drug lord announces, carding his fingers through his hair.
“I know now,” you quip, moving closer to him when he pulls you.
“Ah, well you aren’t no one, baby doll,” he murmurs, drifting his lips over your shoulder.
He sounds so free, so relaxed and it makes you vibrate with happiness.
“How so?” you inquire.
Yoongi picks up the bottle of wine, smirking as he brings it to his lips. You watch his Adam’s apple bob while he drinks the aged white liquor and there’s something so magnetic about him in this very moment.
It’s gravitational. Pulling. Grounding.
“You should know by now that you mean much more to me than any woman that has stepped within a ten foot distance of me in all these years,” the scarred man professes.
Your heart stammers and your throat tightens. You’re unashamed when you lay your head down on his broad shoulder, staring down at the city below.
A gentle chilly wind sweeps over the both of you and the goosebumps that begin to grace your skin makes your boyfriend frown.
He peels off his suit jacket, slinging it over your shoulders before you can even protest.
When you open your mouth to refute, he presses his lips softly to yours.
“What makes me so different?” you bleat, coursing your fingers over his smooth, neat dress shirt.
Yoongi sighs happily, pulling you into his lap.
“Everything about you is different. Most women that come to know me only know how to open their legs, they don’t know how to open my heart,” the scarred man begins, wrapping his arms around you. You can feel his hard, sinewy torso pressing tightly, comfortingly to your back. “Every single second I’ve spent with you has had my heart race faster than any drug could allow. Sure, you can be stubborn and challenging at times but who wants a meek woman that sits by idly? You are show stopping and strong, completely brazen. I tried so fucking hard to make you hate me – so fucking hard.”
You mold yourself to your boyfriend’s body, burying your face into his neck. He preens gently, running his hands over your body as you tuck your legs beneath you.
“Why?” you bleat, accepting the bottle of wine as he offers it.
Yoongi pulls out a cigarette, packing the bottom of it to his terse thigh. “I wanted you to hate me so badly so that you would push yourself away from me. I wasn’t ready during those angry moments to understand just how well you would reform me. I just knew that you were a good girl and I was an evil that you didn’t need.”
You lift your head when you hear the pain in his voice. His eyebrows are knit together like he’s reliving his worst sin so you do what you need to and hug him tightly.
“And now?” you breathe, drifting your fingers over the dragons that dance along his scalp.
“Now you’re my good girl. Like it should be,” he replies, placing both of his hands on either side of your face.
The drug lord presses his forehead to yours and the peace between the both of you bleeds into the chilly atmosphere.
“I haven’t wanted something like this so badly in so many years. I want to give you… God, everything and anything you desire. I know I seem cold sometimes but that’s all I’ve ever known. You’ve made something inside me just… melt. I was so afraid of that but… I love it.”
You can’t help the smile that graces your face at his words.
“Against everything in my body telling me to close myself up again, I just can’t bring myself to do it. I want this. I want you.”
The tip of his nose trails over the apple of your cheek and you’re so consumed with the man in front of you that you can hardly think of anything else.
“Well, I’m here,” you breathe, watching him light his cigarette.
“Thank God for that,” he replies, blowing the smoke away from you.
If you’re not careful, you’re gonna fall deeply in love with this man.
But you’ve never been careful and you won’t start now.
“I’m really shocked at how open I’ve been with you so far, it hasn’t felt strained or taxing.” Yoongi bleats, taking another swig of the white wine.
“I like how open you’ve been,” you agree, turning back around to look at the dazzling light show beneath you.
“Me too, I’ve never told anyone about my parents before. It was always just a small little secret, a tiny memory to keep for them. But it felt so good just saying it out loud and it felt even better to tell you.” the scarred man avows, rocking you back and forth.
The smile that’s etched onto your face is really starting to hurt your muscles but every moment of joy is so incredibly worth it.
There’s silence for a bit, a calm and collected silence that seems to stretch far and wide. You’ve taken to staring at the blinking tower lights ahead of you, you watch them strobe and pulse in time with the scarred man’s heartbeat behind you.
“I hope to be everything you want. I want to be that man that you love waking up next to.” Yoongi finally says, pushing your hair over your shoulder to pepper soft, warm kisses to the back of your neck.
“I don’t know how Sedra could have left someone as amazing as you.”
You freeze for a moment, widening your eyes at how lackadaisical your mouth has become during the comforting stretch of silence.
Feeling terrible, you turn to look back at him and he only chuckles at the sorrow on your face.
Picking up his hand, he presses his thumb to your knit eyebrows, relaxing the muscles that are wound tightly together with a smile.
“I was so bitter about it for so many years that it ate away at my soul. But in that empty, utterly barren part of my heart began to bloom something so much more important than anger because of you. We can talk about it, I don’t mind actually. I told you I’m open with you and that’s how it will stay,” he promises, kissing you sweetly.
When you just stare at him, taking in every handsome feature of his god-like face, the drug lord feels a weight lift off his body.
He’s been trying to push you away for so long now that now with his heart opening… he’s never gonna be able to go back to how he was before.
You give him something.
Something profound.
Like… water in the desert or food when you’re gaunt.
You’re saving him, like he’s been drowning for the past ten years.
“You know-,” he sighs softly.
Just the small sound has you sitting up straighter. There’s more emotion in that single sigh than you care to analyze but you tilt your head to him when he clears his throat.
“Something deep inside of me wants to just… speak all of my sins and all of my pain to you,” Yoongi whispers, lacing your hands together.
Giving him a small smile, you press your forehead to his temple. “I may not have been in a relationship before but I do know that that’s okay to do. How can you be with someone, really truly be with them, if you can’t tell them everything? You’re supposed to share everything. That’s why they call significant others – people’s other halves.”
The drug lord closes his eyes, letting your words flow through him like a river.
He finds the will to speak after a moment.
“I was trying to protect you by not telling you details of where I was going or what I was doing the other day… I was afraid that in the future if we did get so close and I did tell you those things then it would solidify how I feel about you… And that scared me for a moment. I was afraid that I was losing myself so fast – like I was gripping onto a rope that was fraying.”
You hum in agreement, kissing the back of his hand.
“But I don’t want to be afraid anymore, Y/N,” he breathes, staring at you with shaking mocha irises. “I want to be a person again. I want to live my life instead of living in darkness.”
He leaves your hand for a moment to grab the wine and you watch as he guzzles it to douse the flames of nervousness through his body.
“Well I’m not going anywhere, I’ll be here when you’re ready to open up.”
Yoongi courses his second knuckles over your cheek, appreciating the way the moon highlights your hair like you’ve been given a halo – a rightful halo fit for an angel.
He is silent for a long time, longer than you’ve ever seen before. The drug lord’s eyes take you in as a whole in front of him for what feels like eons.
He pulls from his cigarette, letting the smoke gently exhale from between his plush lips.
“I was trying to get Sedra pregnant back then, that’s why I was so surprised it was Jae’s kid. She was letting me cum inside her for so long while she was also with him that… I thought it was mine,” the scarred man says.
He’s opening up.
You give him your full attention, wrapping your legs around his waist and steadying your hands on his shoulders.
His rough, warm hand runs over your back as he leans his head back against the car to look up at you.
“I never wanted to think of me and her parting. I was so obsessed with her. She was the only family I wanted and what I thought I needed to be whole… She told me she was pregnant and she allowed me to believe it was mine for twenty four hours before I overheard her telling Jae.”
Your eyebrows knit once more, an angry fury crossing your mind until your veins are thumping out of your temples.
Just hearing his past pain makes your heart palpitate sickly.
Yoongi looks past you to the city and his expression is so lost that it feels like he’ll never come back to reality.
“I knew… God, I knew something was up with them. Just the way she looked at him… she never looked at me that way. She never drifted her fingers over my chest like she did with him. But I just couldn’t let her go… I couldn’t.”
He tosses his cigarette aside, looking up at the starry night sky. When you bury your face in his neck, his eyes flutter shut. A protective arm wraps around your waist and he holds you so close to him that he can barely breathe.
“I overheard her telling Jae about the baby. She snuck out with him at night and I was so cautious even back then that I followed them to the treehouse behind the orphanage.”
You shut your eyes, bracing yourself for anything and everything he’s about to tell you.
“When he told her how happy he was that it was his… When she said that she would only let me cum in her on days where she wasn’t ovulating… I vomited all over myself… She lied to me. She-She used me because she couldn’t get rid of me.”
Swallowing thickly, you wrap your arms around his neck.
The drug lord shakes his head, letting a bitter chuckle flow through the air.
“So I got mad… more mad at myself than anything. I was so fucking pissed that I was such a dumbass kid. So I went out to the bar that night. I had been sober from drugs for about a year but I just wanted to forget everything. I wanted to score something that would just make me obsolete. So I did some PCP and I drank until everything was upside down.”
Your shivers aren’t from the cold, they’re from his words.
Yoongi pulls his suit jacket tighter over your shoulders and he buries his face in your hair, almost as if he’s trying to shield himself from his memories.
“Jae came to the bar to celebrate that Sedra was pregnant. I was strung out and drunk, barely able to lift my fingers but when I saw him… I had this beast inside of me just raring to break out. So I broke a beer bottle and rushed at him with all this rage and all this anger… And Jae was just too fast for my fucked up body. He turned my wrist and made me cut my own face open… There was so m-much blood. I couldn’t even feel it because of how wasted I was.”
You whimper gently, squeezing your eyes shut tighter as tears pool.
“No one knows that it was Jae that did this to me. I didn’t want people to know that he kept one-upping me in every point of my life back then, so I just let that part of the night die along with all of my emotions.”
Pulling back, you cup his face. The scarred man swallows thickly, avoiding eye contact with you.
“I'm…I’m telling you this because I really enjoy you around me. I enjoy your company. I enjoy how you make me feel. ‘Cause I haven’t felt… not for an incredibly long time.”
You lean in, pressing your lips softly to the gnarled skin and he completely freezes before you like a statue.
Your voice is shaky but strong, something that makes his heart bleed in an instant. “I don’t care about what happened in your past… I care about your future and if I-I have any say in it… you’ll never be hurt again.”
His hand wraps around the back of your neck, tugging you to look at him.
His eyes are windows to all the deep seated pain he’s held inside for so long.
“It’s gonna be so hard for me to try not to fall in love with you, baby doll.”
“Don’t try… just do.”
His lips are on yours then. Fierce and passionate all at once. His teeth clamp down on your lower lip, tugging and suckling until your hands card through his hair.
He growls against you, a sound that’s so needy and carnal it makes your body want to implode.
Yoongi kisses you until your lips are raw and swollen, his hands trail over your side, kneading and gripping whatever skin he can find.
But when you pull away – the calm between the both of you is deafening.
“I want you… more than I’ve wanted anything in so long,” he breathes, trailing the tip of his nose over your collarbone.
“I’m not going anywhere.” you promise, running your fingers over his inked scalp.
Looking up at you once more, he sighs. “Open my heart up, sweetheart. Tear me to shreds. I’m yours.”
“I’m yours,” you whisper, pressing your forehead to his.
Series Warnings (Will Be Updated): Mentions of Drugs and Drug Deals, Blood, Smut, Emotional Damage, Love
Warnings For This Chapter: Detective Seokjin, Cunnilingus, Sir Kink, Pet Names, Praise, Edging, Begging, Bratty!Reader, Clit Pinching, Bitch Boy!Jimin
The definition of monogamy has been blurry to Yoongi ever since Sedra left him for dead.
He always found himself changing the description, flipping it from a noun to a not really used adjective to simply pretending like the word didn’t exist at all.
But you, little miss Jeon Y/N has brought the Merriam-Webster definition to life before his very eyes.
You’ve seemed to carve the noun into his chest, into his soul.
“Did you find it?” he drones into the phone, looking up from his desk.
“Finally yeah, I had to go to one of those old sweet shops in a town where there’s only like ten people that live in hanoks,” Taehyung announces.
Yoongi breathes a sigh of relief, leaning back in his chair and putting his hands behind his head.
“How many did you buy?” the drug lord inquires.
“Their whole inventory. Three full boxes.” Tae replies.
“Good, just bring them with you to the coffee shop tomorrow. Jeongguk is gonna come pick them up.”
Yoongi hears a noise that can only be described as a disgusted scoff.
“Must you? Can’t you send Jimin or Namjoon or literally anyone else? Even a homeless man who’s doing it for a two dollar tip will suffice.”
The drug lord smirks, shaking his head at the younger man’s childishness.
“Just because he’s the youngest doesn’t mean you can bully him like everyone else did to you. You were the youngest not too long ago.” Yoongi chides, winking at Namjoon who stands stiffly against the office door.
The usually silent man only rolls his eyes in return, earning a wide smile from the drug lord.
“Hey, man, I was trying to help him out. Seeing as how he’s too pussy to talk to the girl he actually likes.”
There are so many similarities between you two siblings but the one thing that Jeongguk never picked up from you was boldness.
When you want something, Yoongi knows all too well, you’ll get it.
Kicking his feet up onto his desk, the drug lord chuckles.
“Are you gonna hit that?” Yoongi inquires, fixing his cuff links.
“No! She’s for Guk. He should know that already instead of making me beat him black and blue.”
Yoongi lights a cigarette, watching the smoke rise up to the ceiling. “Well, instead of beating him up, why don’t you support him?”
Taehyung whistles long and low. “Wow, his sister must be pegging you with one fat strap-on to get you talking like that.”
“Yeah, alright. You fucking moron.” the drug lord grumbles, ending the call.
Namjoon chuckles then, the sound drawing your boyfriend’s attention.
“Funny?” Yoongi quips, lifting his mug of coffee.
Joon can only shrug. “It’s nice.”
The drug lord blinks. “What’s nice? Pegging?”
The taller man rolls his eyes. “You. Y/N. It’s nice.”
The scarred man isn’t usually one for blushing cheeks but he can feel his skin heating up at the usually silent man’s brisk words.
Namjoon has been by Yoongi’s side since he arrived at the orphanage. He’s never questioned him, he’s never shown an ounce of loyalty to anyone else and he’s always been a trustworthy friend.
“Better than Sedra.” Namjoon rasps, leaning his head back against the steel door.
Yoongi smirks, ashing his cigarette. “I think a venomous snake is better than that one.”
The laugh Joon gives sounds as if it’s pained but the dimples that etch onto his cheeks tell a different story.
The two men relish in each other’s company for a minute before the office door comes barreling open.
“I just got the dash cam footage back from the crash… you’re gonna wanna see this.” Jin announces.
The drug lord’s eyebrows flicker up and he moves his mug out of the way for the eldest’s laptop to settle down.
Joon slowly closes the door, stepping far enough into the room to be able to see the large screen.
Jin taps the spacebar, nodding to the screen and your boyfriend drifts his fingers slowly over the gnarled skin on his face.
Yoongi flinches when the Escalade comes to a screeching halt but the large truck that ends up smashing into them moments later seems completely intentional.
“I thought to myself after watching it, ‘the truck behind us had more than enough time to step on the brakes or to even shift out of the path’ so I did more digging.” the broad shouldered man states, tapping the spacebar and rewinding the video just a few seconds back.
He points at the screen.
“Vanwyck Pharmaceuticals?” Yoongi murmurs, reading the faded letters on the front hood of the truck.
“Mhm. Vanwyck Pharmaceuticals is a subsidiary under Seoshin Medical.” Jin replies, folding his arms.
“Seoshin Medical? Isn’t that run by Hyunwoo’s parents?” the drug lord inquires.
Namjoon nods stiffly, leaning over the large armchair the boss is sitting in. “Cunts.”
Jin claps his hands, earning the attention of both of the men in the room. “It’s owned by the Hyunwoo’s parents. So I called up some of the reps from the company, trying to figure out what truck would be on that route so late in the day. Turns out – there were no deliveries that day, they were all wiped from the system. So that truck should have been in the lot the whole evening.”
The drug lord sighs loudly, coursing his rough hands over his face.
“And just in case I was wrong, I checked through the footage again.” the oldest states, fastforwarding until one image is completely still on the screen.
While it’s blurry, it’s still clear enough to make out.
Both of the drivers have on sunglasses but the snake tattoos that curl beneath the shell of their ears is incredibly apparent. The green head of the snake tattoo curls up their sideburns and the sight makes Yoongi’s teeth grit.
“It was a hit on us.”
The words creep slowly throughout the air of the office.
The drug lord’s hands form fists and none of the men are surprised when he slams them down onto the desk.
He tilts his head to Joon, the silent man already mentally prepared for whatever the boss asks for.
“I want whichever two of those fucking lowlives who were driving that truck in this forest by tomorrow. I want them dead or alive,” your boyfriend seethes through his teeth.
“Yes, Boss.”
The scarred man stands, buttoning up his suit jacket. “I need a drink.”
You’ve become accustomed to daily life in the forest these days.
You start the day off by making coffee, you usually check your laptop for any work emails or pay any bills for the shop, later on you’ll check out the stock list that is diligently updated by Hanna and you’ll order supplies accordingly before sitting out in the gazebo with Yuqi and drinking wine until Yoongi is done with whatever illegal business he’s been taking care of throughout the day.
But you don’t even get past the second step in your routine when the bedroom door opens.
Yoongi is clearly irritated, dragging his fingertips over the large scar beneath his right eye.
“What’s wrong?” you ask immediately, closing your computer.
He doesn’t reply, closing the door and locking it before walking over to you with a swiftness that makes all your joints lock in place.
He grabs your hips, picking you up effortlessly and your breathing all but ceases to exist.
Hooking his hand around the back of your neck, he pulls you to him roughly.
He molds his lips to yours, the searing kiss making your eyes widen. You can feel the need for comfort practically oozing from him and your arms wrap around his shoulders instantly.
Keeping one hand on your lower back, he shoves up your dress until it’s just barely clinging to your breasts.
You hiss softly, burying your face into his sweet smelling neck and you’re more than ready to give him any distraction he needs.
“Fuck,” he curses loudly, tugging your underwear to the side.
His fingers glide over your lower lips, already feeling the arousal that begins to weep from your core and he groans.
Yoongi drops you down onto the bed, pulling off your dress with rough, unforgiving hands.
His cinnamon irises are burning with a deep, hellbent rage that only softens when you unhook your strapless bra.
He hums sweetly, kneeling down onto the floor and dragging you by the back of your calves until your core is in front of his face.
He licks at his lips slowly, looking over your now naked body.
“What’s wron-”
“Uh. Uh.” he tuts, kissing over your thigh.
You sigh shakily, letting your head loll back to the soft mattress.
“Let me just distract myself with your pretty cunt,” he breathes, splaying open your lower lips with his fingers.
You writhe beneath him, eyelids fluttering shut.
He spits on your cunt, watching as his spittle mixes with your spilled juices and he can’t think of a better way to let this burning anger deep inside of him diminish.
He licks up your folds, watching your back arch prettily in the early morning sun.
Your boyfriend suckles at your clit, keeping you pinned down to the bed with his iron-clad grip.
“Yoongi!” you gasp, fisting at the bedsheets.
Over the past few days since the accident he’s allowed himself to open up to you more and more and just this once, until you really ask for it, he’ll open up in the bedroom.
“You call me Sir when you address me,” he informs you.
You lift your head up, eyes widening down at him.
He wants you to do whatnow?
“You got that, baby doll?” he breathes, kissing up your thigh.
You’re completely dumbfounded by his words. When you open your mouth to respond – nothing comes out.
He lifts his head, raising an eyebrow at your silence.
He gives a heady slap to the meat of your inner thigh, eyes lighting up with hedonistic intentions when your hips rise off the bed.
“I won’t ask you twice,” he seethes through his teeth.
“I heard you,” you choke out, allowing him to pin your hips back down.
“Then what do you call me?”
“S-Sir,” you chirp.
The way your entrance throbs at the simple word when it flows past your lips earns a wicked smirk from the drug lord between your legs.
“That’s my girl,” he praises, letting his tongue lap over your sensitive bud.
You can only moan at the praise, whimpering as he takes his sweet time.
Yoongi doesn’t feel the need to get you off within seconds, he wants to draw this out. If it lasts ten minutes, an hour, five hours – he’ll take what he needs until he’s calm again.
He simply grunts at the sweetness of your arousal on his tongue.
“Goddamn,” he hisses, flicking at your clit until your gasps are shorter and stunted.
When he feels the bud throb beneath his tongue, warning him of your release, he stops.
You cry out at the feeling, shivering as your orgasm ebbs away.
“S-Sir?” you whine, spreading your knees wider.
“I’m just playing with what’s mine, sweetheart.” he breathes, running his fingers over your soaked lips.
“But I was gonna cum,” you whimper.
“I know, baby. But I wasn’t ready for you to cum yet,” Yoongi quips, licking up your folds.
With a sweet whinge, you card your fingers through his hair.
“Such a pretty little cunt,” he coos, dragging his wet muscle over your core.
“Fuck me,” you beg, looking down at him.
He smirks then, letting his hands roam over your smooth legs. “No, not yet. Not until you’re begging.”
“I-I am begging,” you blanch, lifting up on your elbows.
He clicks his teeth, lifting the hood of your clit and slowly flicking at it until your arms cave in.
“You’re not begging the way I want you to.” he replies simply.
“How would you like me to do that… Sir?” you gasp, gyrating your hips for more.
“You’ll know when I need you to,” he sighs.
He begins to ravage you once again, suckling and nibbling at your clit until your moans are practically screams.
The drug lord hooks his hands behind your knees, pushing them up until your pussy is spread wide before him.
He groans at the sight, licking at your core until you’re shaking and writhing under his ministrations.
“Finger me!” you gasp, hooking your hands around your legs.
“No,” he replies curtly, reaching up and pinching your nipples.
You whine loudly, undulating your hips.
“Please, Sir!” you beg.
Spitting on your cunt, he pulls away and you sob at the loss.
“Nothing is going in this tight virgin cunt until my cock does,” he coos, drifting the tip of his wet muscle over your entrance.
Your pussy contracts and weeps at the feeling, your chest tightens and your nails dig painfully into your skin.
“So then put your cock in!” you sob, throwing your head back.
Narrowing his eyes at you, he slaps your inner thigh once more. “Don’t take that tone with me, little brat. You’ll get my cock when you’re ready for it.”
“Sorry, Sir,” you murmur, opening your legs wider.
He makes tentative licks to your clit, watching your chest puff up with pleasure. “What’s that? I couldn’t hear you, sweetheart.”
“I’m sorry, Sir.” you croak, squeezing your eyes shut.
“One more time?” he goads, suckling harshly.
“I’m sorry, Sir! Fuck!” you cry out, threading your hands into his black hair.
“Good girl, baby doll.” he praises.
His anger has completely melted away, only finding the sight before him his biggest concern.
The way your arousal drips down your supple cheeks and how your cheeks are tinged with the color of pleasure is all that seems to matter.
And it’s just so easy for him to lap at your core until you’re back to teetering on the precipice of your relief.
“Oh God! Fuck! Yes! Sir, right there!” you sob.
Your boyfriend can feel how your hands shake and shiver against his scalp. He can feel your nails drifting over his skin and he hums against you.
“You wanna cum?” he teases, rubbing circles to your clit with his thumb.
“Please, Sir!” you whimper.
He kisses up your body, suckling at your nipple until he releases it with a wet pop.
“I bet you do, sweetheart.” he coos, rubbing faster against you until you’re shivering beside him.
He kisses you then, gently slapping your core with the tips of his fingers.
“Oh my God, Sir, please! I’ll be such a good girl, I promise! J-Just please, let me,” you beg, tugging at the lapels of his suit jacket.
“You’re already such a good girl,” he murmurs, drifting his lips down your neck.
He pinches your clit sweetly, dragging the hood up and rolling his fingertips over the throbbing bud.
“Christ, your cunt is so fucking wet,” he groans against your skin.
You beg and plead, moaning until your throat is hoarse and dry.
“Cum,” he hisses into your ear, tugging at your earlobe with his teeth.
You whimper softly, feeling the pressing orgasm that’s kept your limbs stiff and shaking suddenly burst through you like a cosmos of stars forming a new planet.
Your body falls boneless onto the bed and Yoongi darkly chuckles as you squirt onto the sheets below you.
“That’s it, sweetheart. Give it to me.” he coos, kissing the top of your head repeatedly until you’re coddling to his chest.
He sighs deeply, the sound completely relaxed and free.
The drug lord wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you into his lap as he leans back against the headboard of his bed.
His lips drift over your shoulder and his eyes flutter shut at the stillness he feels.
In a way, this all feels brand new to him.
When he was younger, when he was with Sedra, he always had a pressing anxiousness deeply rooted in his heart.
He was unsure of himself, unsure of the people around him. But what could he expect? He was a teenager.
Now, with you here in his arms, he’s so fucking comfortable.
The sounds of your breathing returning to normal is a song unlike many others that he’d put down on the soundtrack of his life.
“Why do you have so many movie posters and models of cars?” you inquire, drifting your hands over his arm.
His eyes open and he stares straight ahead at the wall before him.
He hums thoughtfully.
He’s been open with you so far this week, he’ll keep it going, he surmises.
“When I was really young, I’ve told you this before, I ended up at the orphanage after my parents died in a car crash. I had memory loss for a long time. Even now I can’t properly remember what their faces looked like-”
You press your lips into a thin line, burying your face into his neck.
“- but after a while, I started to remember certain small things. Like my father was a really big car buff, I think. He always used to buy me toy cars and those little attachable car tracks that you could link up to make an arena or something. And my mother, she liked movies. We would watch the same movies over and over again, probably because I asked her but she never seemed to have a problem with it. I think she enjoyed spending time with me.”
You smile against his skin, letting the quick heartbeat of his chest resound through you.
It must not be easy to open up like this. Especially when you’ve been so closed off all these years.
“Who wouldn’t enjoy spending time with you? You’re great,” you breathe, looking up at him.
He chuckles, drifting his nose over your cheekbone. “Why’re you being so sweet? You want me to eat your pretty cunt again?”
“Well, I’d never say no to th-”
A knock at the door pulls your attention away from him.
“What?” he calls, kissing down your arm to move back towards the apex of your thighs.
“We know who they were. We’re going out now.” Jin calls back.
Yoongi freezes, letting his lips linger against your hip.
His eyes flicker to you and you can see this restless beginning to grow within him once more.
“Go,” he booms towards the door.
“Yes, Boss.”
The drug lord stands up, extending his hands to you. “Let’s go for a drive.”
You tilt your head, allowing him to pull you up to your feet. “Where?”
He slowly puts your bra back on, kissing over the back of your shoulder. “Somewhere special to me.”
Your boyfriend helps you slip back on your dress and you can’t help the way your heart stutters when he holds out his hand.
You grab his hand, following after him.
When he gets to the living room, he pulls a bottle of wine from the rack above the bar and he takes the throw blanket off of the couch.
“Going somewhere?” Guk quips from the kitchen doorway, a cookie between his teeth.
“Yeah, just going out for a drive.” you reply, smiling at your younger sibling.
He looks between you and his boss, softening at how happy you look.
“Well… just… be careful.” your brother breathes, smiling when you nod at him.
“Where’s Jimin?” Yoongi inquires, lighting a cigarette and draping the throw blanket over his shoulder.
“Right here, Boss. What do you need?” Jimin asks quickly, peeking his head out of the kitchen.
Yoongi smirks, the action completely changing his face.
“Go change my bedsheets.” he orders, pulling you towards the door.
“What? Me? Why?” Chim whines, throwing his head back.
“Cause you’re the bitch boy until you’ve made up for your mistakes,” your boyfriend quips, hooking his arm around your waist and pulling you to his side.
“What’s wrong with your sheets?” your brother inquires through his teeth.
You bury your face into the drug lord’s chest as he chuckles.
“They’re a little… soaked,” he chortles, shoving open the front door.
“Yoongi!” you hiss, smacking his chest as your neck heats up with embarrassment.
The scarred man winks down at you, swatting at your backside playfully. “Get going, sweetheart.”
Jimin and Jeongguk stare at the glass door as it swings shut, both of their eyes twitching for vastlydifferent reasons.
“Well, do you…do you wanna help me?” Jimin guffaws.
Your brother shoves the older man with a grimace, shaking his head like it can erase what he’s just witnessed.
“I’m not the bitch boy, you are.” your sibling quips, narrowly missing the playful slap Jimin tries to etch onto his cheek.
Guk folds his arms, watching the headlights of Yoongi’s car pull out of the long, winding driveway.
When he’s completely alone, he sighs heavily. “Please, just keep her safe,” he begs the heavens.
Series Warnings (Will Be Updated): Mentions of Drugs and Drug Deals, Blood, Smut, Emotional Damage, Love
Warnings For This Chapter: Bruising, Bodily Pain, Fellatio, Face Fucking, Praise, Cum Swallowing, Nosy Hoseok, Cunnilingus, Begging, Verbal Argument
There’s an exorbitant amount of groaning that graces your ears the second you wake up.
When your eyes shoot open, you can blearily see Yoongi trying to simply get out of bed.
“Let me help you,” you murmur.
The drug lord practically jumps out of his skin at the sound of your voice.
“Fuck! You scared me! …I’m sorry I woke you,” he gasps, putting his hand over his heart.
Sitting up, you put your hand on his elbow. He hums gratefully, cringing when he lifts himself off of the bed.
“Come on, big guy.” you breathe, kicking the blankets off of you to take him to the bathroom.
Yoongi slings his arm over your shoulder, letting his head hang forward. His breathing is shallow, sucking gentle puffs of air through his teeth.
In the bright morning light that streams through the large windows of the drug lord’s room, you can see the bruises that have formed on his body overnight.
They’re large purple and black spots that decorate his tattooed body all over. It’s a saddening sight to see.
“Thank you, baby doll,” he breathes, leaning against the door post of the bathroom and closing his eyes.
“Let me turn on the shower for you,” you suggest, helping him sit down on the toilet.
He cards his fingers through his hair, bearing the pain and trying to shove it deep down inside of him.
When he looks over at you, watching how quick you are to help him… his heart… it hurts more than any of his limbs.
“Why’d you… Why’d you sleep in your dress? You should have put on one of my shirts.” the drug lord croaks, seeing the indents on your thighs from your tight dress.
“I was so worried that I passed right out.” you inform him, turning the shower on.
He shakes his head, grasping your hand and pulling you toward him even though it hurts like hell.
He flinches when your hands grasp onto his shoulders to steady yourself.
“Listen, Y/N-” he breathes, pressing his forehead to the backs of your hands.
“Just take a shower,” you cut him off.
“I got something to say, let me say it.” he pleads, looking up at you.
His face is shades of blue and black with yellow outlining. Just the sight of the bruises maring his handsome face makes you want to weep.
“I need you to know that last night… what I said about thinking of you before that car crashed…” Yoongi whispers, looking up into your eyes, “What I said about how I was scared I wouldn’t make it back to you… I meant that. And it shouldn’t have taken me a near death experience to want to open up to you like this.”
You widen your eyes at how softly he speaks his words.
“You mean more to me than I expected… If I’m thinking of you in near death experiences… Well… you’ve really torn down a huge chunk of that wall like you wanted.”
The tips of your ears burn from his sweet admission and the back of your neck becomes hot in a mere second.
“I don’t want you going anywhere, baby doll. I want to be able to open up to you and let you in… no matter how long it takes.” he breathes, closing his eyes when you run your thumb softly over his bruised cheekbone.
“I’m not going anywhere,” you promise.
The drug lord runs his hands over the curve of your hips, drifting his eyes over your gorgeous face.
The bathroom seems so still with emotions that are trying to claw their way out of both of your chests.
The hot steam of the shower rolls over the both of you in waves as you stare at each other.
It’s as if you’re frozen – frozen in time, trying not to let the moment pass.
“Fuck,” he curses softly, standing slowly as he grips the marble countertop of the sink.
“Do you want me to leave?” you inquire, opening the glass door for him.
“No, stay, it’s not like you’ll be able to get your rocks off anyway,” he quips, tapping the large black out bar across the glass which would cover his private areas all too well.
It’s practically sinful to enjoy the sight before you as he sheds his briefs.
His backside is taut and firm, his thick thigh muscles flexing and shaking without much effort.
It’s gotten way too hot in this large bathroom but for right now you’re going to blame that on the steam that permeates throughout the room.
You take a seat on the large leather bench beside the shower, allowing your eyes to drift over the top half of the drug lord’s body.
His torso has bruises and scrapes but it could never take away from the perfection before your eyes.
Yoongi hisses when the water begins to patter against his back. His fingers card through his black hair and your mouth practically drops open at how erotic he looks.
“I-I should go…” you announce, feeling your mouth become dry and parched.
His head lolls back, appreciating the hot water that soothes his aching muscles. His hands run over his face and he can’t help the cocky smirk that graces his features.
“You can come in and join me,” he suggests, opening one eye and looking at your frazzled expression.
“I-I…”
You can’t make out words, you don’t even know how to put sentences together anymore.
He chuckles at your demeanor, letting his hands fall from his face. “It’s not often that you’re at a loss for words. No witty comeback? No ’fuck you’? Well I’ll be damned.”
You sneer at his giddy smile.
He’s enjoying this just a little bit too much.
“You know… as my girlfriend, this is all yours. You can take a peek whenever you’d like.” he mumbles, grabbing his body wash.
And that brings an excellent question to mind.
“Am I really your girlfriend though? Or is it still fake?”
The bottle tumbles out of his hands and he blinks at you.
Well, he can’t say he’s too surprised. He never clarified it. He just expected you to know.
“You’re my girlfriend.”
He sounds roughly around twelve years old during his admission. His voice quivers and he has to clear his throat directly after with hopes that he didn’t sound too shocked.
He hasn’t said those words and meant them for… years.
You find yourself nodding.
“Oh… okay.”
When he bends down to grab the body wash, he groans loudly.
The sound is so painful and so sudden that you find yourself standing up in an instant.
“Good Christ Almighty,” he seethes through his teeth, pressing his hands up against the steamy glass divider.
Without a second thought, you strip out of your dress.
His head lifts when he notices the pooling fabric and his eyes slowly work over every inch of your exposed skin.
“What’re you doing, sweetheart?” he inquires, stepping back when you open up the glass door.
He politely shields his loins with his hands, raising an eyebrow when you bend down to grab the bottle of body wash.
The drug lord’s mind races at a mile a minute, rolling his eyes when his cock jumps at the sight of your skin becoming damp from the shower head.
He’s like a virgin in this moment, trying to will his erotic thoughts away.
But it doesn’t do much good when your white lingerie becomes see-through. Your nipples pebble against the fabric and you’re so consumed with helping him wash that you don’t even register your body being on full display.
“I can do it myself, get out.” he instructs softly.
When you stand back up straight, you take in how his chest and abs glisten deliciously.
You swallow thickly, drifting your gaze over him as he does the same.
His tongue sweeps over his bruised and split lips, keeping his gaze affixed to the swell of your breasts.
His bodily pain is nowhere to be found as he wraps his arms around your naked waist.
You gasp loudly when he pulls you roughly to his chest, the bottle falls to the shower floor with a loud thump and your heart picks up speed in an instant.
His hard cock presses into your hip and you can only whimper at the rigidity of it.
“I need to buy you some waterproof underwear,” he quips, pressing you up against the marble tiles of the shower.
The coolness of the wall floods you with relief as your body grows ever hotter.
His large hand cups your cheek, thumb drifting over your parted lips.
“Your skin is so soft,” he croons, dragging his lips over your jaw.
Your mind is blank, only prayers and pleading echo throughout your skull begging him to keep descending.
“Tell me to stop,” he begs, kissing down the column of your neck.
“N-No,” you choke out, angling your face away for him to have more access to your body.
He groans gently, the noise sending your skin alight with goosebumps.
Running his hands over your soaked skin, his thumbs swipe over your pebbled nipples.
When you gasp gently, seeing stars in your vision, he takes the opportunity to kiss you.
His tongue dominates yours in an instant, showing you even when he’s hurt – he’s still in charge.
Your hands are clumsy compared to his, drifting over his abs until his hard cock is in your palm.
He shudders before you, burying his forehead into the nape of your neck.
It’s been a long time since he’s been touched. A long time since he’s had the comfort of a woman.
Wrapping your hand around his generous length, you adore the gentle groans and moans that echo throughout the shower.
With a growl, he rips your bra away, turning it into useless fabric within seconds.
You pump his cock with a whimper, letting your bottom lip tuck safely between your teeth.
“Fuck, just like that baby doll.” Yoongi hisses, kissing down your chest.
His hands come to cup the supple cheeks of your backside, squeezing roughly when you drag your thumb along the tip of his bulbous head.
“I-I’ve never… I’ve never done this before,” you admit softly, preening when his lips suckle marks to the skin around your areolas.
His tongue flicks softly at your stiff peaked nipple, grabbing your hand on his cock and moving it with his own.
“Feels good,” he purrs, palming the skin of your ass.
It’s a fleeting thought that crosses his mind, but an important one.
Jeongguk has mentioned your virginity in passing but the drug lord just assumed that your brother had this rose-colored image of you.
“Baby doll, are you a virg-” his sentence is cut short with a groan as you grip his cock tighter.
He kisses over your heated skin to show attention to your other nipple and you can only whine needily.
In a moment of boldness, you decide to take charge.
You turn your bodies, pressing the drug lord against the wall and his head leans back with a gentle thump.
Kissing down his chest, you take your time over the bruises and marred skin.
“Oh fuck,” he mumbles, carding his fingers through the soaked tendrils of your hair.
Your knees hit the smooth tile beneath your feet and your mind reels at the sight before you.
His cock is long and thick, two toned and throbbing with want. His bulbous head is a needy red and the gentle curve of his cock entices you completely.
Parting your lips, you lick a circle around the head, hoping to not be too clumsy or too uneducated about it.
“Oh my God,” Yoongi seethes, gathering your hair into a makeshift ponytail.
You take his long length slowly into your mouth, allowing your tongue to glide over the throbbing base.
Yoongi can feel your nerves, he can feel your unsure actions and it’s so erotic to him that he tugs your hair roughly.
“Fuck, baby doll, just like that. Keep going,” he coos, pinching and rolling your nipple with his free hand.
You moan against his cock, preening for more.
The vibrations of your mouth make him rigid, his muscles flex and he can’t control the string of curses that pour from his lips.
You swallow around him, taking him deep within your throat. The taste of his precum is musky and thick.
Your boyfriend praises you sweetly, watching with avid eyes as your legs part with erotic intentions.
You work assiduously on his length, getting sloppier and faster with each passing minute.
“Christ, your mouth feels so fucking good,” he whispers, tugging your hair.
You can only think of pleasing this man before you, showing him how much he’s come to mean to you.
“You wanna swallow?” he inquires, thrusting his hips to meet your mouth.
You whine in agreement, grabbing onto his hips as he begins to fuck your face.
“God, I’ve been dying to know what this pretty mouth could do.” he coos, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth.
You can feel his cock beginning to throb in the recesses of your throat and your mind is completely enraptured with wanting him to finish.
You cup his balls with one hand, rolling and squeezing them to further his pleasure.
“Oh sweetheart, shit!” he cries out.
He moans long and low, pumping his cock slowly into your mouth as he cums.
He sighs shakily, combing his fingers through your hair sweetly.
When you pull off of him, he angles your face to look up at him.
“Open your mouth,” he insists, tugging your chin down with his thumb and index finger.
You do as told, whimpering as you do so.
“Good girl,” he praises, peeking into your empty mouth.
He runs his hand over your cheek when the door swings open.
“Boss, we heard something fall. You alright?” Hoseok inquires.
Yoongi rolls his eyes, shielding what can be seen of your body through the glass with his own.
“I’m fine. Get out.” he orders, helping you stand back up.
Hoseok widens his eyes at the sight before him, leaving the bathroom with a quickness.
“C'mere,” Yoongi murmurs, pulling you closer by the back of your neck.
You moan into the heated kiss, allowing him to pull you out of the shower.
Your body tingles with satisfaction and your skin feels on fire with need.
The shivers your body racks with when you enter his cool bedroom bring you back to reality.
The drug lord’s gaze holds something powerful and knowing as he lays you down on his large bed.
He doesn’t care that the sheets are soaked, he doesn’t care that his body is throbbing with pain, not when he spreads your legs.
Tearing off your thong, he groans at the sight before him.
“You’re so gorgeous,” he praises, wrapping his arms around your thighs to keep you in place.
Your breath hitches loudly when he inches his way towards your core.
“Have you ever had your pretty cunt eaten?” he inquires, kissing over your bare pubic bone.
You shake your head softly, lips parting when he suckles on one of your lower lips.
“So you really are a virgin, hmm?” he coos, watching your hips lift off the bed on their own volition.
You would be embarrassed if he wasn’t looking at you like a starving man who’s just entered a five star buffet.
He licks a flat stripe up your sex, adoring how your body becomes boneless atop his mattress.
He’s taken women’s virginities before but he won’t take yours. Not until you ask for it.
He didn’t respect them like he respects you.
And you deserve to be respected. You deserve to be adored.
And he’ll act accordingly.
He flicks the tip of his tongue against your swelling clit, adoring the cry of pleasure you emit.
You’re soaking wet, simply leaking with arousal for your boyfriend before you.
He lets your thighs go, running his hands over your stomach until your breasts are being shielded by his hands.
“Y-Yoongi,” you moan softly, bunching your hands into his thick black hair.
He hums against your core, pinching and rolling your nipples until your hips are lifting and gyrating.
“Just like that, baby doll. You’re soaked for me.” Yoongi murmurs, suckling at your clit until your toes are curling.
The way your boyfriend’s eyes stay glued to your pleasured face and the way his eyebrows knit with each stunted moan and each prayer of his name that falls from your lips bring you that much closer to release.
His finger toys with your entrance, groaning at how impossibly tight it feels.
But he doesn’t dare enter it.
He’ll wait until hell freezes over for you to let him in.
“Cum for me, baby doll. Give it to me.” he begs, licking at your clit faster.
It’s a simple thought that possesses his mind.
He will be the first man to take an orgasm from you.
And once he gets that from you, he’s going to never let go.
“Yoongi!” you sob, tugging on his hair harder.
“Mmm,” he moans against your core, egging you on until your thighs are locking and squeezing around his shoulders.
The roar of pleasure is so loud in your ears that your rising sobs of pleasure feel as if they’re whispers.
The drug lord suckles rougher, letting his teeth graze against your throbbing bud. Your back bows off the bed and you find yourself panting like a dog in heat as the bubble within you threatens to explode.
“Good girl, sweetheart. Cum for me.” Yoongi coos.
Your hands quiver and your eyes squeeze shut when he pinches your nipples gently.
It feels as if your orgasm is forcibly being pulled from your loins, it’s building so high that your moans turn into incoherent babbling.
When your boyfriend nibbles gently on your throbbing bud, the bubble explodes.
He holds down your hips as your body shakes through your throes of pleasure. Your ears ring and your loud moans curdle into soft whimpers.
“Fuck, that was beautiful.” the drug lord breathes, kissing up your body until he’s face to face with you.
You give him a tired, shy smile as he presses his forehead to yours.
He sees how you angle your body as if to hide yourself from his sight and he clicks his teeth accordingly. “You don’t ever need to hide from me, you’re a vision to look at.”
Your cheeks burn at his sweet words.
You can’t even begin to understand what just happened.
“Thank you, baby doll. That was amazing,” he whispers, giving you a gentle kiss.
When he stands up, cringing finally at the pain that echoes throughout his limbs, you can only frown.
“I’m gonna go downstairs and get a drink. Do you want a glass of wine?” he inquires, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it.
“Sure, yeah. Thanks,” you mumble, leaning up on your elbows.
He can hear the caution in your voice and it doesn’t sit well with him.
Kneeling one leg on the bed, he plants a chaste kiss against your lips once more.
“Don’t think this makes me see you any differently, you’re still the same gorgeous, stubborn girl I’ve come to like.” he avows, kissing down your neck until you let out a giggle.
“I’ve just never… y'know… been with someone like that.”
He smiles then, a wicked, breathtaking smile. “Well get used to it, this bed is too big just for me.”
He knocks his forehead into yours gently before standing and easing on a pair of briefs.
“I’ll be right back,” he promises.
The drug lord begins to whistle to himself as he descends the staircase.
Even with this bodily pain, there’s still so much more to be happy about.
Yoongi can count on his fingers the amount of times he’s felt just pure, unadulterated bliss in the last couple of years.
You’re special.
You’re perfect.
You’re his.
When he reaches the bottom of the stairs, he makes eye contact with your brother.
Jeongguk’s jaw is taught, nostrils flaring with unease and Hoseok beside him looks happier than a clam.
Yoongi sighs loudly, brushing past both of the men to grab you a bottle of wine from the wine rack above the bar.
“Did you have fun making my sister damaged goods?” Guk spits, folding his arms.
“Come on Gukkie, Boss didn’t do anything to your sister that she didn’t ask for.” Hoseok chuckles.
This time it’s Yoongi’s job to manhandle the man.
Shoving a chair out of his way, he grabs onto Hoseok’s shirt with both hands. Your boyfriend slams him up against the wall, closing one eye as smoke rises lazily from the cigarette between his lips.
“Don’t talk about my woman like that, you understand me? Whatever you think you saw upstairs better be a figment of your fucking imagination.” Yoongi threatens, pressing his forearm against the man’s throat.
Hoseok holds up his hands, nodding ever so slightly.
“Sorry, Boss,” Seok wheezes, gasping for air when he’s finally released from your boyfriend’s clutches.
Shaking his head, the drug lord pours himself a glass of Scotch.
“And you,” he calls to Jeongguk, “I’d never fucking hurt your sister. So stop being such a little bitch about it. She’s not ’damaged goods.’ She’s not ’ruined’ with me. She’s a good girl and I’d never do anything to hurt her. So man the fuck up. If you wanna complain about it, go complain to your sister who is upstairs in my bed.”
Yoongi grabs a wine glass, staring down your younger sibling. He gives him a moment to move towards the staircase but Jeongguk’s feet are cemented to the floor.
“I’m tired of repeating my-fucking-self. I’m not going to hurt her and I won’t say it again.” Yoongi announces, walking towards the staircase.
“Hyung…” Guk calls when his boss begins to ascend the stairs.
Yoongi turns around, raising an eyebrow at the younger man who seems to make himself smaller under his intense glare.
“I just love her so much, y'know. It’s only ever been us… We’ve always looked out for each other. She’s never had another man to protect her before.” Jeongguk announces, looking down at his bruised hands.
“Nothing is going to happen to her, Guk. I would never allow it.” Yoongi promises, leaning over the banister.
Your brother nods, keeping his eyes affixed to his cut up knuckles.
“Hey,” the drug lord calls to him.
Guk looks up, the expression so lost and so confused.
“I mean it.” Yoongi says, taking off to his bedroom.
Series Warnings (Will Be Updated): Mentions of Drugs and Drug Deals, Blood, Smut, Emotional Damage, Love
Warnings For This Chapter: Namjoon Backstory (It’s A Heartbreaker), Yoongi’s Surprise Gift
Your muscles scream and protest with every step you take on this early Sunday morning.
Yoongi hasn’t woken up yet and you take it upon yourself to make him breakfast in bed – although you find yourself giggling when you realize it’s only a flat white and a cigarette.
Your body is slowly getting used to waking up later and later as you spend more days in this forest. Sometimes you wonder what state your apartment must be in now that Taehyung is the only one who resides there.
You only hope he sleeps in Guk’s bed in the guest room rather than yours.
You think of other things too, you have all the time in the world underneath the thick canopies of trees above you. Thinking of things like just how irrelevant is the deal you’ve made with Yoongi now, how willing is he to start this new open life with you and will he be able to keep it up.
Your hands dance effortlessly as you turn on the intricate coffee machines and you’re so absorbed in your task that you don’t hear the back door open.
When you see slow movement out of the corner of your eye, the first thing your body wants to do is freeze but your training with Yoongi over the past three weeks has provided more than you think it has.
Your body moves on its own, dropping the expensive espresso powder and getting into a protective stance. Your chin lifts as if Yoongi is drawing it upwards with his index finger and your hands clench into fists.
“Relax, Bruce Lee.” Yuqi breathes, throwing a towel at your head.
You turn your head to her, your expression immediately turns into a scowl and she giggles freely.
“You scared me,” you gasp, putting your hand over your heart.
“Well at least you’re ready for trouble,” she quips, jumping up onto the island and crossing her legs.
“What’re you doing up so early?” you inquire, packing the tamper with espresso.
“I got into a fight with Joonie,” she grumbles, grabbing the bag of coffee grinds and examining it.
You’re surprised to hear such words. Yuqi and Namjoon are the most lovey-dovey couple you’ve ever had the pleasure of experiencing.
“What’d you fight about?” you ask timidly, steaming cream.
“You,” she chirps, looking down at her nails.
With wide eyes, you pass her a mug of her favorite morning drink. You start on Yoongi’s flat white with notched eyebrows.
“Wh-What about me? What’d I do wrong?” you bleat, turning to her.
She shakes her head vigorously at your nervous demeanor. “No, don’t worry. It’s nothing that you’ve done. It’s something I brought up that Namjoon told me not to be so nosy. But I don’t know how to mind my own business so I don’t know why he keeps wasting his breath after all these years,” she murmurs, looking down at her wedding band.
“What were you wondering?” you ask, putting together your boyfriend’s drink.
She sets down her coffee and tugs down the front of her shirt to show the tiger tattoo situated above her breast. “I was wondering when you’re gonna get one of these.”
You remember seeing Sedra have a small tattoo that was visible during the last event you went to.
“What does it mean?” you ask, leaning onto the island and staring at the ink that seems like it’s been on her body for years.
“It means that you’re taken for lifeby one of the family. Yours, of course, would be outlined in gold because you’re with the head of the family.”
You do remember seeing some sort of bright outline on Sedra’s but her tattoo looked faded and just the slightest bit clumsy like she’d gotten it years and years ago.
“I see,” you sigh, grabbing Yoongi’s coffee.
“I guess I should go apologize, fighting with Namjoon really sucks. It strains his vocal cords and I feel terrible.” Yuqi announces, setting down her empty mug and tapping the island.
She gives you a kiss on the cheek before she’s out the door with a heavy groan.
Your mind is swimming with thoughts as you climb up the staircase.
There’s so many intricate details to this life that constantly keep you intrigued. In some ways you wish you could just sit Yoongi down for a detailed Q&A but to respect him and his lifestyle, you let him tell you what he deems as important.
Slowly creeping into the bedroom, you’re surprised to see your boyfriend awake. He’s sitting up against the headboard, surrounded by his adorable dogs that shower him with early morning attention.
“Where you been?” he breathes, giving you a smile.
“I was downstairs making you coffee and got caught up talking to Yuqi,” you announce, padding over to him and handing him his coffee.
“Why was she here so early?” he inquires, patting the spot beside him as the dogs jump off the bed at his command.
“She got into a fight with Namjoon,” you tell him, coddling into his side.
He sips his coffee, rolling his eyes. “Why must she strain his voice? What’d they fight about?”
“Us,” you chirp.
Yoongi sighs loudly, lighting a cigarette with an even heavier eye roll than the last.
“Yuqi needs to keep her nose out of things. She’s so fucking nosy. She’s always been nosy, it’s programmed in her DNA or something.” he scoffs, looking up at the ceiling.
“Yuqi said the same thing… that she strained his vocal cords. What happened to him?” you inquire softly, laying your cheek to his muscled chest.
Yoongi lets out a long sigh, one that sounds pained and stuttered. “Just don’t talk about it to anyone, alright? Namjoon doesn’t like to be spoken about, really.”
You give a nod, drifting your fingers over the planes of his abs. The scarred man watches you for a moment, appreciating how freeing this is.
“Before Joon came to the orphanage, he was in a situation quite like mine. He was in the car with his parents when some stupid fuck ran a red light and slammed into his car.”
Your fingers freeze and you squeeze your eyes shut.
“His car kept going and going because his dad’s foot was on the gas pedal when he died. His parents… they didn’t buckle him in properly and when the car was forcibly stopped by the railing of the highway… he flew out of his seat.”
You shake your head at the simple thought, opening your eyes to not see imagined images of the strong, silent man when he was a child.
Yoongi lets out a shaky breath, pulling from his cigarette as he stares at the movie posters just ahead of him.
“He flew so fast into the driver’s seat in front of him that it was almost like a Major League Pitcher threw him. He was going at like… seventy miles an hour just to have his throat slam against the driver’s headrest. So his throat began to collapse. All the cartilage in his throat broke. He was basically choking to death on blood and clogged airways.”
Shivering, you squeeze your boyfriend tighter and he acts accordingly. He runs his hand over your back, shaking his head at the mere memory of seeing Joon arrive at the orphanage.
“When the EMTs got to him, they were able to open up his airways again. After surgery they fixed everything in his throat but they couldn’t save his voice box. It’s all scratchy and pained like that because it still hasn’t healed from when he was a kid. It hurts him to talk so he prefers to stay silent.”
“Oh my God,” you whisper, pressing your face into his chest.
He hums in agreement, setting down his mug and cigarette and wrapping his arms around you.
“People used to make fun of him at school. We took care of them for him. No one and I mean no one gets away with making Joon upset. Not on my watch. That’s my brother.”
You can feel your eyes stinging, how fucking terrible.
The both of you are silent for what feels like hours. You find comfort in one another as you let the solemnity of the tale wash over you like cold waves.
“What’d they fight about?” Yoongi inquires, combing his fingers through your hair.
Pulling back, you tap your fingers to the large tiger tattoo on the side of his neck. “When I’m going to get the gold tiger.”
He sighs loudly, laying down on his back and putting his hands beneath his head as he looks up at the ceiling.
“It’s none of Yuqi’s fucking business. She needs to keep her nose out of shit.”
“I noticed that Sedra had one, that night at the ball. And Yuqi has one on her chest.” you announce, sitting up.
He follows your lead, drifting his lips over your shoulder.
“It means that you’d be mine forever. You know that right? Did Yuqi tell you that? Once you get that ink… you’d be my wife in all things even if it isn’t legally bound.”
Swallowing thickly, you nod. “Yuqi told me.”
Yoongi’s forehead presses to the nape of your neck, his arms wrap around you and he’s so comfortable that if you were to get the tattoo right now, in this very moment, he’d be more than content for the rest of his days.
“I think you’re gonna be the only woman I’m gonna need for the rest of my life,” he breathes, letting the tips of his fingers drift down each notch of your spine.
“You think?” you giggle, turning your head.
“It’s too early to get emotional,” he chuckles, closing his eyes.
“Too early to be emotionally constipated as well,” you jeer.
“Touche,” the drug lord murmurs, looking up at the wall in front of him again.
And after a moment, he lets his heart bleed for you. “You’re smart and funny. You’re headstrong and perfectly resilient. You’re everything I need. I’m completely happy to spend the rest of my life with you, completely okay with having you by my side as my woman for the rest of my days.”
You take in a sharp breath, turning and looking him over for any sign of humor.
But you find none.
He’s completely serious.
“Wow,” you breathe, at a loss for words.
“You tell me when you’re ready for the tiger. I’ll let you get it today, tomorrow, a month from now, two years from now. I want you, Y/N. I want you with me,” he states confidently, running his thumb over your bottom lip.
“I don’t have any tattoos,” you murmur, looking down at your ink free skin.
“The tiger is the only one you’ll need.” he promises, kissing you softly.
It’s difficult for Yoongi to picture his life without you now. He always sees you in every single dream or idea for the future.
You’re becoming this safe haven to him.
You’re a home for him when he’s had none since early childhood.
The drug lord gets pissed at himself when he thinks about how he tried to push you away for so long – how he tried to block you out with some sort of cheap, fabricated wall that in the end did nothing for him.
Staring down at the chocolate bar that he made Taehyung run ragged for, he hopes this shows you just an iota of what you mean to him.
“Sir?” the waiter asks.
“Put this on a plate for dessert please, wrapper and all.” Yoongi instructs, slipping the waiter a crisp one hundred dollar bill.
Striding back over to the private room, he watches you through the cracked door for a moment. You’re constantly smoothing out the skirt of your dress and you look jaw-droppingly gorgeous.
He lets himself just take you in for what feels like days.
You’re just so right for him.
You’re solely his and he knows it so well.
You’re open with him and commanding when you need to be.
You’re his family now.
His foot taps the door and your attention shoots to the room entrance. He curses under his breath, slipping back into the room with a small smile.
“How was it?” he inquires, pointing to your almost empty plate.
“Amazing,” you chirp, resting your chin on your fist.
“Good,” he coos, planting a kiss to the crown of your head.
“Should we order dessert?” you ask, looking up at him as he rounds the beautifully intricate table.
“I got something coming,” he promises, unbuttoning his suit jacket and sitting down across from you.
“Is it a surprise? You love dessert and you love to tell me what we’re eating more so.” you quip, picking up your flute of champagne.
“This is…This is special,” he whispers, drifting his fingers over the pristine table cloth.
His hands are fidgeting and you can practically feel him trying to stop himself from touching his scar. He hasn’t touched the gnarled skin for weeks.
Which makes you painfully curious.
When he picks up his glass of champagne, you watch him guzzle it like he’s dying of thirst.
“Are you… proposing to me?”
He chokes on his alcohol, grabbing his linen napkin and pressing it to his lips with wide eyes.
“Jesus Christ, baby doll. You sure know how to pick your moments.” he gasps, dabbing at his damp black tie.
“Sorry,” you chirp, hiding your giggle with the palm of your hand.
“Do you want me to propose?”
“Do you want to propose?”
You both laugh when you speak at the same time and you laugh louder when you respond with the same exact word at the same time.
“Yes.”
The simple word hangs in the air for quite a long time. You can only stare at one another, as if you’re sketching one another out in your minds.
The dining room doors are pushed open slowly and you smile at the waiter who holds a pretty glass plate in hand.
The glass is put down in front of you and you’re stunned into silence.
You stare down at the chocolate bar, mind reeling with how long it’s been since you’ve actually seen one.
“Lynwicks,” you breathe, looking down at the gold and blue wrapping.
Your eyes sting with fresh tears and you have to tear your gaze away for a moment to try and collect yourself.
“How did you… Oh my God,” you gasp.
Yoongi watches you with a fist tucked beneath his chin, he watches every emotion he can think of flit over your expression before gratefulness is the profound emotion your face tells.
Your hand slides over your heart and you can barely hold back the sob that threatens to rip from your throat.
“Jeongguk told me you really liked these. So I had Taehyung search all over the country until he found some.”
Your laugh is broken, a lump situating itself in your throat while a few stray tears careen over your cheekbones.
Gliding your fingers over the raised letters of the foil, you lean back in your chair.
“I don’t wanna eat it,” you croak, grabbing your champagne and wiping childishly at your tears with the back of your hand.
The drug lord gives a small smile, running his hands over his tattooed scalp. “We have more at the house, you can eat this comfortably.”
You don’t have any words to express just how profoundly he’s stunned you.
He stands up and although he’s a blurry figure, you still watch him with rapt fascination.
He crouches down beside you, tilting your chin upward.
“This bar… it means… it’s not just a chocolate bar,” you sob, putting your hands to his chest.
He chuckles, gliding his thumbs over your wet cheeks. “I see that.”
You smile, sniffling just enough that Yoongi’s heart clenches.
With shaky hands you open up the bar, trying your hardest not to rip the foil or make any creases.
The large L’s on each pre-cut square make you almost dizzy with memory and the crisp snap the tempered chocolate makes has you almost in tears all over again.
With a shaky hand, you bring the chocolate to your lips.
There’s an explosion of flavor in your mouth as it touches your tongue. It’s never a taste that you really enjoyed but it’s a taste that holds so much memory that it feels like heaven.
“How is it?” your boyfriend inquires, combing some hair back behind your ear.
“Tastes like shit. I love it,” you laugh, putting your hand over your mouth.
He laughs loudly, raising an eyebrow at the chocolate in your hand when you offer it to him.
You wash the taste down with champagne, giving a small smile to Yoongi as he takes the chocolate into his mouth. His teeth nibble playfully at the pad of your thumb and he grimaces at the taste at once.
“It’s the most amazing shitty chocolate of all time,” you breathe, pulling him into a hug.
“Why’s it so special, sweetheart?” he coos, drifting his hand over your back.
“My mom, she would get this for me on important days. We didn’t have much money and we barely ever ate dessert. But she would buy me this bar on days when it was important. My kindergarten graduation. My first time at the zoo. My first A in middle school. When she told me she was getting remarried. Even though it tastes so bad, it tastes… amazing. Does that make sense?”
Yoongi pulls back, putting his large, warm hands on either side of your face. “Yeah. It does.” he promises.
“I wanna be your Lynwicks bar,” you whisper softly.
He can hear his heartbeat in his ears when your words creep through the air.
His thumb drifts over your lower lip and his eyes are intense as they stare into yours.
“Youaremy Lynwicks bar.”
Leaning forward, you press your forehead to his.
No one has ever done something like this for you before. No one has ever made you feel this sort of dizzy elation that makes your bones feel like powder every time you look at them. It’s so intense, it’s almost blinding.
You press your lips to his, enjoying the hum of satisfaction that rumbles from his throat.
“I want the tiger,” you avow, against him.
He takes in a sharp breath, pulling back just enough to search your eyes thoroughly.
“You’re sure?” he inquires, cupping your face.
“Yes. I want it.” you state plainly.
“Then you’ll have it,” he promises, kissing you sweetly enough that you feel weightless in the private dining room.
Series Warnings (Will Be Updated): Mentions of Drugs and Drug Deals, Blood, Smut, Emotional Damage, Love
Warnings For This Chapter: Fluff, Jeongguk Being A Good Idiot
You stayed out with Yoongi just talking and holding each other for so long that you lost track of time.
You hadn’t even remembered falling asleep on him high above the city lights but you’re woken up by shouting.
“Where have you been?!” Jeongguk booms.
You feel weightless and you can feel the fine fabric of your boyfriend’s suit against your cheek.
“Is she alright!?” your brother asks shakily.
When you stir in the drug lord’s arms, he coos softly. “We’re home, sweetheart, keep sleeping.”
“You’ve been gone for hours and you haven’t answered any calls!” Guk yells.
“Simmer down,” Yoongi seethes through his teeth.
Turning your face to look at your brother you can see the sheer amount of worry in his expression.
“I’m okay, we were just on a date.” you promise groggily.
He seems to relax visibly at the sound of your voice but his eyes are still narrowed with a steel-like glaze over them.
“I called and called and calledand neither one of you picked up,” he scoffs, folding his arms.
“You’re not my mother, I can take my girlfriend on a date without having to notify you.” Yoongi breathes, walking towards the staircase.
“Put me down,” you tell your boyfriend.
He rolls his eyes, setting you gently on the ground. “My bedroom,” he tells you, planting a chaste kiss to your hairline.
You give him a nod before turning to your brother.
“I was worried about you, noona!” he hisses, planting his hand on either of your shoulders. “You shouldn’t be out there when we have… things going on in the forest.”
“You mean the two men that were taken here?”
Yoongi did his best to explain to you what was going on, he told you just enough to keep you informed but not enough that could implicate you in any way. You appreciated it. He didn’t have to tell you anything but just knowing that he trusts you enough and cares about you enough to involve you to some degree makes you feel special.
“H-He told you?” your little brother stutters, pulling away from you like you’ve burned him.
“Well yeah, I mean while we were out we got closer and we talked and it was… amazing.” you breathe, smoothing out your dress.
Jeongguk grimaces, shaking his head at the thought. “Chill out. I don’t want to hear about your late night hanky panky sessions.”
“We haven't… done that yet, so…”
“Ew! Stop! I don’t want to hear about anything you and my boss do! It’s gross! It’s so wrong there should be laws against this kinda thing!”
You find yourself smirking as he sticks his fingers in his ears childishly.
You pat his chest with a laugh, walking over to the bar to pour Yoongi a glass of bourbon.
“I just… I just want you to be careful. This life is not what I want for you. You worked hard to move away from where we grew up and I don’t want you getting hurt by the same type of people,” Guk whispers, looking up at the staircase to make sure his boss isn’t around.
The cap to the decanter gives a loud squeak as you jam it back into the crystal bottle and you turn to your brother with a small smile.
“I know, Gukkie. I do. But you’re "the same type of people” now too. Yoongi wouldn’t do anything to hurt me. I know it to be a fact. I really, really like him and he likes me too.“
Your brother sighs, looking up at the brass chandelier above him. "I’ve just known Yoongi for a while now and while I’ve never seen him with a woman… I don’t know if he would ever treat you like you should be treated. You’ve never been in a relationship before and I don’t want you to be consumed with the idea that Yoongi is your end all be a-”
Jeongguk is speaking to you like you’re a child and the notion makes you fucking angry.
Turning on your heel, you narrow your eyes at him. Your manicured finger jabs into his chest and he takes a step back at your widening eyes.
“Jeon Jeongguk, you haven’t been in a relationship either. You lost your virginity at fourteen years old to a prostitute that charged you five dollars and a strawberry Melona bar because you were cute. You don’t get to have a say in what I do! Besides! I’m older than you!”
Guk swallows thickly, running his hand over the clan neck tattoo of the tiger on his neck awkwardly. “Lili wasn’t a prosititute back then… she was a seventeen year old girl that wanted to get into prostitution.”
You roll your eyes, pulling the glass of liquor to your chest.
“I’m old enough to decide what’s best for me. I’m an adult. And little brother, I love you but you gotta let me live my own life. I’ve never had a boyfriend, I’ve never had feelings like this before. Please let me explore them and learn on my own.”
Guk takes the glass of bourbon from your hands and places it on the bar. Without another word he pulls you into his arms. He smells of musk from the forest and the slightest hit on the minty aftershave that his dad gave him.
“You mean everything to me, noona. I just want so much better for you,” he murmurs.
“You don’t know if Yoongi isn’t the best thing for me… he might turn out to be your brother-in-law,” you quip, retaking the glass into your hands.
Your brother cringes at your words, pulling away from you with a quickness. “Don’t fucking speak my nightmares into existence, please.”
You know that you mean so much to the younger man. You know how much he adores his sister. But sooner or later he’s going to have to learn how to separate himself from you.
He needs to learn how to live his own life.
“Goodnight, Gukkie,” you chirp, planting a kiss on his cheek and drifting by him.
He grunts nonchalantly, watching you ascend the stairs with a care. Shaking his head, he grabs the decanter of bourbon before heading to the backdoor.
Stepping into Yoongi’s bedroom, you’re surprised the only light in the room is from the bathroom.
You can hear water sloshing from the adjacent room and you’re surprised the scarred man isn’t in bed yet.
Peeling off your dress, you take off towards the lit room.
Leaning against the door frame, you take in the drug lord as the water within his solid marble tub rolls over his God-like body. His muscles are sinewy and taut, the water adding a delicious sheen over his tanned torso.
Turning his head to you with a cigarette clamped between his teeth, he smiles. “Hey gorgeous, fancy seeing you here.”
You hold up the glass of bourbon and he chuckles softly. “Brought you dinner.”
“Come in the bath, get the chill of the night out of your bones… and your brother’s annoying dad complex.”
You snort softly and hand him the glass of liquor. He watches you over the lip of his cup, slowly letting his eyes traipse over your body.
The drug lord sits in silence, appreciating every inch of skin that is revealed before his eyes.
When you’re completely bare before him, he taps his chest wanting your skin solely on his.
The water is the perfect temperature, pleasantly warm enough to suck out any chill your bones might have captured in the marrow.
He sets down his drink to the floor, burns out his cigarette and wraps his arms around you without a second thought.
“I thought you’d be exhausted,” you whisper, pressing your face to his ink riddled chest.
“I’m never tired around you,” he breathes, running his hand over the back of your head.
“Why do you know all the right things to say?” you murmur.
Yoongi laughs, running the tip of his tongue over his lips. “Are you ready for the answer?”
“Is it cringy?” you inquire with a small smile.
“Yeah, of fucking course it is.”
With a laugh, you lift your head.
His eyes are alight with humor and you find it so difficult to not let your heart thump out of his chest.
“Go on,” you allow with a giggle.
“I know how to say all the right things because,” he breathes, threading his fingers into your hair and pulling you closer until his lips are lightly touching yours, “you make me the right person for you – and you deserve to have the most romantic, cringy… sickeningly sweet words spoken to you.”
“That’s pretty good,” you chuckle, puckering your lips until they connect fully with his.
There’s a sharp scream that makes you jump but your boyfriend looks completely relaxed. He turns his attention to the prepaid phone and when it doesn’t light up with an incoming call, he leans back against the marble tub unbothered.
“S-Should you go check that out?” you chirp, looking up at him.
He waves his hand nonchalantly, picking up his glass of bourbon. “Nah. Namjoon’s got it. The guy is probably crying over a finger or something.”
Swallowing thickly, you suddenly remember what your boyfriend does for a living. He’s so good at taking himself and you out of that atmosphere.
“Namjoon hurt his finger?” you squeak.
Your boyfriend coasts his hand over your arm comfortingly. “No, he probably took it off.”
Your shiver is visible and he immediately coddles you to his body. He shuts his eyes, shaking his head at how completely insensitive he’s just been.
“I’m sorry. I…I don’t explain what I do to people that don’t do what I do normally.” he murmurs.
It shakes you to the core but then you think about Yuqi. She’s so strong and so powerful in her position. You want to be like that, you want to be a rock for this scarred man.
He’s opening up, he’s trusting you and you need to be understanding because he’s putting faith in you – he’s putting stock into this. So you must as well.
“That’s okay, I’ll have to get used to it is all,” you reassure him, running your fingers over his tan skin.
Capturing your chin between his thumb and index finger, he leans in. He’s so close to kissing you when another loud scream pierces the air.
Rolling his eyes, he turns on music from the LED panel beside the tub.
“Why is he being tortured?” you find yourself asking as Yoongi begins to lather your body with the finely carved soap.
The scent of lavender and vanilla breeches your senses and you have the hardest time trying to keep the pleasant sigh that threatens to leave your lips to yourself.
“Those two men in the forest tried to kill us that night the van flipped, we’re just asking them why… forcibly.” he explains, drifting the soap over your shoulders.
The music does a good job of keeping the screeching at bay and you find your eyes shutting at the peace.
“I don’t actually like classical music,” Yoongi clarifies, drifting the soap over your breasts.
It’s such an intimate moment. It’s not erotic or passionate but more tender and calm.
The drug lord never takes his eyes off your body, getting familiar with each freckle and beauty mark that graces your skin.
He finds himself thinking that he could stay here and memorize your body for years and that’d be just fine with him.
“Oh?” you inquire, opening your eyes.
The intensity in his irises grounds you, it pulls you closer to him like he’s tethered you to a rope.
“The orphanage used to make me listen to classical music to calm me. It’s not that I like it – it’s that I’ve been trained to think clearly when hearing it.” Yoongi admits, letting the soap drift down to your core.
He taps your knee, ordering your legs to be spread and you do it without hesitation.
He cleans you thoroughly, keeping his eyes glued to your face. You don’t writhe or wriggle under his ministrations – you just let yourself be.
Yoongi lets himself imagine what this partnership could be like years down the line. He lets his mind wander to future days where you’re his wife and confidant, you’re the only woman he needs and wants for the rest of his days.
He lets that thought marinate with each swipe of soap against your soft skin.
A smirk spreads over his lips as you lay your head on his chest.
Yeah. He could probably get used to that idea.
The incredibly intimate act comes to a close when he drains the tub. He adores the way your eyes slowly blink and when the distant screaming finally stops, he turns off the music.
“Let’s go to bed,” he breathes, lifting you effortlessly into his arms.
Jeongguk is so not thrilled to go run this errand for his boss.
He’s even more angry when he steps back into the coffee shop he swore he’d never enter again.
He dressed up to the nines today, with a pristine white suit and black dress shirt. His long black hair is tied up in a bun and his earrings are long and dangling by his sharp jaw.
Removing his sunglasses, he allows Taehyung to catch a glimpse of him first and the jealousy in the older man’s face practically makes your brother giddy.
“Morning, idiot,” Taehyung breathes.
Guk hates himself for it but he lets his eyes wander the shop and his heart practically stops when he sees her.
Her hair is in a messy braid with small pieces of hair falling into her eyes and her cheeks are rosy from the sheer amount of coffee she’s had to make this morning.
He sighs almost too loudly before turning his attention back to the older man. “You got a delivery for me?”
Just the sound of his voice has Hanna turning on her heel. She’s completely floored by his handsome appearance and she drops the coffee cup in hand to the floor in shock.
Guk looks over at her, watching how she fumbles for napkins and he swallows thickly.
Walking over towards her, he unbuttons his suit jacket. He grabs a wad of napkins, bending down beside her.
“Hey, Hanna bear.” he murmurs, tossing the soaked napkins in the trash.
“H-Hey, Gukkie.” she chirps.
“The package is in the store room, I’m swamped with customers right now. Hanna, can you show Guk the boxes in storage?” Taehyung calls to them, passing a latte over the counter with a smile.
Your brother shakes his head in an instant.
“N-No! She’s probably busy! I’ll find them myse-”
“Yeah, I’ll show him,” she replies, standing up tall and pulling Jeongguk along with her.
He grits his teeth, allowing himself to relish her hand wrapped around his wrist for at least five seconds before he’s ripping his arm away from her grip.
She sighs softly, tugging him inside of the store room and locking the door behind them.
When Jeongguk goes to protest, she pulls the key from the door and slides it into her bra with narrowed eyes.
“Hanna… what’re you doin’?” Guk asks exasperatedly.
“We need to talk,” she breathes, finding her nerve after a moment of silence.
He leans against the stockroom shelf, one foot sliding in front of the other with a raised eyebrow.
“I said everything I had to say the day I left… although it was a little… harsh, I have nothing left to s-”
“I have something to say!” she grinds out, crossing her arms.
Jeongguk takes her in, watching how the ugly fluorescent lights seem to somehow highlight all the best parts of the girl he’s had a crush on since what feels like the dawn of time.
Her hair is slowly unraveling from her loose braid and however disheveled it may be… she looks like she’s stepped out of a poster.
He’s stunned into silence. Which is rare for Jeons, especially you.
“I know everything that you feel the need to tell m-”
“No! You don’t! God, you’re so infuriating!” Hanna explodes, gritting her teeth.
Your brother blinks once. Twice. Three times.
Hanna has never raised her voice in all the time that he’s known her.
“Excuse me?”
“I’ve tried to talk to you a few times now but you just don’t want to hear it! It’s so childish! Why can’t you just listen to what I have to say?!” she screeches.
Now your brother is even angrier that he has to be here. He has to listen to this?! Is she insane?!
“I know what you’re going to say, Hanna! I don’t want to hear any fake ass apologies about how you fell for my friend! I don’t wanna hear how you spread your le-”
Hanna crosses the distance between them before standing on the tips of her toes. She presses her lips to his effectively cutting off whatever nasty sentence he was about to finish.
Stunned by the sudden move, your brother just stands frozen in place. His eyes are wide and he’s still shocked but his lips move in unison with hers. She tastes of wild berries and green tea lattes.
But suddenly as reality hits him again, he grabs her shoulders and pushes her back.
“What’re you doing?!” he hisses, pressing his fingers to his lips that still tingle from her touch.
“I’m not with Taehyung, I don’t want to be with Taehyung. I want to be with you!” she gasps, looking up at him with the doe eyes that make him break into a million little puzzle pieces.
He stutters and bumbles over syllables as his head tries to process the words she’s just spoken
“No…No way! You and hyung… you were laughing and playing around with each other… you-you were flirting! I saw you!” he chokes out.
“I was making you jealous, you fucking idiot!” Taehyung calls through the door, slamming his fist against the metal for good measure.
Your brother’s cheeks burn cherry red and he can only shake his head at his stupidity.
“I really, really like you Jeongguk…” Hanna breathes, looking down at her shoes.
He doesn’t know what to do. He’s never been in this situation before so he lets his heart do as it seems fit.
Wrapping his arms around her waist, he pushes her back against the farthest wall. He kisses her with fervor, allowing his hands to bunch up the black tendrils of her braid.
“Your delivery!” Hanna squeaks as his lips trail down her neck.
“I’m locked in… I can’t go anywhere,” he grumbles against her skin, pulling her back to kiss him.
You fall to the carpeted floor with a heady thump, giggling loudly when Holly climbs over you. He licks at your sweaty cheek, giving sloppy kisses to your exhausted body.
“That’s it? You think you’re done already?” your boyfriend inquires teasingly, crouching down beside you.
He holds out a cold water bottle, shaking it playfully above your head and you don’t think twice as you yank it away from him
“I do-don’t see the point of it all,” you croak, cracking open the bottle and guzzling the water.
“Watch it. Don’t make yourself vomit,” he chides you, planting a kiss to the crown of your head, “When you signed the contract you agreed to getting fighting training. You might need the knowledge at more events. It’s good to know.”
You whine loudly, throwing your head back and squeezing your eyes shut.
“I thought the contract would be obsolete now that I suck your dick every night,” you groan.
He chuckles then, the pretty noise accompanied with the gummy smile that makes you feel like you’re having a stage five heart attack.
“It is obsolete. But you still need training even more so now that you’re my actual girlfriend,” he teases, booping your nose.
When your eyes spring open, you allow them to drift over his gorgeous sweat soaked skin.
Every ridge and hard muscle seems to bulge with new intentions after your hearty work out.
The drug lord doesn’t miss your wandering gaze and he snorts softly at your dilating pupils.
“How about… you train for thirty more minutes and if you do then I’ll eat your pretty cunt in the shower, hmm?” he coos, holding his hands out to you.
He stands tall and you can see just the slightest outline in his shorts of his hardening cock.
“Fine!” you reply with a smile, grabbing his hands and standing up with his help.
➳ 1k+ words | fluff, ceo!jungkook, secret agent!reader | jeon jungkook x f reader | nc-17 | flirty!jk, swearings, suggestive language
Imagine yourself lounging on a luxurious yacht’s deck with your favourite cold drink in hand. The sound of crashing waves and distant seagulls shrieking acts as background music as you relax under the warm sun. That is your dream getaway. Of course, the ship had to be peaceful with not many people around. After dealing with various people in your work, crowds would only prevent you from indulging in your relaxation.
So, you planned to come back to your hometown for a quick family visit and pack your vacation essentials. Then you’d go to the port where the rented yacht is waiting to take you on your merry way.
You deserve this break, after all. You are one of the best in the field, but you also helped train other new agents back in the headquarters.
Seeing you worked your ass off had moved your boss to give you a long holiday. She even rented a private yacht for you (since it was all you can talk about whenever someone mentioned a break). You barely stifled your grin when you received the news.
Everything was according to plan - that was until you faced a hindrance in the form of your childhood friend. Not that you hated him or anything. You two talked from time to time, even flirted a little back then, but it never crossed any line due to your unusual occupation. You had to keep everything under wraps, which led you to underestimate how much power he possessed.
And somehow, you find yourself drifting further and further away from your dream vacation. How so? Well, instead of luxuriating in your rented yacht, you are now sitting in a high-class bar. Surrounded by rich people, looking totally out of place in your midi sundress and straw hat.
“Did you not get the outfit I sent you?”
“Did you not get I am on vacation?”
Jungkook shrugs in response. “Your vacation can wait, but I can’t.”
“Well, I don’t care! You could have hired someone else who is not on holiday!” You hiss in annoyance, placing your hat on your side. “There are lots of other agents capable of dealing with whatever antics you’d like to drag them into.”
“But they aren’t the best.” Jungkook counters, tugging off his suit jacket and handing them to you.
“You don’t know that!” You shoot back, tugging on his suit to look more inconspicuous.
“It wasn’t written in their profiles.”
You want to wipe off that smug look on his face, but you can’t create a scene.
“Okay, Mister I-Am-A-Big-Shot-CEO. You might have the resources to dig into anything you can get your hands on, but that does not give you the right to do so—”
“But I just wanted to know what my dear childhood friend is up to - why she never called, how is she doing—”
“You broke the law and my organisation’s privacy rights. They could have sued you and—”
“But you told them I can be trusted. Plus, I help their funds now. Literally, your headquarters wouldn’t have their tech and gadgets as advanced as now if it wasn’t for me.”
Cocky little shit.
…But he’s also right. So, you deflate, giving up on arguing with him. You should have known talking to him would go around in circles, so you opt to take a deep breath and ask, “What do you want?”
Jungkook notices your change in demeanour and pouts. “I was hoping you’d put up more of a fight.”
“Well, not with that big ass ego of yours. Plus, the faster we are done, the faster I can catch up on my ride.”
Jungkook sighs in defeat as you switch into your work mode. “A competitor of mine has been making deals with someone from my company. I’ve been receiving reports of copyrights when no one should know of my developing products yet.”
You want to strangle him at this point. This is probably like a B-class case (or even C, actually), and your organisation has a handful of capable agents to deal with this.
“Kook, you’re going to sleep with one eye open tonight.”
“Why? You’ll come visit?” He grins at your apparent annoyed attitude. “Babe, that’s like a dream come true. You never visit my place. Should we get dinner too? I’ll wine and dine you, or do you prefer Netflix and chilling—”
You sigh deeply for the umpteenth time. Seriously, how did that shy boy turn into this menace, you wonder.
“How the hell did you turn into this when you were so nice back then.”
“I am nice.”
“The news article I found about you says otherwise.”
“People would say anything to get attention. Plus, they don’t know me personally anyway. Unlike you, right?”
“I don’t know…” You shoot back. “Things changed.”
“Huh…” Then he leans closer to you, voice reducing into a seductive whisper. “But I’m still me, aren’t I? Still your Kookie?”
You groan, pushing him away. “My cookie monster phase is in the past, okay? I don’t call you that anymore.”
“Why? It’s a cute nickname. Only you would call me that.”
“Kook.”
“Kookie,” he responds with a shit-eating grin.
You glare at him. “Jungkook. How long is this mission gonna take? You know the longer you waste my time—”
“Mhmm, don’t mind at all. I can pay as much as you’d like anyway.”
As you’re about to fire back at him, there’s a new guest in the bar just arriving on the doorstep when you shush Jungkook with a finger on his mouth. “A guy with a briefcase just enter the place.”
Jungkook blinks before turning his head to glance at the entrance behind him. “Yep, that’s him alright. But we still need to find the rat.”
“Today’s a workday. Are there any uniforms or ID that your employees use?”
“Just ID card, but who’d be stupid enough to bring that here—” His breath hitches as you cup his face in your hands to make him face you.
Apparently, someone just walks to the entrance to approach the newcomer. They face in your direction, which can lead them to identify Jungkook if you’re not careful.
Leaning in so close to him, your lips are mere millimetres away from that it’d look like a couple making out to anyone around you. You tilt Jungkook’s head a bit while you tilt to the other side to keep your eyes on the two men. You both stay that way until the traitor and his friend is back in their seat.
“The rat is wearing a champagne tie, and he’s stupid enough to keep on his ID card around his neck.” You chuckle, releasing him from your hold. Jungkook is still in a daze as you mutter all the details. “—and… Are you listening?”
“Huh?” He snaps out of his trance.
“His name is Yu Junseo, part of the developer team in your company. No wonder it’s easy for him to share classified information.”
“…Yeah.”
“Yeah?” Your brows furrowed in confusion. “Is that all you have to say?”
“I-I mean, yeah, I’ll look into it.”
“See? It’s not a hard mission at all, Kook. How dare you say there’s no other agent capable of this,” you say exasperatedly, crossing your arms, but the initial annoyance has ebbed away.
“I only hire the best, you know that. How did you read his ID from this far?”
“Yeah, yeah,” you shake your head, finishing your drink in one gulp before pointing at your eyes. “Special contact lens, remember? Where you invested your funds on.”
“Ah, right…”
“Mhmm, I better get going now.” You are about to leave your seat when he grabs for your wrist. “What now?”
Jungkook looks lost for a brief moment before he babbles, “Where are you going now? I’ll drive you there.”
You raise a brow at him. “It’s fine, Kook. There’s an Uber nearby. Shouldn’t you go back to your office?”
“Nah, I’ve got time. Especially when I can spend them with you.”
And let’s just say you ended up with an unexpected company for your vacation on an even bigger private yacht.
⤞Ticket:Traveling/Vacation ⤞Main Event: Frostee (one night stand) ⤞Games:Food play, temperature play
Pairing: BDE!Yoongi x fem!reader
Genre: smut; pwp; one night stand; strangers to ?; NSFW
Rating:18+
Summary:A long weekend away with your friends turns out to be more interesting when they invite an unexpected guest.
Word count:4,991K
Warnings: sexually explicit language; grown-girl talk; cussing; food play; flirting; sexual tension; riding; clit play; nipple/breast play; dirty talk; alcohol consumption; teasing; temperature play; unprotected sex (OC is on birth control but still–be safe); multiple orgasms; cunnilingus; fingering; hyperstimulation; pet names; soft!dom Yoongi; some manhandling; ass-smacking (once); creampie; bed-sharing; hints of aftercare
A/N: Just when I thought I couldn’t dig any deeper–here we are! I really, really only intended for this to be a drabble…and it’s gone completely off the rails. Grammys Yoongi still has a chokehold on me. Also…I may or may not have listened to The-Dream’s Falsetto on repeat while writing this. Make what you will out of that.
Anyway, I’m super excited to join my first network event! Thanks to Madame Ryen @kithtaehyung for the prompts! Enjoy!
It was a long weekend and your friend Lili, along with her boyfriend Hobi, have planned a relaxing cabin getaway out of town. The cabin rental was Hobi’s friend, Namjoon’s idea. The location was tucked away up in the mountains, overlooking a lake. Namjoon said that it was a great way to recharge and reconnect with nature and he planned many group activities around that–which his fiancee, Yeona, was all-too-happy to indulge him in.
Pairing:Sister!Reader + Kim brothers; JHS x Fem!Reader; some POV shifts on chapters/drabbles
Rating: M ()
Genre:Siblings!AU; Marriage!AU; exes to ?; angst; smut; fluff
Warnings (more to be written in individual chapter updates): angst with a capital A; character illness and death; family issues; bickering; discussions of menstrual cycle; heavy pining; FWB; unrequited love; mentions of infidelity; reproductive challenges; toxic relationships; missed opportunities; some fluff; some smut
Teaser word count:1,476K
Summary:Four grown siblings return to their childhood hometown after their father is declared to be terminal. They are forced to live under the same roof for days, along with their overbearing mother, to say their final goodbyes. It starts off nostalgic until some unresolved family issues along with an assortment of spouses, exes, and might-have-beens make things even more interesting.
A/N:I’ve had this idea brewing for months now and it’s probably going to be one of my more ambitious AUs–more challenging than Scale, IMO. Four separate stories, converging into one. There’s going to be a LOT of angst, maybe some comedy…but definitely a lot of angst. If you’ve read my fics, you’ll know that I’m mostly inspired or prompted by movies or shows I’ve seen. This particular one has been inspired by This is Where I Leave You (2014). I’ve been thinking about a Kim Line fic for a while and I thought that this would be a perfect way to finally bring it to life!
Intro chapters will be posted as part of @btswritingcafe’s Specialty Coffee event.
@internetjunkdrawer – I know we’ve always joked about this series side-eyeing me as I kept working on other prompts instead of this. Now, I have no excuse!
Release date: June 2022
Namjoon is awakened by loud thumps and muffled conversations coming from above him. He feels around the nightstand for his watch. It was a makeshift nightstand–one that he assembled using an old dining chair and a desk lamp that he found in the basement–which was where your mom put him since all of the bedrooms in the house were taken.
He groans. It was just a little past 8:15 in the morning. Great. As if he didn’t just fall asleep less than three hours ago. He stretches the crick in his neck–this pull-out couch was not the most comfortable but at least he had the whole basement to himself. Alone. With his thoughts.
After a quick shower, he makes his way up the creaky steps and down the hall to the dining room, where everyone else was already seated and in the middle of a lively conversation.
“Well, good morning to you, sleepyhead!” Your mom beams at him from the head of the table. Her hair was all done up with a full face of makeup as if she were headed to a red carpet premiere.
“C’mon, darling, we saved you a spot,” she said loudly as the whole table continued their banter.
Namjoon walks over to take the open seat next to you. Your oldest brother, Jin hands over the plate of bacon to him, followed by a plate of eggs, offered by your younger brother Taehyung.
You poured him a glass of orange juice before you continued your story.
“Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah! So, I was around 10 and babysitting Tae—and uh, I realized that I had just gotten my period for the first time—which, I had no idea that was what it was then. And what do you know, dad walks into the room and sees blood on my clothes and flies into a panic.”
“Wait, so where was your mom in all this?” Jin’s wife, Yoojung, remarks.
Your mom smiled warmly. “I was in a remote location for ‘Valley of the Beast’ and we were filming some underwater scenes so they couldn’t really reach me,” she explains.
“Oh…gosh, I remember now. I remember when I biked past those news vans when the movie came out. It was pretty exciting,” she remarked.
“Right,” you continued. “So dad grabs me and Tae—throws us in the backseat of the car and he’s zooming past stop signs to get me to the hospital,” you begin to laugh.
“You want some more syrup for your waffles, love?” Jin asks her quietly.
She hesitates. “I really shouldn’t. The doctor says that too much sugar might not be good,” she replies softly.
He nods, putting the syrup dispenser back on the table, then leaning over to kiss her hair. She looks at him and smiles.
You see their sweet exchange out of the corner of your eye, but you continue your story without missing a beat. “So then he gets pulled over by Officer Cheong! And he goes, ‘Mr. Kim, do you know how fast you were going?’ And then dad practically yells at him like, ‘You don’t understand! My daughter is hemorrhaging! I need to get her to the emergency room!’ So Officer Cheong takes a look at me and Taehyungie in the backseat and checks to make sure that we were okay…but dad wouldn’t stop freaking out.”
Taehyung laughs. “That was a very exciting afternoon,” he says between spoonfuls of eggs.
Everyone around the table laughs because your dad can be so calm and collected especially during a busy night at the restaurant. And yet, at the faintest sight of blood or any medical emergency, all logic goes out the door.
Thankfully, Officer Cheong has three daughters and after concluding that you were not in any physical distress, he explains the situation to your dad and offers to provide a police escort to the nearest pharmacy to help him buy sanitary pads. The lady at the checkout counter was nice enough to tell you what to do.
Jin jumps in and connects the topic about a previous experience when he broke his fingers during a baseball game and his dad nearly fainted while he watched the doctor reset his digits in the emergency room.
Namjoon’s phone buzzes. He takes it out of his pocket to see ‘Victoria’ on the caller ID. He promptly rejects it.
“It’s your wife, why don’t you answer it?” You mumble at him.
“Why don’t you share another story about your cycle, YN?” He counters.
“What about you, Namjoon-ah?” Your mom says.
“Hm?”
“What’s your favorite memory of dad?”
“Uh…can we just circle back? Maybe Taehyung-ah can go next,” Namjoon says as he takes a bite of his bacon.
“I already went. Mine was pretty epic,” Taehyung replies.
He chuckles nervously. “How can I possibly follow YN’s story?”
“Oh, c’mon, Namjoon. Don’t you have any good memories of him?” Jin asks.
He tries to wave everyone off. “Sorry, guys. My mind’s just blanking out this morning. Didn’t sleep much last night.”
“You know, Joon, if you have any unresolved issues with your dad, now’s the time to get it all out,” your mom urges.
“Mom, why would you automatically assume that I have issues with dad? Maybe I just really can’t remember anything at the moment,” Namjoon answers with a slight hint of irritation.
Before she could argue, the doorbell rings and she excuses herself to answer it.
“Oooh! Wait, I’ve got another,” Taehyung volunteers excitedly. “So—I’m in the garage, searching for my beyblades in dad’s toolbox,” he trails off.
That took a load off Namjoon’s shoulders.
The conversation continues for a few more minutes until a chirping sound goes off.
Yoojung is slightly startled before looking at her phone to silence it. She clears her throat then gives her husband a look. “Uh, Jin?” She whispers, lightly tapping on his leg.
He sighs and slouches his shoulders slightly. “Now? Really?”
“Can’t do it by myself,” she mutters under her breath before she excuses herself and gets up from the table. After she puts her dish in the sink she heads down to the hallway and up the stairs to their bedroom.
“What’s up?” Namjoon asks.
Jin gets up from his seat begrudgingly and takes his own dish to the sink. “I have to have sex,” he announces blandly.
Taehyung snorts. “Jin-hyung, sex is supposed to be fun!”
“Yeah, well, not when it’s on a schedule.” He says before he trudged down the hallway and upstairs to his waiting wife.
“Well, whatever you do, keep it down so you don’t wake dad up,” Namjoon jokes.
“Very funny, Namjoon-ah,” Jin yells sarcastically from the landing.
The dining room windows have a full view of the driveway across the street.
Namjoon glances at you to find you watching the neighbor walk out of the front door towards his car.
“Enjoying the view?” He whispers in your ear.
“Shut up,” you said, turning your attention back to your plate of pancakes.
“We should ask him if he wants to stop by here and grab a bite before heading to work,” he teases.
“I’m sure Hobi can afford to get his own breakfast anywhere,” you snarked.
“I remember when I used to see him sneak out of your room before breakfast,” Namjoon says under his breath before snickering.
His body jerks, nearly knocking the table over when you pinch him on this thigh. Taehyung gives you both a quizzical look until your mom’s voice bellows down the hallway.
“Taehyung! Look who’s here,” your mom says as she walks into the dining room with company.
“Eunhae?” Taehyung looks like he’s just seen a ghost. She was the last person he expected to show up at your childhood home.
“She introduced herself and said she was your friend. I was just having a lovely conversation with her. She said she’d heard about dad and wanted to pay her respects. Isn’t that sweet?”
You cleared your throat, prompting your younger brother to introduce his ‘friend’ to everyone.
“Uh—Namjoon-hyung, YN-noona, this is Eunhae. She’s a good friend from the city.” He says nervously.
She smiles and bows politely to everyone in the room. “Jin-hyung is uhm, in the middle of something but, I can introduce you later,” he utters before giving you an uncomfortable look.
You already knew about Eunhae though you were equally surprised to see that she actually came out to your hometown, given your past conversations with Taehyung.
He immediately dotes on her, offering her breakfast as she takes her seat next to him.
Namjoon doesn’t suspect a thing and is distracted by rejecting yet another call from Victoria.
This was your family. You loved them with all your heart. However, in the rare cases that you all got together under one roof, it always spelled chaos. But it was chaos you’d choose over any picture-perfect life.
Chapter 1: Seokjin◥
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⤞Ticket:Traveling/Vacation ⤞Main Event: Frostee (one night stand) ⤞Games:Food play, temperature play
Pairing: BDE!Yoongi x fem!reader
Genre: smut; pwp; one night stand; strangers to ?; NSFW
Rating:18+
Summary:A long weekend away with your friends turns out to be more interesting when they invite an unexpected guest.
Word count:4,991K
Warnings: sexually explicit language; grown-girl talk; cussing; food play; flirting; sexual tension; riding; clit play; nipple/breast play; dirty talk; alcohol consumption; teasing; temperature play; unprotected sex (OC is on birth control but still–be safe); multiple orgasms; cunnilingus; fingering; hyperstimulation; pet names; soft!dom Yoongi; some manhandling; ass-smacking (once); creampie; bed-sharing; hints of aftercare
A/N: Just when I thought I couldn’t dig any deeper–here we are! I really, really only intended for this to be a drabble…and it’s gone completely off the rails. Grammys Yoongi still has a chokehold on me. Also…I may or may not have listened to The-Dream’s Falsetto on repeat while writing this. Make what you will out of that.
Anyway, I’m super excited to join my first network event! Thanks to Madame Ryen @kithtaehyung for the prompts! Enjoy!
It was a long weekend and your friend Lili, along with her boyfriend Hobi, have planned a relaxing cabin getaway out of town. The cabin rental was Hobi’s friend, Namjoon’s idea. The location was tucked away up in the mountains, overlooking a lake. Namjoon said that it was a great way to recharge and reconnect with nature and he planned many group activities around that–which his fiancee, Yeona, was all-too-happy to indulge him in.
“I thought you said you were bringing Kai?”
You groaned at Lili and waved her off. “Oh, I ended that shit days ago.”
Her eyes widened comically. “And you didn’t tell me?”
You shrugged. “Eh. It wasn’t really that serious between us so I didn’t think it was a big deal.”
“I thought you said he was cute?”
“Hewas,but that boy couldn’t make me cum if he tried,” you say flippantly.
“Oh no,” she says gravely. “So…it didn’t get any better?”
You threw your hands up and shrugged. “Nope. I just find myself reaching for my vibrator more often than not. I thought to myself—what’s the point of having access to dick when that dick ain’t shit anyway.”
She hummed, while she organized the produce in the fridge. “True.”
“What’s worse is that he didn’t even really have that much of a personality so…I was really counting on the sex to be mind-blowing. 0 for 2 there.” You scoffed. “I mean…is it really too much to ask to get dick-whipped every now and then?”
Lili laughs heartily by the kitchen sink. “I think the term you’re looking for is ‘dicked-down’,” she corrects.
“Whatever, Lil. The point is, I just want to be manhandled a little,” you call out past your shoulder. You rounded the corner to walk back by the front door to retrieve more items that your friends have unloaded when you jump after seeing a stranger standing by the door.
“Holy shit,” you yelped in horror and threatened to throw a can of chicken broth at him.
“Woah, woah—please don’t do that,” he says in a soft voice. “I’m really sorry that I snuck up on you.”
You hung on to the can of broth. “Who are you?” You ask as you try to bring your heart rate down. “H-how long have you been standing there?”
“YN, are you okay?” Lili rushes over to you then gets a good look at the newcomer. “Oh…are you—Hobi and Joon’s friend?”
He scratches the back of his neck sheepishly. “Uh, yeah. I’m—“
“Oh, good you’ve met Yoongi!” Hobi exclaims out as he walks into the cabin unloading more groceries, followed by Namjoon and Yeona.
After formal introductions and some explanations, you finally relax and put the can down.
“Nice to meet you,” he says in a low, gentle voice. His eyes linger on you.
“Anyway, the room assignments aren’t fixed but obviously, Hobi and Lil claimed the master bedroom. Yeona and I have the loft and YN has the other bedroom that has a double bed. So your options are either the couch or hammock by the deck,” Namjoon explains.
“I’m cool with taking the couch.” You hear Yoongi say as you walk back to the pantry to put away more snacks while Yeona shows Yoongi where the extra sheets and pillows are.
******
Yeona and Lili busied themselves around the kitchen while you stuck to watching them since you were a bit of a hazard—which Yeona was completely comfortable with since Namjoon was the same way at home…and well, pretty much anywhere.
You sat on the counter snacking on a tangerine while watching your girlfriends prepare lunch. “So, how long have they known this Yoongi-guy? I’ve never heard them talk about him before.”
“Yoongi just moved to town. They were all roommates in college, lost touch for a couple years then reconnected just recently,” Yeona explains. “He works in tech, I think.”
You hummed. “He seems pretty quiet.”
Lili chuckled to herself. “Or maybe he’s just intimidated by how loud we all are”
“He’s cute though,” you said, noncommittally as you chewed on a tangerine slice.
Lili and Yeona’s heads whip around in your direction, eyeing you suspiciously.
You suddenly find yourself uncomfortably shifting. “What? I have eyes! I’m not insinuating anything.”
“Babe, insinuate all you want. I hear he’s single,” Lili says.
“…And packing,” Yeona adds.
Now it was your turn to be shocked at your friend. “Yeona! You are an engaged woman!”
She laughed. “So? I have eyes, too. Not that I’m going to do anything about it because I’m fully satisfied with Joon, if you catch my drift.”
Your giggles ring in the kitchen.
“But how can you tell?” Lili asks.
Yeona motions over to the deck where the guys are hanging out, making casual conversation when Yoongi gets up to grab a beer from the cooler.
“See how low those shorts are slung?”
Your eyes slowly drift to his waistband.
“It’s not just the drawstring and elastic holding them up,” Yeona mumbles. “I would know because,” she clears her throat, “Namjoon has the same special skill.”
You and Lili tilt your heads almost in unison and hum in appreciation. Suddenly, Yoongi glances at the window and into the kitchen and you all turn your attention elsewhere, pretending that you were doing something important.
******
After lunch, the afternoon turned to be a scorcher so you all changed into your swimsuits and made your way down to the lake to cool off.
Yoongi turned out to be a silent observer, mostly. Fully content watching the banter between you and your friends. Hobi and Namjoon would occasionally rib him from their college days and he just laughed along while trading one-liners of his own.
You were perfectly fine enjoying the afternoon and taking a dip in the lake. But thanks to Yeona’s earlier comment, you couldn’t keep your eyes from drifting down to Yoongi’s boardshorts. You were pulled away from your daydream when he randomly splashes you with water.
“You okay there?” He asks.
You freeze and panic. “Uhh—fine.” You blinked then shook your head. This wasn’t going to work. You decided to extract yourself from this potentially dangerous situation. Otherwise, this was shaping up to be an extra long weekend. “Uhm, you know, what? I’m gonna head back up to the cabin.”
“Are you okay, YN?” Hobi calls out.
“I’m fine. Just a little tired. I’ll go and relax and maybe read a book or something.”
“Want me to come with you, babe?” Lili asks.
“No, thanks. I’m fine, I swear. It’s just the heat. Don’t let me ruin your fun.”
You made your way up the wooden steps leading back to the cabin. It was still pretty humid so instead of taking a shower right away, you go into the fridge and grab a couple of ice cubes and hold them up to your neck.
You sighed, feeling the touch of coolness against your skin.
“YN?”
You gasp at the sound of his voice, turning to see Yoongi standing by the counter.
“Jesus, you’re really light on your feet,” you remarked. “Were you a cat or something in your previous life?”
He laughs. “So I’ve been told. I just wanted to make sure that you were okay. You looked a little…flustered earlier.”
Flustered was right. Flustered with the thought of Yoongi’s dickprint mocking you through those shorts.
“You’re sweet but I’m okay. You didn’t have to come all the way up here to check up on me,” you say softly.
The ice cubes continued to melt and drip down your skin.
“Hot day, huh?” He says as he takes a couple of steps towards you, brushing up his soaked hair back with his fingers.
“Yeah,” you agreed, suddenly breathless while you watched him.
“Leave it to Namjoon to find a place with no air conditioning,” he jokes.
You both laugh, breaking the tension. And then it was back again when you both fell silent. You fidgeted then moved the ice cubes to the back of your neck, where the water continued to drip down your bikini top.
“That looks refreshing. Can I try?” He motions to the ice on your neck.
You raised your eyebrows. “S-sure. Knock yourself out,” you said.
You were baffled seeing him walk up to you instead of the fridge. He was now inches away from you. You then gestured at the fridge and tell him, “There’s ice–”
“I said, I wanted to try this.” Before you could stop him, he dipped his mouth onto your neck and sucked hard.
You gasped as you felt the alternate sucking and licking patterns he did. When he squeezes your hip bone, you let out a deep, ragged moan.
But it was short-lived as you both jump and quickly separate the moment you hear Hobi’s cackles approaching the doorway.
“Hey, I thought you were gonna lie down?” Lili says.
“I was–uh–but…” You scrambled. “I…I just wanted to cool off a bit more,” you held up the ice cubes as some measly proof that you weren’t up to anything scandalous. You glanced at Yoongi whose hands rested on the counter, looking cool as a cucumber. As if he wasn’t just trying to give you a hickey seconds ago. You try to casually flip your hair to try and cover up in case he left any obvious marks.
Your friends don’t seem to suspect anything.
“Namjoonie, you think we can get the grill going?” Hobi says, breaking the tension.
Before Namjoon can answer, “Hobi–” Yeona scolds him. “Do you know who you’re talking to and what you are asking him to do?”
“I’ll do it,” Yoongi volunteers. “I think I’m cooled enough,” he says before prying his eyes away from you and walking back towards the deck to set up the grill.
Everyone else retreats to their room to get changed while you rush over to the bathroom, immediately desperate for that cold shower you had initially intended on getting.
******
After dinner, you, Namjoon, and Yeona played some board games in the dining room while Hobi, Lili, and Yoongi sat out on the deck by the firepit. It distracted you momentarily from this afternoon’s close-call. You excused yourself to grab a beer from the fridge and decide to glance out by the deck.
To your surprise, Yoongi was already looking your way. Your breath hitches and you turn away. You fumble with the kitchen drawers, trying to look for the bottle opener.
“Looking for something?” You look up to see him standing in the kitchen.
“Uh–just…looking for the bottle opener,” you smile nervously. He unnerved you–there was no question about it. And this was only the first night! You wondered how you’d be able to get through the rest of the weekend thinking about Yoongi’s possibly gifted crotch-area.
“Here, I keep one on my key ring, just in case.” He offers you his set of keys, holding up the bottle opener separately and handing it to you. You flinch when his hands touch yours during the exchange.
“Uh, thanks,” you mutter after you crack the bottle open, then quickly drop the keys into his palm before you walk away from him wordlessly, to return to your board game. You were intent on avoiding him for the rest of the night–for your sanity.
The night went on and one by one, each of your friends started to turn in.
You laid in your room, tossing and turning. It was late but you craved something. You weren’t sure whether you were thirsty or hungry, or both. You pad over to the kitchen and rummage through the snack bin. You didn’t find anything of interest.
You look into the freezer then find a pint of cookie dough ice cream. That should hit the spot, you thought. You grabbed a spoon, and dug in–not even bothering to scoop a bit into a separate bowl. You’d probably finish the whole thing in one sitting.
“Can’t sleep?”
You are startled again as you spot him leaning against the wall by the kitchen.
“Oh my god!” You said as you clutched your chest. “Stop scaring me like that!”
He chuckles. “Sorry! I can’t help how I move. Or maybe you just need to relax a little bit. You seem a bit tense.”
You swallowed hard. “It’s the heat. I can’t stand it. I just get really agitated,” You said, spooning another bite of ice cream into your mouth.
“Sorry I woke you…I forgot you were out here,” you said apologetically, suddenly remembering that he chose to sleep on the couch.
“Nah. I couldn’t sleep either. I have a weird sleep pattern.”
You nodded wordlessly.
He walks over to the counter to reach for the bottle of whiskey then searches for a lowball glass up on the cupboards. When he couldn’t find one, he settled for one of the plastic cups set out and poured himself a shot. “Want some?”
You shook your head. Whiskey wasn’t really your thing…though watching him toss it back and swallow makes you want to get into it.
“I was thinking,” he started after setting the cup back down on the counter. “Since we’re both up, maybe we could finish what we started…you know, before we got rudely interrupted.”
“What makes you think I’d want to finish it?” You’d sound more convincing if the fluttering in your belly would just quit.
He smirks, then saunters towards you. He rests his hand on your hipbone and squeezes it gently. You gasp at the contact.
“One thing you need to know about me is that…I’m very observant. I also like to pay attention.”
He was closing in on you—your lips barely touching. You were panting softly into his mouth. He decides to tease you by darting his tongue out to lick your bottom lip.
“I know you liked it when I touched you here.” He was massaging your hip now. Your hands gripped the kitchen counter, unaware how much longer you’d be able to stand upright.
“And you liked when I did this,” he dipped his head and sucked on your neck. You stifled a moan. When he pulls away, you suddenly feel bereft.
“I want to try something.” You follow his line of sight as he glances over at the pint of ice cream that you were just snacking on. His eyes are dancing with delight as you telepathically work out what he was planning to do.
“Do you—“
“Okay,” you say a little too eagerly.
His lips curve into a slow, sexy smile. “Alright then.” He grabs your spoon and dips it into the tub. He brings it to his mouth for a taste. “Mm…what flavor is this?”
You watch his tongue lick the back of the spoon. “Cookie dough,” you say softly.
“Hm.” He dips the spoon into the tub once more. “I’m more of a chocolate guy but I think I might learn to like this.”
You gasp as he lets the ice cream drip down to the swell of your breast. As the drop slides down to your skin he catches it with his mouth, suckling on the skin. You immediately feel your panties soak through the gusset.
He pulls away once more, licking his lips clean.
He motions over to the counter. “Hop on,” he commands and you do as you’re told.
He takes the pint again and tells you to scoot down to the edge of the counter. Once you do, he drops another scoop of ice cream on your thigh. You watch it slowly drip down further into your leg.
Yoongi dips his head down and you could have sworn that you heard him inhale and take in your scent before he drags his tongue from your inner to your upper thigh. You stifled a moan when he began sucking on the flesh for a few seconds.
“Y-Yoongi, wait—“ You gripped his shoulders.
“Do you want to stop?”
“No, but—“
His eyebrows knit in confusion.
“I think,” you panted, trying to get your head straight after his oral assault. “I think we should move this somewhere else? I-I just don’t want anyone to walk in on us. Maybe you’re into that but I’m not.”
“I’m good with whatever you’re comfortable with.” He gives you a small smile.
“Bedroom, then?”
“Sure.”
You hopped off the counter and started to walk back to your room when you paused then turned to him. “Bring that, will you?” You nodded at the tub of ice cream.
As soon as he shuts the door behind him and sets the ice cream down by the dresser, you turn your head and pull his mouth towards yours for a long, deep kiss. His tongue explored your mouth, licking, tasting.
You felt him backing you up until your calves hit the side of the bed before lowering you onto it. You scoot back further and he starts working on pulling your bottoms off. As soon as he pulls your top off, his mouth quickly wraps around a nipple while his other hand pinches the other.
He pulls away to retrieve the ice cream that he left on the dresser.
You leaned back, your weight balanced on your elbows. Your heartbeat quickened as you anticipated his next move. His gaze was hot, lips parted as he dropped another scoop down to your pelvis. He drags his tongue downwards, until he goes past your mound and finishes with a light flick at your folds.
You gasped audibly. When he leans back, you dip your finger into the tub and swipe it at his mouth. A low growl escapes him as you licked it off hungrily. His eyes were so completely dilated by lust, they were black.
You lifted his shirt. You pulled it up and over his head, his shoulders strain with the hard stretch of fabric. You take the ice cream from him and dip your fingers into the tub once more and drag it across your chest.
His head turned, mouth latching onto your nipple and suckling, easy, gentle tugs of suction on the sensitive point. You whimpered when his teeth caught the hardened tip, completely trapping you.
Your head bowed, eyes entranced at the sight of his hollowing cheeks. Inside the heat of his mouth, his tongue fluttered at the tip, his throat working as he swallowed. Your core tightened and pulsed, echoing the rhythmic pulls. You feel him slide two fingers in you–working and stretching you for him.
Having had enough, he takes the tub and tosses it by the nightstand haphazardly.
He slots himself between your legs and settles there for a bit, tasting, and licking you. Your back arches, lifting your hips to his mouth as he sucked and fluttered his tongue over your clit. He sits up, stopping short of your orgasm–which, surprisingly, didn’t even make you mad.
Frantically reaching between you, you untied the drawstring of his waistband and pushed the elastic down enough to free him. You gasped not just at the size but the girth. This was why you weren’t mad at him for stopping.
“What did you say you wanted earlier?”
You swallow hard as his voice brings you back to reality. “W-what?”
“Earlier, when you were in the kitchen.” He was pumping his cock slowly, stopping to squeeze the tip…teasing you while you salivated.
“I…I don’t–” you struggled to find the words.
“You wanted to get–what was it? Dick-whipped? Or dicked-down?”
Your eyes almost bulge out of your sockets as he repeated your supposedly throwaway comment from this morning–when he walked in on you and Lili in the kitchen.
“If that’s still on the table then you’re in for a real treat,” he says with a devilish lilt to his voice. You didn’t protest when he took your hand and pulled it towards him. You instinctively wrap your hands around him, fingertips tracing the thick veins coursing along his length. The tip was dripping with precum, your thumb captured it, hands gliding, spreading his slick all over him.
He pulls away and sits on the bed, urging you to climb on top of him. Once your legs settle on either side of his hips, you lift yourself slightly then align the tip to your opening. “Take it slow,” he ordered gruffly. “I want to be inside you all night and we can’t have you sore,” he says, running his hands down your arms.
That sent shivers down your spine, goosebumps covering your skin. You couldn’t take your eyes off it. “What if–what if I can’t–” you struggled to find the words. You weren’t sure if he would fit–if you could make him fit. Sensing your apprehension, Yoongi reached up with both hands, pushing the hair back from your face. “Trust me–” He kisses you. “You can,” he says confidently.
You were the one positioning him, lowering onto him, taking a moment to rub the wide head of his cock back and forth between your already dripping folds.
He groaned at the feel of your warmth, his hips lifting slightly, pushing demandingly into you. He grabbed your hips firmly, pulling you down, spreading you wide open for him.
“Fuck, Yoongi,” Your eyelids grew heavy as you sank onto him, taking him inch by inch inside of you.
He lifted you slightly. You sighed, feeling his length glide out of you until he stopped right at the tip. He held you there, hovering for a few seconds then lowered you again, making you take more of him in. The veins in his neck stood out as he strained to maintain control.
You pushed up, then slid back down. Over and over. Working him deeper each time, until your ass sat atop his thighs. He was deliciously thick and long. You whimpered as he throbbed inside you.
Tilting your head, you kissed him, savoring the slow slide of his tongue against yours.
With your hands on his shoulders, you fucked him with rhythmic pumps of your hips. He was delectable and absolutely irresistible. The feel of his cock moving inside you. That low, rumble in his chest gave away how turned on he was. A sheen of sweat coated his chest and his forehead. The way his biceps and pectorals clenched when you dropped down and his cock pushed deep. You were shamelessly needy for it and couldn’t get enough.
“Mm–so fucking good,” he growled, making your walls clench at the compliment.
He put the pad of his thumb to his lips and ran his tongue across it in a slow, sensual lick, his eyes never leaving your face. Reaching between you, he rubbed your clit in hard, quick circles. His ministrations turned out to be too much–pushing you over the edge. You felt a scream building up but you also didn’t want to wake the whole cabin. You instinctively bury your face between the crook of his neck and shoulder before you came with a cry, your cunt milking his cock in euphoric ripples.
Not even a few seconds after the contractions slow, he springs into action and flips you on to your stomach.
With one hand at the small of your back, holding you down, he cupped your wet heat and rubbed, massaging your arousal all over you. He spread it around, coating you with it. Your hips circled, seeking that perfect bit of pressure to reach another orgasm.
The pounding in your clit and the needy clenching of your empty cunt was driving you mad. He pushed two fingers into you and your nails dug into layers of sheets. He finger-fucked you leisurely, sliding lazily in and out, keeping you on the edge.
“Yoongi, please,” you sobbed, the sensitive tissues inside you rippling greedily around his digits. You were coated in sweat, barely able to breathe.
His fingers pulled free and then his cock was pushed into you. Your pussy spasmed around him, sucking him deeper. You heard his breath catch in a muffled groan.
You mewled helplessly with the pleasure of it, your entire body shaking as he fucked you thoroughly, his cock rubbing and tugging at tender, hyperstimulated nerves. The pressure built and built, brewing like a storm.
“Oh, fuck, yesss,” you gasped, stretched tightly with anticipation.
Then he pulled out at the first grip of your core and left you hanging on the precipice again. Only to slip himself all the way back in, filling you, stroking rhythmically into your trembling core.
His thighs kept yours spread wide so he could sink deep. Over and over. The tempo of his thrusts were relentless.
You let out a sudden yelp when he gives your ass a good smack. Bending over you, he gasped in your ear, “Are you dicked-down enough yet? Hm?”
You had nothing left to fight with, barely able to whimper when he reaches under and rolled an aching nipple between his fingertips and slides down to your splayed legs. His hips began to lunge, his cock pumping upward into you as he pinched and swiped at the folds around your throbbing clit before rubbing the swollen bud.
You came again with a hoarse cry of his name, the sheets and mattress muffling your screams. Your entire body convulsing as the relief exploded through you. The orgasm lasted, what felt like forever and Yoongi was tireless, extending your pleasure with the perfect thrusts you’d craved for earlier.
You collapse onto the bed, panting and soaked with sweat. He pulls out of you carefully and turns you over with your back to the mattress. You were in a complete orgasmic daze–incapable of stopping him when he pushed your thighs apart and put his mouth on you. He tongued and suckled on your clit until you came again. And again.
Your back arched with each orgasm, your breath draining from your lungs. You lost track of how many times you climaxed after they began rolling into each other, cresting and waning like the tide.
Climbing over you with one knee on the mattress and the other leg extended to the floor, he pushes himself into you one more time. You shoved at him, “Wait–I don’t know if I can take any more…”
“I know, baby.” He slid into you, his eyes on your face as he pushed carefully through swollen tissues. “I’ll go slow,” He says soothingly.
Somehow, it occurred to you that he hadn’t cum yet. Hypersensitivity be damned, your hips moved of their own volition and met his thrusts.
“So good…can’t stop,” he says sighs. Like clockwork, you feel another orgasm slowly building up.
“I don’t think I can pull out–you feel too fucking good,” he moans as he drags his cock in and out of your cunt.
You didn’t want him to, either. “S’okay–implant,” you managed to assure him, referring to the contraceptive implant in your arm.
He rolled his hips, stirring his cock inside you, pulling you onto him until you gasped in pain at how deep he was. Your cunt clung to the base of his length, spread wide for him. He filled you to the brim and you loved every bit of it. Throwing his head back, he gasped and jerked inside you. He spurted hotly, groaning, his hips still thrusting, staying true to what he said…that he just couldn’t stop.
******
The next morning, you awoke with the sun peeking through the blinds. You roll onto your back as your eyes adjust to the natural light that starts to fill the room. Vague memories from last night also began to flood in.
Yoongi.
“Fuck,” you sit up abruptly, suddenly aware that you were naked under the covers. The door slowly opening startles you and you instinctively pull the blankets tight around your chest. He walks in with a big, piping hot cup of coffee. You accept it and mouth your ‘thanks’ before taking a sip. You hummed in appreciation while he sat on the mattress next to you.
“Didn’t think I’d ever get enough of hearing that sound,” he says as he shyly scratches the back of his head.
You smiled as your face started to heat up. You cleared your throat. “Uhm—did you…did you sleep here? I don’t remember.” Yes, the multiple orgasms practically rendered you comatose.
“Yeah,” he says slowly. “I managed to grab a towel from the bathroom across the hall after…for you–but then after that, I, uh…didn’t think I could walk back to the couch,” he laughed nervously, “So…I just knocked out. I hope you didn’t mind.”
“No, I didn’t.” Truthfully, you didn’t remember much but you vaguely recalled a warm body next to yours. You weren’t much for cuddling but it didn’t seem to bother you.
You both chuckled awkwardly. “Anyway, I woke up before everyone else and made breakfast. Thought you’d be hungry.”
“Oh.” That was nice of him. “Y-yeah…I just–need a minute to get changed.”
“Sure. Take your time,” he says casually before leaning in, intending to give you a peck on your cheek but you suddenly turn your head and he ends up landing on your lips instead.
Okay…this, you remember. His velvet tongue slips into your mouth, stroking yours in long, languid licks. He pulls away first–and you’re both breathless. Knowing full well that you were bare under the sheets, he’s fighting every instinct in him to rip the covers off you and fuck you senseless this morning.
“So…I’ll, uh, see you in a few minutes? Namjoon says he wants everyone to go on a hike later so you might need some fuel for that.”
You made a face. You weren’t much of an outdoors-y person but you also didn’t want to be the party pooper. “I guess, yeah.”
“Or,“ his finger brushes your bare shoulder. "I can tell him that we’re allergic to hikes and we can just chill in the jacuzzi out back. It’d be a shame not to put it to good use this weekend,” he says offhandedly.
You bit your lip at the sound of that.
You’ve reach the end! Thank you so much for reading!
If you loved it, please comment, reblog, or send me feedback! . I love hearing from readers! If you didn’t like it so much, I would still like to hear about it
Genre:Fake-dating!AU; Strangers to lovers; fluff; angst; smut
Warnings: cussing; explicit sexual conversations; hints of awkward family dynamic; fake-dating; hired escort; some anxiety; alcohol consumption
Word count: 2.3K+ words
Summary:On your brother’s wedding, you dread traveling to see your family–whom you have successfully avoided for over a year after moving across the country for work. In an effort to save face, you hire an escort to get them off your back and perhaps even make your ex–who happens to be the best man–a little jealous.
A/N:I’ve been waiting for the right time and prompt to do another JJK fic so…I’m super excited for this. This is loosely inspired by The Wedding Date (2004) but with a slight twist. If you know the movie, I hope you’ll still read along. I have a habit of getting prompts from random movies or shows that I revisit and then find some details that I’d like to switch up for my own personal wish-fulfillment bank so, I hope it does the same for yours as well!
Thank you to @internetjunkdrawer for beta-ing and screaming with me (as if there was any other way of talking about this AU). Also thinking about you, @deepseavibez, my love.
And with that, please enjoy Part 1!
“Hi, YN–It’s Jeon Jungkook. I apologize for not getting back to you last night but I just wanted to let you know that I got your message. Listen, I can tell that you’re nervous–I completely understand, but this is what I do for a living. And you know what? By the time this is all over, your ex will regret that he ever left you. Trust me,” he says.
“Anyway, I’ve got a couple things that I need to do this morning so I’m afraid we’ll just have to meet at the airport. I received the itinerary and the e-ticket, so I appreciate you sending those.” He sighs. “Well…I can’t wait to see you!”
******
Since taking your seat, you hadn’t been able to stop fidgeting–just unable to settle. You keep glancing back, past the business-class cabin entranceway, keeping an eye out for him.
You scroll through your phone for a couple minutes but even that can’t keep you calm as you couldn’t stop your fingers from trembling. You slide your phone into your purse and pick up the in-flight safety instruction pamphlet and examine that instead.
“I’m guessing you’re not much of a frequent flyer?”
You look up to see a lady seated right across the aisle from you in business class. She gave you a kind smile and could sense your restlessness. “Oh…” You immediately tucked the pamphlet away. “No, I actually fly a fair amount. It’s just that–” you felt weird oversharing with this complete stranger but your anxiety just causes you to expel more words out of your mouth than necessary.
“My brother’s getting married and his best man is my ex. I just want to make sure that I know where all of the exits are in case I change my mind and you know…yeet myself out of this plane,” you rambled, finishing with a grimace.
She smiled at you uncomfortably before turning back to her e-reader. You sink into your seat in utter embarrassment. This trip was already off to a great start.
******
// Three months ago…
“Cris…I don’t know,” you said skeptically as you absentmindedly twirled your office chair around.
“What do you mean? I’m telling you, it’s very discreet. Literally, there’s an NDA option, if you really want to go there—“
“But that’s the point,” you protested. “I don’t know if I actually want to go there.” You ran your fingers gently over the calligraphy embossed on the thick, textured cardstock while talking to your friend on the phone.
“Maybe I’m just going to tell them that I’m tied up with a huge campaign and I have to be here to oversee everything.”
You hear Cristina groan angrily through your bluetooth earpiece. “YN, that is the coward’s way out and you know it. Why are you the one left feeling insecure and embarrassed after all this time? You did nothing wrong! If anything, that asshole should back out and retreat into a dark hole if he knew what was good for him,” she spat out.
“Also, do you really think that Taehyung would allow his favorite sister to bow out of his own wedding?” She asked.
Ever since your mother remarried, you and Taehyung have developed an unexpectedly close bond over the years. He was a bonus sibling that you didn’t ask for and he sure as hell felt the same way about you in the beginning. As time went on, you realized that you would be around each other for a while and so your relationship organically grew. You loved and protected each other as if you had shared the same DNA.
You sighed, tossing your brother’s wedding invitation on your desk, where it lands on a pile of the rest of your interoffice mail. The last time you were around your family was during his engagement party–which was already a stretch for you. You flew out there, intending on staying for the weekend but were so traumatized by nosey friends and relatives that you ended up taking a red-eye that same evening to escape it all.
When you are still silent on the other line, Cristina urges you further.
“Babe, listen. I have it on a very reputable source that this service is 100% satisfaction guaranteed—or your money back.”
You rolled your eyes then chuckled. “Cris, I’m not buying a vacuum cleaner.”
“Really, YN? Because by the sound of it, you seem like you need some good suction in certain places,” she cackled.
“Cristina!” you shrieked as her laughs rang on the other line.
You groaned. “Why are we friends again?”
She exclaimed, “Because! You love me and you know I’m not afraid to call you out on your bullshit,” she laughs. “And if there’s a chance that you can get a good dicking-down out of this—“
You immediately stop her right there. “Yah! Okay, Cris, I got it!” You sighed heavily, reaching over and picking up the invitation again, tapping it furiously on the surface.
After a long beat, you finally relent. “Fine. I’ll message him on the app. No promises, though. And who knows, he might not have any room on his calendar even with the three-month leeway. What with him being so popular and all,” you muttered.
You open the app on your phone and key in his name to pull up his profile–which turns up in your history because you’ve repeatedly visited and studied it obsessively for the last few days before chickening out and promptly closing it.
His page didn’t contain a photo but he was ranked at the top of your search results based on proximity and reviews alone. And boy, did he have a lot of them! He had hundreds of comments and triple the amount of anonymous ratings. Five stars on all of them. 10 out of 10, would highly recommend.
You shuddered at the thought.
Before losing your nerve, you finally made up your mind and decide to pull the trigger. You tap on the envelope icon to begin typing a direct message to him.
“Well, either way, tell me how it goes! I want to know every detail!” Cristina says excitedly.
As your thumb hovered over your phone’s keypad, you asked your friend one last question. “Cris, be honest–are you the reputable source claiming 100% satisfaction?”
After a brief pause, she says, “I’m afraid I can’t comment on that, YN. I signed an NDA.”
//END FLASHBACK
******
“Ma’am–ma’am, you can’t be back here,” the flight attendant warns you.
“I’m sorry–I swear, I don’t have a drinking problem,” you breathed out after you helped yourself to a couple of mini bottles of cognac from the in-flight crew’s stock. “And you can charge my seat. I just…I’m just really nervous,” you say anxiously.
“W-we have some dramamine, if you–”
“N-no, it’s not that.“ You blurted out. “I’m nervous because any second now, my date will show up at 2B. I’ve never met him so…if there’s any chance that I’ve made a huge mistake and he looks like a troll, I need to be drunk enough for him to look really good.”
“Oh, honey,” Her brows flick up as she looks past your shoulder. “I think you need to sober up now to appreciate the masterpiece that just walked in,” she says, sounding flustered.
Your brows furrowed. “What?”
She clears her throat and widens her eyes, tilting her chin up to gesture towards the cabin. “Say hello to 2B.”
You turn around slowly to find a man dressed in a dapper suit–his back facing you. He is welcomed by another flight attendant, who presents him with a tray of glasses filled with complimentary champagne.
You approached him carefully. As he reaches out to take a second flute, you catch a glimpse of his tattooed fingers, making your breath hitch.
“J-Jungkook?” You say with a hint of uncertainty.
Suddenly, time slips into slow-motion. At the sound of his name, he turns so fluidly. You couldn’t stop your jaw from dropping when you finally got a good look at him.
His hair was brushed up, letting a few strands fall loosely onto one side–barely brushing his eyebrow. He had big, dark eyes–eyes filled with youthful curiosity yet glazed with intense masculinity. It was a deadly combination that would unnerve anybody.
Your eyes zero-in on his mouth–pink and plush with a little freckle that sat beneath the fullest part of his lower lip. You watched it disappear as his lips curved into a slow, sexy smile.
“Hi, YN.” The sound of his voice was soft, but it was the underlying tone of it–firm but calm. And it oddly settled your nerves almost instantaneously.
When you finally pick your jaw up off the floor, he hands you the second glass of champagne. After you accept it, he takes your free hand in his and gently squeezes it. “Nice to meet you,” he says, then takes you by surprise when he leans in to plant a soft kiss on your cheek.
And just like that, your stomach is in knots again. He smiled after hearing you gasp softly at how forward he was. You gave him a tight smile in return, figuring that it was all part of the act.
“Let’s sit?” He offers.
You’d interacted with him for all but 30 seconds but you were all-too-happy to obey. After he settles into his seat, he turns his full attention to you.
“I, uh–hope you didn’t have trouble checking in,” you said meekly.
“Everything went smoothly,” he says. “Thanks for making all the arrangements.”
You took a sip–actually, it was more of a hefty gulp–of your champagne.
“I’m sorry that I couldn’t leave sooner. I know that you wanted some time to get settled before heading to the party but–I ran into some extenuating circumstances,” he says vaguely.
You chuckled. “Must be peak season for you, huh?” You regretted the words the instant they left your mouth.
His eyebrows quirk at your comment.
“I…I mean–” you stuttered. “I’m so sorry–I didn’t mean to say–”
He chuckled. “It’s okay, YN. Doesn’t phase me,” he says calmly.
You sink into your seat, willing the ground to open up and swallow you whole.
“So…maybe, we can take this opportunity to get to know each other? It’s a 5-and-a-half hour flight. We should maximize our time, don’t you think?”
You nodded at his suggestion. “Uh, yeah,” you sat up straight. “Yeah, for sure. I should tell you, though–right off the bat…You know those families who are totally crazy and chaotic? But at the end of the day, they’re still your family and you love them regardless of all that?”
“Uh huh?”
“Yeah, my family is not like that.” You said immediately.
He stifled a snort. “Noted,” he says with a smile before taking a sip of his drink.
You quickly added, “I love my brother, though. And my dad. Well…stepbrother and stepdad,” you clarified. “We don’t share the same bloodline–so…I consider them more as unwilling participants in the craziness. Kind of like hostages,” you gave him a small smile.
He thinks it’s endearing and he gives you that million-dollar smile once more.
Holy shit…an entire week of this. You cleared your throat in an attempt to stay on track. “Anyway, should we talk about our cover story? Just so we’re on the same page and all,” you say, suddenly all business-like.
“Of course,” he says politely. “Always good to get the basics down.”
You both agree to a rehearsed but realistic and sensible story.
Jungkook is a cardiologist and you were introduced by a mutual friend months ago by going on a blind date. Even though you both had ridiculously busy schedules, you were both just absolutely crazy about each other and couldn’t stand the thought of being apart so you found a way to make this relationship work.
“Okay–I’ve got it down,” he says nonchalantly.
“Are you sure? We can go over the details again?”
“YN–” he says in that quiet but stern tone that stops you in your tracks. You were starting to think that you might actually enjoy being spoken to like this every now and then. Before you could let that sink in, he interrupts your thoughts. “I said, I’ve got it. And don’t worry. I’m a professional,” he says, reassuringly.
You nodded wordlessly, taking another gulp of your champagne.
Seconds later, he changes tact. “When we first spoke, you also mentioned a certain someone…“
Your eyes widen, knowing full well whom he was referring to. “Oh yeah…him.” You paused. “Haru.” His name finally came to you as if it was a distant, forgotten memory that you had to pull from within the depths of your brain cells since you had been distracted for the last few hours by the magnificent piece of work sitting next to you.
“How do you want to deal with that? Should we come up with a plan for him?”
You chewed at your bottom lip. The last time you saw Haru, you spent all of your energy trying to dodge him during the engagement party. But you’d be circling each other all week, at which point, he’d be impossible to avoid. You had to deal with him sometime.
“How far do you want to take it? I can kick things up a notch whenever he’s around or…should I follow your lead?” He paused, waiting for any other ideas that you might have.
You looked away, pursing your lips, considering it. After a long beat, you look him in the eye again. “I just want him to see what he’s missing out on,” you replied confidently.
He regards you intently. “Well…easy-peasy then,” he says smugly.
You cocked an eyebrow and scoffed. “Oh, really?”
He smirks at your skepticism.
“All in a day’s work, huh?” You say to him.
He shook his head. “I say it’s easy because,” he turns his hot gaze towards you again. “Only a blind man would fail to see what they’re missing out on,” he finishes without blinking.
You swallowed hard while you watched him throw his head back, downing the final drops of his drink.
For a brief moment, you questioned his sincerity. If there was a fine line between truth and lies, Jungkook was excellent at blurring it.
Andyou wouldn’t even be able to tell the difference.
If you loved it and/or curious to learn more, please comment, reblog, or send me feedback! . I love hearing from readers! If you didn’t like it so much, I would still like to hear about it
My taglist is open as well so just reply to this post and I’ll add you.
\ kō-ˈket Definition:noun. a man who indulges in flirtation.
Pairing:Escort!JJK x Fem-reader
Rating: M ()
Genre:Fake-dating!AU; Strangers to lovers; fluff; angst; smut
Warnings (more to be written in individual chapters): cussing; explicit sexual conversations; hints of awkward family dynamic; fake-dating; hired escort; some anxiety; alcohol consumption
Summary:On your brother’s wedding, you dread traveling to see your family–whom you have successfully avoided for over a year after moving across the country for work. In an effort to save face, you hire an escort to get them off your back and perhaps even make your ex–who happens to be the best man–a little jealous.
A/N: This is loosely inspired by The Wedding Date (2004) but with a slight twist. If you know the movie, I hope you’ll still read along. I have a habit of getting prompts from random movies or shows that I revisit and then find some details that I’d like to switch up for my own personal wish-fulfillment bank so, I hope it does the same for yours as well!
Comment, reblog, or send me feedback! –I love hearing from readers! Taglist is open as well so please comment on this post to be included on the next update.
Pairing Namjoon x Reader Rating13+ Genre/Tropes Fluff, Animal AU, dad!tan Warnings Actual turtle Namjoon, Hes still clumsy though, and so is his son. :| WC244 CrosspostAO3 - herecomessatvrn Summary Namjoon and his son find themselves in an unfortunate situation. AN This was a drabble request, and I’ve had the idea for a while, but just gotta get it out now. Thank you @minttangerines for this idea. Its so silly and sweet. And thank you @miscelunaaa for quickly reading this. You both are angels!
“Okay, so what did we learn here?” Namjoon looks up at the ceiling as he and his child are rocking on their shells. It’s not like they haven’t tried to get up. That’s how they both got into this mess in the first place. But there still seems to be a lesson somewhere here. About getting the right tools for the job, or making sure that you don’t hurt yourself in the process of helping others.
But no, Namjoon is now stuck on his back as well, waiting for more help to arrive.
“Hey, daddy?”
Namjoon turns his head and looks at his child. “Yes?”
“What if- if we rocked like this…” His little limbs start flailing, trying to get some momentum going. It’s clear that the intent was to maybe rock over until they were upright again, but what happened instead, is that slowly, but surely, they were scooting across the floor, heading closer towards the door frame.
“It’s not working.” Their voice is small and defeated.
“No! Keep doing it! It’s working!” Namjoon joins now, rocking and scooting slowly across the room.
In the middle of this ruckus is when you walk in. Frozen in the door frame, listening to the grunting of your two favorite clumsy people as they tried their best to right themselves. You’re overcome with fondness, but also, this is the fifth time this month you’ve had to set aright not just your child, but your husband too.
Summary:You two were high school sweethearts, and your love story was something only found in the scripts of a shitty teenage rom-com, but he was a jock, and you were shy and quiet, it shouldn’t have worked, but somehow it did, but now, fast forward ten years and things aren’t the same. Your lives aren’t the same, he’s stuck in the past, and you’re only focusing on the future. Neither of you have your priorities straight, and neither of you realises that your present is a complete and utter mess. You won’t let him go because he’s all you’ve ever known, and he won’t let you go because you’re the only thing right in his life but will love and high school promises keep you two together?
(Minors DNI) | Angst | Fluff | Smut
Word Count: 701 words (teaser) below the cut.
Age:18+
Pairings: Jungkook x Female Reader
Genre:Smut, Angst, Fluff
Warnings:Slice of Life AU! (don’t say I didn’t warn you; this really won’t be a nice one). Yelling, swearing, crying, arguments, smut, unprotected sex (don’t do this). Fingering, oral (male and female receiving). multiple orgasms, squirting, hand jobs. Couples counselling, and talks of therapy, both can’t let go, but Jungkook is another level of attached. ANGST, but what are y’all really expecting from me? A few sexist comments here and there.
Authors Note: Story number three from my the Story of Us Series Let me know if you want to be tagged Teaser below the cut.
Authors Note 2: Thank you to @rosiekook for reading the snippet and always being so kind with your words and love, you give me so much strength to write. I love you so much
Banner Credits:@aglassofpinkchampagne, thank you for the header. It’s incredible! I cannot even thank you enough for this. I adore you endlessly, thank you. Teaser below the cut.
“Okay, I kept my mouth shut the entire dinner, but honey, this is the fifth time you’ve been back home since you and Jungkook moved in together, and I still see no ring? No signs of a marriage, nothing,” your mother started to say as she sipped her wine, making you groan as you took a large gulp of yours.
“Can we not ruin every trip back home with this?” You moaned, and your mother shrugged.
“I’m ruining nothing, but honey, ten years, and you two still aren’t engaged or together. As a mother, I want to know you have stability,” your mother spoke, looking down at the red-coloured liquid in her glass.
“I don’t need a husband for stability,” you bit back, making your mother raise her brow in disapproval at you with your tone.
“I never said that, but how long do you two just plan on dating? You two have moved in, been together for ten years and now? Honey, he hasn’t even come back to visit the last two times you came,” your mother continued explaining, making you groan.
“I’m thinking he dodged a bullet,” you mumbled, earning a sigh from your mother.
“Besides, he hasn’t even proposed, so why should I pressure him?” You suggested, and your mother frowned at you.
“You could ask him?” Your mother offered gently, and you sighed deeply.
“Or are you like him? Dragging your feet?” Your mother questioned, and you shrugged.
“We’re comfortable. Why is that not enough for you?” You asked, genuinely wondering why your mother always brought this topic up.
“Is it enough for you? To be comfortable? If that’s what you are willing to settle for, then sure, but my love, comfortable is fine, but it’s dangerous. When you’re too comfy in a relationship, you take every second for granted, and you think it’ll last forever, and you get lazy,” your mother lectured, making you roll your eyes at her.
“Can you stop projecting your marriage or failed marriage onto my thriving relationship?” You asked immediately, feeling guilt surge through your veins at your harsh words.
Your mother only ever wanted to help you.
“Mum,” you started to say, stopping when she held out a hand to you.
“It’s because of my failed marriage I can spot the warning signs from a mile away. I’m not saying you and Jungkook will be a repeat of what your father and I were, but if you don’t get clarity on where you two stand, you’ll always be in the grey with him,” your mother explained before finishing off her drink.
“I don’t need him to prove anything to me, but when was the last time you two spoke about the future?” Your mother asked, and you fumbled to give her an answer and came up blank, making your mother only sigh more.
“Get some rest. You have an early train to catch tomorrow. This is food for thought,” your mother said kindly before standing up to give you a hug and heading upstairs.
You let out a deep sigh, took in the night sky, and thought hard.
You and Jungkook stopped speaking about the future when he kissed you at sixteen. Sure, you two were young, but you knew in your heart he was the one, but as your relationship progressed, Jungkook seemed to hold onto the past, and anytime the future would come up, he’d change topics and walk away, and if he tried to reminisce then, you’d walk away.
You two were both in different tenses in your life, but neither of you ever wanted to acknowledge the present.
The present, where the last time you two had a date night was five months ago, and the last time he made love to you—properly, not just a quick fuck or a sloppy blowjob—but the last time he was intimate with you, was also five months ago. The present you and Jungkook shared looked like a foreshadowing of a hollow future. You let out a frustrated groan.
You and Jungkook had to talk if you wanted to save whatever you two had, but why did it feel like a part of you had already let go?
❦ word count. 17.7k ❦ genre. parent fic, fluff, angst, a bit of boob action ❦ warnings. illness, mention of hospitalisation, mention of minor character death, yoongi is kind of a dick sometimes, accidental(?) flashing ❦ summary. it’s not that you don’t like your job. on the contrary, reading bedtime stories to a certified little princess is something you still can’t believe you get paid to do. it’s just that between all the school runs, snow days and secret second hot chocolates before bed, you may fallen a little too hard for those dimpled cheeks and gummy smiles…. worse still, you’ve fallen for her father too. ❦a/n.merry christmas everyone!! this fic is a collaboration with the wonderful @underthejoon@kpopfanfictrash@suga-kookiemonster@junghelioseok@bendthekneetobangtan @lamourche and @hobidreams. it’s late, lame and cheesy (and probably under-edited) but I like it that way. I hope you’re all having a fantastic holiday, wherever you may be <3
Min Yoongi x reader | Single Parent | Fluff | PG | wc: 1100
For this year’s Secret Valentien project by @btscreatorscorner I was assigned the lovely @sunshinerainbowsbts so hereby I present my gift to you, Sunny (Even if its a little late).
The sun had truly shown itself from its better side today, having peeked through the clouds ever since the early morning hours and warming the chilled winter air. Maybe it too understood the importance of this day. Well, the importance it held for some.
And even though this was easily the day your boutique made most of its earnings, you could not help but dread the day. In itself, the day was hectic at best, but the days up to it were just as chaotic because of all the preparations you had to do. It was also the reason why you were currently running on minimal amounts of sleep.
Fortunately for you, the amount of customers seemed to be decreasing ever so slowly, making it possible for you to finally take a small break. Your tired legs almost buckled under you as you leaned against the counter, eyes darting around the shop.
Finally alone.
“What a day…” you sighed, closing your eyes only for them to shoot open in shock when you suddenly heard the all too familiar sound of the chime on top of the door, warning you that someone had entered the shop. You straightened your back and looked over at the door, but there was no one there.
Maybe, your mind was playing tricks on you? It would not be the first time nor would it be the last time it had done so. But that thought was shot down when your ears picked up on footsteps coming toward you. The steps were hesitant and came to a sudden stop, you held your breath; Fear striking.
Seconds passed before you heard a whimper, immediately you jumped up from the chair and rushed toward the sound. Your eyes darted around, trying to locate the source of the noise. However, it seemed that the source itself had other plans because as you stepped around the counter, something or rather someone tugged at your pant leg.
Chubby fingers clung to the fabric of your pants, their snotty little nose buried in your leg and big doe and teary eyes looking up at you like you held the answers to the world.
“A-app-” The child hiccupped, pressing themself even further onto you.
Without even thinking, you had swiped the child up into your arms and started to comfort them. “Shhh, I am right here,” you murmured, your voice soothing and soft while caressing their hair to provide the comfort they so desperately needed.
As the sobs subsided, the child pulled back and looked at you. Finally, you took the time to look over the child; A mop of dark hair paired with big doe eyes, a cute little button nose sprinkled with freckles and chubby cheeks that matched the chubby legs and arms every child that age should have. They wore a beige dress with small hearts on.
A beautiful little girl.
“Hey there pretty little lady”
The girl let out a squeak and pressed her head into your chest again. You could not help but giggle. A few seconds went by before she peaked up at you from her ‘hiding’ spot.
“Appa.. no appa,” she stuttered, falling over her words in her attempt to communicate with you. You nodded your head knowingly, understanding what she tried to tell you. Your eyes flicked over to the shop windows, but were only met with the darkness from outside.
A sigh passed your lips; this was going to be difficult.
“Would you like some chocolate milk?” you asked, already moving toward the machine as the girl started nodding her head rapidly. Another giggle passed your lips at how cute she looked, her hair tossing around her head and a little pout on her lips.
You settled the girl on the counter and gave her a cup. She wrapped both of her hands around it, moving it up toward her lips before taking a big sip. When she moved the cup away, she let out an ‘ah!” while smacking her lips.
“Does the pretty little lady have a name?”
“Yejun” She answered proudly, puffing out her chest.
“Hello Yejun” you said and introduced yourself, offering your hand to her with a smile. She took your hand into her much smaller one and gave it a light squeeze before going back to sipping on her chocolate milk.
Yejun seemed much more at ease with her chocolate milk in hand even though her father was still missing. Luckily enough it was not long before your eyes caught sight of a frantic looking man outside of the shop windows. The two of you locked eyes for only a split second before his eyes flicked to the child in front of you.
“Yejun! Thank God!” The man ripped open the door and ran toward Yejun, who was making grabby hands toward the man while crying “appa”.
He frantically pulled Yejun into his arms and held her against him tightly for a few moments, before sitting her down on the counter again: “Are you okay?” he was fidgeting over her, feeling and searching for anything that might not have been there before their sudden separation.
Fortunately, he found nothing.
He heaved a sigh of relief and planted a kiss on her forehead, then he turned around to face you.
“Thank you so much for finding Yejun!” He thanked you before beginning to ramble about how she had suddenly disappeared from one moment to another.
You could not help but notice that Yejun’s dad was just as handsome as she was cute. She had inherited his dark hair and cute button nose, but what really made your knees bent was the gummy smile he showed as he looked at his child.
“I understand. Children are hard work, but Yejun has been nothing but an angel,” you assured the man with a gentle touch on his arm.
His eyes lightened up when you complimented his child, chest filling with pride that even in such a highly emotional situation his little girl had been polite.
“Still..-” He started but stopped when Yejun tugged at his shirt, the man bending down toward her and she whispered something into his ear. He let out a soft ‘ah’ before straightening himself up.
This time when he looked at you, you could not help but notice the light glint he had in his dark eyes.
“Can Yejun and I invite you out for a cup of coffee?” He asked confidently. However, the sudden confidence seemed to diminish as fast as it had come when you did not reply immediately. “Of course only if-”
You touched his arm, making him halter in his sentence. You gave him a shy smile.
“That sounds wonderful, let me just close the shop.”
I choose the prompt: Kid playing matchmaker because who isn’t a sucker for diff BTS?
OT7 x reader | Fantasy | Hybrid | Slice of life | Romance | 18+ | wc: 3400
╰ You leave the stress of everyday life for a simple life in the woods, but apparently, you aren’t the only one who wanted to get away. The goal? To find yourself. And maybe each other along the way.
He gave you a small nod, walking over to the bar cart in the far corner of the office before grabbing what you assumed to be a water bottle and poured it into two glasses. He strode back to the desk, placing one of the glasses in front of you before taking a seat. He took a sip of water and turned to you with a gentle smile.
“Let us begin then.”
The conversation had started out rather dull. Mr. Wang simply went over the legal rights regarding the will while reminding you to ask, if you had any questions. When you stayed silent, he let out a deep sigh to prepare himself for whatever he was about to tell. It scared you a little. You had never seen him act nervous. But when he began speaking again, you suddenly understood why.
As soon as Mr. Wang spilled the will’s details, your jaw dropped. Your mind was overworking as it tried to comprehend what you had just been told, but you could not. It did not make any sense.
“Are-” you swallowed the lump in your throat “-are you sure this is what the will says?”
His eyes narrowed and you flinched in your seat, eyes darting down to your lap before he replied sternly, “do I have to remind you, miss Yun? That I have never lied or deceived you, or anyone from the Yun clan for that matter.”
“I-… It just seems too good to be true,” you muttered and unknowingly began to pick at your nails, pulling at the hangnails around them. Had you been out of line? you wondered, but before you could linger too long on your mistake Mr. Wang offered to show you the will. Immediately you nodded your head, not knowing what to expect. Not really.
He settled his briefcase on the desk, opened it, and pulled out some papers. He offered them to you and with timid hands, you took them from him.
Your eyes darted over the words repeatedly, eyes widening as you began to understand what the papers said. Mr. Wang had told you the truth: Jihoon and Soobin had indeed left you a property near the countryside of a town you had never heard of before. Furthermore, they had also left a hefty amount of money to you.
“It is true” you murmured while your fingers skimmed over the signatures of your adoptive parents. You remember a few years ago when you had gone to the bank with Jihoon and you had been taken back by how beautiful his signature was. You had asked – no – begged for him to teach you. He had finally agreed in exchange for you to help make dinner that day. As the memory faded you quickly wiped your eyes with your sleeve.
“Good. Then I only have to ask you whether you wish to sell the property or keep it”
“I-I am not quite sure” you stuttered, it all was too much. You could not wrap your mind around it. They lived such a simple life in a one-story house within walking distance to their flower boutique where both of them worked. You would never have guessed that they had that kind of money.
When you had somewhat gathered your thoughts you took a deep inhale and then asked in a timid voice, “Could I get some time to think?”
Your eyes locked with Mr. Wang’s, who had a small smile on his face as he nodded his head in understanding, “Of course. I will take care of the estate until you have decided. Is that okay?”
You nodded your head furiously. It was more than okay. You already knew that you would not have it in you to have anything to do with it until after you had decided what to do.
“I only need your signature here,” he showed where you had to sign, then handed you a pen. Your eyes darted over the contract, making sure that you understood what you were about to put your signature on. You let out a sigh before putting pen to paper and signing the contract.
“Terrific. That will be all for today miss Yun”
You rose from the chair and bowed to him, “Thank you for your time, Mr. Wang.”
As you had taken a hold on the door handle a firm hand landed on your shoulder, making you stop in your tracks and turn around. Somehow Mr. Wang had left his seat without you hearing him and was now standing behind you.
“Please do not contact the Yuns biological children.” He said firmly, however his eyes were filled with sympathy. You wanted to ask why but held your tongue. You were already physically and mentally drained.
You just wanted to go home.
“I promise.” You whispered, before taking your leave.
You went back to work shortly after the conversation with Mr. Wang and had found somewhat of a routine: wake up, work, sleep and then repeat. It was only temporary until you had decided what to do with the new information you had gotten.
Today was one of the days where you woke up a little later than normal, having hit the snooze button twice or thrice before leaving the comfort of your bed. Luckily for you, you had found the clothes you would be wearing today - another thing you had learned from Jihoon and Soobin. However, you were still late and it irritated you to no end.
After having tugged on the clothes which you had laid out the day before, a sudden grumble came from your stomach, causing your gaze to dart around until it locked up on the wall clock. You did not have time to eat. Actually, you had to leave your apartment now if you wanted to be on time.
You left the apartment, slamming the door shut, and began the fifteen-minute walk toward your workplace. You tried to ignore the rumbling from your stomach which disagreed with your decision to skip breakfast (again). However, the rumbling continued and became louder and louder until you no longer could ignore it, making you take a right turn and walk into a café.
With a coffee in one hand and a half-eaten bagel in the other, you entered the office building. Despite still feeling irritated from your late awakening and sudden coffee stop, you still muttered a friendly ‘hello’ here and there.
You settled into your spot near the window and wiggled out of your jacket. You took a short moment to collect yourself by sipping on your coffee. Then you cracked your fingers and stretched your back before getting to work; opening up whatever excel sheet you had worked on earlier in the week. You were on autopilot: clicking away on the keyboard, totally oblivious to anything that was going around you.
When out of the corner of your eye you noted a red notification had appeared. You clicked on it and a new window opened, displaying an email from your manager, Mr. Choi. You frowned a bit. Weird. You did not have any deadlines – that you were sure of. The email did not sound at all how Mr. Choi normally wrote, it seemed too urgent and demanding. He wanted to see you now.
As you walked toward your manager’s office, you noticed several of your colleagues talking quietly. One or two of them looked at you, but none spoke. You could sense that something was off.
Even the secretary seemed to know something you did not, she could barely utter a smile. “He is already waiting for you, miss.”
You knocked twice before slowly opening the door and peeked inside to find Mr. Choi at his desk with a serious, almost stern look on his face.
“You wanted to see me, sunbaenim” You took a small step into the office room, eyes locked upon Mr. Choi, searching for a change in his demeanor – a flicker of a smile or something. However, none came. Instead, he looked just as stern – if not more.
“Take a seat”
“Okay” you whispered mostly to yourself, then walked with timid steps towards Mr. Choi.
You settled down in the chair in front of him, acutely aware of the discomfort that was spreading through the room. Your eyes flicked down to your lap and noticed you had already begun fidgeting with your fingers. In an attempt to seem more collected, you folded your hands and stared at them, avoiding Mr. Choi’s gaze.
Moments went by without anyone speaking, the only thing that could be heard was the breathing from the two of you. You waited for a little longer, still anticipating him to speak, but when none came, you slowly lifted your gaze. Mr. Choi was pinching the bridge of his nose and exhaling noisily.
“Sunbaenim?” you asked in a timid voice, a little scared of what was going on inside his head. You had never seen him like this. Not even once through the three years, you had worked here had he ever looked so… gloomy.
As you opened your mouth to repeat yourself, Mr. Choi put up a finger to his lips to betoken silence, and then spoke “Tell me, how has work been lately?”
You could not help but stare at the man, dumbfounded. Why would he even care to ask that? Scratch that. How would he even know that anything was wrong? If anything was wrong that is.
You were about to answer with the all too familiar answer: fine, but you stopped yourself when your eyes locked with his. His gaze intensified as if he stared into your soul.
“And be honest.”
Your eyes darted around, not quite sure what they were looking for. Maybe just an escape from the intense gaze of Mr. Choi. Your gaze landed on your lap once again, but this time they stayed there as you tried to gather your thoughts.
How had work been lately? It had not been on your mind until Mr. Choi had brought it up. But now, your mind was overworking itself to find an answer.
It was true that you had felt… different, since the sudden appearance of that attorney, Mr. Wang, at your workplace. And the last meeting did not help either. It had left you with even more questions – and doubt.
And now Mr. Choi had awakened even more doubt in you.
Were you even happy at your work? You had been – or at least you thought so, but as you were seated in front of Mr. Choi you could not help but wonder: Were you happy though? It was not what you dreamed of, but it paid the bills and the job itself was fine (and to be honest, you probably could not find a job with nearly as good a pay with your experience).
Maybe it was time for you to be honest?
“I-I suppose it could go better,” you cringed internally as you heard your own words and immediately tried to correct yourself, “but I am certain it will get better soon enough.”
As you finished your sentence your eyes found their way back to Mr. Choi, who regarded you with a slightly tilted head and a raised eyebrow. He did not seem to believe your words either.
“Unfortunately, your work performance suggests otherwise and has done for quite some time.”
You were shocked and hurt. You thought you had done what was needed from you, but it seemed you were wrong. It had been going downhill for longer than you had thought.
“You have been with us for quite some time and I – and the rest of the company greatly appreciate the time you have spent working with us, but unfortunately we have to let you go,”
You were never good enough, a voice hissed.
“I understand,” you muttered sadly after a short moment, eyes darting around until they locked onto his face. His eyes were locked on you, they were filled with pity and empathy.
“I have some documents you have to sign and thereafter you can take the rest of the time off.”
You were feeling defeated: Nothing you could say would make him change his mind, so you simply nodded your head.
The feeling of defeat lingered as you walked out of Mr. Choi’s office having signed whatever documents that were needed for your resignation, and started the short but tortures walk towards your desk. You could feel the burning eyes from your colleagues – or should you say, former colleagues?
In a quick manner, you collect the few personal belongings that had found their way to your desk through the times. Then, you looked at the now naked desk and let out a soft ‘bye’.
To whom? You were not sure of. To the desk? The office? The colleagues? Maybe, it was a farewell to it all.
You walked out of the building with your head hung low, not wanting to meet the eyes of your former colleagues; you could hear the murmurs run through the office.
You slammed the door shut to your apartment and leaned against it. You could not hold in the annoyed grunt that escaped your mouth as you closed your eyes.
A moment went by like that: enjoying the comfort of the darkness and silence that the room offered. But even in the silence, your mind was working on overdrive trying to comprehend what had happened.
You had just been fired.
What were you supposed to do now? You did not know anything else in this city. The job had been the whole reason for why you had moved in the first place –and now, you did not even have that.
Soon enough you would not even have money for that. How were you supposed to be paying your bills? –To be living? You had to find a new job, did you not? But you already had a hard time finding a job when you first came to the city, and to find a new one with the lack of education you had, would be a challenge. You were sure of it.
You pushed yourself away from the door with a heavy humph. Your fingers found your temples and messaged them in tight circles.
What were you supposed to do?
You wanted to scream but held your tongue. Instead, your eyes darted around your room in an attempt to find – something – to get these negative and nagging thoughts out of your head.
Your eyes suddenly caught sight of the white envelope that the attorney had given you, still sealed shut. You had not felt the need to open it, but now - now it seemed to be calling your name. And who were you to deny it? You certainly did not have the energy for that after the day you had.
So with two quick steps, you snatched the envelope and ripped it open. Then you took out the content and flicked through it; some photographs and a folded paper. So with trembling hands, you unfolded the paper and immediately, recognizing the handwriting, Soobin.
You took a shaky breath, eyes taking in the first line of the letter. It started with the customary ‘Dear _____,’. However, it was the next line that brought tears to your eyes, ‘You are reading this letter because Jihoon and I have died.’
You had to stop yourself from continuing, overwhelmed by a sudden pressure on your chest; the frustration of having lost your job, but mostly the overwhelming feeling of grief and sorrow. You blinked away the unshed tears, and instead, you focused on the photographs you held, flipping through them until you stopped at a picture.
It was a beautiful photo.
It was of Jihoon and you helping each other by carrying a cardboard box out to the car. It was the day of your move to the big city. The elderly man was looking at you with crinkled eyes and a smile. You remember how amused he had been because you had done the one thing he explicitly told you not to do, not to fill the box with too much. – And you had done just that. Your head was thrown back and you could almost hear the laughter which resonated out of you.
The corner of your lips tugged up in a small smile, still feeling suffocated by the sorrow.
Your heart arched both with happiness because of the memory, but also sadness. Sadness at knowing that you no longer could make those kinds of memories and that it would only be just that – memories. So with the back of your sleeve, you wiped away the tear that was threatening to fall.
You took a moment to calm yourself before flipping through the last few photographs, stopping at one particular. It was different from the others. Older; it was black and white, and blurry. Still, you could easily see a couple embracing with smiles on their faces, totally oblivious to the world around them.
Your face flushed, feeling like you were intruding on something you were not to see, however, you could not take your eyes from the photo.
The longer you stared, the more you realized who they were - a younger version of Jihoon and Soobin. They were looking into each other’s faces, holding each other as if their life depended on it (something you had seen yourself in real life). They stood with their arms around each other in front of a small brick house and in the background, you could hint out what may be a forest. However, that was all you could see because of how blurry the image was: the figures and lines blurring into one another.
Your fingers brushed against their blurred figures. You wanted to touch them just one more time.
A tear splashed onto the photograph. You had not even realized you were crying until that moment. Quickly you wiped your eyes, not quite understanding your feelings.
Were you crying because of grief? That you no longer would be able to see and touch them again. Would every past memory be tainted because of them being gone so suddenly? – or could it be that for some strange reason you felt happy. A strange emotion to be feeling at a time like this. A time when you should be grieving.
You had to sit down.
After finally sitting down, throwing the letter and photographs onto the table, the tears had free rein: rolling down your cheeks while you sobbed. You tried to stop the sounds coming from you by biting down on your hand. It somewhat muffled the sobs.
But your mind. Your mind was working on overdrive and kept going even as you cried your eyes out, trying to make sense of what was happening and what it all meant.
They were gone. That was the reality, was it not? You would never see them again. That you knew. But… you did not even get to say your farewell to them. Their biological children made sure of that –Why?
And what did the photographs mean? They had to mean something. They looked happy in the photos, were they happy before they died? You hoped so. They deserved happiness even in their last seconds
— Actually, especially in their last seconds on this earth.
What were you to do now?
Hmph, the older photograph had to have a deeper meaning, right? Jihoon and Soobin surely had not simply given to you for no reason. Could it? No.
It had to mean something, right?
—But what?
Your tears seemed to slowly stop, so with a hand you wiped your tear-streaked face, flinching slightly in the process: Your face was sore and puffy.
A few moments went by in silence, only your rapid breathing could be heard and a soft humming sound echoing through the apartment. You let out a heavy sigh and ran your fingers through your hair, pulling it away from your face. Your eyes locked upon the content, thrown carelessly on the table.
You took a deep breath and reached for the content, your fingers brushed against the paper. You could easily feel the folds and dents from the pencil where Soobin had pressed a little too hard.
You could not help but clench your jaw when you started reading the letter again. Your eyes ran over the words that were slightly blurry, slowly a heartwarming smile stretched over your face. You had to blink rapidly to stop the tears that threatened to fall again.
The photograph was indeed meaningful. A reminder of them and the love they shared, but also a reference to the estate that they had left you.
It was bittersweet: It pained you yet it was the perfect opportunity for you now. An opportunity to start again.
OT7 x reader | Fantasy | Hybrid | Slice of life | Romance | 18+ | wc: 3100 out of 7300
╰ You leave the stress of everyday life for a simple life in the woods, but apparently, you aren’t the only one who wanted to get away. The goal? To find yourself. And maybe each other along the way.
⟶ warnings: Sadness, anxiety- and panic attacks, talk about death and cursing.
You could not remember how - or when for that matter, you had arrived home after you had been informed of the sudden passing of your foster parents. The only thing you remembered was how you had walked mindlessly around while the lawyer, Mr. Wang’s, words kept echoing in your head, a dark reminder of how you had not known of their passing before fourteen days had already gone by.
You had a hard time believing what Mr. Wang had told you, he must have been pulling a joke on you. A cruel one. They could not be dead. They simply could not. Even as you tried to contact them via phone and they did not answer, your mind kept coming up with alternative reasons for why: Maybe they were on vacation or had forgotten theír phones somewhere - it would not have been the first time. However, as hours went by the relation of the situation settled in, and you cried.
They were gone.
You squeezed your eyes shut tightly, trying to control the tears which were streaming down your face as your knees buckled under the mental and physical strain, collapsing onto the hardwood floor.
The pressure around your chest increased, making it hard for you to breathe.
Once again, it was as if someone was strangling you - or holding you underwater. No matter how hard you tried, you could not catch a breath.
For a short moment, your vision darkened, then flashed with a collage of heartbreaking memories. Memories that now felt empty without them. Your first time meeting Jihoon and Soobin outside of their flower shop, the day they invited you into their home, and the first time they told you that they loved you. The last time you had been more than one around the dining table, enjoying a home-cooked meal and the room was filled with love and laughter. You screamed as the memories blurred and darkness once again took over.
When your vision returned, your breathing had steadied slightly but your lungs were still burning, aching for oxygen. With what little energy you had left, you sought comfort in yourself; bending your upper body toward your legs and tucking your head in between them. You tried to remember the breathing technique you had learned earlier in life before Jihoon and Soobin came into your life.
It took a few tries before you had figured it out. Inhaling through your nose and holding it for a few seconds, and then exhaling through your mouth ever so slowly. Breath in through the nose, hold it, and out through the mouth. In through the nose, hold it for a moment, and then exhale through the mouth. You kept repeating until your breathing settled down and the burn in your lungs had subsided.
You no longer had any energy left in you, your eyes twitched until darkness consumed you once again.
The following days had passed by without you noticing. You could not remember much of what you had been doing the days after your mental breakdown. You only remember the overwhelming feeling of distress and hopelessness.
However, today seemed slightly better than the day before - and the day before that, and the one before that one too. It might have been because you had actually gotten a full night’s sleep without any form of nightmare, something you had not experienced since that day in the office.
You had woken up from your slumber twenty minutes ago but had yet to leave the comfort - and warmth - of your bed. You shifted out from under the covers and into a half-sitting position with a book in hand. You were completely lost in the book; immersed to the point you had blocked the real world out. The noises of the waking city melted away. The cars, traffic, and voices became silenced and were replaced with a warm humming background noise.
A loud ringing abruptly brought you back to reality. It startled you, causing you to drop your book in fright.
“Fuck me.”
You had placed a hand on your chest and looked at the fallen book in disbelief before your eyes flickered around for the source of the sound. Your eyes locked upon your phone, screen flashing with an unknown number. You had seen the number before though. A few times actually.
You let out a deep sigh, a mixture of relief and annoyance as you reached for the phone.
“Hell-o-o”
“Miss Yun,” a deep voice pierced through the phone’s speakers.
Instantly, your back stiffened and ice ran down your spine; you recognized the voice as the elderly lawyer, Mr. Wang.
What could he possibly want? You were not ready for any more depressing news. You were not even over the ones he had given you a week or so ago - and you probably never would be.
“What do you want?!” you flinched as soon as the words passed your lips, you sounded so angry and frustrated that you felt embarrassed. This was not how you wanted to come across, neither was it how the Yun’s had raised you. You needed to be respectful towards others - especially your elders.
You became more and more aware of how inappropriate your tone had been as the silence filled the room.
“I am so so sorry, I did not mean any disrespect or hardship, sir” You apologized profusely and vehemently, but the words died in your throat as your ears perked up, registering a chuckle sounding through the phone. Your mind must have been playing tricks on you because you thought you heard him chuckle “funny girl”.
“There is no need to apologize, Miss Yun.”
You let out the breath you had held.
“I would imagine I would have been a little irritated myself if the position had been reversed” Mr. Wang continued.
“Still that is no reason for being disrespectful, sir”
“Do not linger on it, ____.”
It was the first time he had ever called you by your first name and, to be honest, it took you by surprise. It felt so out of character for him.
“Now as for the reason why I am calling: I have news regarding the settlement with the Yun clan and other information I would like to pass along to you.”
You were nodding your head slowly, trying to comprehend what he was saying.
“Would it be possible to meet up within the next few days?”
You hummed, still not quite sure where all this would end up.
“How does -” there was a short moment of silence, only the sound of what might have been him flipping through pages of his calendar, before continuing; “- Thursday at 1 pm sound?”
“Yeah, sure” you muttered, already knowing you had nothing planned and even if you had, you would cancel in a heartbeat for whatever information there was regarding your ‘parents’.
“Great! I will send a message with the place and time.”
“Yeah, whatever” you mumbled, hoping he did not hear it and if he did, he ignored it and ended the call with a curt yet quick farewell, then the line went dead. You looked at the phone in frustration and let out a heavy sigh, your mind was already overworking itself, making you fear what was to come.
Thursday arrived way too fast for your liking. Your nerves had been building up ever since Mr. Wang’s call and now that the day had come, they were reaching a breaking point. You had been anxious the whole day; pacing around your apartment since you had awoken and had tried to eat. But even the smallest amount of food had made you sick to your stomach. And now, you were squirming in your metro seat and picking at your cuticles out of habit.
You were not sure of how long you had been picking at your fingers, only stopping when a monotone voice sounded from the speakers, declaring the next stop which just happened to be your stop. As you took a hold of your bag, you noticed how the skin around your fingers was raw and inflamed. It was almost bleeding.
“For fuck sake” you mumbled annoyed, your skin had only just somewhat healed from last time. However, you could not linger on it for too long since you had somewhere to be, so with a heavy sigh, you left the comfort of your seat and went over to the doors, waiting patiently for them to slide open.
You exited the metro station with quick steps stopping shortly when you noted how the mass of people only seemed to grow even denser as you arrived at the street. Your heart raced at the sight of the packed place, starting to feel overwhelmed at the thought of having to go through the sea of people. You had to zigzag around people, making sure not to collide with anyone while looking for the meeting address Mr. Wang had sent you. Even as you frantically looked for the address, your mind was just as frantically coming up with what-if scenarios. You could not help it. You were not sure what Mr. Wang could possibly want to tell you, that could not be said over the phone. What if he had mistaken and your parents had not wished for you to inherit anything? Or what if it was even more devastating? Another death in the family, maybe?
Finally, as the crowd seemed to thin out, you could look around a little easier and as your eyes flicked around they locked upon a building. Then your eyes darted to your phone, making sure that you were indeed at the right address. You were. So you tucked the phone back into your shoulder bag and your eyes - once again, locked upon the building.
The whole building was made of glass, reflecting the beautiful blue of the autumn sky to glowing with orange hues from pale peach to tangerine whenever the sun peeked through the clouds. It was stretching itself toward the sky, almost as if to break through to the heavens.
Then your eyes slowly traveled back down from the top of the building, until they settled upon the entrance. Immediately, noticing a black-suited man standing in the foyer of the building, staring at you with a stern look almost as if to tell you that you did not belong here. However, you already knew this, but Mr. Wang wanted to meet up here and you could not back down now.
Or could you?
No.
No, you could not do that. You had to know what Mr. Wang could possibly want. He wanted to meet up instead of simply telling you over the phone - like most people would and it had piqued your interest. Moreover, since it was most definitely about your deceased parents, you had to know.
You inhaled and exhaled with a sigh, then began the short walk toward the entrance with shaky legs. You could feel the stern-looking man’s eyes on you as you neared the entrée. It made you uncomfortable; the way he was burning holes into you, confirming you that you did not belong there.
But then again, where did you belong?
You wrapped your arms around your stomach to shrink into yourself, lowering your head in an attempt to make yourself even smaller. With your head bowed down, you distracted yourself by counting the cracks on the pavement.
You were so preoccupied that you did not notice that someone had opened the door for you. It was only when the warm air slapped you in the face and a gasp slipped past your lips, you realized that you had stepped into the building.
“Can I help you, ma’am?”
Immediately, you whipped your head around and your eyes traveled over the man until they landed on his face, still as serious and stern as a stone. A few seconds went by with you simply looking at him and not uttering a word, so the man rephrased his question.
“Do you have an appointment with someone today, ma’am?” the man asked, face softening slightly as he noticed your disheveled appearance; swollen eyes, cheeks flushed and splotchy, and hair slightly tousled.
“-Yes, sir,” you said timidly. You loosened the scarf around your neck in an attempt to cool yourself down from the sudden heat. In addition, to reduce the uncomfortableness you had felt ever since he had settled his eyes on you.
“Can I have the name of the person you have an appointment with?” He asked and fished out a tablet from the inner pocket of his jacket.
“Oh. I am here to see Mr. Wang.” As soon as the name passed your lips, the man’s eyes flicked back to the tablet and tapped on its screen. A few moments went by when he suddenly looked at you again, this time with a brow raised; “Miss Yun, I assume then?”
You nodded.
“Do you have any ID on you miss?”
You nodded once again, opening your bag and started looking for your identification card. You scolded yourself as you roamed through the bag, it had to be there somewhere in the mess of a bag. When suddenly your fingers brushed against the chapped sides of a card. You could not hold back the small victory wiggle as you pulled the card out.
The man simply took the card from you.
He glanced at you to make sure that you were indeed the same person as the one in the photo. His eyes flicked from your face to the card and back. Unable to bear the scrutiny in his eyes, you looked away and started fidgeting with the few loose threads from your scarf. You found yourself getting hotter and hotter, afraid that he would not recognize the person in the photo. You had changed since the photo had been taken.
“Everything seems to check out, miss Yun.” The stern look washed away from his face as soon as your identity was confirmed, a loose smile finding its way onto his face instead. “You will have to take the elevator to the 42nd floor where Mr. Wang is staying, either he or his secretary will be there to welcome you.” He continued while pointing you towards the elevator.
“Thank you,” you said, a shy smile painted on your face. You gave a quick bow, then walked down the long hallway toward the elevator. You did not have to wait long for the elevator - maybe a few minutes, but no more than three.
You leaned against the elevator wall as soon as you entered and waited for the doors to close. As you stood alone inside the empty elevator, the nerves you had tried so hard to ignore ambushed you: you were staring blankly ahead of you while your heartbeat increased to an alarming pace, it felt as if it was about to jump out of your chest. Blood rushed to your ears, flushing out all other noises than the sound of your overworking heart.
A sudden ding chimed and the doors slowly slid open. Your eyes widened and darted over to the screen where the floor number shined brightly. 42nd. The floors had passed by way too quickly for your liking. You did not even have a moment to collect yourself before you stumbled out of the elevator with wobbly legs. You steadied yourself against a wall just outside of the elevator, taking a deep breath while closing your eyes, trying to calm yourself down. Luckily it did not take you long before your heartbeat slowed down to a somewhat normal rate.
With shaking legs you began your small walk down the corridor. Your eyes darted around, trying to find either Mr. Wang or a secretary - anyone for that matter, but none came into view.
You kept walking until you came by an empty desk. You look around, trying to see if anyone was near still, none were to be seen. Then your eyes landed on a dark mahogany door with four golden letters on it: ‘WANG’.
It had to be here.
You took a few steps towards the door and knocked on it, still somewhat scared about what may happen in there. Somehow you were still holding on to the hope that your parents would be standing in there, but you knew better. It would only happen in dreams. And this was anything but a dream.
You fidgeted with your jacket while waiting for any kind of response when suddenly the door was ripped open. A gasp passed your lips as you came face to face with a pair of kind eyes behind a pair of brown eyes behind a pair of glasses. There was a hint of kindness and somehow they seemed to calm you a little - but only a little.
“Thank you for coming, Miss Yun. I hope it was not too much of a problem for you.” Mr. Wang said, stepping aside for you to enter the office. You shook your head to make it clear that it was fine (even if it had been a problem, you probably would not have said anything).
“Then please sit down,” he said, pulling out the chair for you. The corner of your lips quirked up in a small smile in gratitude before sitting down in the chair he had offered.
“Would you like anything to drink? Coffee? Water? A soda?” He asked while walking behind the desk you now sat in front of. The question threw you slightly off, reminding you why you were there. This was not going to be an easy or short conversation.
It was going to be a difficult one, you already knew it.
“Just water, please.” You answered timidly, suddenly not having the courage to speak any louder in fear of your voice breaking.
He gave you a small nod, walking over to the bar cart in the far corner of the office before grabbing what you assumed to be a water bottle and poured it into two glasses. He strode back to the desk, placing one of the glasses in front of you before taking a seat. He took a sip of water and turned to you with a gentle smile.
Genre/Au’s: Rom-Com, fluff with bits of angst - Coworkers!AU; enemies to lovers; Journalist!AU
Paring: RM x Reader
Words count:4.629
Rating:18+
Warnings: Cursing; Mentions of a car accident.
Tigering: Mentions of blood; Mentions of surgery; Mentions of a bad fracture.
Synopsis: After graduating your dream was to become a journalist and work to one of the biggest magazines in the country. But that pretty dream does not translate perfectly to reality. The magazine is on verge of bankruptcy, great journalists are moving the rival magazines and not being replaced, your boss is a jerk who doesn’t even know your name. Fate seems to be toying you around to its own pleasure, can you take control of your life and achieve your dreams, or you are going to be carried away by fate’s plans?
Author note: This fanfic follows the world of the Brazilian production Procura-se um marido series. I do not own the series or original content.
You stare at the crack in the wall behind Julia’s desk while playing with a paperclip. Why are Fridays always endless? Looks like the closer the weekend gets, the less the clock works. And you can’t wait to get rid of the claustrophobic feeling that dominates you. It is almost three in the afternoon, and you still haven’t turned in the zodiac. Last night, you had barely managed to stop sobbing as you told the recent events between you and Namjoon to Sabrina, let alone make that hateful work.
You even thought that Namjoon would hang you as soon as he found out you still hadn’t sent the zodiac yet, and there are only two hours left until the end of the expedient, but he doesn’t seem to have realized it. In the few times you worked up the courage to spy on him, he seemed distant and distracted.
And there you were, just as distracted as he, staring at nothing, a text file open and still blank. Ella left her desk and came to sit on the edge of yours. She starts questioning you about the day before.
“I wasn’t feeling well,” You explain weakly. “Namjoon accompanied me. We live close by.”
“If you weren’t well, why didn’t he take you to a hospital?” She arches her delicate eyebrows.
“It was just a passing discomfort.“
"Hm, I know.”
“Ella, if you take a good look at the way Namjoon treats me, you’ll realize that he hates me.”
She laughs. “Oh, Y/n, you’re so naive…”
You blushed, annoyed. You are tired of being treated like a child by everyone. But before you could take out your frustration on Ella, your phone rings.
“Y/n, hi. It’s Jessy. How are you, honey?”
“Oh… H-hi.” You look at Namjoon’s office. He is engrossed in something in the wall. You cast a quick glance at Ella and mutter through your lips, covering the mouthpiece of the phone: “It’s my grandmother.”
She raises an eyebrow but leaves you alone and goes mind her own business.
“Can we have lunch on Tuesday?” Jessy asked.
Oh my God. You shouldn’t be seen with Jessy, especially now that Hani had moved over to her side. Namjoon would know about your secret work in a microsecond. Although maybe that wouldn’t be bad. You mean, maybe Jessy might want to offer you a real job, one that pays the bills and makes you happy.
“We received very good feedback from your first article, and that pleased the owners,” she says excitedly. "I want to make you an irrefutable offer! I know you will be very pleased. I call letting you know which restaurant we meet. Until later.”
You stare at your phone like it was a glittering gem. A proposal. One where you can finally become the journalist you have always dreamed of being. And considering recent events, it wouldn’t be a bad thing to stay away from Namjoon. You don’t want to be around when Alexia walks back down the magazine. Worse still, when Delilah shows up there, telling everyone that it was because of me that she and her beloved Namjoon ended up together.
You phone rings again. You don’t recognize the number.
“Hello?”
“MS. Y/l/n?” asks the unfamiliar male voice.
“It is me.”
“This is Lieutenant Samuel. I found your contact in the docs of your brother.”
“Oh my God.” You take a deep breath. “What did Hoseok do now?”
“I’m sorry, miss. He had an accident. Was brought to the hospital and…“
Then everything becomes a meaningless hum. The room is blurred, the beating of your heart drowns out all the sounds around you. The phone falls off your hand. Someone starts screaming. And after many hands try to grab you. You realize it is you. Colored spots dance on your eyes. Your brother’s face, with its smirk, flicker between them.
"She’s turning gray. I think you’re going to faint!” Someone says.
“Then don’t just stand there, do something!”
“Y/n!” Namjoon’s voice calls. “What’s it? Y/n, are you okay?” You think you are being shaken. “What happened? Did anyone see what happened?”
“I don’t know, Namjoon. She was on the phone, then she started screaming.“
"What phone… Hello? Who…? Oh my God. How is he? At where? Everything is fine, thanks for letting me know, Lieutenant.”
You brother is in the hospital. You brother has been in an accident. Is unconscious in an operating room. They don’t know the extent of the injuries. You should be prepared, the lieutenant warned.
“I think she’s in shock!”
“Y/n, my angel, can you hear me? Blink if you’re understanding.”
With some effort, you blink.
Someone strokes your cheek.
“Don’t Cry. Please, my angel, don’t be like this. Hoseok will be fine. Are you listening to me? Your brother is undergoing surgery now, he will be fine. You’ll get out of this… Someone bring some water. And get the fuck off her!”
“Wouldn’t it be better to call a doctor?” someone suggests.
“I’ve heard that slapping someone in shock will do the trick.“
"Ella, shut up!” yells Namjoon, but his voice turns sweet when, squeezing you numb hand, he says, “I’ll take you home.”
That works better than Ella’s slap would have.
“N-no!“ You manage to mutter, blinking back the veil of tears that cover you blind. "I want to see Hoseok. I need to see my brother. I need to stay with him and…”
Oh my God, you can’t lose him!
“Hey! Calm.” Namjoon is drawing circles on you shoulder. “I’ll take you. Here, drinks some water. You are very pale.”
Drawing strength from the calm that Namjoon deliberately offers you, you manage to wrap your fingers in the plastic cup he is holding and take a few sips. The water tastes bitter.
“No, don’t cry.” Strong arms wrap around you, sweet lips touch your forehead. “Please, Y/n. Don’t lose hope. Your brother will want to see you well when he recovers.”
You lift your head and finally manage to see something. The face next to yours is writhing in anguish.
“Will he?” You mutter in a thin voice.
“Of course, he will! Hoseok is young and strong, and if he has half of your stubbornness, won’t let a simple accident finish him off.”
You nod, eyes locked with his. “He is stubborn. Enough,” you say.
"You see!” A slow caress, which starts at your temple and ends on your chin, takes away some of the chill that makes you shiver. “Have faith, my angel.”
You nod once more, sniffling and wiping your face with the back of your hands. You square your shoulders, trying to look strong. Inside you are torn apart.
“That’s the brave girl I know. Think you can stand?“
You can’t, but you do, thanks to Namjoon, who supports most of your weight as he puta an arm around your waist. He takes you to the garage and settle you in the passenger seat of your car. Namjoon starts and has a difficult time getting the car to move. Half numb, you explain the vehicle’s quirks and keeps quiet throughout the journey.
You are more in control when you entered the hospital, mainly because Namjoon hugs you again. The aseptic and white environment makes you nervous and, when you reached the third floor and enter the crowded waiting room, you see Lorena, the beautiful woman, always impeccably groomed, with disheveled wavy redhead and heart-shaped face, with puffy eyes from crying so much then, all your despair comes back, and you just don’t fall because Namjoon is still supporting you.
"Oh, Y/n!” She cries and hugs you. You falter and Namjoon hold you two up. “Hoseok… He… Oh, my God!”
“What happened?” You ask, being led to one of the armchairs.
Namjoon settles you next to Lorena, squeezing your shoulder in a gesture of comforting and hopeful.
“Hoseok was in his car, waiting for the light to open,” she said, torn apart. “A bus coming behind could not stop. The car was launched forward and stopped on the avenue just as a van was crossing. It hit the passenger side. The car is destroyed. They brought Hoseok here unconscious, and the police officer said there was blood everywhere!” she moans, covering face with her hands.
You swallow hard.
“He had an exposed fracture in one of his legs,” she goes on. “They don’t know about internal damage. That’s all I know so far.”
“Someone has to tell us something,” You object, half rising to your feet staggering, but Namjoon stops you.
“They will.“ And kindly makes you sit down again. ”- As soon as they have something to tell.“
You understand the logic he uses, and it makes sense. Ultimately, the lack of news should be a good sign. You look at him and nod once. Namjoon lets two fingers run down your cheek, before leaning back against the wall next to the window, crossing his arms behind his back as the other chairs are busy.
The time is slow to pass. Lorena, a few weeks pregnant, clings to a rosary and recites the prayers in a fervent whisper, eyes narrowed, as if she uses all her strength to communicate with God. Namjoon stays where he was, looking at you, supporting you and trying to keep you calm with his presence.
At one point, he walks up to reception and speaks quietly to the attendant. She nods once and reaches for the phone. a short nurse appears and goes straight to talk to Namjoon. The woman frowns upon hearing what he says and looks at you once, then nods and disappears. Instead of going back close to you, Namjoon just nods and heads for the corridor through which you had arrived. You jump out of your chair at the same
moment, going after him.
"Don’t go away, please!” - You beg in terror, reaching him before he can get to the elevators, because at that moment, you can’t bear that he will leave you. “I need you… No… don’t go away.“
Namjoon studies you face with something gleaming in his brown eyes. “I’m just going to the blood bank. Your brother must have needed a transfusion. Inventories are never high. I will try to help.” He opens his arms, kind of awkward.
You stare at him with a heart full of gratitude. “I will go too.”
“No, no! Stay here. She need’s you.” He points to the room where sister-in-law is.
Yes, Lorena needs you, but you need him.
“Will you return?” You want to know. And your voice is so small that is reminiscent of a child.
In a whisper that you could have sworn is from a man in love, he says: “I would never leave you.“ A small smile plays on his lips.
You nod and watch him leave, clinging to his promise to come back. You return to the unnervingly white waiting room and throw yourself into the chair beside Lorena, reaching out for her hand. She lifts her head, the puffy eyes, the quivering lip, the anguish stamped on every feature of his face.
"Thanks.” She sobs.
You pull her onto your shoulder and let her cry, trying to keep the tears under control. The short nurse, the one who had spoken to Namjoon earlier, appears with a tray in her hands and some plastic cups on top of it. Your heartbeat fast, in anticipation of what might come out of that woman’s mouth. However, what she says takes you by surprise.
“Your boyfriend told me what’s going on. Take this, honey.“ And she hands you a disposable cup, the kind of coffee, containing a white pill. ”-You will feel better.“
"What is it?”
“Just a muscle relaxant, don’t worry. I can’t do anything for you, lady.“ - She addresses Lorena with compassion. "Because of the pregnancy. I am really sorry. You can be sure that we will do what we can for your husband to be fine.” She hands her a glass of water.
You don’t want to take that relaxer, but the fact that Namjoon had the work of reaching out to her in an attempt to make you feel better somehow warms your heart. He wants to dope you, and that is more than any person had already done for you. You swallow the pill without any complaint.
“What am I going to do if he leaves me?” Lorena sobs when the nurse walks away.
“Hoseok will be fine, Lorena. I know he will.”
“How can you be so sure?” She lifts her head to look at your face.
“Because Namjoon said so".
“And does Namjoon have some supernatural power I don’t know about?”
“No. But he would never lie to me about something so serious.“ At the most inopportune moment, the conversation between Delilah and Namjoon in your grandmother’s house comes back to your mind.
“Are you two…?” she asks.
"Friends… most of the time,” he had replied regretfully.
Why would he feel sad about being my friend? And why didn’t he tell her that you were more than friends?
Oh wait, he did! Not exactly that you were lovers, but he said something that made it clear that somehow you are important to him.
“She's…too precious to me.”
Too precious for me.
Your eyes widen as realization washes over you.
Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit
What did you do?
The surgeon, in mint green hospital gown splattered with blood, walks out of the double doors pulling off the disposable cap. Namjoon still isn’t back from the blood bank. Lorena and you get up, clinging to each other.
After introducing himself as Dr. Cesar and make sure that you are Hoseok’s family members, he says: “The surgery is over, Hoseok is stable. We reconstructed the tibia. He had three fractured ribs, but there was no perforation in any internal organ. There is a concussion to the skull, so he will remain under observation. But he It is going to be okay.”
You nearly sink to the ground at the news. The wave of relief is so intense that your limbs seem to have disconnected from each other. Hoseok will be fine, exactly as Namjoon had promised. Thank God!
“Can we see him?” Lorena asks, squeezing your hand.
“As soon as he goes to his room.“
Lorena releases you and, to the surgeon’s surprise, hugs him around the waist and starts sort of laughing and crying at the same time, uttering a selection of indistinct thanks.
Half an hour later, Lorena and you are led by a middle-aged nurse through the hallway that leads to the patients’ rooms.
“He’s still a little groggy. Try not to make him anxious and talk short. It is common to become disoriented after anesthesia.”
She opens the door carefully, letting you through. Lorena takes your hand, you don’t know if to give you some support or if she is looking for support for herself, it doesn’t matter. It is good to have her by your side at that moment. There is the man you both love madly.
You enter together. The dim lights left the environment devoid of rather dreary furniture, there is only one uncomfortable-looking armchair and a metal table with two chairs, in addition to the hospital bed. But it is the man lying in bed that makes your heart stop. There are bandages all over his body: his entire left side is destroyed. The head, chin, hand, and forearm. The leg is uncovered, a tangle of metal rods protruding of the orange painted calf, forming a cage around the meat.
Hoseok moves his head on the pillow. Purple half-moons lined under his eyes.
“Hi,” he says on a weak sigh.
“Oh, Hoseok.” You approach and strokes his forehead, avoiding the bandage on his temple. “You nearly scared me to death! You better never suffer another accident. I forbid you.”
The dry lips, full of tiny cracks, stretches slightly. “If you start crying now, I’m going to throw up.“
Lorena sobs loudly. She tries valiantly to fight back tears, but she can’t. Your brother bowed his head. You walk away a little to facilitate.
“Babe…” He sighs. It is almost a prayer, and it makes you smile. Hoseok admires her for a long time, as if he is absorbing it to keep it in his heart. "Lorena, you will marry me.”
She lets out a childish giggle. “Is that a request or an order?”
Your brother frowns. “Order, I think…?”
“Oh, Hoseok!” She follows him, stopping beside the bed and leaning over to kiss him with all the care in the world.
Hoseok groans, in a mixture of pain, relief and happiness. Despite the nurse’s recommendations, Lorena and you start asking questions, and a little confused, he answers them patiently. Lorena strokes his forehead in a steady, careful rhythm as you keep your fingers around his healthy hand. At some point, he stops what he is saying and simply he stares at his girlfriend, his eyes full of tenderness and wonder.
You think that, after the scare, Hoseok has found the answers he was looking for.
“Well, you guys have a lot to talk about,” you say, heading for the door. “I’ll look for Namjoon and we’ll be back in a bit.”
“He is here?” You brother asks.
“Yes, he was the one who brought me. I’ll be right back.“
"OK.” He looks away from his bride-to-be for a second and smiles at you. One of his incisors is chipped at the tip. “Just… don’t take long.“
You go to the waiting room at the end of the hall and sits down. Ten minutes then Namjoon appears. You throw yourself on him as soon as you sew him, burying your head on his chest, and starts talking about Hoseok’s condition.
“I just came here to get you. Come!” But he takes you by the shoulders and stops.
“Before I think I should eat something.”
“Yeah, you should eat after you donated blood,” You agree.
“I meant you, Y/n,” he explains in a whisper. “You are very pale. I would be more relaxed if you would at least have a coffee… with milk. With plenty of sugar, as you like.” Then the let go of you and shove his hands in his pockets.
A half-smile tugs at your lips. You never told Namjoon that you like very sweet coffee with milk. He knows this by watching you in the kitchen
of Just-facts? That attention makes your heart pound. He is taking care of you, worried about you. Because you are too precious to him.
You finally understand that he hasn’t lied to Delilah. He would never lie about something so serious, even if in a conversation with a stranger. He is that kind of man, of few words, but he does good use of them. He might not want you to be his, as he’d made clear on Saturday, but he cares about you. It is enough for you to want him close.
“Okay, let’s eat,” you agree.
His gentle hand touches your elbow, and he guides you to the cafeteria on the second floor. The place is small and less scary, with subtle colors in the tables and chairs, and a range of colors in packages of all kinds of goodies on the wall behind the counter. Namjoon orders two cheese buns, two waters and a latte. Once you are seated at a table by the window, he pushed the plate towards you, then adds three sachets of sugar to your latte and stirs it before handing it to you.
“Namjoon, thank you. For everything. For bringing me here, for donating blood for…“
“Don’t thank me, please.” He cuts you off, shaking his head. “I didn’t do anything expecting gratitude.”
“But you’ll get it even if you don’t want to. I will never forget what you did for me.”
He flashes a shy smile. “I wish I could offer you happier memories, then. Now please eat.“
You eat. The two buns in less than two minutes. Namjoon’s phone rings as you gulp down the latte.
"What is it, Ademir? Oh… fuck, I forgot.” He looks at his watch and rubs his forehead. “No, I know. I’ll see what can be done. Nothing runs yet. I’ll call you shortly.” And hangs up.
“Problems?”
“No… it’s just… a hole in the week’s issue.“ He averts his eyes, looking embarrassed, and that’s what gives you the hint.
Your zodiac.
“Oh, damn it, Namjoon! I totally forgot.” You leave the cup and reach for the bag on the back of the chair, pulling out your phone.
“Don’t worry about it now, Y/n. I’m going to fix it.“
"No! I should have handed in the zodiac by now, but… ”- there were so many things this week that I didn’t have the head to write anything. not that it is an excuse. You rummage through the bag until you find the deck. “But I do now, if you give me ten minutes.”
“What? In here?” He widens his eyes.
“I’m not leaving my brother’s side. So, I’m kind of out of options…” You look around, as if you were being watched. “Uh… don’t tell my grandmother that I will do this in a public place. She will kill me if she knows.”
He shakes his head uneasily. “Y/n, seriously, you don’t have to …”
“Yes, I do.” You interrupt him. “I’m professional. I fulfill my obligations… Sometimes with a little delay, but still. Will only take a few minutes.”
You shuffle the cards, thinking about the sign of Aries, opens the notes on your phone and starts typing. That one would definitely not be your best text, but at least you have something to present to the boss. following you keep shuffling, making your interpretations as the drawings that appear, unaware of Namjoon’s watchful gaze on you. When you finish, he looks at you with a twinkle in his eye.
“Tarot reader Liz, would you be so kind as to read my fortunes?” he asks, with a shy smile. “I tried it a few days ago, but a crazy woman didn’t allow it.“
“Don’t joke, Namjoon.”
“I am not kidding.” And from the look of his serious face, he isn’t. “I want you to read my fortune. Everyone says you’re good. I want to know how good.”
You are too grateful to refuse him anything at that moment. And he knows it. Grimacing, you hand him the cards.
“The risk is yours. I’m a charlatan. Shuffle them thinking about what you want to know.”
“Yes ma'am.” He closes his eyes as he shuffles.
“Now cut.”
He does as you ask before handing you the cards. You pick three of them.
“Look,” You begin cautiously. “I’ve never done this before, not even for Sabrina, and she’s already burned my patience to do it. So maybe what I say has nothing to do with your question. The interpretation is mine, but also yours I think.”
“Get straight to the point. What does it say?” He approaches, watching carefully the back of the cards.
You turn the cards a little apprehensively. You frown as you study the drawings. “Hmm… That’s good, I think. The mountain, the stars, and the sky,” you say, pointing to each image. “The mountain represents the challenges, and the stars are sources of light, so we can assume that the challenges will be trespassed with some ease. Heaven is…”
“There’s a dog in the card.“ He points, brow furrowed.
"I know. But it’s the card is the heaven. It symbolizes constancy, fidelity. So, your answer would be something like… the challenges will be overcome with someone very loyal by your side. Does it make any sense?”
“That’s not the reading that Liz would do.” He shows you that smile with the adorable dimples.
“Oh, is that what you want?“ You cleared your throat, folding your hands on the table. "Troubles in sight, but relax, you’ll get out of it easy, easy, with a little help from someone who is crazy about you. Is that good?”
He is serious, his eyes fixed on yours. “Much better. And thank you. I hope the cards are right. It’s good being able to count with someone in a bad moment.”
“My grandmother says cards never lie, but I’m not a real Romani, right? Can’t believe what I say.“ You gather the mess on the table and put everything back in your bag, then save the note with the zodiac and send it to Namjoon. "Done. It’s already in your mailbox. If you can, please correct it before sending it to the printer.”
“Always do this. I…” He takes a deep breath, looking down at your empty plate.
“You have to go,” You complete sadly.
"But I’ll be back,” he hurriedly, glaring at you. “As soon as everything is in order on the magazine.”
He gets up and you do the same. “Namjoon, I…”
You want to say so much to him. That you have understood that you finally understood, but he doesn’t seem too keen to talk to you about the subject. At least that’s what it looks like, as he averts his eyes and sticks his hands in his pockets. Your courage disappears.
“Thanks again,” You end up saying.
“Forget it. I really need to go to the magazine, or there won’t be time to run the edition. If you need anything, you know where to find me. I will be back later.”
He hesitates, and you get the impression he wants to go over and kiss you. But Namjoon does none of it. He just watches you for a moment and is gone. You stay watching his back until he disappears from view. You want to run after him and dump everything that is in your heart right there in a hospital corridor. Instead, like the coward that you are, you take your phone, open a new email, type just two words and sent it to him. Before you can change your mind, you press send and head for the third floor.
Ⓒ 2022 Sugarushsuga, do not copy, translate or repost.
