✿ Hooman Flower ✿

Request: fluff: Friend group travelling (wherever inspires you most! I’m thinking someplace like Hawai where they visit secret beaches and stuff! Site-seeing in the city could also be interesting!). Jimin and and OC know eachother through friends. OC is independent and not TOO into the whole adventuring deal but does it to enjoy some quality time with her friends. Jimin is flirty and playful and makes the trip all the more interesting for her. (I don’t know how you want to set it up but maybe two friends are dating and they invite their two seperate friend groups on this trip to meet. Or maybe it’s a wedding and OC is a bridesmaid? Anything works honestly!) - @silviasgotyourback

Description: You’re not too keen on…you know…risk-taking. In fact, it scares you to your core. But when your close friend Kim Namjoon gets in your head, you agree to a crazy trip to Fiji with him and his pals. But what happens when one of those pals – specifically Park Jimin – sweeps you off your feet not only figuratively, but literally?

Word Count: 15.8k

Pairing: Jimin x (gender neutral) Reader

Tags: Office Worker!Reader, Choreographer!Jungkook, Producer!Namjoon, Non-Idol!Au, Kinda Enemies to Lovers?? Haha idk

Genre: Fluff and angst, fluffy ending

Warnings: Swearing and mentions of alcohol

A/N: Wow what a long break I’ve taken haha! But I’m back (kinda) to post some one shots (slowly)! I’ve been working really hard on my graduate school writing sample and auto statements, and I’ve just started my senior year of college AND started a new job so I’ve been incredibly busy! I apologize nonetheless for my absence. It’s felt horrible being away. Very guilty lol. Anyway, thank you my dear for requesting and for being so so so SO patient with me. I hope you like the result!

Also, if you want to follow me on Twitter please do so! My handle is @/nirvana_namu. I would post a link, but rumor has it Tumblr killed links and I’m not taking any chances.

- Mercury

You’re not sure why you agreed to this.

Standing at the tippy top of a mountain, looking out over the entire surf as it roils in the golden island sun, you watch your best friend get strapped into a harness with a laugh that echoes through the humid air. His gaze is focused downward, along the slope of treetops leading to the water. A zipline. A really steep, really fast one. One of the longest in the world! Namjoon had proclaimed with no small measure of wonder in his round eyes before you’d boarded the plane side by side only a day prior. If you weren’t so scared, you’d want to paint it.

You really don’t know why you agreed to do any of this.

The vested employee adjusts the straps secured around Namjoon’s hips, tugs them once or twice — not nearly enough by your standards — and mumbles something unintelligible into the receiver of a walkie-talkie. Enveloped in greenery, Namjoon pauses to turn and look at you and, upon snagging your eyes, offers a big, stupid, dimpled grin. He waves one hand over his head at you as you wait to be loaded into the next harness. And it looks like his eyes are squinted against the sun, but really they’re squinted from the sheer force of his joy. A joy too big to be contained in a smile alone.

That’s exactly why, you think to yourself with a grimace as you shamble forward along the worn footpath, second-to-last in line, arms crossed over your torso as if they can protect you from whatever fresh hell Namjoon’s planned out.

The employee pats Namjoon’s bare shoulder before releasing him and sending him speeding down the swaying cable with a scream so loud it pierces your ears. His body falls out of sight for a frozen millisecond before the cable gives a mighty bounce and his head reappears, bobbing up and down as he slides toward the bottom. You wince, more out of fear than discomfort, and pause to peek over the edge of the loading platform, following the line of the cable all the way to the bottom. Your heart races as your eyes trace the dense tree line, seemingly endless, and the sheer drop that had claimed Namjoon just seconds before.

And that’s when, as you sweep your twitching gaze out behind you, you lock eyes with Park Jimin. Standing behind you, the very last of the group to depart down the cliffside, his lips are quirked into a smirk that reads cocky and his brows are raised, unyielding eyes stuck on you like tree sap. Of all people to be stuck with on the top of a mountain…

Your face goes hot and your spine stiffens by a few degrees. You stare back at him, trying to discern any measure of fear in his smiling expression, his half-exposed teeth, his rosy cheeks, his teasing brown eyes. But instead all you see is, as usual, a perfect facade of composure.

Well, that and a sinfully handsome face.

He saunters up beside you, scans you from head to toe, and hums a little. “Nervous?” he asks, as if he doesn’t already know.

You clear your throat, fan yourself with your hand as a futile defense against the jungle heat, and nod your head once. “Mm.”

Upon hearing your response, Jimin’s demeanor shifts a little. He uncrosses his arms and his smirk slips, brows raising. He leans closer to examine your face and you avert your gaze, heart hammering. “Whoa, you’re actually spooked, huh,” he remarks before glancing around the platform. “Shit, I don’t think the guide’s gonna let you turn back now.”

You’d expected him to make fun of you, perhaps laugh at your weak constitution. But this…

This is new.

Though well-meaning, Jimin’s words serve only to set your palms sweating and your heart racing faster. Your throat feels a little funny, tight like asthma. You shift your weight from foot to foot. “I-It’s fine,” you mumble, sliding past him as the employee beckons you forward with a lazy wave. “I’ll just…do it.”

Jimin hangs close behind you as the employee begins strapping you in, not sparing even a single word for you. “Hey, uh, my friend’s a little nervous,” Jimin says lowly to the young man working on hooking the harness around your hip. He glances up to meet your eyes before looking toward Jimin. “Any way you can, like, go gentle or something?” Jimin offers a convincing smile, the kind of grin that could get anyone to do anything.

The employee surprises you by releasing a puffy laugh and straightening to his full height, pausing to pat the dust off the backs of his legs. He chuckles and pats your back. “I can’t control the cable,” he says, then pauses for a moment to think. “But…,” he continues as Jimin turns pleading eyes his way, “if you’re feeling really nervous, I’ve heard it helps to shut your eyes and count to ten. Like, tell yourself you’re definitely gonna do it once you reach ten and just…go.”

You swallow hard and inhale sharply through your nose. “Alright,” you say, but his words have fled from your brain as soon as they’d been uttered. Your voice is shaky. Almost as shaky as your hands as you raise them to grip the straps of your harness.

Have you always had such a strong grip?

Your brain goes a little fuzzy, looking out over the precipice on which you stand, unsteady feet and rushing pulse. It’s dizzying. Like the world is spinning, but you’re not spinning with it. Or perhaps you’re spinning and it’s the world that’s gone still. Either way, the stretch of trees extending far beyond the tips of your hiking boots looks like it’s swaying on an axis, and each blink tilts the view some different way. You wonder if you’re breathing enough, or maybe too much, because your head is spinning. Like when you stand up too quickly after sitting for a while. You wonder if you’ll pass out before you reach the bottom.

If you reach the bottom.

Jesus, you hadn’t even considered the possibility of this stupid cable snapping. It doesn’t look too stable, upon closer inspection. Bouncing in the breeze. And as the employee finishes strapping you in, you pause for a moment to move your legs about and find, to your horror, that the straps are slightly loose.

Oh God.

You’re gonna throw up.

“Hey,” says a soft voice from beside you.

You feel a warm hand slide along the skin of your upper back, resting to cup your shoulder. Slowly, you turn your toward Jimin, standing with one arm wrapped around you and the other braced on his own knee so he can level his eyes with yours. He’s smiling a little. A different one this time, a soft one. The wind blows his dark hair from his eyes and carries the scent of his cologne. Somehow, you feel yourself relax a little against his side.

“It’s gonna be okay, alright?” he asks gently, and this is an entirely new Park Jimin to you. A tender young man with kind eyes. He smiles again and gives your shoulder a squeeze. “I’m right behind you.”

And for some reason, that comforts you. You don’t have time to dissect it however, as the employee takes up your other side and raises his brows, asking silently if you’re ready to go. Of course, you aren’t. How can you be? But again, Jimin squeezes your shoulder and seizes your attention with another smile, this one turning his eyes to crescents as he nods his head.

“Um…yeah,” you say, taking a moment to focus on your breath.

“Remember,” says Jimin as he steps away from you. “Count to ten, okay?”

“Okay,” you say, shutting your eyes.

One.

You’re gonna do it.

Two.

On ten, you’re just gonna go.

Three.

It’ll be fine.

Four.

Joon did it, and he’s fine.

Five.

And Tae before him, and that guy Jimin brought.

Six.

Nobody’s died yet.

Seven.

You can do it too.

Eight.

And even if I’m scared, at least you’re not alone up here.

Nine.

Jimin’s right behind you.

Ten.

Your scream rips through the valley below.

And, seconds later, so does your unfettered laughter.

You met Park Jimin on the worst day of your life a month ago. Freshly laid off from your job as a financial analyst — a job which Namjoon disliked from the start —, and disappointed by a string of bad dates after a catastrophic breakup, you’d agreed to meet up with a few college friends for a drink at your local stomping ground. You’d found Jimin sitting in the middle of a smoky bar with a girl on one arm and a guy on the other. Gross, was all you’d thought in passing. You’d paid him little mind, too busy wallowing in your own self pity to think too hard about any one thing, but it seemed he was incessant on grabbing your attention by any means necessary.

You’d sidled up to the bar, awaiting Namjoon’s I’m here text, and had only just ordered your drink when the strange young man with the unusually bright smile took up the space beside you. Now alone, he offered you a grin and his hand for you to shake. For a few seconds, you only stared at his outstretched palm. At the lines cutting across it. What was that long line called? The life line?

Eventually, however, you realized he wasn’t going anywhere, planted firmly in the wobbly barstool to your right, and you relented with a handshake. But that wasn’t what this stranger was after. He yanked you just a little once your hands connected.

“Hey, honey!” he said as he pulled you in toward his chest, sweeping you up in a tight, firm hug that knocked the wind from your lungs.

You were neither playful enough nor drunk enough to reciprocate and instead sat there stiffly, arms pressed against your sides as the stranger with the cute face hugged you close. Over his shoulder, you locked eyes with the girl who’d previously ornamented his left arm, watching you keenly, and it didn’t take you long to understand what was going on.

“Dodging an ex?” you whispered without moving your lips too much.

You felt a wave of shivers trace up your spine and it only took you a few seconds to realize why. It was just the sort of thing you imagined Hanseul doing if he ever bumped into you…

He chuckled. “Two, actually,” he responded as the young man he’d been entertaining also lifted his eyes from his drink to give you a once-over.

You sighed. “You’d better be buying my drink,” was all you said as the two of you broke away.

He’d laughed — that melodic sort of laugh that made you feel a little floaty — and rubbed your shoulder with a grin. “I’ll buy you twenty,” he joked, sliding the bartender a bill as he returned with your cocktail.

“So how’d you manage to get caught up with two exes at once?” you asked, nursing your glass.

He rubbed his jaw and shook his head, smiling at the bar table before him. “They were friends to begin with,” he said. And when you said nothing, only recoiled slightly, he met your eyes with a bright laugh. “C’mon don’t give me that look!”

You cleared your throat, turned away, and worked your straw between your teeth. “I dunno, sounds like maybe you brought it on yourself then,” you said, taking a healthy sip.

The stranger laughed again — more like a disbelieving scoff — and adjusted one of the several rings on his slender fingers. “Well I didn’t ask the two of them to come out tonight,” he said with a shrug. “And besides, neither of them looked unhappy to see me.”

“Ugh,” you mumbled, eyeing him sidelong as he chuckled.

He smirked and leaned across the bar toward you. “What?” he asked, and something about the heavy-lidded look he gave you, the simmering something in his eyes, made your pulse quicken. He rested his cheek in his hand and cocked his head to the side, now close enough to smell a whiff of his cologne. “You think I’m a bad guy?”

You swallowed hard before downing the rest of your drink and slamming the glass back on the bar. You waved the bartender over and pointed to the empty glass. Wordlessly, he began fixing you a replacement. You peeked back at the guy to find him smiling at you, musing perhaps, with the strangest mix of curiosity and pity in his expression.

You were definitely going to need another drink.

“Do good guys usually do stuff like that?” you asked, watching the bartender as he shook your drink around his metal tumbler.

He chuckled. “Can goodness be quantified by things like who we date?” he asked.

You stiffened. “Not by who you date,” you continued, shaking your head as memories of your own ex resurfaced. “But who you hurt, sure.”

He rolled his eyes, swiveling in his barstool to look at you head on. “Why’s it my fault who gets hurt?” he asked.

You cocked a brow. “You…can’t be serious…” But from the expression he wore you were certain that he was indeed quite serious.

He shrugged. “It’s not my intention to hurt someone, so why do I have to take responsibility if they get hurt?” he asked, then smirked and gave your thigh a nudge with his knee. “The way I see it, if you get hurt you’re the one whose expectations were too high.”

“That’s gross,” you said, inching away. You were inclined to simply leave, abandon this conversation and the bar at large and call it a night. But the bartender wasn’t finished with your drink and you weren’t about to piss him off. Not on a day like today. “If you’re dating someone, you’re committing to them.”

“What about polyamorous people?” he countered with a smug grin.

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not talking about polyamorous people. I’m talking about monogamy.”

“But why does everyone expect monogamy?” asked Jimin, tossing his hands up in the air with a breathy laugh. “Anyway, I always make it clear from the start that I’m not the kind of person who wants to be…well, you know…,” he started, then furrowed his brow and waved his hand. “Like, in a relationship.”

You sighed, nodded your thanks to the bartender as he slid you your drink, and watched as Jimin again offered cash in return. “And that’s fine, but you can’t expect someone to stick around and be okay with that.” You rubbed your temples as memories swirled together. “Be okay with half of you.”

If you really loved me, you’d understand that I could have any person in the world and you’d still be my number one!

Scumbag.

This gave him pause and, slowly, he shifted his eyes your way once more, scanning you. “Half of me?”

You nodded and downed a gulp of your drink with a wince. “Giving half is fine if the other person is giving half too. If you both only expect half,” you began, then ran your hands along your neck. Your skin was feverish, alcohol making your head light. “But if one person wants more, it’s not fair to string them along.”

He stared at you gravely, eyes hard and jaw set, and furrowed his brow. “That’s too old-school,” he said.

You huffed and crossed your arms. “It’s not old-school!” you said, wagging a finger at him. “It’s about respecting the other person enough to let them go when you realize you can’t be what they need.”

He pouted a little and rolled his eyes. “You sound ancient,” he said, then paused to give you a knowing smirk. “Wait, don’t tell me,” he began, scooting closer with a conspiratorial look. “You were scorned by your ex. Like…I dunno, like they cheated or something. Broke your heart, ruined your trust, blah, blah, blah. And now you’ve got this vendetta or something because you got hurt.” He grinned and wiggled his brows.

You stiffened, eyes wide, and stared at him. “I…,” you began.

He laughed from his gut and nodded. “Ah, nailed it, didn’t I?” he asked.

There was a cruel edge to his teasing, an ill-intentioned bite that felt like it was made to injure. You couldn’t quite put your finger on why, but you knew you felt it in that hazy bar, surrounded by throngs of people gathered here and there, enveloped in smoke and conversation. But like a heat-seeking missile, it seemed his words were engineered to uncover the softest parts of you and destroy them.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was something else, but your eyes welled with tears and your throat constricted. You stared at him, this stranger who had pegged you without err, and felt the weight of your frustrations pressing down on the tops of your shoulders like sandbags. And as he perceived the shift in your expression, his own face changed from a cold sort of scrutiny to a round-eyed concern that washed away all evidence of his previous behavior.

“Oh shit,” he said, standing up and blocking your face from view. You felt a few hot tears spilling over and were quick to wipe them, but the humiliation was there on display whether you cried or not.

He’d gotten you.

Luckily for you, Namjoon’s timing had been particularly impeccable that day and he’d barreled into the bar with a lopsided grin and clapped both you and the stranger on the backs, Taehyung and Yoongi sauntering behind him. You’d startled a bit, jumping slightly at his approach, but once again luckily — or perhaps unluckily — Namjoon seemed to have little regard for the poor mood he’d stepped into and didn’t seem to notice your glassy eyes as you buried your nose in your drink.

“Well jeez, look at you two already getting acquainted!” Namjoon exclaimed with a big laugh.

You paused your sipping for a moment to slide only your eyes up toward your friend. “Huh?”

He blinked down at you, one hand still clamped onto the stranger’s shoulder, and raised his brows. “Didn’t I tell you I was inviting some work friends?”

You spat your drink, sending droplets of sweet alcohol splattering across the bar. Quick to right yourself, you faced Namjoon properly and, sputtering, replied, “Him?”

Namjoon laughed and rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell me you guys didn’t introduce yourselves,” he said, adding theatrics to his heavy sigh. “This is Park Jimin. That choreographer I’ve been telling you about? He’s coming with us to Fiji.”

Still coughing up the remains of your rum and Coke, you pat your chest. This was the kind-hearted dance major wunderkind who dazzled everyone at Namjoon’s entertainment company? This was the kid who, at the age of twenty-four, had more accolades than both his predecessors combined? This was the guy who befriended all the trainees and brought them sports drinks during long days of practice?

This was the guy you were going to spend two weeks with on an island in the middle of the Pacific?

Namjoon, standing between the two of you, moved to taste your drink and as he leaned forward you locked eyes with the acclaimed young choreographer over the plane of his back. Park Jimin stared at you with wide eyes and lips parted as if to speak. But even after Namjoon had straightened up and begun complaining about your drink order, Park Jimin, still with mouth agape, said nothing.

And so, as you go ripping through the jungle on a wobbling cable, screaming and laughing and crying just a little, you wonder how exactly that very same Park Jimin is the one who comforted you into taking this leap of faith. Below your dangling feet is a patchwork of different greens, all bleeding into a motion blur as your body is propelled down toward the bottom platform. As you slide along, you can just see Namjoon’s figure, reduced to a small silhouette amongst the trees, as he stands waving like mad at the edge of the platform. Laughing, you shoot both hands above your head and wave them around, causing you to sway on the cable. Startled, you quickly return your hands to gripping the straps near your chest.

You feel like a bullet whizzing through humid air and then, all at once, friction takes hold once more and you seize, eyes squeezing shut from the whiplash, head throbbing just a little, suspended over the platform. You are greeted by a chorus of applause and hollers of encouragement as the employee begins the process of disconnecting you from your harness and, as your feet land stiffly on the concrete slab, you lift wild eyes to meet Namjoon’s. You find him still with that grin plastered across his face, hair windswept, shirt askew.

“Wow!” is all you can say as the group laughs.

Namjoon smiles and claps your shoulder. “Right?” he asks and you can only nod and turn your eyes back up toward the cliff from which you’d descended.

Now far too distant to discern amongst the foliage, the loading platform sits somewhere lost in green. And, without meaning to, your mind wanders back to Park Jimin and you wonder idly if he’s counting to ten.

Sunset drenches the island as you lounge on the warm sand, leaning back on your elbows with eyes half-shut as you gaze out at the glittering ocean touching the horizon line. The sky is darkening by degrees, with vibrant reds and oranges spreading like watercolor into the navy blue edges. And for a blissful moment, you’re alone with it. Alone with the profound. And you’re not thinking about the new job you’d taken, or the text messages Hanseul left you this morning, or the bills you know you’ve got to pay soon. You’re not thinking about anything.

It’s beautiful.

Of course, it’d be more beautiful with a pina colada, but you don’t let your mind linger there too long. After all, Namjoon said this trip was supposed to be about adventure and ‘finding yourself’. You aren’t sure how much of yourself you can really find at the bottom of a fruity drink.

Namjoon invited you on this trip a year ago. He’d done it in typical Namjoon fashion: calling you up at two in the morning and rambling incoherently for a while before eventually getting to the point. You’d become so used to his pipe dreams that you’d half expected this plan to fall through like the others. The second the words left his lips, you’d rolled your eyes.

“What I’m saying is,” he began, breathless over the phone, as you push yourself up onto your bottom, bed sinking beneath you, “let’s go to Fiji.”

“Joon…,” you groaned. “Please, I have work tomorrow-,”

“Listen, fuck your job,” he said and you could practically see him waving his hands like a man gone mad. “This is important. Like…might be the most important thing we’ve ever done together, you know?”

“Where is this even coming from?” you asked, stifling a yawn. You glanced out your window and saw the city painted black, pinpricks of yellow office building lights.

He sighed. “I was looking up tropical music for this new song I’m working on for the trainees and I stumbled upon this incredible video about Fiji.”

“Like a generic white girl vlog?” you asked with a laugh, but Namjoon seemed deathly serious as he remained silent. You paused a moment. “Wait, you’re like…for real with this, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, of course.” He was quiet. “I just…I dunno…I guess, while we’re still young enough to do it, I wanna experience something incredible. While we still can. While things are still like this.”

“What do you mean?” You raised a hand to open your window, let in some cool night air, but as you jammed your hand along the pane, the thing only rattled dumbly in response. You huffed, focused.

“I mean life is transient and nothing’s guaranteed,” he said. “Who knows who we’ll be tomorrow, you know? Who knows how long these moments will last?”

You stilled for a moment, staring out your closed window, hand still poised to force it open. You glanced over your shoulder at your tiny apartment — clothes strewn over every piece of furniture, easel gathering dust in the corner of your living room, unused for the better part of a year, paintings still unhung propped against walls on the floor — and couldn’t help but sigh. As silver moonlight filtered in through your curtains, you felt an unfamiliar tug in your chest. A longing that didn’t make sense.

You had the job, the boyfriend, the social life…

You had it all.

But why did Namjoon’s words make you feel so hollow?

And before you even realized what you were doing, you replied, “How much is it gonna cost?”

“What’re you thinking about?” asks a soft voice from beside you.

Startled, you scramble slightly, sending a spray of sand flying through the air. You sputter a little, having inhaled too quickly for your lungs to handle, and squint against the golden sun. But as you settle enough to face the person beside you, you’re surprised to see it’s Jimin. Sunset drenches the expanse of shoreline, catches in the ends of his black hair, outlines the side of his rosy cheek as he gives you an easy smile.

You raise your brows. “Hm?”

He chuckles, rubs the back of his neck, and shrugs as he digs the heels of his hands into the sand, leans back on them. “Just…looked pensive.”

“Pensive…,” you repeat, mulling it over. You purse your lips. “I guess just…thinking about this trip.”

“What about it?”

“Just…why I even bothered coming,” you begin, then chuckled and eyed him sidelong. “You saw how I was today. The whole…adventure thing isn’t really my scene.”

He smiles, revealing on closer inspection one charming crooked tooth, and tilts his head to the side. “What do you mean? You looked like you were having the time of your life!” he says, nudging you with his elbow.

You smile at your knees, now pulled toward your chest, and sigh. “Thanks for saying that, but you know I was a mess.”

He pouts a little. “You weren’t.”

Glancing his way, you find him with furrowed brows staring distantly at the ocean. “Mm…,” you mumble in response.

He sighs. “You were scared,” he begins, then shrugs. “But you did it anyway. What’s so bad about that?”

You sense that he’s perhaps talking about something else while talking about you. Like he’s saying two things at once. But you don’t bother prying. Instead, you simply sigh and join him staring at the surf.

“It’s beautiful, huh?” you remark as the two of you sit side by side. And there’s a gentle sort of quiet between you, one you never expected to share with someone like Jimin.

But somehow, here he is. And looking at him as he watches the waves splash forward and recede, you can’t help but feel a little guilty for your attitude towards him. Guilty for the dread you’d felt as you boarded the plane behind him. Guilty for the scowl you’d worn as he walked beside you on the trail up to the zipline today. Guilty for the complaints you’d aired to Namjoon about him.

“Yeah,” he says with a pleasant, lazy smile.

Birdsongs welcome you to the fresh island morning. Lazily, you roll onto your side and peel your eyes open, straining against the sunlight pouring in through your ocean-facing windows. You yawn, pushing yourself up onto your bottom to stretch sore arms above your head. You twist your torso this way and that, crack your knuckles, point your toes as you extend your legs before you. The room is filled with bright morning light, all hardwood floors and tapestries on the walls. You glance around your bedroom – one of eight private rooms in this massive Airbnb – and realize with a start that this is the first morning in years that you haven’t immediately grabbed for your phone to check for work emails.

You expect, perhaps, to be unnerved by this. This lack of structure, lack of organization.

But, perhaps more unsettlingly, you are…

Surprisingly calm.

You shake your head and pad on bare feet into the bathroom beside your room. As you brush your teeth, you lock sleepy eyes with your reflection and can’t help but crack a little smile. For the first time in a long time, you look like you’ve had a proper night’s sleep.

You emerge in the living room a few moments later to find Taehyung – Namjoon’s stylist friend – and Seokjin – Namjoon’s actor friend – still sleeping on the couch, the TV still droning on as they’d likely forgotten to turn it off. And, standing in the kitchen by himself nursing a cup of coffee and a calm smile, is Namjoon. He’s caught a bit of a tan, glowing in the gentle sunlight, and his eyes are warm and fond as he looks out across the living room at his friends.

As quietly as you can manage, you maneuver around the sleeping boys and take a place beside Namjoon, resting a hip against the marble counter. “Morning,” he says softly.

You nod once. “Morning,” you repeat, and hold your hand out for his mug of coffee, wiggling your eager fingers. He chuckles and relents without much fight, offering the handle to you carefully. You take a warm, welcome sip and sigh. “How’d you sleep?” you ask.

He hums a little and adjusts the sleeve of his loose tee. “So tired I didn’t even dream,” he says with a laugh.

Smiling you reply, “Me either.”

He eyes you with a knowing smile and squints a little. Like he’s teasing you. “You like it here, don’t you?” he asks.

You roll your eyes and give his shoulder a healthy shove. He laughs in response, but says nothing more as you sweep your gaze out toward the wall of windows leading down to the beach. It’s immaculate in the morning time. Not a single silhouette dots the shoreline, only fishing boats just beyond the surf. Tourists are still asleep, you reckon, and you feel a little proud to not be one of them sleeping away the most beautiful hours of the day. You can see faint traces of clouds ringing the horizon, and the pastel yellows of sunrise giving way to the azure blue sky.

“It’s…really nice,” you admit with a nod, sipping the coffee once more. And, without meaning to, you think of Jimin yesterday. His hand on your shoulder, his comforting words reminding you to ground yourself before you floated away. “Yeah…,” you add, concealing an unintended smile.

Namjoon, however, has always been the smarter one out of the two of you and, predictably, he catches this shift in your expression and turns to you head on with raised brows. “Whoa!” he remarks with a grin. He points to your face with his index finger. “Look at that!”

You swat his hand away with a laugh and roll your eyes. “Lay off, alright? I’m having a good time. Isn’t that the whole point?”

He chuckles and sighs as he rests once more beside you. Gently, he lifts a hand to softly pat the top of your head. You’re certain your shock registers plainly on your face as he pats again. “I’m proud of you,” he says.

And in the simplest of phrases, he’s managed to pluck something profound from inside of you. You don’t need to ask to know precisely what he means.

Why does it make you want to cry?

“Morning,” says a quiet voice from behind Namjoon and, leaning slightly so you can see around your friend’s broad chest, you notice Jimin standing there and can’t help but smile.

He glances between Namjoon and you for a few seconds, brows lifted as if in question, before Namjoon clears his throat and wordlessly excuses himself, snatching his coffee on his way back into the living room where he begins rallying the boys awake.

You sigh, running a finger along the countertop’s perfect edge. “What’s on the agenda for today?” asks Jimin as he settles beside you.

You pause to think. “Um…,” you begin, tapping your lips with your fingers. “I think…,” you continue, musing as you begin to work your lower lip between your index finger and thumb. “Something about ATVs.”

But before you’ve even finished your sentence, Jimin has seized your hand in his and is now standing so close you can smell the scent of his detergent wafting up from his pajama shirt. He stares down at you with heavy-lidded eyes and a smirk, gaze flashing around your face before landing on your lips as he pulls both your hands down toward your shoulder. Your heart begins to race, eyes wide, skin hot where his fingers touch yours, and you swallow hard as he chuckles a few times, his breath fanning out across your warm face.

“Sorry,” he says, voice low and breathy. “It was distracting.” He then drops your hand and swivels on his heel, back toward the hallway from which he’d come. He pauses, however, to shoot you a wink over his shoulder. “Hard to focus when you do that,” he says, tapping his own plump lower lip with his fingertip before offering a wave and meandering down the hall.

And you stand there dumb, heart pounding so loud you can’t hear the crashing waves just outside the window.

You were shocked when you found out Hanseul had been messing around behind your back. Gutted, really. If it hadn’t been for Hanseul leaving his Instagram logged on to your phone, you’d probably never have found out to begin with. He’d always been that sort of guy, though.

Reckless.

And how very cliche, you’d thought as you read through months of exchanged messages, that he’d exchanged you like a used car for a newer model once he’d gotten tired of you. You dragged your finger almost lazily across the screen, brows raised as you rested on your couch, reruns of The Office blending into background noise. And where perhaps you’d expected hurt and resentment, you found only a grim acceptance.

Of course, you thought to yourself with a strange chuckle as you read the most recent message. A sappy sort of love IM that made your stomach churn. Riddled with sentimentality and grand platitudes, the messages reminded you of the ones you’d exchanged with Hanseul in the beginning. The ones that made you hopeful. Of course.

Somewhere amongst that grim acceptance, however, was something you didn’t expect. Something primal. A sort of fear that had no name.

Fear, perhaps, of the implications.

Fear of all the things that would have to change, all the comforts you’d known for years chipping away like old paint left on the wall too long.

And so, like a house of cards, your world shook and crumbled mightily down to its very foundation.

You’re slack-jawed as you stare at the row of ATVs standing equidistant before you. Eight identical machines pointed down the rolling hills behind you. An instructor standing with a grin and hands on her hips as she watches you scan the locomotives with your eyes wide and round. Beside you is Namjoon, smiling too broadly for his face to accommodate, with Seokjin and Taehyung drowsily fighting yawns. Jimin stands on your other side, arms crossed as he smirks at the ATVs like he’s done it all and seen it all before. His friend Jungkook is practically vibrating with anticipation, and Hoseok – another choreographer from the company – stands whispering in low tones with Yoongi, the young PD Namjoon never stops talking about.

The imposing green trees sway in the breeze around you: all potential threats as your group nears the line of ATVs. You wonder just how long you can manage on one of the things before hitting one of those tall waving trees. Anxiously, you glance over your shoulder at the hills extending as far as you can see. More possibilities for horrific injury.

As you tromp through the yielding sand underfoot, you feel someone step closer to you and you don’t need to lift your eyes from your boots to know who it is.

“You know, if you’re scared-,” Namjoon begins, but you silence him with a look, gaze severe.

He raises his hands in surrender before chuckling and patting your shoulder. He says nothing more as he swerves around you to hook his elbow around Taehyung’s neck. The two, laughing, continue toward the row of ATVs. Taking a moment to manage your breath, you press your palm against the rubber handle. You shut your eyes.

One.

You’re getting on this fucking ATV.

Two.

You’ve come this far, you can’t chicken out now.

Three.

You always chicken out.

Four.

When was the last time you did something that scared you this much?

Five.

Well…yesterday.

Six.

Before that though.

Seven.

When was the last time you took a risk?

Eight.

When was the last time you did something you wanted to do?

Nine.

Something you really wanted…

Ten.

You take a long inhale, nod once, and swing your leg over the side of the ATV. With both shaking hands gripping the handlebars, you glance to the side to see everyone else has mounted their vehicles, except for one. Jimin stands at the end of the line, talking with the guide too quietly to hear, but the way he’s waving his hands makes it seem like there’s a problem. The guide glances around, brows knit, before shrugging his shoulders and cupping a hand around the side of his mouth to shout.

“Hey guys! Looks like we’re one ATV short! Someone’s gonna have to share!” he calls, and grumbles resound around the group.

Beside you, Namjoon and Taehyung complain about having to share, both clearly not too keen on offering Jimin a spot on their ATV. You briefly feel bad for him, standing on the edge without a place to go to. You wonder if he feels left out, or if perhaps he’s considering staying back so the guide can show you the way. Without meaning to, you turn your head and lock eyes with Jimin and the instant you to you wish you hadn’t. Because now his eyes have lit up and his face is splitting in a small, hopeful smile.

And you know you’re cooked.

With a sigh, you raise your hand and wave it like mad, beckoning Jimin over. After all that, the breathing exercises and everything, after finding your courage, here you are handing over the reins.

“You can ride with me,” you say with a sigh as Jimin emerges at your side, smiling bright.

“Thank you,” he says with a laugh before hoisting himself up behind you.

“Oh!” you exclaim as Jimin rests his hands on his knees, right beside your thighs. He leans around your side and eyes you with wide brows. “I figured you’d wanna drive…,” you say, face going hot.

He blinks at you for a moment longer than normal before splitting into a grin and nudging your hip with his knee. “Well why would I do that?” he asks, rolling his eyes. “You looked really determined.”

Just like that, he understands exactly how you feel.

Startled, you turn to face him halfway, twisting your torso awkwardly as you lock eyes. He’s still smiling, still bright. The apples of his cheeks are redder than yesterday, and the bridge of his nose. A sunburn. He looks peaceful. As if he trusts you to drive this massive machine. As if it’s not even a thought that’s crossed his mind.

As if he never even considered taking this ATV from you.

“You guys ready?” shouts the guide with a hoot.

The boys around you holler their responses but you stay silent, still just staring at Jimin as he shields his face from the sun with one hand, still smiling, still peaceful.

You grip the handlebars and kick the ATV to life.

You first met Namjoon when you were in high school. He was a grade above you, so you’d never had reason to speak with him. Aside from passing him in the halls every now and again, you didn’t really interact with him at all. But things changed when he approached you after class as you finished cleaning off the blackboards. You’d stayed behind not because you wanted to, but because your classmate had pawned their classroom duties on you after a miserable game of Gin Rummy at lunch. You hadn’t protested much once the responsibility had fallen on your shoulders.

Another excuse to avoid going home.

Bony knuckles rapped against the blackboard beside your head and you jumped out of your skin, releasing a scream several octaves higher than you anticipated. But as the moment of panic passed, you realized with a start that the one who’d roused your attention was indeed upperclassman Kim Namjoon. And there he stood with a small dimpled smile and gentle eyes scanning you. You weren’t sure what he was looking for when he looked at you, but the way he tilted his head to the side made you think that perhaps he’d found it.

“Hey,” he said, face outlined by the last golden rays of autumn daylight.

You swallowed hard and took half a step back toward the podium. “Uh…hi…?”

“This yours?” he asked, dangling a sketchbook before you with one hand.

It took you several moments of squinting at the Strathmore sketchbook to realize that, in fact, it was yours. Your name was right there in the right corner where you’d scribbled it a month ago. And there was the tear in the cover from when your mother had tried to rip the thing from your hands – unsuccessfully.

A rush of fear swelled through you and you snatched the pad from his outstretched hands like you were a prisoner and he was offering you food. Scared he’d rescind his offer if given even a moment to think it over. And as you clutched the thing to your chest, you scanned him with narrowed eyes.

“Where did you get this?” you asked. You were certain you had kept it safely in your bookbag since lunch. But glancing at the bookbag again, you found it surprisingly empty.

Namjoon raised his brows and raised his hands in surrender. “I didn’t steal it, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he said, then chuckled with a shrug. “What kind of thief would return the thing they stole anyway?”

You paused for a moment, brows furrowed, before sighing and nodding. “I guess that’s true,” you admitted before gently guiding the sketchbook back into the mouth of your backpack. “Um…,” you hedged as you turned back to the guy. You held out your hand to him and he rolled up the long sleeve of his uniform cardigan to take it in his own. “Thanks,” you finished with a shake.

He shook his head. “Don’t mention it,” he said, laughing a little. “Had to ask around to find out which class you were in though.”

You felt a warm bloom of embarrassment and pulled your hand away, shoving it back into your pocket and averting your eyes. “I don’t have a job or anything,” you said.

He blinked at you. “Hm? What’re you talking about?”

You rubbed the side of your arm and shrugged. “My family’s kinda poor too. Like, we do fine, but my parents are really serious about money so…,”

“What’s your point?” asked Namjoon with wide, curious brown eyes.

You stared at him for a moment, puzzled, before continuing. “Aren’t you gonna ask for, like, reward money or something?”

He released a booming, chesty laugh before waving his arms like mad and shaking his head. “No! God, do I look like a thug to you?”

You eyed him from top to bottom and shrugged. “I don’t really know what a thug is supposed to look like.”

He sighed and gripped the bridge of his nose between his fingertips. “Forget the money,” he said, pausing to give you a warm smile. “I just wanted to meet the person who made those drawings.”

You went stiffer than a board. For a moment, time stood still. Namjoon froze before you, the gently falling leaves outside the classroom window froze, and you froze too. Like your feet were rooted to the ground.

“You…did you look through it?” you asked softly, too horrified to raise your voice above a bare whisper.

He nodded. “Of course,” he said. “I was looking for a phone number or something on the inside flap, but then I got distracted by the art.”

“You…”

“You’re really talented,” he said, offering another big smile. “Like, you could go pro if you wanted to.”

You swallowed hard, your throat constricting, and chucked the dirty blackboard eraser on the podium with a puff of fine dust. Without another word, you zipped up your backpack and slung it over your shoulders. You walked past him quickly, not even sparing him a glance, and walked faster when he followed you, calling after you and begging you to turn around.

Namjoon followed you around for a month after that: waiting outside your classroom after school, catching you off guard as you sketched in the courtyard during your lunch break, walking his bike behind you as you led the way to the bus stop, cheering for you at the sports festival and causing you to miss the volleyball coming straight for you. Every time he’d come around, you’d turn grey with horror and you wouldn’t say a word. But luckily for you, Namjoon said plenty enough for both of you. It was always, When are you gonna join the drawing club?or,You should start working on a portfolio, or, If you love art so much, why aren’t you applying to an arts college?

You didn’t bother asking how he knew where you were applying. As you’d gotten to know him, you’d begun to understand his uncanny ability to secure sensitive information from teachers. It seemed they all loved him about as much as you despised him. Not long after that comment, you finally began responding when he spoke to you. And you even began bickering like real friends.

After a while, you grew accustomed to him being around all the time. To the point that, when he graduated a year before you and went on to pursue a degree in music, you’d felt almost lonesome without him. And to the point that, when you texted him about your choice to pursue a degree in business, you were almost relieved when he caught the late bus out to your house to scold you.

One day you’re gonna snap, he’d said that night in a moment of calm. You’re gonna finally have enough of living for them. And it’s gonna hurt when it happens. Bad.

But the scolding had never been enough.

Because, in the end, that persistent fear ran like still waters through your body.

You’re realizing more and more that it’s the same fear. That it’s always been the same fear. Back then when you were so scared of losing Hanseul that you considered not even telling him you’d found the messages. In high school when you were too scared to show anyone your sketchbook. Even now, as you straddle the vibrating ATV, Jimin’s arms wrapped lazily around your middle as he giggles behind you, you’re scared to make a single sound for fear of messing up your focus on the hills before you.

If you really think about it, it’s all the same.

When you boil it down to its core, it’s always been the same.

Fear of fucking up.

Like you’ve been walking a tightrope from the start, and any small misstep will result in you plummeting, face first, into the ground below.

Your knuckles go white against your skin as you clutch the handlebars. Stiff, you follow the guide as he vaults over a hill, having no choice but to do the same. You launch your ATV over the sandy bump, sending both you and Jimin flying through the air. And even though a part of you expects to go splat in the dirt, after a few weightless seconds of flight, the two of you return to earth in one piece. This time, it isn’t Jimin’s laughter that startles you.

It’s your own.

“Holy shit!” Namjoon shouts as he runs toward you, face covered in fine dust. He grins at you like you’re his child, and as you slide off the side of the ATV, he sweeps you up in a big hug, laughing. “You did so good!”

You laugh too, patting his flexed bicep, and lean away slightly to get a better look at his dirty face. “God,” you say with a laugh, running the pad of your fingertip along his cheek, leaving behind a stripe of clean skin. “You need a shower, Joon.”

He nods and peels himself away, turning his attention to Jimin behind you. “You don’t look so good,” he remarks with raised brows.

And as you turn to see for yourself, you notice that in fact Jimin doesn’t look so good. Up until then it had been all laughter and smiles and playful squeezes, but now that he was standing in the dirt, arms crossed, leaning back against the ATV with his helmet in his hand, he looked…less than pleased. He watches you and Namjoon with narrowed eyes.

Oh God, you think in a moment of blind panic, I bet he wanted to drive the ATV after all…

But the moment Namjoon approaches and claps his hand against Jimin’s shoulder, the latter perks up and his eyes go bright once more. He turns a grin towards you and offers a big thumbs up. The sky above his waving hair is a perfect blue, and the sun is unrelenting, but somehow his smile is brighter. Carefully, you join the duo and pat the ATV with a sigh. Looking at it now, it doesn’t seem so scary at all. And after all the tips your guide had given throughout the course, you feel ready to do it all again if you get the chance.

Jimin eyes you with a fond smile. “How’d you like it?” he asks.

You hum. “It was…really exhilarating,” you say with a grin. Gently, you reach out your hand for Jimin to shake and without missing a beat he laughs and takes it.

But instead of shaking it, he gives a sharp yank and you go tumbling into his chest. Heart hammering, you struggle to regain your footing, but before you can process what’s going on, Jimin wraps both arms around your back and holds you tight. You’re sure your face reveals your chagrin, so you’re careful to keep it buried in his chest. And although it’s muffled through the fabric of his shirt, you can hear Jimin’s heart thumping quick.

“Thanks for letting me ride with you,” he says quietly against your hair.

You swallow hard, nerves making your hands sweat, and nod once. “Um…yeah, of course.” You can’t help the nervous laugh that escapes your parted lips and, hesitantly, you reach around to pat Jimin’s back with one hand. “It was fun.”

He backs up with a smile, but keeps one hand on your shoulder. “Yeah. Let’s do it again when we get home.”

You laugh again, eyes wide. “Are there ATV courses at home?”

Jimin pauses, purses his lips, and shrugs. “Let’s find out.”

Namjoon snaps his fingers. “Shoot! What time is it?” he asks, brows knitting.

You check the watch around your wrist and squint at it, but it’s hard to focus on anything with Jimin still touching you. “Um…half past two,” you say, brain foggy as Jimin steps closer.

He glances over your shoulder to stare intently at your wristwatch. Easily, he slides his hand along your shoulder blades before letting it rest at the small of your back. You can feel the ends of his hair tickling your hot cheek. He hums a little beside you and nods once, as if he is simply verifying the time. Perhaps he is simply doing that.

“Shoot!” Namjoon exclaims again. “If we don’t leave, like, now we’re gonna be late for snorkeling!”

Without meaning to, you slide your eyes toward Jimin and raise your brows only to find him staring at you with the same expression. The two of you share a knowing look before breaking into small smiles.

“Wouldn’t wanna be late for snorkeling,” Jimin says under his breath as Namjoon jogs back toward the guide, all the while frantically miming with his hands.

You grin. “God forbid.”

Hanseul said something once that really stuck with you. Not the sort of sentimental thing that you thought might’ve stuck with you, but something entirely mundane. Something trivial, something said in passing.

It was a Sunday afternoon. Neither of you had work, so you’d decided to take a nice long drive through the city. The sky was endlessly blue and beautiful, and even though you were just one car in the infinite stream of vehicles on the highway, you felt somehow free. With the windows rolled down all the way and music bumping softly through Hanseul’s car’s speaker, you remember shutting your eyes and just…breathing for a minute. And that was enough.

“Jesus Christ!” Hanseul shouted with a belabored sigh, and your eyes snapped open once more. You were quick to locate the source of his frustration and found, merging into your lane from the right, a massive freight truck. “I will never understand the hubris of semi drivers who think it’s a good idea to pass other semi drivers.”

Settling your racing heart, you sighed and breathed a laugh. “Impatience I guess,” you remarked, but he was prickly beside you and you knew he wasn’t finished.

He scoffed. “As if passing that guy is gonna get him there any faster,” he said, then rolled his eyes and tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “Everyone should just go their own pace.”

And with that, he stopped talking. And you returned to leaning your head against the passenger doorframe, gazing out at the line of cars entering the highway.

The sun is white hot on your bare skin as you tread water, face bobbing just below the ocean’s surface. Floating like a buoy, you squint into the endless blue to catch a glimpse of some wildlife. It’s not as easy as it looks on Instagram, that much is clear to you now. The waves waves are gentle but restless as they rock you around and the plastic of the snorkel pushes uncomfortably against the sensitive skin of your lips. Your arms and legs are still sore from the previous day’s hike, and now your thighs ache from gripping the ATV. But somehow, despite the hardiness of it all, as you float parallel to the ocean floor, you can’t help but stare with wide-eyed wonder every time a flash of red fin or plume of underwater dust catches your eye. And so, mystified, you swim onward.

You feel someone swim up beside you, but it’s too much labor to look and you can’t tear your eyes away from a particularly beautiful fish cresting over the top of some coral beyond your fingertips. It’s only when that someone taps your shoulder that you finally snap from your daze and, blinking quickly, burst out from beneath the water and shove your snorkel to the side. Fearing catastrophe, you turn gasping toward Jimin as he wades beside you with a grin.

And your heart settles down.

You pat your chest a little and sigh. “Jesus,” you mumble.

“Scared you?” he asks, and from this close it’s hard not to get caught up in the brown of his eyes, in the wet ends of his dark hair as they dangle just above his eyebrows.

With the saltwater and the sunlight kissing his skin, he’s practically glowing.

You shake your head. “What’s up?” you ask.

He points with one finger toward the water below and wiggles his brows. “You wanna go down with me? The instructor said it’s really awesome.”

You stare at him for a long moment, trying to discern any malintent or ulterior motive and, upon gleaning none, settle for a nervous, breathy laugh. “Ah, I dunno…,” you say, rubbing your nose with the side of your finger. You look away, toward Jungkook’s fins as they flap violently against the glassy surface of the water. “I’m happy just looking from up here.”

Jimin hums a little. “You sure?” he asks, eyeing you like he knows something you don’t. “You seemed really into it when I came over.”

You swallow hard and your mouth tastes like seawater and anxiety. “No, I’m…,” you start, but it’s weak. The sentence trails into nothing.

He smiles bright enough to blind and you almost have to shield your eyes. “Come on,” he says, offering his hand toward you. “We’ll go down together and come back up together. I’ll hold your hand the whole time.”

You stare at his outstretched fingers, pruny and slightly sunkissed, and ponder for a moment. Were you always so tepid? So lukewarm? Wasn’t there ever a time in your life when you did things just because they sounded fun? Thinking back, it’s hard to pinpoint the precise moment you became so pragmatic, so afraid. Perhaps when your parents told you a career in art wouldn’t work out for you. That you didn’t have the stuff. Perhaps even before that.

But deep down, buried deeper than you’d like you admit, there’s a part of you that’s always wanted to zipline through the jungle. To ride ATVs. To see the coral up close.

That slumbering part of you is beginning to awaken.

And you wonder as you take Jimin’s hand with an uncertain smile if this has been your pace all along.

He giggles and the two of you dive in unison. You follow the instructions the snorkeling teachers gave you on the boat, and you hold your breath just the way you’re supposed to. Nonetheless, the deeper you swim, the cooler the water becomes and the more your nerves begin to rattle.

Only this time, you don’t find it unpleasant. Not at all, actually.

Because Jimin’s hand is warm.

The two of you coast to a stop in front of the vibrant red coral as a school of orange fish rushes by in a wave. You both reel back for only a moment and then, catching each other’s eyes, exchange the biggest smiles your snorkels allow. And boy is Jimin right. It is awesome. You swear you’ve never seen colors like this. Juxtaposed against the perfect blue all around, the coral reef stands like a mountain underwater, fish flying like birds around the jagged pink peaks, hiding in the deep purple. Anemones wave so close you’re tempted to touch them, and as you lean closer for a better look, you see a red seahorse nestled beside a green sea plant. As if sensing you there, the tiny fish scoots out from its cover and makes its way toward you. Eagerly, you extend your index finger and the creature nudges you just slightly before continuing on its way to the other side of the coral barrier.

Your heart is pounding, racing like a sports car and loud like one too. You turn toward Jimin with eyes blown wide and he’s grinning at you, so fond. He gives your hand a squeeze and you can’t help but squeeze back. Wordlessly, he jerks his head toward the surface, and the way the water plays with his hair makes it look like silk. You’re distracted for a moment by how beautiful it is, how beautiful he is, but he squeezes your hand again and once more jerks his chin upward. Ah! You need air!

You only realize it as Jimin makes a motion toward the surface, but now that you’re conscious of it it’s all you can think of. Q

genre: fluff at the beginning, angst, deals with infidelity in detail (11.5k)

summary: do you think of love when the world is at your fingertips? or a story in which jimin dances on the dangerously thin line between love and obsession.

note: i do not mean to romanticize or glorify cheating in any manner, take this as a work of fiction only.

all works in the series can be real individually.

masterlist    series masterlist (colors!universe)

“we’ll announce the leads now, please come forward if your name is called, and if not, better luck next time” is a simple sentence really.

but your heart wrenched uncomfortably in your chest as you anxiously waited for the results. it was not like your entire life and career depended on those names.

you couldn’t stand still, neither could jimin as your hands wrung behind your backs and your weights kept shifting from one foot to another.

this is it.

this is what you worked and climbed ranks for, in the past two years.

you turned to the side to see jimin mirroring your expression, excitement danced in his eyebrows, but his lips stayed pursed, giving away how nervous he truly was. you couldn’t comfort him even if your hands reached him.

it felt all too familiar, jimin by your side, both of your palms sweaty as you wait for your fate to be recited to you.

‘the black swan’ was one of the hardest theatrical acts to get accepted into, only the absolute top and most talented even thought of auditioning here. once you are accepted, your future is secured, opportunities were expected to fall at your feet so everything is at stake here, especially the pride you both were cruelly robbed off when you first started.

“park jimin” you gasp and jump in your place when his name is announced, a huge grin growing on your face when you realize that jimin got the part he auditioned for; the black swan, the heart of the show.

you could see him trying to hold in his happiness, he still couldn’t scream, not with the officials in the same room and you couldn’t hug him either, so you just squeezed his hand and congratulated him in excited, hushed whispers. he can’t help but smile sheepishly at the floor at how much more excited you look than him and sends a silent thanks to the universe.

but his face immediately falls when he notices how they’ve reached the end of the list and your name didn’t get called.

he turns to look at you with concerned eyes, knowing in his heart how much you wanted this and how hard you worked for it, he isn’t surprised to see the disappointment instantly wash over your face.

everyone starts to leave, some crying, some buzzing with excitement. jimin was just worried because even though you don’t look sad, you wouldn’t look at him as you make your way through the crowd and outside the building, and he follows wordlessly.

he does not know what to do as you sit in the car with your gaze downwards, he knows that any words of comfort would just fall to deaf ears because jimin understood, better than anyone, what this audition meant to you. so, when you curl up on the bed still without uttering a word, jimin knows that he can’t just watch you suffer from your thoughts.

your gaze follows his movements as he gets into bed too, and you almost immediately crumble, reaching for him with desperate hands. he tears up when he hears your sobs against his chest.

this wasn’t how it was supposed to go, you both were supposed to get in together.

the plan was always supposed to do this together, like everything else you have done to this point.

“i-i’m sorry i’m crying like this when i’m supposed to be h-happy for you, i am happy for you jimin, and i’m so unbelievably p-proud. you, of all people, deserved to get that role” you whimper, feeling horrible for dampening his mood along with yours. “don’t be silly, you don’t have to hide how you truly feel, not in front of me.” jimin whispered, caressing your hair as your teardrops continued to soak the pillows.

for a moment, your sobs are the only sound in the room, jimin chooses to remain silent and just stay close to you, but then the piercing shrill of your phone startles you both.

jimin reaches for it, shrugging when there’s no name, and hands it to you. you sit up straight before clearing your throat and answering the call. “hello?” your voice remains surprisingly steady for someone who’s been crying their heart out and jimin just watches as your eyes go wide and your face morphs into a big smile, your hand flies up to your mouth, your eyes darting to him several times as you continuously thank the person on the other line before ending the call and looking at him with renewed energy.

“jimin, you won’t believe this” you shout excitedly as you jump to go next to him, he lets out a small chuckle and gathers you in his arms at your sudden change in mood and bouncing energy, and waits for you to speak. he is more than relieved to see the change in your mood. “what is it babe?” he rubs his fingers over the back of your hand.

“you know the ‘nutcracker’ play, right? the one sponsored by that big studio in france? well, they just called me and they want me to be the senior director for the show! they saw my audition at ‘black swan’ and wanted me to be a part of their play” jimin’s mouth drops open at your words with both joy and awe, being the senior director was something very few actual dancers were offered to be so if they were willing to give you that role, they must have bet a lot on you.

they were not going to regret all this faith they put in you, jimin was very sure of that much.

“see, i knew you would get there, one way or another.” he smiles widely that your hard work was paying off. “but it’s not together” you pout because you and jimin have always been a pair, it is one of the rare sentiments you have developed over the years. “i know, i wish you were my white swan” he sighs as he rubs circles into your hands, “there’s always next time?” you offer with a small smile and he nods, agreeing with you. “next time.”

in the past, even if you weren’t partners for the actual dance, you both were always somehow involved in the same act, either as the choreographer or part of the crew, you just were always in each other’s presence but that wasn’t the case now.

“i’m so excited” you sigh dreamily, just imagining how fun and new it would be to become a director. “i’m sure you’ll excel at it, as you do in so many other things” he kisses your forehead and you resist the urge to bury yourself into him. “i couldn’t have done it without you” you whisper back to him and jimin swears he feels his heart burst at your words, “i wouldn’t have even danced without you” he whispers back to you.

-

jimin takes a deep breath as he walks up to the large, fancy building where he would practice as the black swan. he walks in with confidence, knowing that he’s done his research on what his role entailed and which way he would have to transform for it.

upon entering, he is immediately whisked away to a dancing room with ceilings as high as the sky, he noted that the floor was also polished just enough for him to glide without having to stutter in his step. it’s every dancer’s dream practice room.

“ah there he is, the star of the show” a man, who would soon be revealed as the director of the show, hollers loudly when he sees jimin looking around the room. jimin breaks into a shy grin and the choreographer takes the time to introduce him to everyone involved in the play.

“and our other star, park hyejin, she’s the white swan, also your partner, you both will be working closely with each other so get comfortable, yeah?” the man winks at them as hyejin and jimin bow with a polite smile to each other. “i’ve heard a lot about you mr. park, i’m excited to work on this with you” she compliments jimin who humbly brushes it off with a sheepish smile.

when she looks away, jimin subtly notes how elegant hyejin looks, even without seeing her dance, he just had a feeling that her body lines were always flawless and her posture reflected the prima ballerina she was.

she reminded him of you, a perfect blend of determination and softness was shared in your faces.

he reluctantly looks away and laughs to himself a little, a few moments away from you already had him thinking everything was about you.

but jimin could have never guessed why he actually couldn’t look away from hyejin.

-

by the time jimin gets home, you’re already cooking dinner and dancing around in the kitchen with some jazzy 80’s song playing softly in the background. all of today was great but you are the true light in his day.

he wishes you always looked like this, so full of life and bursting at the seams with happiness.

“i’m home” he announces in a soft voice, face immediately brightening when you throw him backward with a hug. “how was your first day? were you nervous? how were the other dancers? the directors weren’t overbearing, right?” your barrage of questions tumble over each other and jimin just smiles fondly. “well, i can tell you everything if you let me babe.” he teases with a peck to your nose, and you purse your lips with a nod.

“it couldn’t have been better, like you won’t believe how huge their practice rooms are, just imagine our first ever practice room ever and multiply that by ten” he starts, you gasp at his description and patiently listen to every second of his day that he didn’t spend with you.

nor he or you notice that he leaves out the part about his stunning partner.

-

the next day jimin walks into practice, he is taken aback when he sees that hyejin is already stretching in the studio, she lifts her head at his presence and goes up to him. “good morning, mr.park.” he can’t help but feel a little shiver at her smooth voice, he also couldn’t help how his eyes travel across her poised body. now that she wasn’t wearing a flowy dress, her dance practice outfit didn’t leave a lot to the imagination.

he quickly looks away and he doesn’t bother telling her to be informal with him like he usually does with all his partners.

everything about her was so elegant, so put together, that jimin felt intimidated. he isn’t used to having such a qualified partner. not that he minded or anything, he was just always the more experienced one during acts he’s done in the past.

who was jimin to judge anyone’s qualifications anyway?

he greets her as well as he sets his bag down. he thought he was early but clearly not early enough.

during practice, both jimin and hyejin turn red when the choreographer tells them how close they would have to be for the dance. for more than half of the dance, their bodies remain stuck to each other, it’s supposed to symbolize how thin the line is between the black and white swan.

the thin line between love and obsession.

as they get into position, every single one of jimin’s senses is clouded by hyejin, his eyes literally won’t stop darting across her face

she was just so…beautiful.

and she looked so much like you?

why did she look like you when she was in his arms?

the music starts but that isn’t what gets jimin to move, it’s like a mind instinct to follow hyejin’s movements. the second she starts twirling, he pushes his body to follow her, desperate hands just as the black swan reaches the white swan. they don’t break eye contact once and the entire room feels heavy, heavy with their breaths, heavy with the tension growing between them, and for a second, it felt like it was only her and him in the room.

jimin hasn’t feel that way with anyone but you.

“i think you should be closer” hyejin whispers into his ear, with her hand wrapped around the back of his neck, and jimin freezes in his position, he thought they were impossibly close already.

he doesn’t think she’s just talking about the dance.

with a tedious scan of her from head to toe and then meeting hyejin’s sparkling eyes, he follows her anyway, his grip tightening on her waist and she hums in approval.

she sounds like you too.

this feels wrong.

this is wrong.

they start moving again, and jimin just flows with her, just like how he flows with you.

she’s not you but jimin can’t tell the difference between holding you and her. she feels the same, looks the same, sounds the same, and moves her body the same way.

but she’s not you.

a voice screams in his head that the woman in his arms is not the woman waiting for him at home.

“that was perfect, bravo to our swans!” the loud holler from the choreographer freezes jimin once again, face so close to hyejin that he can feel her breath on his face, steady and hot and for a minute, they don’t move. they don’t hear the rousing applause around them, their feet stay glued as they stare at each other and it isn’t until another loud noise around them that he pulls away from her, almost pushing her away from him because jimin doesn’t understand this feeling crawling on his chest.

why did she look like you?

why did she feel like you?

why do his eyes follow her as she walks away to leave for the day?

he doesn’t realize how hard he’s panting until his body starts to bend forward from how tired he feels.

he’s been with partners for dance before, but none were hyejin. he never had to remind himself that you were at home, waiting for him to come back, he never had to remind himself that you were in his life. he never had to actively think of you before, you were just always on his mind.

in a loving, dizzy haze, jimin somehow always felt secure that you were there in his life.

but now, felt scarily different to jimin.

because he didn’t think of you individually even once, not during the whole practice, not when hyejin got unnecessarily close to him sometimes.

he only thought of you when he found traces of you in the woman holding onto him for dear life.

and jimin almost hates it when he enjoys being so close to hyejin, he almost hates how his body jumps to be just as close to her, he would’ve fully hated it if it weren’t for how sweetly she smiled at him each time their eyes would meet.

jimin also hates that he finds himself smiling back at her.

-

you are more than buzzing with energy as you start your first day as a senior director, everyone was so welcoming and warm to you. knowing your experience, they didn’t question any of your suggestions. most of them immediately tried to see if it would pan out and put it into action, and it felt good to work in such a respectable and comfortable environment.

“the dancers should do a different formation for act 2, the same formation looks uninteresting. so try a newer formation, one that is fresh to the eyes, and let me know if there’s something i can help with” you instruct the choreographer who agrees and puts forth his ideas on how that can be improved.

you realized that you liked being behind the camera and below the stage just as much as you like being on it, and looking at the huge stage in front of you reminds you of one person; jimin.

who would’ve known that both of you would grow up to do what you’re doing now?

the ‘you’ from five years ago would have given everything and anything just to get a peek of the stage that you were now directing.

it made you feel warm, that all your pain and hard work didn’t get thrown into a ditch and you definitely couldn’t have done it without jimin.

your eyes stay teary as you drag your feet out of the audition room. it didn’t go well.

you got rejected, to put it nicely. but thoughts of what they said circle your mind in a taunt, ‘you have no talent at all, why did you even think of getting on that stage?’ it was humiliating, a punch to all the practice you did for the audition, a punch to the passion you so strongly held onto since you started dancing.

a soft hand grabs yours making you look up, jimin stands there with his lips set in a grim line and an evident furrow in his eyebrow.

you didn’t have to ask him to know that he got rejected too either.

you both look at each other for a second before crashing into a hug, heaving sobs leaving both your lips as you desperately grab onto him. his hands dig into your sides but nothing hurts more than being denied from something you thought you had.

how did both of you get rejected?

why was nothing ever enough?

you lean back from his face to wipe at his tears and hold onto his cheek, “we’ll get through this, yeah?” after he doesn’t respond, you get worried that your friend truly thinks there’s no hope left. “at 4, meet me in the school’s practice room, let’s practice till no one can say no to us” you say and leave him by himself.

morning comes slowly, and everyone is sound asleep when you slip into the dead night, jimin is already stretching lightly but his eyes are downcast as you approach him.

“it’s only our first rejection and i have a feeling that if we want to continue this, we have to be ready for much worse.” you say softly as you start stretching next to him, his arms fall beside him as he takes in a sharp breath. “i don’t think i can take anymore….maybe i should just stop here” you can tell it’s just his train of thought as he mumbles this but it stuns you that jimin would even think of leaving dancing behind over one rejection.

“are you sure? because you and i both know that you shine the brightest when you’re on stage, dancing your heart out” jimin on stage is a sight to behold, the way he tip-toes and catches the attention of everyone in the auditorium with a simple turn, was no easy feat and you couldn’t let him give up on it.

“it’s hard, i understand, i do. but i’m not letting you give up here, this isn’t the last audition you’re going to take and this is sure as hell, not the last time you’re getting on a stage” your words are stern but filled with warmth, they are directed to you and him. you can’t let him give up and you can’t give up either. jimin is grateful that you’re his friend as he passes by you and presses play on the music.

“you’re right, you always are” he mumbles with a chuckle and you smile with him. he reaches for your hand, giving it a light squeeze and you tighten your grip too.

“let’s prove all of them wrong” you move into position, “together?” he asks, breaking his position to look at you, “who else would it be?” you answer with a smile.

that was six years ago, that was when jimin was still just your friend, but with long hours of practice combined with celebrating your victories and failures together, you were bound to fall in love with him at some or another point. and he was always in love with you.

it was over a couple of bottles of soju and beer after the first time you two got roles in a local theater play, that he confessed to you in a dreamy, drunken haze. you still laugh at how quickly he sobered up when you said you felt the same way.

as you watch the dancers do their routine in a fresh new way, your mind subconsciously drifts to think about jimin and how he must be doing.

you were sure he was doing alright; it was jimin after all. if anyone could fully embrace the role, it was him.

-

contrary to your beliefs, jimin was struggling quite a bit.

it had already been three weeks since they started practicing and this week had been pure torture for jimin. as it turns out, hyejin was the perfect dancer, not that jimin thought otherwise but he didn’t expect himself to not be able to catch up with her. she practiced for hours on end, her body never faltered or missed a beat, while jimin had pretty good stamina himself, his body would give up on him from time to time.

and even if it were minor challenges, the nervousness that comes with starring in one of the biggest drama productions along with the need to stack up to hyejin now, was slowly building on him in a way he wasn’t sure he could handle anymore.

not to mention, he was still trying to navigate through this unusual feeling he had around hyejin, he hadn’t stopped thinking about her since that day, how close they were, how that closeness repeated every day with her. and after tossing and turning for nights on end, he put a label to what he felt for her while you slept peacefully beside him.

he felt attracted to her.

the kind of attraction that was so magnetic, so strong that it made him angry. he was angry that she pulled a move like that on him when she was well aware of his relationship with you.

but.

but jimin wasn’t out of the woods yet either, he not only reciprocated whatever she did, but he also didn’t do anything to dodge or discourage it. if anything, he encouraged her to advance further.

hyejin was slowly proving to be the root of all of his problems.

he sat down in the corner of the dance room after everyone had left, he recalls the disappointment flashing on the directors’ faces every single time he missed or skipped a step, and it placed a stone in his heart.

it wasn’t easy, trying to understand his own feelings while pushing his body to go further and do better.

he can’t lose this role; he can’t give up here but his body and mind are screaming at him to slow down.

he thought that if he got this role, everything would be perfect. he would work on getting a dance studio of his own, run it with you, propose to you and have a family with you, it was all mapped out in his mind.

but he didn’t think that just getting the role won’t help, he’s going to have to fill in the shoes of one of the biggest roles in the industry.

he was foolish enough to think he wouldn’t have to put in too much work to fill them out.

and he didn’t expect whatever was going on with him and hyejin, not even in his wildest dreams.

you were always his ride or die, someone, he could never forget and he hated himself for even looking at someone else through tainted eyes.

he can’t go further with hyejin, not even if it’s maddening to ignore the desires itching at his heart.

his thoughts are interrupted when a soft hand is placed on his shoulder, jimin doesn’t have to turn around to know that it’s hyejin.

“are you okay?” her tone is just as soft as her touch, and jimin looks at her with a bored face, his problems could have never looked more beautiful. “did you forget something?” his rude tone isn’t lost on her but she sits down beside him, which confuses jimin.

“it was hard for me too” she starts and jimin scoffs, he couldn’t believe that she was lying straight to his face. he had seen her practice and she never showed any signs of struggling. “i dance the way i do because i have put in precious time into it” she continues and jimin straightens up to listen to her. “the amount of practice i do, is punishing for my body. i held onto that harsh realization for a while but without punishing it, i can’t do better than i already am.”

it’s grim, love and passion just aren’t enough if you want to pursue your art. there’s always a price that comes with doing what you love.

his respect for hyejin skyrockets as she explains how she dances the way she does, but that’s quickly turned to dust when he remembers that he wouldn’t be this miserable if she wasn’t his partner.

didn’t she feel even the slightest bit of guilt for whatever she was doing?

she knew he was a taken man after all.

“that’s insightful, thanks” jimin’s reply is dry and he looks away after that, he fully expects her to scoff in his face and walk away so imagine his surprise when she giggles at him.

he cocks his eyebrow at her, waiting for her to explain what’s so hilarious about his clear frustration. hyejin sighs with a soft smile before turning to fully face jimin. “come on” she extends her hand to him and he looks at it questioningly, hyejin doesn’t wait for an answer as she takes his hand in hers and pulls him up.

again, jimin tries to convince himself that he doesn’t like it but he does nothing to move away or take his hand back.

“we will practice together and only go home when we can’t move a muscle” hyejin announces, letting his hand go to fix her ponytail and she smiles widely when jimin keeps his hand open for her to take again with a dumb look on his face. “don’t worry about meeting anyone’s expectations for now, just focus on me and the music, you have it in you jimin, you just have to believe your talent here.” jimin melts at her words.

you.

you used to talk to him this way whenever he was down.

oh my god, you.

what is he doing?

for that one second, you are everywhere in his mind, every nook and cranny of his brain crowds with thoughts of you and jimin feels unsteady again, but with one more tug from hyejin, everything he knows about you disappears just as quickly.

when they get close again, she isn’t the first one to smile this time, he already has a budding smile on his lips and it gets wider every second he holds her close to him. once again, they’re face to face and jimin sees you in her.

his grip falters as her grip tightens, her hands leaving his arms to caress the back of his neck before subtly bringing his ear close to her lips.

“we could be bigger together, everyone would die to have us in their show, we could do so much together, just imagine the sheer volume of applause they would shower us with,” she whispers to him and jimin listens like a snake to a snake charmer, he can only hear her.

together.

he believes in together, but that was with you.

you and him were supposed to be big together.

jimin looks at the floor, his arms loosening almost completely from hyejin and she frowns.

why couldn’t he see what she saw for them?

why couldn’t he see that he wouldn’t go too far with you? that with her, he could have the world laying itself in front of him? that together, they could run the industry without lifting a finger?

her last words to him have him convinced, she says it slow, she says it like the challenge she is and jimin finally lets himself say fuck it as he pulls her towards him, he knows from the smirk on her face that she doesn’t feel guilty at all, she rather enjoys it.

but jimin is no better when he matches her smirk.

“don’t fight what you feel for me jimin, you won’t win.”

it was the most perfect practice jimin had ever had.

-

that day, jimin stumbles into your home, feeling disoriented among other things. he can’t believe himself, he can’t believe his behavior, the only thing he’s grateful for is that nothing went beyond some groping.

but he shouldn’t be, that’s a pathetic thing to be grateful for. and it wasn’t innocent groping either, he knew he had done and fucked up everything.

“you’re home!” your cheery voice from a distance makes his step stutter, his heart resting unsettled and forming a dull ache.

how could he do this to you?

his face almost betrays him when you come into view. your smile is huge as you skip towards him, he guesses you had another successful day at work and his heart blooms with pride.

you have always been so good at everything you do, very much like hyejin in that sense.

no, no.

hyejin is like you when it comes to working only, you aren’t like hyejin in any sense though, you wouldn’t play with jimin’s feelings and mind the way hyejin did.

you look so happy, so oblivious to what he’s done and jimin doesn’t feel like he deserves to even look at you at that moment.

but he can’t be too obvious so he accepts your open arms and cheek kisses with a forced, broad smile on his face even if everything in him feels heavy with guilt.

“i got out of set early today, we only had minor things to take care of but you won’t believe how well everything is coming along. oh, and what is that you’re holding?” you grab the plastic bag hanging off his hands, immediately being greeted by the smell of your favorite food; wonton soup and tempura shrimp.

jimin couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d done, so bringing you your favorite food was a very underwhelming way to reassure himself that your relationship will be okay.

you squeal happily, taking the bag into the kitchen and thanking jimin a million times over your shoulder, telling him that you were just getting worried about dinner and that he’s your savior in a silly tone. jimin follows your steps, head hung low because again, you have no clue about what he’s done but he does. he remembers it all too well and has the very sudden urge to wash hyejin’s touch off his skin, but it will be in vain.

“don’t fight what you feel for me jimin, you won’t win.”

“jimin!” he hears loudly, his head snapping up to meet your worried eyes. “are you okay, my love?” you approach him with a slight pout on your lips, and jimin gulps when you hold his hands in yours. “you’ve been awfully quiet, is everything alright?” the soothing circles you draw on his skin and your downturned eyes filled with love, only drown in his heart in more sorrow.

he wishes he could tell you; he wishes he could cry into your arms and beg for forgiveness because jimin doesn’t know what else to do, he doesn’t know who else to go to.

with no response from him, you assume that he’s had a bad day at practice, he usually put himself through a lot of self-doubt and hate whenever he messed up during practice. “let’s eat dinner, yeah? and then we can watch your favorite animated movie, boss baby, would you like that?” he lets a small smile slip at the mention of his comfort movie and you take that as a sign to guide him to the dinner table with you.

as you start eating, you remind him that your anniversary is soon when you gush about these new cakes you two should try out this time and jimin feels sick to the stomach that he forgot about your precious anniversary which was approaching soon, it was always such a big deal for you both.

he might not spend another anniversary with you.

you fill him in on every detail from your play, that everything’s going great, the crew are incredible and responsive to your ideas and vision. jimin lets himself forget about what he did as he listens to you narrate things to him with the most excited look on your face.

“oh speaking of dancers, you never told me what your white swan is like” you innocently shove a forkful of food into your mouth, completely missing the way jimin’s fork falls on his plate with a thud.

he was not expecting that and he suddenly felt like the air around him got hard to breathe, how is he supposed to tell you what his white swan is actually like?

“she’s..alright” he offers with a shrug, trying to act nonchalant.

correction, trying to act like he didn’t kiss her.

you raise your eyebrows at him, clearly with no clue as to why he’s so unenthusiastic to talk about his partner. “is she giving you a hard time or something?” jimin almost lets out a mocking laugh at that sentence, that was one way to put the absolute hell she was putting him through.

but he quickly comes to the grim realization that she only put him through what he allowed her to.

it’s on him.

"no, she’s good at what she does.” she’s good at making me forget that i have to come home to you.

his short and dry responses mildly frustrate you but you don’t say anything, not wanting to make his day worse with your questions.

“jimin, are you sure everything’s okay?” you whisper to him when you’re later cuddling on the couch with boss baby playing in front of you. your concern for him stays from hours ago but he does his best to give you his brightest smile.

“don’t worry about me, i’ll be okay.” you should start worrying about yourself, he bitterly thinks as he kisses your temple and holds you closer in his arms.

who knows how much longer you will stay in his arms?

-

“heading home early?” your set producer asks as you start to pack things up for the day, you grin and nod in reply, there was no way anything could make you hide how excited you were for today.

“now, what’s got you so happy?” the choreographer brushes past you with a teasing smile, “it’s me and my boyfriend’s 6^th anniversary today” you reply, the smile on your face never faltering, “boyfriend as in park jimin, right?” you happily hum in response and then everyone on set including the dancers, who are supposed to be practicing, make it their mission to tease you.

someone yells about how he hasn’t put a ring on it after so long and even if you laugh it off, you really do wonder why jimin hasn’t proposed to you yet.

“alright, alright, i’m leaving for today. if you need anything, send me a message!” you wave all of them goodbye and get into your car, the butterflies in your stomach fluttered gently at the thought of spending the rest of the day with jimin. it’s been so long since you spent proper time with him, both of you got so busy with your own work that you barely spent three hours together on a daily basis.

but you were positive that you would make up for all the lost time today. on your way home, you picked up the decorations and food, it was a tradition that jimin would bring the cake and you hoped that he would bring your favorite.

as you start setting up the balloons and streamers, you turn to see the time, it was already half past 7. your face falls into a small frown because jimin should’ve been home by now, you always met up at 7 and finished decoration together.

however, you reasoned to yourself that practice probably kept him late and decided to have everything ready by the time he’s home.

that time never comes.

your heart slips with each passing second that he doesn’t show up, you sit in a pretty dress on your couch with a sick feeling churning in your stomach that something doesn’t feel right, your fingers nervously play with the necklace hanging on your collarbones as you wait.

it was already 10.

jimin wasn’t answering your calls or messages.

you lay on your side and watch the clock tick by, jumping at any sound to see if jimin was home or not, and every sound was anything but him. you felt tired as you watched the minutes pass by.

for the first time, you felt unsure about the faith and trust you’ve put in jimin, it was for a brief second that you questioned every single one of his actions leading up to today but you snap yourself out of it.

jimin would never do anything to hurt you.

right?

jimin rushes out of his car, slamming the door and hurriedly locking it as he adjusts his jackets and makes his way upstairs to your home.

fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

jimin’s internal panic rises with each second, he really doesn’t think he can go lower in life than this. he shoves the key in with more force than he intended and pushes the door open, almost stumbling over his own feet as he makes quick, hurried steps to the living room.

his eyes fall on you soundly sleeping on the couch, he breaths out a sigh and leans against where you’re sleeping and on instinct, starts brushing your hair back as he fondly watches your lips naturally being in a pout.

is he really willing to lose everything he has right now just for a future that he’s not sure will be there?

his hand drops against your hair when he takes in how the living room was decorated in a lively way, he purses his lips as his eyes wander around every detail that you have put so much heart into and jimin felt like he failed you.

he turns back to you as you stir in your sleep and eventually open your eyes. jimin notices the relief flood in your expression when you see him.

“you’re home” you mutter so quietly that if jimin didn’t strain to hear you, it would have sounded like gibberish.

“of course i am” he smiles uneasily which doesn’t go unnoticed by you, but you get up anyway and jimin follows your movements as you sit upright on the couch.

you used to be so sure, that no matter where jimin goes, he will come back to you but something about tonight destroys that belief to tatters. and you hate yourself for going so extreme over one night but you can’t ignore your gut instinct telling you that something was very wrong.

you turn to look at the time.

3:00 A.M.

it was way past the time you and jimin agreed to meet but you didn’t want to ask him why he was late, you expect him to tell you himself, he owes you that much. but jimin doesn’t say anything either and he doesn’t even look at your face as you try to meet his eyes.

“did you bring our cake?” it was a simple question but to you, it was asking him if he actually remembered anything about today.

when he gulps and further lowers his head, you have your answer. and that answer falls like a rock in your heart.

“do you even remember what today is?” your voice is tired and laced with irritation but you don’t speak loudly, you don’t want to fight with him.

please tell me you remember.

“happy….anniversary” he offers pathetically and you want to scoff in his face at his lame reply. you were so excited for today; you hadn’t stopped daydreaming about tonight since a week ago and all of that crumbled down in a second.

“anniversary’s over.” with that, you get off the couch with unshed tears and start clearing the glasses filled with wine from the table. jimin watches quietly, the only sounds in the air being your light sniffles and glasses clinking.

he feels like he should say something.

“i didn’t mean to forget about our day,” he starts and when you don’t look at him as he speaks, he continues with an unsure tone, “practice just got so hectic and we were learning all these new moves at once, they didn’t let me go even when i begged.”

lies.

all lies.

there was no practice today, the choreographer had fallen sick so they just went over routines they already knew and everyone was let go in the early evening.

and let’s be real, no practice lasts till 3 in the night.

you honestly would’ve believed jimin until he said the last part.

jimin never begs anyone, and he was the heart of the show, a highly qualified and decorated dancer, if he wanted to be let off for one day, you know that no one would dare to say no to him.

but you let him lie because you can’t press him for a truth that he’s not willing to give you.

you continue to remain silent, moving to the kitchen and sighing as your eyes fall on the food that’s now cold, and jimin sees it too as he follows you in. the guilt that subdued because of his almost convincing lie returned with a vengeance, all this food must have been hard to prepare and the atmosphere remains heavy as you slide the plates into a trash can with a grim expression on your face.

you can’t shake the feeling of something being wrong, you also can no longer hold back the tears that cascade down your face. jimin is quick to rush to your side, making you sit down and lean against him.

“can you at least promise me that you’ll be there for my play?” you whimper, as you hold onto his arm and jimin nods immediately while pulling you in for a hug.

even his hug feels off to you.

“of course, i will, where else would i be?”

where were you today?

the question is at the tip of your tongue, ready to be released but you don’t say a word, you pat his arm in a signal to release you, and jimin watches with sorrowful eyes as you retreat into your bathroom. once the door is closed, you sink down on the floor with your hand on your mouth to muffle your sobs.

you don’t fully get why you’re crying. you’re tired from running all day and getting things done as quickly as you could to reach home for an anniversary party that jimin didn’t even bother coming to, you felt pathetic for putting in all that effort for nothing.

on the other side of the door, jimin hears your whimpers with downcast eyes and raises his hand to knock and hold you all night. but he pauses with his hand raised halfway, he takes a deep breath before stepping away. he doesn’t think he deserves to comfort you after what he did today.

jimin slowly walks to the huge vanity mirror in your room and pulls down his turtleneck to inspect the dark, blooming red patches splattered on his neck and he hates them.

jimin can’t believe what he’s become.

he can’t believe what he let hyejin do to him today either.

his hand hesitates to reach and graze those spots, wincing at the sensitivity. in some twisted way, he wishes for more of them to stain him but it’s not your mark that he wants, not anymore.

all jimin can think of is hyejin’s fingers brushing on his chest and asking him to stay for the night and how he almost agreed till he remembered which day it was.

he knows you’re hurt that he wasn’t there for the anniversary but your wails are just background noise to him at this point.

jimin can’t believe that he’s going to hurt you even more.

-

you stir as bright sunlight falls on your face, you curse to yourself before burying your head in the pillow with a groan. you still feel tired, and your entire body aches even if you slept quite well.

quite well is an exaggeration really, you kept waking up in cold sweat throughout the night because of dreams in which jimin left you, only after reaffirming that he was indeed next to you, did you fall back asleep.

the smell of fresh bread and coffee fills the air which makes you turn on your back, eyes popping from under the cover to take a look as your stomach grumbles involuntarily, reminding you that you didn’t eat anything last night. you see jimin standing there with a nervous smile and a tray covered in different delicacies in his hands.

your heart flutters as you take in the view, you missed waking up to him.

“good morning” he hums in a sweet tone and you sit up, allowing him to place the tray in front of you, it had all your favorites. you don’t greet him in return, your hurt from last night was still too fresh to forget.

“is this an apology?” your tone is as bitter as you feel and jimin hesitantly sits in front of you. “it’s also my attempt at celebrating our anniversary the way it deserves to be celebrated” he mumbles, albeit shamefully as he pulls out candles to stick on the lovely cupcake sitting in the center of the tray.

something about the sunshine falling on his pastel sweater and his hands carefully lighting the candles as his tongue sticks out a little in concentration, something about that sight is enough to forgive him in your heart. but he doesn’t need to know that.

when he looks up with his breathtaking smile and a gesture to blow out the candles, you almost completely forget what he put you through last night.

“i still haven’t forgiven you.” you lie with arms crossing your chest after blowing the candles and jimin nods in acceptance. “i don’t expect to be forgiven so easily babe but i’ll narrate a scene to you and we can make it happen if you want to forgive me.” he speaks softly, with tender loving laced in his voice as he pulls your hands from the defensive stance they’ve taken against your chest, easily breaking every barrier you’ve built to protect yourself.

“let’s say we go to lunch, it’s in the outskirts of the city, in that restaurant surrounded by vineyards that you like so much. you can wear your prettiest dress and i will try to match up on your beauty, i know i’ll fail but a guy’s gotta try, right?” he says with a teasing smirk, you chuckle bashfully as your entire body leaps in newly regained energy, your heart is already so hopeful.

“and then we can go to that bookstore you like or that ice cream parlor you like, really anywhere you want to go. we can come back home or we can stay out all night and go stargazing by the beach. today, we’ll properly celebrate us, okay?” you are all heart eyes as you nod with the biggest smile on your face and he breaks into a large grin himself at your agreement, putting away the tray and immediately pulling you into a bear hug. “i’ll think about forgiving you at the end of today.” you mumble into his neck jokingly and he breaks away with a playful glare.

“that’s just not fair, what do you mean you’ll just think about it?” he whines with a pout on his face and you giggle at his frustration. “oh, you find this so funny, don’t you?” he narrows his eyes at you for a minute before his hands leap to tickle you, you fall back on the bed with breathy laughter and squeals, jimin joins in the laughter as his hands tickle you everywhere he remembers you to be ticklish.

it all looks perfect. it looks like you and jimin again.

but perfection doesn’t hide what jimin did.

jimin’s ringtone blasts through the otherwise giggly and lovingly dizzy environment. you both look back at the phone, and jimin bundles you in his arms as he sits up to answer the phone. you smile childishly and poke his nose to annoy him as he tries to talk to whoever is on the other line, you don’t notice how stiff his entire expression suddenly becomes through his hesitant chuckles at you.

“wait, right now?” your fingers pause on his face as your smile immediately drops, jimin’s hold on you loosens as he continues to talk, and the rush you felt from before escapes your body as quickly as it came. you get off his lap and drop your head back on your pillow as you hear jimin sigh in agreement.

you should’ve known.

“who was it?” you mumble into the sheets and jimin gulps, “the choreographer” he shows you the call history, you don’t understand why but for jimin, it’s his way of trying to make you believe him.

he knew hyejin would call at some point and he couldn’t risk you knowing anything about her at all so as soon as things got not-so-innocent between them, he saved her contact as the choreographer.

the tension in the air is palpable when you don’t say a word, you don’t need to though, your disappointment is evident and jimin does not know what to say, he can’t say no to hyejin but he feels horrible enough for what he’s doing to you, he was hoping that he could salvage some emotion from today but nothing seems to go his way these days.

“babe…they’re saying it’s urgent.” she says we need each other to lap up the industry.

“just go, jimin” you groan out, you’re frustrated and tired and you just want to know why you can’t have him for one day. “i’m really sor-“ he starts but you’re quick to cut him off. “just go.” your voice is strained and defeated as your heart continues to drown in the disappointment of promises he didn’t fulfill.

he purses his lips and almost has the urge to call hyejin and tell her to fuck herself and scream at her for ruining what he already had.

but he won’t.

instead, he will leave you on your shared bed, all alone after destroying every chance of being with you the same way again. he can’t blame her for the choices he makes because jimin knows what he chose at that moment, it was not you.

it will never be you from now on.

-

for the next couple of weeks, you two barely see each other. frankly, you wanted to fix things as soon as possible, but your work got so much more hectic than you had anticipated. there were so many moving pieces to be decided by you and you didn’t have the time or energy to worry about your relationship but it was always in the back of your mind.

you figured you both would eventually work it out.

“today’s my play, it starts at 6 in the evening” it’s one of the few full sentences you tell jimin in so long. you’re eating breakfast together after a ridiculous time apart and you felt like you had to remind him about one of the biggest milestones in your life.

“i remember, of course, i will be there.” he says with a small smile and you smile back because somewhere in you, you so badly hope that whatever this phase you and jimin were going through, would end soon and you could go back to waking up to his beaming face every morning.

but that hope comes crashing down on you as stand behind the velvet curtain and fiddle with the cloth, trying to spot jimin in the dazzling full crowd.

“hey, did you perhaps see park jimin in there?” you stop and ask a crew member who simply shakes their head and runs off to get everything ready to start the play. even as the music starts, you can’t think of anything else, you barely enjoy the work that you have crafted over the months, you don’t feel a thing as everyone cheers and hugs at the end of it.

he missed your play; he actually missed the most important thing in your life right now.

“oh my god!” you hear someone loudly exclaim which snaps you out of your trance, turning around to see jimin run into the small back room with flowers in his hands. “it’s park jimin, bet he’s here for our director” a hushed whisper passes you by and everyone pats you with teasing smiles as they leave the room but you can’t bring yourself to smile back.

before jimin can even utter a word, you’re already making your way out the door. you are seething with anger, every exhale of yours louder than the previous one as you stomped your way out of the room with jimin hot on your tail.

“wait, i can explain!” he yells loudly as he grabs your arm and you pause because you see a few people from your crew in the same corridor. “you can explain when we are out of my workplace, do you get that?” your loyalty to professionalism slipped jimin’s mind and he hesitantly lets go of your arm, he watches as you politely greet and thank everyone before taking heavy steps out of the building.

“are you really going to not even look at me?” jimin glances at your side profile as you stop at a red light, the air in the car got heavier with each second you two didn’t acknowledge the other. but as you keep waiting, jimin keeps getting more anxious because if your relationship was going to end, he didn’t want it to happen this way.

“i’m saying i’m sorry, i seriously am very sorry for missing your play, it’s just practice got hectic and it completely slipped my mi-“ jimin frantically makes excuses and pauses at his grave error. he knows he’s said the worst thing he could when you turn to him with dead eyes.

“slipped your mind? my biggest career milestone so far, slipped your mind?” you bitterly chuckle and jimin gulps, sinking in his seat. “it’s been very busy” he meekly offers and he knows he deserves the scoff you let out.

“what could keep you so busy, jimin? you didn’t come to our anniversary, fine, it was whatever, i was hurt and i didn’t think much of it because i know how important practice is to you. but i can’t sit here and keep excusing every shitty thing you do and if it really is practice, don’t fucking push yourself so much. and do not expect me to let you go all the time!” he lets you scream your frustration out, it was clear you didn’t want to listen to him. he doesn’t say a word even when you reach home and silently sit on the couch, whatever frustration you felt turned into thin air as you realized what this meant.

“you missed my first ever direction” you whisper as jimin sits down next to you and he pauses, taking a deep breath because jimin really didn’t think he would let it get this far.

“i know” he admits, too ashamed to look at you so he looks at the carpeted floor and shuts his eyes when he hears your breath choking.

he shouldn’t have let it get this far, he shouldn’t have believed hyejin when she said that together, they could turn their lives and careers around, saying he had the name and she had the connections. and it would work, it is still supposed to work.

but how is jimin going to achieve whatever hyejin has promised him if you are not there in his life?

no, no.

heneedshyejin.

he just wants you, for his own selfish reasons.

hyejin made sure to remind him of how he would come running after her if they didn’t continue what they had.

“i can’t believe you didn’t come to my debut as a director, we’re supposed to do everything together jimin, what is going on?” your voice hitches here and there as tears fall down your face because you don’t, for the love of god, understand what’s happening with your relationship.

together; the word used to mean so much to him, it meant a future with you, it meant you to him but now, it’s just another word that has lost its meaning somewhere along the way.

i can’t believe it either, jimin bitterly thinks. he snaps himself out of his thoughts when he hears your sobs get louder.

“hey, hey, come here” he holds your shoulder and presses you against his body, letting you cry into his chest. you hate that you’re crying after such a successful day in your career. the play went perfectly, the crew and audience were singing praises of you but nothing in your personal life was adding up.

“you would never do anything to hurt me, right?” jimin’s heart stops as you softly ask him, looking up at him with teary eyes, you don’t know why you ask him but you need to be sure of that one thing, if not anything else. his hand that was rubbing your arms in an attempt to console you, stop in a jerk and his heart drops to his stomach at the way you’re looking at with so much vulnerability.

“why would i?” he nervously smiles, and even if it would have looked unconvincing to you usually, your fragile heart just accepted the false reassurance he gave you.

he’ll find a way to make it up to you, jimin thinks to himself. someday, he will wake up and think of you as he used to, and not hyejin. someday, he will start writing you love letters again instead of apologies. someday, jimin will find himself that loved you so much and everything will be okay again.

-

you stay home a lot, either worrying about your relationship or attending calls with future acts and partnerships. you felt blessed that at least your professional life was looking up.

but you missed jimin a lot, you offered to watch him practice and meet with his crew, and all those times, jimin immediately refused before backing it up with some lame excuse. you don’t push him though; you know that the play is weighing heavily on his mind with how silent he got around the home but you didn’t know that he was actually thinking of ways to let you down slowly.

he never ends up telling you.

before either of you know it, the day of jimin’s play arrives, he leaves home early and you’re left buzzing with excitement at home to finally see jimin as the black swan on stage.

you hummed as you got ready with a faint smile on your face, you were happy to see the play but you were actually happier that once it’s over, you could finally talk things out with jimin and build your relationship again together. you wanted him to know you forgave him, you consoled the angry part of you that there would be even more to look forward to in the future.

you carry this renewed hope all the way to the grand theatre where everyone looked and were expensive in every sense, the black swan wasn’t open for just everyone, it was a highly exclusive guest list and you couldn’t care less about all the glamours, you wanted to see the black swan himself and his white swan, who you were more than curious about.

you clutch the flowers in your hand tighter in anticipation as you take your seat and the lights start dimming away. and you let out an audible gasp when you see the white swan starting the stage, she’s a strong woman adorned with wings that look as pure as her but you could notice that shift in her eyes, the shift between passion and madness. you watch with wide eyes as she falls down, dragging her feet along the stage, begging the floor and her body to dance again before she’s pulled away.

and that’s when your breath is truly taken away. because jimin enters with onyx wings and smudged black eyes as she is being dragged away, and when jimin twirls on stage, the crowd holds their breath, not a single person wanting to forget how magically he moved on stage.

it’s the next scene that reels you in because the white and black swan are so close, you can’t even tell where the white swan begins and the black swan ends, it’s like the child-like purity and innocence dance right along with the absolute submission to your craft and the consequences that come with it.

you shift uncomfortably at the proximity the two share which was weird, you have never felt this way with any of his other dancers but something about the way they looked at each other, as they moved together, irked you.

but you don’t have time to think, the music becomes louder and louder, invading your senses fully and signaling finality to the play and the swans move quicker, sharper, and closer. your eyes burn with newfound jealousy as they finally leap into the sky, both their bodies remaining graceful even in the air with arms wrapped around each other, only to fall back down together, the music ceases immediately and the curtain falls on their heavy breathing but unmoving bodies.

the theatre is silent for a beat or two, everyone trying to encapsulate the truly terrific performance they just saw, and then the silence is replaced with the loudest applause you have ever heard in your life.

the kind of applause that hyejin promised jimin.

you stay in your seat, still a little dizzy from what you just experienced and you try to ignore the weird feeling in your stomach, trying to reassure yourself that dancing together required the right kind of chemistry and that’s it.

it is not connected to the many nights jimin has not come home, it is not connected to him suddenly insisting to do his own laundry, it is definitely not connected to him missing your anniversary and debut as a director.

it can’t be, jimin wouldn’t do that to you.

but your gut knows that something is terribly wrong and you’ve missed something huge from the past couple of months.

you slowly walk to where the reporters stand, hoping to see jimin and they all chatter loudly, preparing every question in their mind to ask the stars of the night, you nervously hold your bouquet close as you keep walking to the stage.

and your steps pause.

because jimin and hyejin, now free of costumes but with their theatrical makeup, step out from behind the curtains while holding hands with beaming smiles on their faces.

you tilt your head in confusion because jimin’s never held any of his dance partners’ hands when they walk out, your gut instinct pulls at you and just as you’re about to shrug it off, hyejin leans in for a kiss with jimin.

the camera flashes go off, all the reporters wildly shouting at them to pose and your blood runs cold, your body remains completely still as you watch them pull away with adoration in their eyes. you almost recoil from the sight as you feel the breath knocked out of you, you want to get away from this because it can’t be your jimin on the stage kissing someone else.

“are you two finally confirming the rumors?” a reporter yells on the top of his lungs.

what rumors?

hyejin rests her head on jimin’s chest with a happy nod, the questions come in rapid speed after that.

your heart submerges in pure betrayal because this was jimin, he was your day one, he was the reason you fought to stay alive in this industry for so long, he was supposed to be your future, you never imagined growing older without jimin by your side.

you look at jimin, trying to meet his eyes, trying to get him to explain what was happening and why he was holding her the way he was, why was he looking at her like he looked at you? but he doesn’t spare you a glance, he only has eyes for the woman latched onto his torso.

you feel sick.

you feel sick and angry as your vision fills with red.

you see red, all you see is dirty, dark, spilled and stained red clouding your mind and you hate that your gut was right, it’s been right from the very beginning. each time jimin didn’t come, it wasn’t because he was working hard, it was because he bought into every fantasy hyejin narrated to him but you don’t know that.

jimin finally meets your gaze, his heart racing a million miles as he senses the full force of betrayal and disappointment in your eyes, he also sees raging anger which has him looking away from you. even standing here with everything that hyejin promised, jimin doesn’t feel good, he’s like a shell, he doesn’t feel the same warmth in his heart that he does after every performance.

for a split moment, jimin doesn’t want what hyejin is giving him but he hesitates and hyejin always knows when jimin hesitates, so as soon as his grip loosens around her hand and she knows where he’s looking, she tightens her hold and gives him a tight smile.

“i told you, there’s no use fighting me, jimin. not anymore” she whispers sweetly into his ear with a grin, it would look like she was being an affectionate lover but jimin senses the warning in her tone.

so, he resists fighting anyway.

the thing is, jimin could fight, he could search desperately for a part of him that loved you but he chooses not to, he chooses to give you up.

she feels like you anyway and he’s already lost you; he can’t lose everything else too, especially not this loud applause and flashing cameras, jimin cannot risk giving his career up to god.

so when he glances back at you and the crumbling bouquet in your hand with pity on his face, you deem him a coward.

a coward for hiding behind hyejin, a coward for not ending things with you the way you both deserved, a coward for lying every single time you needed honesty from him, and a coward for looking at you with pity when he was more pitiable.

but you can’t help but feel like you were just as much a coward like him. a coward for not confronting him about his odd behavior earlier, a coward for not wanting to know why exactly he wasn’t coming home, a coward for forgiving him for the sake of keeping your relationship intact, and you feel ashamed of yourself.

once it becomes clear to you that jimin wasn’t yours’ anymore, you gather the energy to walk out of the theatre with your head held high because you are not the liar here, you didn’t stomp on someone’s heart so you will crumble only when you’re alone again.

and jimin stays right beside hyejin, while trying to ignore the sinking feeling his heart puts him through as he watches you leave through his periphery, he shudders as the door shuts behind you and he

Domestic Chaos | Park Jimin One Shot

✙Pairing:Husband! Jimin x fem reader

✙Genre: Fluff, Established relationship! au, Dad! Jimin au, Slice of life.

✙Word Count:1.8k

✙Summary: Minjun turns 1 but Jimin is far away.

✙a/n: this is a continuation of the events of Domestic Bliss

*:･ﾟ✧ all rights reserved©

Jimin was outside of Korea for work, he was in a business 3 day trip in Thailand promoting his brand, the trip has been delayed for a few weeks so he had to pack his things up last minute and go, you usually support him in whatever he does but you were not ok this time he left because the trip was dangerously close to your youngest son first birthday and as usual it was huge celebration with family and friends, all planned by your mother in law, he was supposed to arrive back home two days prior the event so it wasn’t on the deadline but deep inside your instinct was telling you that things would not go as planned.

And indeed you were not wrong, in the morning making breakfast for the kids the second day he was gone you turn on the news, for your surprise and horror, a big storm shut down everything and the airport was closed until the weather was safe to fly, you almost dropped Myungkyu’s plate, later that day after taking your eldest in school and Nakyum in kindergarden leaving you with your almost one year old Minjun in the house, you gave him his bottle and he took a nap, now with complete privacy you facetimed your husband, he picked up the call few seconds later.

He as per usual looked hot as hell but a little tired as well, he gave you a shy smile, implicitly you both knew what going to happen, and he being the one absent you could tell that he was a little bit guilty about it.

“Hi babe, I saw the news how’s everything over there?” you asked him worried.

“Hi my love, I’m ok, I mean the weather is crazy outside, all my plans are cancelled, but yeah” he said looking around his hotel room “How’s my boy?” you knew he was referring to Minjun.

“Asleep, thanks heaven” you responded “I saw that the airports are closed, you think you can make it home on time?”  you knew the answer but still you needed some assurance.

“I’m so sorry, my darling, I know it’s going to be stressful but i can’t do anything about the weather condition.”

You shouldn’t be mad about this, but you didn’t like the idea of this big celebration all by your own, especially when you didn’t even want all this, your mother-in-law was the one planning everything, she did this with your other kids as well.

“And I’m sorry for missing out our little Minjun’s first birthday” he added “it hurts me not being there for that special moment, but It kills me seeing you dealing with this by own with so much stress” he looked down serious, Jimin really mean it.

“Gosh I wished I had stopped your mom before she decided to make this big party, I mean, our other kids don’t remember theirs, Minjun will not remember this! is that big of a deal if we don’t do it this time?!” you said frustrated grabbing your hair.

“You how my mom is, she goes overboard, it doesn’t hurt anybody” He suddenly said in defensive mode, if you know something is that Jimin is a mama’s boy, they are so close, and their relationship was cute to you, but sometimes just sometimes, you wished that his mom could stay on line on some matters, because Jimin let her do whatever she wants and that created tension that was building up.

“It affects me, honestly Jimin” you reminded him “Like we just move out, house still renovating, kids on school plus activities, one hyperactive toddler and a baby, throwing a big party was the fucking cherry on top and you are not even gonna be here!” you wanted to cry out of frustration but you didn’t want to Jimin seeing you like that because you know he would try to deviate the conversation to comfort you and you don’t needed that right now, that could be done when he comes back, right now you wanted to vent.

“You didn’t had to lift a finger to organize this party, it was my mom in charge of everything and you know why?, because she knew that you were busy, she is not doing this because she wants to be an insensitive cunt, so why don’t you appreciate her efforts!” he said that in louder tone that you didn’t like at all.

“Watch your mouth, the point of all of this is that this party was no needed at all Jimin, we could had perfectly done something small and special for a freaking 1 year old! She didn’t HAD to get involved!” you bite back, his eyes became darker, you knew this was his sign of getting mad.

“My mom is such a monster, oh no she wants to do a party for her grandson, she is so awful, I can’t believe it” he said sarcastically, you rolled your eyes at his response.

“Jimin shut the fuck up, we are having this conversation in the first place because you don’t know how to say no to your mom” you spited at him, he had to know the truth after all, he seamed taken aback at your words.

“Be careful, I would not tolerate any disrespect towards my mom or other member of my family” he warned lifting a finger pointing to you, you crossed your arms.

“I’m your family too!” you almost yelled.

“Yes, but my mom is not talking shit about you at your back, isn’t she?” he said bitterly.

“Its not talking shit if I’m stating a fact, you literally let your mom do whatever, and I love Mijeong, but it’s your mom and I can’t be the one setting the limits, that is your job” you hit a nerve because he made that sound with his mouth that he does when he is irritated or when he knew he lost the argument.

“Yeah whatever, but the party it’s happening anyway, so why are you making things difficult?” he said playing with his fingers, you felt irritated at his statement.

“I could get through this if at least you were present, but now I would have to go alone to your friends and family asking me if Minjun is the last one, or referring me to good doctors to not get pregnant again, because that’s how they think of me, like I’m so dumb getting knocked up again and again.” There it is you said it, you let it out of your chest, the thing is that you were terrified to be left alone with his friends specially his friends wives, they were clearly accustomed to a more hedonistic lifestyle, travelling, shopping, partying, only two of them had kids, Taehyung and Hoseok, they had two and one respectively, and their wives were more empathic towards you, you know by their questions and gestures that they pity you at some level, because you have 4 kids and were not able at the moment to do all the things that you enjoyed, and lately you feeling a little miserable because of the pressure, you would feel a little better though if you had your own friends by your side but your mother in law only extended the invitation to your immediate family and that was it.

His eyes opened up, and his mouth parted a little, he brushed with his fingers pink strands of hair that were on his face.

“Who said that to you?” he asked serious.

“Jimin they don’t have to say it directly to me, but probably at the party without you around they might not be so subtle” you told him brushing your arm with your hand.

“If that happens you tell that to me, and they would have to repeat it to my face if they are so brave” he said in a low tone ”You understand that, my love?” you barely nodded.

“Look at me, yn” you did what he said “Our children, all of them, are our blessing, they are so wanted and loved, and every one of their needs are met, and most important their parents love each other intensely, we have four because we want to and we are able to, I’m not and I will not regret ever having any of our children, you might kill me, but I really don’t mind having another one when Minjun is a few years old, I love our family and I love you” he said without hesitation or doubt, which made your heart full with joy.

“I love you, Jimin but you are right I might kill you because you are crazy if you think we can handle a 5th child” you joked, he smiled at you, that imperfect sweet smile that you adored so much.

“You are in charge of course, you have the final word” he added “I hate to fight with you, I hate myself more for not stopping earlier and validate your discomfort” he said.

“it’s ok you are tired and I’m tired, its natural it happens…” a baby’s crying interrupted you, it seamed that Minjun woke up from his nap “Wait a sec” you stood up and went to look out for your son, the little baby boy calm down when you finally took him in your arms, you went to the living room and seated in front of your phone, Jimin smiling at the sight of his youngest son.

You really thought this time it will be a girl, you were not fixated on it, but you were just a little disappointed, Jimin thought it was funny, but seriously though, Minjun turned out to be just the perfect mix of the two of you, this time taking more of your features than Jimin’s, he was healthy and happy, and it was all that mattered at the end of the day.

“Hello little one” Jimin said to his son “Daddy miss you and your siblings so much”

Minjun smiled recognizing his father’s voice immediately, he gave little jumps.

“I’m sorry for not going to your birthday party, but don’t you worry I’m gonna bring you some gifts” you rolled your eyes at his spoiling tendencies.

You knew Minjun was hungry so you put him on your lap and took your breast out of your strapped tank top, the baby immediately started feeding, the action didn’t go unnoticed by Jimin who watched every move.

“He is very hungry” you said to Jimin, who nodded fixated on your breast.

“Babe?” he call for you.

“yeah?” you responded without looking at him.

“Mind me if I call you later in the night, for some private time” he had this almost raspy voice, that made you raise an eyebrow because you knew exactly what he was referring to.

“Maybe…if they kids go to bed early” you said to him giving him the look that he knew so well.

“Can’t wait”

You hang up the call minutes later blowing Jimin a kiss and he saying goodbye.    

———————–

might write what happens in the late videocall between yn and Jimin (smut) comment if you want to read it.

no big deal

･ . ⋆ ･ . ⋆ ･ . ⋆ ･ . ⋆ ･ . ⋆ ･ . ⋆ ･ . ⋆ ･ . ⋆ ･ . ⋆ ･ . ⋆ ･

➻ yn just got out of a bad relationship and it’s in the “I hate men” phase, the last thing she needs is a new guy in her life… but what happens when she meets Park Jimin, a sweet and gorgeous guy that makes her heart beats faster than a drum? Will she be ready to trust again?

au masterlist

a/n: sometimes i feel like i put too much in only one chapter..? anyway, i hope you guys like this

taglist:@secretlycrazyhummingbird@chubsjmin@bangpink123@preciouschimine@betysotelo18@questiontotheanswer@tanumiki@fenderbenderr@imluckybitches@vonvi-blog@mcusuperfreak@rjsmochii@hufflepuffspacetraveller@kthstrawberry@prdshobi@belysusonrisa @sesaww @perriwiinkle

ignore him

➻ yn just got out of a bad relationship and it’s in the “I hate men” phase, the last thing she needs is a new guy in her life… but what happens when she meets Park Jimin, a sweet and gorgeous guy that makes her heart beats faster than a drum? Will she be ready to trust again?

au masterlist

a/n: hope you guys like this chapter! and i promise i’ll spice things up in the next one ;)

taglist:@secretlycrazyhummingbird@chubsjmin@bangpink123@preciouschimine@betysotelo18@questiontotheanswer@tanumiki@fenderbenderr@imluckybitches@vonvi-blog@mcusuperfreak@rjsmochii@hufflepuffspacetraveller@kthstrawberry@prdshobi@belysusonrisa @sesaww

next time

･ . ⋆ ･ . ⋆ ･ . ⋆ ･ . ⋆ ･ . ⋆ ･ . ⋆ ･ . ⋆ ･ . ⋆ ･ . ⋆ ･ . ⋆ ･

➻ yn just got out of a bad relationship and it’s in the “I hate men” phase, the last thing she needs is a new guy in her life… but what happens when she meets Park Jimin, a sweet and gorgeous guy that makes her heart beats faster than a drum? Will she be ready to trust again?

au masterlist

taglist:@secretlycrazyhummingbird@chubsjmin@bangpink123@preciouschimine@betysotelo18@questiontotheanswer@tanumiki@fenderbenderr@imluckybitches@vonvi-blog@mcusuperfreak@rjsmochii@hufflepuffspacetraveller@kthstrawberry@prdshobi@belysusonrisa @sesaww @perriwiinkle@notvantaes@harryismygod@jayhope88

can we be friends?

･ . ⋆ ･ . ⋆ ･ . ⋆ ･ . ⋆ ･ . ⋆ ･ . ⋆ ･ . ⋆ ･ . ⋆ ･ . ⋆ ･ . ⋆ ･

➻ yn just got out of a bad relationship and it’s in the “I hate men” phase, the last thing she needs is a new guy in her life… but what happens when she meets Park Jimin, a sweet and gorgeous guy that makes her heart beats faster than a drum? Will she be ready to trust again?

au masterlist

taglist:@secretlycrazyhummingbird@chubsjmin@bangpink123@preciouschimine@betysotelo18@questiontotheanswer@tanumiki@fenderbenderr@imluckybitches@vonvi-blog@mcusuperfreak@rjsmochii@hufflepuffspacetraveller@kthstrawberry@prdshobi@belysusonrisa @sesaww @perriwiinkle@notvantaes@harryismygod@jayhope88

gimmesumsuga:

Pairing: Jimin x reader + others as the story progresses

Warnings: None to note.  

Word count: 2.7K

*Chapter edited as of 11/09/21*

Previous/Next

You’re not exactly sure what you expected a vampire den to look like, but you certainly didn’t expect it to look like this.  You’re completely transfixed by the opulence of your new surroundings; so distracted that you very nearly trip over your own feet as you walk, no hopes of remembering the route you’re taking should you need to find your way back.  Large windows run the length of the hallway, each one covered by thick, red curtains to keep out the fading evening light, and beneath your feet, the polished hardwood floor feels cool.    

“This place is beautiful,” you say, thinking aloud as you gaze up at the ornate moulding that lines the ceilings. 

“Thank you,” Jin smiles, glancing back at you over his shoulder. “We’ve lived here for quite a while.”  How long is ‘quite a while’ for an immortal creature, you wonder?  Ten years?  A hundred?  You’d love to know how old Jin and Hoseok are but asking still seems kind of rude, whether they’re counting the years or not.  

“And no one knows about you?  About what you are?” 

“We try to be discreet,” Hoseok answers quickly from behind.  Jin lets out a derisive snort. 

“Some of us more than others.”  You look back at Hoseok and have to fight the urge to laugh at the sight of him rolling his eyes, turning your head back around just in time to realise Jin’s come to a sudden stop right in front of you before a large wooden door.  He pushes it open without a hint of effort, revealing a large kitchen space in which he immediately sets to work.  

Full of mod-cons and gleaming countertops, its decor is entirely different from the hallway you occupied before; spacious and airy despite the lack of natural light.  Hoseok walks past you while you linger in the doorway, taking it all in, beckoning you to join him as he takes a seat at the long kitchen table that occupies the centre of the room.  Jin’s himself in the monstrously sized fridge-freezer, paying the two of you no mind, and as you cross the room you can’t help but wonder why creatures who don’t actually need to eat - as far as you’re aware, that is - would ever need such an extravagant kitchen.  You pose that exact question as you take a seat next to Hoseok, running your fingertips across the brushed metal tabletop.  

“It’s a hobby,” Hoseok informs you before Jin has even had the chance to open his mouth and reply.  

“But what do you do with all the food if you can’t eat it?”

Keep reading

Another chapter edited

gimmesumsuga:

Pairing: Jimin x reader + others as the story progresses

Warnings: None to note.  

Word count: 2.8K

Previous/Next

*Chapter edited as of 25/08/21*

You’re disorientated when you awake; no clue how long you’ve slept or where you might be. Blinking back the sleep from your eyes, it takes a good few seconds for the previous night’s events to come flooding back; the club, those girls, that near-miss with Hoseok and that possessive look in Jimin’s eyes. Was that last night? With how groggy you feel it wouldn’t surprise you if it’s been a hell of a lot longer than that.

Looking around, you try to make some sense of where you are. You can’t really remember much after Jimin gave you his jacket. You must’ve fallen asleep. Does that mean he carried you here? Is this his room? The thought fills you with a surge of adrenaline, feeling far more awake and alert than you were just a few moments before, heart rate spiking. You try to sit up and immediately regret it when your back protests, settling instead for lifting your head to inspect the pretty midnight blue quilt that covers you. Your bare toes poke out the end and on further inspection, you realise that it’s not a bed you were placed to sleep on but a large, sumptuous chaise lounge.

You let out a groan as you roll onto your side, eyes screwing up tight at the ache of every muscle. Attempting a stretch, you raise your arms above your head, fingers wiggling as you loudly yawn.

“You’re awake.”

Yawning turns into coughing and spluttering as your body lurches into action, sitting up so fast that there are spots in front of your eyes when you first open them to see Jimin sat on the edge of a bed not too far from your own. The suddenness of your movement knocks the quilt from your lap and it’s only once it does that you realise just how little you’re wearing; nothing but your underwear and a t-shirt that’s not your own. Cheeks aflame, you scramble for the quilt, grabbing it from the floor and pulling it over yourself hastily to cease the trailing of Jimin’s gaze across your thighs.

“Good morning to you too,” you mumble, tucking the quilt around you as butterflies swirl in your stomach.

Keep reading

It’s been a while… But I’ve fiiiiiinally managed edit another chapter

btsstan12:

To, My Dearest

Pairings: female reader X Jimin

Summary:Jimin is missing his wife. He is writing her a love letter for her birthday. She will be happy, won’t she? Jimin wished he could see her, but he can’t.

Genre: fluff and angst

Warnings: mentions of death, mental health

Rating:PG-15

Word count: 1.3 K+

A/N:Hello again everyone! I have been trying to write the next chapter for Dwindling Healings, but I am not able to. Till then please enjoy the one-shots and drabbles I’m putting out. I am thankful to Ashley @moonleeai and Natasha @queentiti72from@bangtanwritershq who beta read the story for me.

This is for the square “Love Letters” for the @bangtanwritingbingo spring event, That thing you do. I hope you enjoy the story.

~~~

Jimin sat on his bed with a pen and beautiful peach colored paper again. Your favorite color. He smiled to himself as he looked out of the grilled window. The sky was in a beautiful hue of orange, pink and purple, just like you liked it. How many letters would it be by today? Were you not missing him like he missed you? He sat in silence for a while before writing…

Keep reading

Fool’s Gold. | IV. | Park Jimin, 5.5k

Pairing:Reader x Jimin

Summary:Dawn comes and sheds new light. There’s nothing left but fool’s gold.

Warnings/Tags: RATED T - for language; references to alcohol and drugs; the reader isn’t having a very good time; it gets v angsty and v mean; curse money, curse everything; violence (yes, vmin dofight with their fists); blood/gore; crying with glitter on (yes, this is a deliberate input for the tags); Jimin really should have driven off earlier; notes on the fragility of friendship and of relationships in general; um, the ending? idk; angst- non-idol!AU.

=====

-

The soft pad of your feet on the marble is right behind him, “Min wait, it could still work, can’t it? You said you’ve planned enough, how about sourcing the money elsewhere?”

He shakes his head, bitter at how his dreams are dashed, “not enough to get me what I what.”

The kitchen is as you left it, he yanks a drawer open and pulls out the wine he hid from last night, “have a drink.”

Your eyes grow wide at the label, “is that my father’s 1921 Pétrus? Even Idon’t touch that.”

Ignoring you, the wine pools at the bottom of the glass in a deep waterfall, he pours just enough for the both of you. Grabbing the bottle, you inspect the label, squinting at the details. Jimin takes the first sip in a while, it goes down smooth, souring his mouth. You don’t touch yours yet.

“You could have asked father about this, you know. If you wanted it that badly, it’s not as if -”

Another sip makes it past his lips, the taste is bitter as he swallows, “don’t.”

You stop talking, taking your glass and tipping your head back, humming at the taste. Jimin breathes out, licking his lips.

“You know I won’t take something that people would notice to be missing,” he said.

“You don’t have to make excuses, it’s okay,” you said, infuriatingly so.

“Why say that?”

“I get it, Min, I -”

You don’t, not at all. He surges forward, taking the bottle from you, “no, you don’t get it.”

Annoyingly, you dodge his grip and walk backwards, “no but I doget it, Min. I get wanting do something that works like a pick me up, to make you feel more like yourself. I’m the poster child for it, don’t you know?” You almost chortle, but he sees you stop by your wallet, the leather face up with all your cards, then the slim slit that held a packet of snow. The whole image of you comes back to him now and it’s his turn to pry.

“How come you’re so unhappy?”

Immediately, your face changes, he guesses it’s shock.

“What?”

He takes a seat, pushes his own glass away from him, counting the dots on the pitted surface of the table.

“Why are you so sad?”

Maybe he just doesn’t get it - maybe he’ll never really get it, but the least he could do is hear from your point of view.

“You have such a way with words, don’t you?” You said, voice wavering a tad.

“I’m interested.”

That doesn’t seem to placate you because he watches as you wrap his jacket around your front tightly, posture so rigid that if touched you, you’d recoil.“No you’re not. You’re trying to find reasons to find me pathetic and thenyou can finally rid yourself of any responsibility -”

His skin prickles with goosebumps, “responsibility for what?”

You stare at him, features pinched, as if you were about to cry; he attempts to ask again but you explode. Your voice is loud and the kitchen still had high ceilings. The words echoed, bouncing off the marble:

“Responsibility for fucking me for my money!”

“Stop it - ”

“Isn’t that what you wanted to hear, Min? You fucked me for my money, tell me I’m wrong, go on, tell me.”

He doesn’t like hearing this, let alone seeing you like this: manic and on the edge of something he couldn’t quite understand.

“Don’t. I never -”

“Stop lying, I hate it when people lie to me like I don’t deserve the truth,” you said, your voice too loud for this conversation. You rise up, growing as big as your anger, he waves for you to sit down, to calm yourself. “Why aren’t you admitting it?”

“Stop acting like that!” He pleaded, hand outstretched as he glanced at all the doors. It was dawn and the helpers would be on their way soon.

“Acting like what?”

“Like there’s something wrong with you,” he said, a sharp admission like a whip. It works and you retreat, quietening for a moment. He finds the silence and fills it with his thoughts.

“I know you act like that because you need something to justify your selfish behaviour. If there’s something wrong with you, there’s meaning to you how you act, because if there isn’t a reason why,then that scares you. If it’s pointless, you can’t stand it.”

You give him shaky laugh, tears collecting in your eyes and falling down, wetting your cheeks. The glitter drowns in salt, you look at him with contempt through your bloodshot eyes. You looked ravaged for the wrong reasons, someone with an inexplicable fury all directed at him.

“Did you ever stop and think that maybe I slept with you because,” you breathed, sniffing noisily, “because I wantedto?”

He doesn’t say anything, his fingertips cold all of the sudden.

“Are you scared of me, Min? Are you scared of all of this? Scared to be with someone that rattles?” You asked, gesturing wildly. Cringing, he exhaled a strong gust of air. He gets up.

“I’m not scared of you, I actually feel sorry for you.”

When you look at him, he regrets it a little.

“You’re lying.”

Your tears fall freely now, he takes in the rest of you, the wrinkles in your clothes, the glint of your jewellery, his jacket on your body. How did it get to this?

“Get up.”

He doesn’t do what he’s told. It’s humiliating enough to cower reflexively at the sound of your voice. Yet you let out a shaky breath, “I said get up. I’m speaking to you, get up.” He says your name, which sounds and feelsforeign to say.

“Calm down -”

“I am your employer, and when I say get up, you do as you’re told.”

It’s ugly, it’s not you. Jimin does get up and moves back, body hot for all the wrong reasons, he points a finger in your direction. “You don’t employ me, your father does. And I could leak everything I know about you to the press - especially about the drugs. The news would lovethat. And with a family like yours and your name, you’ll make everyheadline,Agassi.”

You laugh as your body animates like its built on a loose spring, moving along the length of the counter like a slinky, “you wouldn’t dare.” Your thumb is near your mouth again, teeth pulling the skin raw.

Jimin raised his eyebrows, gesturing wildly now, “oh, you don’t know what I can do, what I’m capable of. I’ve seen how you actually look at me in the years that I’ve worked here. Like I don’t understand anything, like I’m some animal that you can play with because somehow, you know what I want. Did you ever think that I can pull rank too?”

You’re too quiet so he takes that opportunity.

“You act so high mighty when I’ve never everseen anyone act like the way you did tonight, I’ve seen dogs act with more dignity than you -”

It’s a step too far because you clutch at the counter for support, he stops himself because he doesn’t recognise the sound of his own voice.

“Why didn’t you finish? Carry on,” you mumbled, pushing something on the floor with your foot. Jimin doesn’t think he’s abated the storm since his chest feels tighter then before he spoke.

“What else do you think of me, huh? What else does Mr. Park Jimin think of me?”

When you pry it riles him up. He doesn’t know what you want, not really. It’s crazy how different it was hours ago, he wonders if your father had texted him at all where he would be now. Probably at some tent bar with Namjoon, tossing his head back and wincing at a paper shot of soju, leg bouncing to ward off the cold.

“Stop talking.”

You come near him to provoke, bergamot floats back, the mirth is sickly sweet now.

“C’mon, don’t leave me hanging. Don’t be cruelto someone with less dignity than a dog.”

He winces at his own words thrown back at him, “stop that.”

You jab your finger at his chest, it hurts him more than he expected, he grabs your wrists preventing you from moving but you look at him with those eyes. They’re bloodshot without the dazzle. Don’t make me say it, he thinks.

“Say it, say the truth,” you whispered, crushed.

“I think that it was too easy. That it wasn’t much of a chase to give me the kind of pleasure that I wanted.”

You gasp, wrenching yourself from his hands. He walks away to the other side of the kitchen, dragging his nails across the back of his neck. The spark of pain doesn’t help. Nothing seems to help.

“Fuck you. I could have had anyone. You couldn’t have done anything if I didn’t want you.”

Jimin begins to tidy the overflowing counter, shuttling glasses into the sink. He doesn’t see you but he hears you pacing, “just admit that you hate me.”

He doesn’t respond, his hands on an abandoned plate. The cake he was eating is still there, the icing is messy though. Illegible. When he turns, you’re all the way across the room, smaller than you seem, your shoulders shaking as you sobbed quietly. If you had asked him again if he loved you, he’d say that he’s done so a thousand times. With you in his arms again, he attempts what his mother did when he was young, when she soothed him.

“Shh… I don’t hate you,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead, gentle hands on your back in a stroking motion. He cradles your face, lashes heaving with salty tears that drop on his palm. Then, while looking at you, while seeingyou, he realises that you’re the same as him. That’s more painful than anything he’s had to stomach while working here. He realises that the parts that you hide, the parts you don’t want anyone else to know is just as acrid, just as rancid.

“What are we going to do?” You asked after a while.

Trying again, he leans back and affectionately caresses the back of your head, “you’re tired, c’mon I’ll get you up to your room.”

“Min, let’s go to Busan, you said it takes only four hours, really, let’s go,” you said, renewed with a vigour that he can’t gather for himself.

You probably don’t even realise what you’re doing to him.

“We need money, money for gas, money for a place to stay, my parents can’t have us so we need a hotel for a couple of weeks while I sort out the deed to the plot of land, we need -”

Again, you recoil, creating distance, “it’s all about the money with you. Money this, money that.”

Jimin reaches for your wrist, the metal of your bracelets poke through the sleeve of his jacket, “why do you think that money is this corrupt thing? Like it’s dirty? You can do something with what you have, why don’t you get that?”

You weren’t having it, yanking your hand back. Apparently, his grip was too strong as you soothed your wrist with your other hand, “money, then more money, then death,” you mumbled. Jimin tilted his head, confused.

“I don’t want to die. That’s fucking scary.”

He could barely stand going to the doctors and face his own mortality in charts and graphs. The dentist is a private enemy, the plastic coated chair actually being a throne of torture.

“But it’s probably like before the part when you’re born. This blank slate of… nothing.”

“That’s probably not true, it’s probably worse, kind of like -”

Jimin gets distracted by you covering your mouth with your hands, “are you religious? Do you think death is like hell or something?”

His cheeks grow warm, “I never said that! You know what, it’s probably early in the morning, I’m going to the basement parking.”

“Don’t do that!” You said loudly, grabbing him in a way that caused him to stumble. He grunts and prises your hand away, “don’t brush me off Min. I’m not some whore you fucked on the street.”

And he starts to speak because if he didn’t he was afraid of what he’ll do.

“Do you know why your father isn’t here? He hates coming home and knowing that you’re on something, he hates seeing you act loopy or speak all slurred, sniffing up coke like its a meal. It reminds him of herand it kills him. You know it -”

Drawing back, you hug yourself, the tears falling on their own, “no, you’re right. I know that he hates seeing me like this.”

The pain in his temples comes back, what time was it? It feels like he’s been awake for longer than is safe to be driving out. The silence that comes between you is so stifling that he moves away, opening and closing his hand to will some normalcy.

“Love is a fucking joke, you know.”

Jimin wouldn’t know. In the years he’s been around you, he knew of your misery, he could see it on you like a cloud. But he doesn’t understand it, or doesn’t choose to. He didn’t have the luxury to be sad, there was no time, there isn’t even a fucking restaurant to show for himself. Love and torment is luxury to him like time is.

“You got engaged to that Jeon kid,” he said, rather unhelpfully.

You look at him, amused.

“What happened?”

Cruelly and to prove his point, you said, “got bored.”

Unconvinced, he closes the distance, you’re back on the chairs now, “that’s not what happened.”

“Yes, that is what happened. I was the one who broke it off.”

He remembers you crying. He only remembers that.

“I saw you, you were begging him to take you back.”

That stops you from talking, gulping whatever lie you wanted to paint for him. He sees you tug at the sleeves of his jacket, a gesture that made sweater paws.

“You’re so cruel.”

This, he takes in his stride, “I’m sorry.”

Then, his phone buzzes. The lock screen lights up, a message he’s been praying for all night long. Him and Taehyung’s previous messages jitter in his vision.

-

Staying away for the night was good because it prepared Taehyung for the clutter that awaited him en masse. Sure, there was a team of helpers after each event but he would have to retire to his room later on. And if that’s the case, he’d want a clear path, free from sticky patches of alcohol or miscellaneous stains of mysterious liquid.

The apartment has a main entrance which he uses if no one was home. It doesn’t take much to annoy him, a messy house being one of them. He side-steps away from a dying fern right into a puddle of what looked like neon piss.

But it’s not the scattered confetti nor the desiccated cake smeared on the shag rug in the living area that spikes his temperature.

It’s the lone shoe that belonged to Jimin, laying with its sole facing the ceiling. The laces were hastily removed. He knows because Jimin ties them into a stubborn knot. When he checked his phone, there were no new messages from either of you. Jimin hadn’t replied to his morning ones too. Taking a deep breath, he keeps on walking.

-

[7:20PM]: Yo. Tteokbokki?

Taehyung [7:33PM]: Setting up. Have it later.

————Today, 6:46AM ————

Taehyung [6:46AM]: All of the guests leave?

Taehyung [6:48AM]: I’m on my way up.

Jimin pales, his hands start tingling. It’s morning, the day has ended and nothing has changed. There was no restaurant, no dream to build. A car awaits him at the basement but he reeks of booze and sex and sweat. He can’t drive anyone in this state. There’s not enough time to shower either. Next to him you’re frantic, dawning on the same thing.

You’ve both run out of time.

“Is he coming back? Do you have to go?” You asked, shivering.

He sees your bare feet, the thin metal link of the anklet on your left ankle. You’re unsteady because you’ve overlapped your right over your left. You’re not sure whether to inch closer or further away so its end looking like you’re swaying.

“No, it’s Taehyung, he’ll be up soon but I have to go too. Your father might call me anytime.”

You nod, but your eyes are downcast.

“It’s okay. We’ll -”

He stops himself on the account of not knowing what to say, mouth full of cotton. And you’re so hopeful that it gets him all nervous again. He can’t even remember what exactly he promised. You wait, hands clasped, your tears drying over glitter. Finally, he admits that he’s tired. The sound of the door slamming open startles you both, Taehyung emerges into the kitchen in no time. There’s a plastic bag in his hand and a new mop in the other. Jimin’s stomach twists at the sight of the green bomber, the patches droop, its loose threads standing up stiffly.

Taehyung’s eyes flit to you and Jimin, putting the cobbled state of your clothes, the remnants of wine on the table and the fucked-out expression on your faces together. It doesn’t look redeemable to anyone walking in; Jimin’s grateful that it wasn’t your father. Deeply calm, Taehyung walks down the steps, the cool air he brings with him smells distinctively of the city. Of packed subway cars and smoke from the early morning vendors three blocks away from your building.

“Tae -” you said but are cut off.

“You should go up to you room and clean up. Your father won’t like to come home and see you like this.”

Jimin maniacally starts to clear more debris from the party, he tries to get the mop from Taehyung’s hand but it escapes him.

“Meet me in the rooftop in a minute, yeah?” Taehyung asked, placing the mop against the bucket by the trash.

You were out of earshot, ascending the steps to your room. Jimin nods, shoving his hands in his pockets and going to the opposite direction.

-

The rooftop garden wasn’t as well maintained as Jimin remembered. Usually the shrubs were manicured but he was met with overgrown catastrophes. The various concrete features spluttered water in a pathetic stream, wetting the stone in a dark grey. Your father had the biggest penthouse space in Gangnam, befitting of a business tycoon that started from the ground up. The spot where he saw you was hardly anything special, adding nothing to the space.

Dawn comes in orange streaks, easy on his bloodshot eyes. Smog waits to descend upon the city as the horizon is broken by the buildings that jut up from the ground. Below are the images of the street flicking their lights on during the day, driver’s like him stretching their legs, and vendors parking a little further so as to not tarnish the pristine sidewalks.

It strange for Taehyung to suggest meeting up here without any food or a pack of smokes. He should have had both portions of tteokbokki instead of leaving it at the mini fridge by the driver’s quarters. His stomach is caving in, intestines wrung tight from the night’s events. By now, you’re probably showering or in bed. Either way, what started off as a dream ended up as a lofty fantasy. You’re not exactly the kind of girl he expected and you might even say the same thing about him.

Perhaps this time, he’d accept his mother’s well-intentioned ‘I told you so.’ But it’s his father’s quiet disappointment that might kill him. Jimin never heard him say anything in support but he also never heard anything untoward either. It’s in the eyes though. And his father’s eyes said more than what he needed to hear.

He looks down. He doesn’t even have his damn shoes on.

The door flings open, banging against the exposed steel beam meant to complete the rugged aesthetic of the garden. Taehyung is strutting towards him, something brewing in his eyes, something that makes the colour in them dark and flat. The orange of the waking sun does little to conceal the fact that he’s a little pale, a telling sneer forming on his lips.

“You okay, Tae?”

If Jimin wasn’t mistaken, Taehyung looked like he was going to hit him.

He backs up towards the row of shrubs that have seen better days, slowly, step by step.

“Hey, the fuck’s going on? Listen - ”

“You just fucking had to, huh?” His friend snarled.

The pause is unbearable, Taehyung halted less than a meter away visibly shaking, balled up fists in anticipation. Jimin tries to piece things together, had to what? He backs up even more, the heel of his sock-covered feet dragging on the concrete. That wasn’t the right time to hold back, he should have pleaded his case because Taehyung is on him in a second, darting forward with a speed Jimin hasn’t seen since the time they’d brawl for release because being jobless was worse that having no girlfriend back then.

It’s scarier since Taehyung knows where to hit, he knows right where it hurts.Jimin chokes on air as a tanned fist lands on his ribs, a warning that enables him to dodge the next couple of jabs. But he doubles over, winded from the force of the first one. A knee-kick jerks up, hitting him clean on the sternum making him fold, his hands scrabbling to grab onto Taehyung’s shirt.

If he had gotten a wink of sleep instead of half-fighting with you for the night, he might have been able to catapult away or something but Taehyung manages to curl his arm around his neck. The headlock combined with the fact that the bastard was taller than him lifted him on his toes, scratching at Taehyung’s arms with his jagged, bitten nails. Lacking any real choice, he turns his head so that there isn’t much pressure on his airway, still he chokes. Quickly, his hands find purchase on the space between his neck and Taehyung’s bulging arm, once that was accomplished, he bends all the way forward, throwing Taehyung onto the floor.

He grunts at the fact that his shoulder seized at throwing excess weight around. Taehyung always did weigh like a sack of fucking rice.

Jimin was used to not communicating well with others, Taehyung being no exception. But this situation, this ambush,kind of warranted somewords. As he tried to speak, Taehyung grabs him, his long arm shooting forward, his large hand grabbing him by the front of his shirt. And they’re on the floor, barely getting any word in edgeways, Jimin trying his own hand at punching back, participating in this dumb display of violence. The concrete scrapes at the side of his face as Taehyung huffs, fist on Jimin’s cheek. HIs vision sparks, it hurts so fucking bad that he growls, making a cross with his arms to protect his skull from actually shattering. Taehyung hands close over his arms to pin him in place.

“Tae, what the fuck,” Jimin grunts, taking advantage of the fact that the younger one had longer hair. In a moment of strength, he fists the dark locks, bending Taehyung’s neck, the roots lifting from the scalp in a painful undulation. It doesn’t last long though as Taehyung shrugs him off easily, flinging his arms out.

Jimin doesn’t see it coming because he feelsit first.

The coppery taste explodes in his mouth, there’s the sound of a crack too, and his vision spots. He collides with the floor again, but he connects his fist to Taehyung’s jaw with an impact he’s surprised that comes from him.

It’s so idiotic.

Their punches are uncoordinated, blood running down his nose, Taehyung’s lip is split, red spots on his white shirt. His mother’s going to give him hell for that. They don’t even know what they’re doing, grunting at the blows, fists finding everything to land on, bruises waiting to bloom in the afternoon. Jimin hauls Taehyung up, screaming bloodied spit right into his face, his eyes are swollen, his teeth ache as if its nerves are exposed.

“Fucking talk to me! What the fuck are we doing?”

His throat is raw, sweat pools at his hairline. The taste in his mouth makes him spit at the ground, it aches so much more now that they’ve stopped. Taehyung seems content in catching his breath, his face still handsome after a scrape like this.

“D’you fuck her?”

What?

Jimin’s dumbstruck face probably didn’t cut it, and Taehyung prepares to launch another strike.

“Hey! Okay! Okay, fuck! We fucked.”

If Taehyung had told Jimin anything at all, this would have been avoided. He tilts his head at the pretty colours in the sky, it’s brighter. He winces at the raw skin peeling on his knuckles. Taehyung drags himself back, face pink from the exertion, chest expanding and contracting. He looks at Jimin like he’s… betrayed.

“You told her about your restaurant? About your plans?”

Jimin’s head throbs, he pushes his palm over his mouth. More blood, muscles spasming from the adrenaline.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Taehyung turns his head, his hair sticking together at the tips.

“You just never know when to quit, do you even like her like that?”

For the first time in his entire life, Jimin had nothing to say. It wasn’t that he was holding back a reply, he was playing the reel of moments that he missed where it was palpable Taehyung’s feelings for you were real. You were all close in your own way, the kitchen was the hearth of the apartment. Being there didn’t make him feel like an employee.

Being there made him think you were all friends.

“You like her like that?” Jimin asked, cricking his neck.

You didn’t even know Taehyung’s name until he had to clean up your vomit. That was a year in.

Taehyung sighs, this melancholic release that tells Jimin they were thinking off the same thing.

“Whatever man, fuck this, I have the entire house to clean up,” Taehyung said. The moment lengthens to the point of being uncomfortable, the sun is fully lighting the city now. Jimin’s body is wooden from being beat up senseless.

“Feel better at least?” He asked, careful in clearing his throat as his larynx feels funny. It was more of an olive branch in the shape of an uncontested victory on Taehyung’s part. You’re none the wiser, there’s no restaurant, and his best friend can go on pining. For a chilling few seconds, Jimin actually thinks that Taehyung would go for another round. He stays ready to spring up and run this time. The Mercedes isn’t gonna like his punctured state and neither is your father.

And Taehyung gets up, his hand being the other olive branch that Jimin was so glad to see. They both groan as they find their feet, his toes preventing him from stumbling. Jimin isn’t sure what to say. Of course they fought, it was relentless when they were young and poorer. Their parents often questioned why they were fighting rather than talking but they never did that. It’s always the ‘reading between the lines’ bullshit that ended up being a hit and miss exercise. Emphasis on the latter.

“You sure you’re okay?”

His best friend stares at him, a mottled purple bruise forming under his eye. Dried blood crusts at the place where his lip split, Jimin thinks about how he probably looks as mangled. Even if all the emotions have left him over the things that occurred during the past day, he still wanted to check.

“‘M fine ‘Chim.”

It’s not the answer he wanted but it’s enough to give him the reassurance that he can check his phone. Nothing. Taehyung lopes back to the door, the image is so familiar to Jimin that he questions whether what he went through the past twenty-four hours was real.

Jimin thinks that there may not be a restaurant but there’s the country’s infallible gaming culture awaiting them at the end of the day.

“Hey, tteokbokki at the PC-bang later?”

Taehyung turns his head slightly, Jimin sees that tug of his smile.

“Yeah.”

-

In the following weeks, change doesn’t come. Jimin drives your father around, averts his eyes when the building he leads the car into isn’t your apartment building, then avoids going inside unless it’s a last resort. He doesn’t see you much since you’re off going everywhere and anywhere, as wild as ever. Luckily, your father is busy and he doesn’t have to be the one picking you up or dropping you off at the airport. You don’t interact with him beyond the customary ‘hello.’ He’s still deciding whether that bothers him or not.

There’s a day in a particular month where all staff are given the day off. Jimin saw various helpers bring stuff up to the apartment, things like food, wine, the kind he had with you that night. There was a variety of fruits too, rice cakes, other items that he wasn’t familiar with. That day, Taehyung invites him for some barbecue, the crate of beer is shuttled from the back of the fridge at your place. It’s going to waste anyway, Taehyung said.

The studio apartment is low-lying and the balcony is exposed, its furniture battered by the elements. Jimin would rather spend time indoors, his feet up, watching a rerun of some eighties drama but he bears it. Taehyung hadn’t invited him over like this for the past weeks, he was already prepared to spend his free time at the PC-bang after he paid for his lottery ticket.

They don’t speak for a while. Smoke and steam dwindle in the air, his jacket will smell of that stuff soon enough. Taehyung hands him the tongs and he gets to flipping the thin slices of pork belly, the oil splattering outwards.

“Bought extra chilli peppers for your ssam,” he blurts out, eyes on the grill after gulping down some beer. Jimin nods in thanks.

“She’s not even home for this,” Taehyung says, sprawling on the lawn chair, his leather jacket puffing up then creasing. “Happens every year and she’s in Aruba or some shit.”

Jimin’s jaw clenched at the fact that the topic floats over to you. Taehyung pines like he’s an Olympian at it. He bets that if Taehyung was someone in your eyes, he could change you, make you do things you just don’t want to do.

“Maybe she doesn’t like being around reminding herself, you know?” He flips the next strips, more oil spews out, speckling his sleeve.

“You know she was the one who found her a week into college? I heard that she screamed in her sleep for the next six months. Then she got into what she’s doing now.”

Jimin grimaces at the way Taehyung avoids the word drugs.

You said something to him that he remembered as he was cleaning up his wounds after his fight with Taehyung. Must have slipped his mind but when he remembered, it stuck like a nuisance. It was in response to him warning you about the drugs, how you were off the rails and it doesn’t look good.

No you’re right, Min. People might not think that I chose to do it.

He was stupid to believe that things could work, that he could have what he wanted. Taehyung shakes his head, immersed in his own thoughts. Jimin knows that they will never talk about what happened that night, Taehyung looks too hurt. He often does when he meets Jimin for a drink, his eyes losing that spark.

Satisfied, Jimin lays out the seared pork on a lettuce leaf, garnishes it to Taehyung’s liking and offers it wrapped tightly, “here.”

It gets devoured in that cavernous mouth of his, Jimin makes his own, drowns it in spice and chews with his cheeks bursting at the seams.

“Might look for another job,” he said, “go elsewhere, abroad maybe.”

He looks at Taehyung, who eyes him with a tender curiosity. These drawn out silences between them was wrong, it wasn’t reflective of the years spent in this big city. Taehyung nudges the bottom of his bottle against the edge of the table.

“Where?”

“Dunno, Japan maybe?”

There’s a nod, the purse of lips from Taehyung who considers his future. Jimin needed to get away, forget about restaurants and ending the day by the sea.

“Sounds courageous,” Taehyung smiled. Jimin feels a pang of guilt at seeing his friend the way he’s done so for the past couple of years. It’s bitter, the way this phantom acknowledgement weighs on him, like Taehyung’s known all this time.

“When you’re all settled with your chain of restaurants across Asia, don’t forget me, yeah?”

Jimin smiles, eyes shining from the sting of the cold. He remembers entering the border of Seoul with only the clothes on his back and Taehyung’s wide grin. He’s not sure if the rift he caused was repairable but this might be a start.

“Sure.”

-

end.

-

previous.

masterlist (I) |masterlist (II)

Fool’s Gold. (m) | III. | Park Jimin, 6.3k

Pairing:Reader x Jimin

Summary:You and Jimin are both through the looking glass now and is what you both desire too much?

Warnings/Tags: RATED M - for language; references to alcohol and drugs; references to loneliness in reader pov; Jimin’s a chauffeur (yup); the reader wasn’t having a very good time butnowit’s different; less of the references to shitty techno-pop music more references to the sappy stuff (maybe); light-hearted banter this time; the dreams relate to something real now; it’s really about wanting here; curse money, curse it all; okay, now for the more serious tags: smut (fem-reader; penetrative sex; unprotected sex; the use of ‘Ahjussi’ in the bedroom (only v briefly to tease, i’m sorry); he also has a piercing (guess where?); biting; praise kink; everything is messy, so so messy) - non-idol!AU.

=====

-

Birthdays were a travesty.

They became so the moment you realised that your father and mother cared more aboutwho came than how you felt. The house gets buried in a spool of streamers, the floor swallowed by odd-shaped confetti, the music gets loud.To compensate, you become garrulous, smiling so wide that your cheeks ached.

“Who are you again?”

Your voice comes out slurred, the vowels twisting in your mouth.

The person is familiar under the violet strobe lights, their features aren’t new to you, their touch either. Just as fast as you thought of the question, you think of another. They let your hand go, leaving you floating. The lights get irritating if you stand still for too long, techno-bubble-pop starts hiss through the fridge-sized speakers that are stuck in each corner of the room. Your brain swells from the pressure so you move, you jump and dance. It’s not very impressive, your birthdays.

Quite passé given the circumstances.

Another person shoves their way into the pulsing shoal of people, someone plants a wet kiss on your cheek. You also get sticky during these events, coated in other people’s attention.

“Babe, great party!”

“Mm,” you hummed, eyes fluttering close.

Being surrounded by people got old in the business of living. That’s why you kept moving, can’t be stuck in one place too long otherwise you become aware that they’re not actually here for you, they’re here for the idea of you. Everyone knows you could never compare. Or maybe that was just you.

Didn’t matter. It’s all a game anyway.

Someone says your name but you search for a drink. You didn’t want the hard stuff yet, it’s too early.

As you drank from a shot glass you think that the thing about being alone is that you miss it. You miss the company of others, the touch of a person specifically. But what’s blinding, what the real high for you is the touch of someone who cares.A guy catches your eye, they’re looking at you weird, they must be a friend of a friend. Or a friend of a friend of a friend. Who fucking knows anymore.

Days before your party, you went down to visit another friend. They were working in the financial district, their office at the highest floor of the tallest skyscraper. It took you more than ten minutes just to get to right floor and on the way, you saw this employee. Imposing, broad chested and burly. Reminded you of Jungkook when he was in one of those moods. It was like you were able to superimpose that image, overlay it until it was good enough to feast on.

Look at me.

That’s what you thought when you passed him, cutting it close. Not only did you want the touch of another but you wanted to commit that to memory, despite your fears. You never did come into contact, content with the distance. You wore fear like a security blanket nowadays, made to ward off the consequences of wanting something so much. The odd look from the guy across the room wavers, you realise that he’s not really here.

A shout startles you off-kilter: “Turn that up louder!” Accompanied by a roar of applause and the general clamour that came with parties like this. The music booms, the chandelier atop with its crystal drops quiver to the frequency.

You see Jimin in a matter of seconds, it makes you sling an arm over another person because it’s as if your lungs contracted, shrivelling suddenly. He looked dapper in the setting, all made up in a suit. Handsome in any light, so tempting.

The length of time he’s been working for your family escaped you but it was long enough for the small details of him to come together. Jimin was quiet yet cheerful, you heard his laugh and considered it contagious ever since. Dark hair swept to the side in an ideal arc, rounded eyes, don’t think it passed you how it lingers like it did now.

Once he was through the doorway, carted off by Taehyung, you revert back to a puppet with its strings cut. Inwardly, you wanted Jimin to come back because every time you saw him he was already looking at you. It was enough to sate this tremendous yearning you had, a different kind of addiction.

Maybe he sees you in the way you wanted - the way you needed.

In the red-blue shaft of light you stood under, you buzz from all that you took to keep you sane. Someone gropes your waist and you lean in, taste the bitter gin on their tongue. In exchange you dip your lips to their neck, tasting salt.

Yeah, birthday’s were a travesty.

-

Dancing leaves no room for talking, you liked it that way as it avoids you having to speak about trivial things. No one really wanted to know why you sulk so much or why you’re back here to rot. It helps you forget about the things you couldn’t control.

Thankfully Taehyung took those wretched flowers out of sight. They weren’t worth much if they reeked of your father’s guilt.

Finding success in dragging Jimin up the stairs to the main room, you note that he looked even better in the kitchen lighting. You could see his bright complexion and despite his tired eyes, he was agreeable. Soft hands in yours, you laughed as he stumbled poorly up the final step.

“Careful,” you warned, tugging him close, closer. He dips his head, giving you a strained smile.

It’s faint but it’s there, the scent of sweet shampoo and a hint of soap. Clean, sharp, things you’d expect from someone like him.

The chandelier trembles from the bass, you’re around people again, but this time, Jimin’s hands are on your waist. It’s a little fuzzy so you circle your arms around his neck, his touch is bewitching. You attempt to speak, which isn’t like you at all, frankly. And, as if your mind knows, you end up laughing instead.

What must you look like to him?

Desperate?

Sad?

The realisation makes you pull away, mind throbbing from the protests of Stop that, you’re being weird.You don’t wait long enough to see how he looks at you, blanking out. You laughed too before you separated, failing in being cool. You’re in some partygoers arms now, getting lifted.

“Three cheers for the birthday girl!”

Held above, squeezed at the ribs, you’re overwhelmed by a sea of faces, Jimin is nowhere to be seen.

-

The rest of the evening waxes and wanes, details escape you in your stupor. Taehyung has left, you and Jimin talked and talked and talked.The breaking of one of your cardinal rules wasn’t detrimental but it made you antsy.

He said something that dulled all worry, though.

Something that sounded like love.

Whatever you took or drank wasn’t nearly enough to help with the nerves, this jittery feeling that comes with being seen. You needed another high, one that took you to the edge. That prospect died that moment Jimin kicked your supply under the dishwasher. A part of you was grateful since in some way, he sensed that you didn’t want to be consumed in a numb state.

You didn’t remember that day he spoke of, that day on the rooftop where you were surrounded by papers. Likely from your time trying to make it as a writer. The ideas in your mind were left too long that they festered. The ink that coated your fingers were superficial, the prose coming empty. Insipid.

You keep watching him as he told that story, but your eyes wandered to the dangerous valley that his unbuttoned collar showed. His neck is slender, there’s a mole there too. Very enticing.

The want returns, as if that’s what you needed to survive, telling of the yearning is howling inside you now. Eager, you cling to him as he kicks the door to the spare room shut. Your back hits the bed, mouth wet and fingers searching for clasps, buttons, zips. The removal of clothes is mechanical if not awkward, but what comes after was worth it.

Skin, touch, and proximity.

Perhaps it’s the culmination of stares, touches, and longing. Perhaps you had already been together like this in some way and this was the natural way of things. As if being with Jimin like this switches the sensitivity of your body up a notch, reminding you of nights where you’re sore from being with someone during sweltering summers, sweating not just from being caught under the sun but from a body on yours, between your legs, the sea breeze from Biarritz on your tastebuds. To be transparent about it, you missed holding someone’s cock, a temporary delight that shoves the bitter things trapping you for the past weeks -months.

“Am I reading this -” you begin to ask, a smirk curving your lips. Jimin shakes his head prematurely.

“I want to… I want to touch you,” he said, hovering above as you panted beneath him, clothing already askew. It was just meant to be sunrise on the roof but this is so much better. His eyes are so dark, it’s like they’re soaked in black tar.

“Alright, whatever you need,” you replied, then you caught yourself, “whatever you want, Ahjussi.”

It’s so dumb, he’s not even thatmuch older than you, but old is gold. And you had a feeling that this term of endearment will stick come morning. In response, Jimin gathers your wrists, pinning them above your head, your body arches up, your breathing laboured. The room is spacious but the air is syrupy. It might be just be you though, you had a tendency to get worked up, then your head gets hot from all the racing thoughts.

You see it though, the way Jimin registers your words. Whatever you want. His eyes rove over your body communicating his wants, his needs.You want him to hold you, to feel cocooned, want that sticky slap of skin, sweat on the sheets. To have him quick and rocking inside you, first comes the pain then the pleasure.

“Can I…” He hesitates, hand skimming your side, “touch you?”

It’s too soft, why must he ask twice?

“You can,” you encouraged, twisting your arm back to drag the short zip of your top down. It falls away and his eyes, they go wide. Somewhat conscious of the imbalance, you unbutton his shirt. Under all of that drab, that pristine white cotton hides the ripple of tan muscles. Jimin doesn’t touch you yet, you don’t want to goad but it’s torturous.

“This really okay?”

“Yes - yes,” you whispered.

Glad not to have done the hard stuff, you didn’t have to worry about your libido tanking. The trade off was that the itch didn’t need scratching, it needed eradicating. So much waiting, it leaves ample time for thoughts to creep in. Like how this wasreally okay, that Jimin isn’t really employed by your household, he doesn’t drive your father around. These things don’t matter so much, not really

You’re in the spare room at the lower levels of your apartment, it’s your birthday. And he’s a handsome stranger at the eleventh hour.

He’s touching you so gently, careful hands on your neck, somehow cooling your scorched skin. His tongue flicks out, licking at the pulse of your throat, languid, sending shivers down, down.

“Fuck,” you moaned, his hand coming into contact with your clothed pussy under your skirt. It’s all too reverent at the moment, you can’t help but arch up, nipples brushing against his firm chest. He groans at your neck, open mouth followed by the graze of teeth. There’s too many clothes, not the right kind of friction. Impatient, you shove at his shirt, yank at his belt. He lets you, sounding amused.

Jimin was nice to look at, even in the low light. With the shirt off, your eyes adjust. He’s managed to get half-hard but that’s not the real kicker: there’s an unmistakable glint, are those nipple rings?

“What? Are you laughing?”

You squeeze at his bicep, fascinated at how the blood is displaced, a pale mark in the shape of your thumb on his skin. Lifting your touch, the trace of you fades.

“Nothing. it’s just like you to get something like this done,” you replied, thinking about the sensitivity of them. Your breath comes out in a shudder, so loud in your arousal that it screamed the filth of your thoughts.

“What’s the supposed to mean?” He asked, voice going down a timbre.

“What were you, a wayward?”

You couldn’t seem to reconcile that with the clean cut image of the Jimin you knew. Around your father, he didn’t set foot out of line. His hands settle on your naked skin, your heart beats erratically, hairs standing to attention. He answers as he slips your skirt off you.

“Lost a bet.”

Knuckles brush over your underwear, the slightest pressure, you’re already wet, clit pressing uncomfortably on the mesh. You need something soft, blunter. His fingers tease, a slow motion that temporarily soothes.

“And your nipples were the first thing at stake?” You asked, breath hitching because everything is so warm, the initial wave of arousal makes you lift your hands. It’s only a light touch over his nipples but he gives out a gasping breath, lips wet. It’s unfair that you’re not doing anything, so you rub them, and he weakens, forehead clammy against yours.

“Friends were assholes, got me so drunk that I agreed to -” he starts, briefly cut off because you crash your mouth against his, a messy connection of tongues and the snap of teeth, saliva on lips. The next words are lost, you’re hungry, fingers searching against, delving into his dark hair. So good, so nice.

“Up, c’mon.”

He was talking about moving further up the bed. You oblige, the rush hitting you altogether, head thudding against the tufted headboard. Jimin gets fully undressed then kneels between your legs. Clipped, short nails on your thighs, your nipples harden into pebbled peaks. He lifts your underwear up and off, cool air makes your bare pussy tender, the sensation jolting you.

The mattress is stiff, hardly used. It presses unhelpfully against your back, your thighs spreading, the coil in the pit of your stomach is contained, the need is so sudden, it’s heavy and overwhelmed.

“Hold me,” you whispered, pulling him down, saying it again in a kiss. Darkness heightens touch, your tongue licks into his mouth, teeth nipping at his upper lip, plush and soft.

Jimin’s weight is pleasant, depressing your breath, pushing out your thoughts. There’s no space, just touch. And so, so nice. Like falling and floating, one with air.

“Please, more,” you gasped, grinding your core against his crotch, hand curling on his hair, cock hard as he rolls his hips in a deliberate circle. It burns, this proximity. He groans in your mouth, the slick glide of his length along your slit emits little, wet noises, sparring with the rush of the sheets.

“Harder, Min,” you plead, sighing at the feel of his hands shackling your wrists down.

It shouldn’t be this easy, the surge for something good shouldn’t give way to you losing it this quickly. You hold your breath, canting your hips up, the head of his cock nudges your clit and you hiss. Jimin grunts, leaving you unrestrained. It’s a little premature, making you cling onto the feeling, hands massaging his shoulders, lacing fingers over his neck, sweaty at the nape.

You’re trembling, legs hitching up and thighs spreading wide. The pleasure broils under the arousal, he knows it too. He kisses you with fervour, more weight to it this time, hands busy kneading, squeezing, pinning.

“Jimin,” you gasped, coaxing, shameless in the way you open up to him, his fingers not staying long enough to sink in your heat. His lips find the shell of your ear, his accent faltering a tad, What is it that you need?

“Just hold me,” you said, voice unlike your own.

And he does, all silky smooth skin, heat and taut muscle. You accept it all, tingling everywhere, not sure how your breathing is all ragged from touching and grinding, but it’s there. He presses your legs towards you, taking a moment for you to loosen up till your knees crush your tits, it’s bawdy to be bent like this. Sex is like that.

“Shit,” he marvels. You knew what it must have looked like otherwise Jimin wouldn’t be in pieces right now. To help, you secure your hands at the back of your thighs, holding position. Exposed and trusting. Jimin circles a hand on your ankle, his other holding his cock. The stretch makes you gasp, his hips slowly inching forward.

“F-fuck,” you uttered, pussy clenching at the tip of his cock.

For a long, unbearable moment, nothing happens. Jimin looks pained,his chest heaves while you whimper, relaxing, eyes shutting as white dots spark in your vision.

“It’s okay, you can go like that,” you said, chewing on your lip. It’s a polite way of saying hurry up. Jimin dips his head, eyes turning darker but they shine. He must have heard the desperation in your voice.

“Shh, it’s okay. You can bite me if you want.”

Your legs part as he lowers, you bury your face in the crook of his neck, moaning as the new pressure, the slow ease of his cock spearing inside your pussy. The thrash of your hips is aimless, the grinding is jittered, seeking more of him. Your teeth sinks on the corner where his neck meets his shoulder, it’s salty as your tongue flicks across heated skin. His moans fan your hair, hips beginning to move.

“Fuck,” he groaned, bottoming out, your fingers claw at the sheets, Jimin fucks into you in slow strokes. It’s satisfying, so cathartic like this, exactly how it should be. You’re whimpering, words lost in the clumsy translation of your bodies, the drag of his cock sending you spiralling.

“Keep going - like that,” you gasped, it’s so thick, this feeling, bolstered by the warmth seeping everywhere. And he drives his hips forward, stilling just to grind and you shake. Your pussy clings around his cock as he pulls out and rams back in. You can’t even move, nails clawing at his back, spurring that grunt that dies on the space by your head. Your back arches, loving the harsh, physical contact, thrusts on the liminal edge of pain.

“Ah..ahn,” you moaned, shuddering, teeth locking onto his skin, using all your strength to grind hard and fast, losing it a little each time. Jimin lifts his head, lips sealing over yours, tongue forceful in the way it parts your mouth, everything is sticky, drying sweat makes things chafe but not where it mattered. The kiss is sloppy and wet, Jimin slams into you, the solid smackof hips meeting yours, the stretch of his cock, it’s delicious and you struggled to stay in place, jostled up the bed.

“Shit…ah,fuck,” he huffs, stopping to readjust you both.

“Ah, Min, I can’t,” you babbled, lax as you you bask in the feeling, this thing that’s evaded you for so long.

“You can,” he said, answering your muddled thoughts. He reaches down, thumbing your clit in lazily circles. “You’re really wet, so fucking good, taking me like this, hm?” He brings it up, resting it on your bottom lip, you lick at it, tasting yourself, suckling on the blunt pad until you drag your tongue down his palm, a slick stripe of saliva that makes him laugh. He goes back with the same hand, forking his fingers to expose your clit, simultaneously thrusting. It all goes to your head, bodies sliding in submission, his cock is thick and follows each pull and push of his hips.

“Ah, fuck, fuck,” you choked out.

Jimin hauls you to sit up, and you cry out at the change in angle. He cups your ass, controlling the rhythm, “you’re so good, doing so good,” he said, stroking the small of your back as he assumes this easy grind up. You must have given it away in your face because the next thing he does is jar you, fingers kneading the nape of your neck, “you like that? Me telling you that you’re good?”

And his eyes are dark, his hips jutting up, his cock hitting you deeper, you collapse onto him, trying to wade through the fog of pleasure. He says your name, “want me to praise you?”

You nod, holding onto him, clenching unforgivably around his length, “tell me, tell me I’m good.”

Jimin lowers you back on the bed, kissing everything, your cheeks, your eyelids. “What else? Want me to tell you that you’re beautiful? That you’re good, so good?” He follows this with a forceful thrust, fucking into you steadily again. You moaned, head hitting the sheets, crying out at your clit getting the friction it needed, he keeps close, “want to hear that I’m struggling to hold myself out because you’re this tight?”

You almost cum, if not for him slowing down. He’s relentless with what he says, slipping even dirtier confessions in your ear, talking as if you’re his to own, to use.He knows what to do, as if attuned to every micro reaction you give, always finishing with tender words, never letting you comprehend, until -

“That’s a good girl.”

And then you let go, heat blasting through you in an acute wave, lightning striking from within, sizzling and searing through you, toes curling as Jimin swallows your moans. He holds you down as your stomach tenses, thighs rippling as he continues, chasing his own peak. You let him, yelping into his mouth, trying and failing to contain the pleasure that rips you into overstimulation.

“Ah, fuck, fuck,” he grunts, spilling inside you, fucking you in slower pumps, your eyes squeezed shut, fireworks everywhere, muting all senses, mind emptying into a nothingness. Your orgasm fizzles then ebbs, Jimin rocking into you, hair plastered to his forehead, careful not to jolt you as he pulls away. You blink at the mess between you, the heated, sticky pool of your arousal smearing your thighs, his cock coated in it.

“Fuck,” you breathed, not quite believing it.

For a while, it’s just you trying to catch your breaths. You don’t want it to come back, but it does. You’re hollowed out, you feel hot and in need of something clean. Jimin walks away and comes back swiftly, towel in hand from the adjoining bathroom. He moves with familiarity that it prompts you to question:

“Been here before?” You asked, propping yourself up on your elbows. He grins, spreading your legs to smooth over the raw skin; the towel is rough but does the job.

“Sometimes I crash here if I stay late with Tae.”

That explains it.

The apartment is enormous and it’s just you and your father.

Aftershocks come in the form of static spreads where he last touched, “feel okay?” He asked. You nod, watching him massage your skin, tapping fingers, and handling you as if you were fragile. On a normal day, you’d protest, but it’s lovely. You stare at each other, a little bewildered as to how far to take this. He brushes against your tender core, knuckles on your core for a moment, sending you into a palpable shudder. “Sorry.”

“’S fine.”

More silence. More opportunity to think. You’re not even drunk anymore. Jimin is calm, shifting the sheets until you’re both under them. The weight isn’t as nice but his arm around you isn’t artificial. Sleep should come next but the air isn’t conducive to that, reality bites. You watch each other, accepting this vulnerability. When you think you want to say something or when he looks like he’s considering the same reality, you both keep it to yourselves.

-

Laying side by side on the huge mattress, enveloped under the sheets, Jimin finally speaks. His voice is croaky.

“You look sad.”

It was meant to upset, this concern, but it felt so good to have him say that out loud. Better than being stuck together, sweaty and panting into each other’s mouths. You could get that plenty, but this? It hits all the spots that physical touch can’t remedy.

And that’s bliss.

You could only smile, not giving it away because that would be weird. Who likes being told that they’re sad? You couldn’t tell him that what he said was fine, either. Nothing’s fine about what he said and the fact that you chose to accept it.

The room is sparsely decorated, one painting from an auction hangs by the door. A seascape reminding you of your mother. You search for other things to look at and your eyes wander back to Jimin. The first thing you think about is how he’s neat and clean cut. There’s a method to how he carries himself. His nails are cut short, his hair is trimmed, his skin is bright. In fact, it’s too bright and healthy for someone who barely has a fixed schedule, driving all over the city. For more physical matters, his jaw is cut sharp, unlike the rest of his features, worn soft, down to his puckered lips. He seems to notice this unabashed examination and mumbles, “what?”

“How’d you look like that?” You asked.

“Like what?”

“You’re all… sparkly, pouty, then you get pretty, like really pretty. You’re put together, know what you want, just get on with things. I admire that.”

Blame it on the drunkenness, blame it on feeling like you’re suspending in this haze.

“There’s hardly any light - ” he laughs, a tad nervous.

“No, you’re… strangely sensual, like a creature moulded from a dream. You’re so interesting, magical.”

You scold yourself inwardly, You’re being weird again, stop it. But Jimin hikes the sheets up to cover your shoulders.

“Alright alright, you really are a writer.”

That makes you smile.

“Was.”

You weren’t sure what you were doing now, it’s all a blur. All of your shit hasn’t really gotten together. The point when that happened, when progress just halted, you can’t remember either. You push his hair away, counting the moles on his forehead.

“Really, you look insane, Min.”

He laughs, “flattery again.” It ends in a subtle lisp, his accent lilting in this sing-song manner.

“It’s truth telling. Sounds weird coming from me,” you replied.

He’s quick to come to your rescue when you don’t ask.

“No it doesn’t. I’m just not used to it.”

You meet the inky pools of his eyes, they relax, his blinks are slow.

“To what?” You asked, finding his hand under the sheets. He squeezes his palm against yours.

“Seeing myself how you see me.”

-

The house is empty and Jimin lends you his jacket that he’s retrieved from the kitchen. Everything you both wore was loose, the fabric of your skirt is wrinkled, you’re laying, outstretched on the couch like a cat, comfortable in its surroundings. The main space is trashed, confetti everywhere, it looks robbed.

“What are we gonna do?” You asked, catching him by the back of his thigh. He’s been searching for his other shoe for ages but couldn’t seem to locate it. Walking around in socks on a sticky floor made him grimace, the black wool is soiled. His shirt is on the chair across, his belt tossed under the bed, his tie is somewhere. The metal strap of his watch breaks up the skin from his forearm and wrist.

“What do you mean?” He asked back, looking down at you and smoothing your hair. It’s subtle but he feels you press into his touch.

“If this was one of those movies or novels, we would run away as the next scene,” you said, tugging him down onto the couch. With no luck about his shoe, he lets you slot yourself onto him, your calves flanking his waist. You fit together like a puzzle, like that he could kiss the inside of your knee. The supple skin tastes like you and him, he pauses, his lips lightly pressing.

“Where would we go?”

“Just far, like really far,” you murmured, that glaze in your eyes are back.

Jimin hauls himself up, bare skin scraping on the rough linen of the couch. Your statement spurs a forgotten dream of his, one of many left at the wayside. One that he picks up occasionally when he’s idle, forefinger tapping on the steering wheel as he watches your father exit the elevator, heading to the back seat.

“Busan.”

You reach forward, he kisses you before you ask.

“What will we get up to?”

It’s silly how he’s opening up like this. Jimin harboured wishes: a house by the sea, a humble restaurant with you at the front, bringing in the customers. Some would claim it to be too romantic, tame. His mother chastised him for constructing such lofty ideals, to search for money in something rooted in the sand is recipe for disaster she said. She was warning him about the customers being as fickle as the seasons. Jimin smiled politely, burning on the inside to prove her wrong. Although, its been years since any development regarding that. He’s been on the road for longer than he’d like.

“We could buy a plot of land, then we could build a restaurant.”

So far, you were paying him your undivided attention. While you hold his gaze, you play with his fingers, your thumb on the clasp of his watch. You’re harder to read when there’s a simmering excitement in your demeanour. The silence is too long, prompting him to fill it, to sellhis dream to you.

“It could be good. We won’t see the same face twice, we’re always busy, we’ll sleep well fed, we’d never be bored by the sea -”

You give him a look that he could guess as skeptical. You flick your thumb upwards causing his watch strap to unfasten. It falls down his arm, then you slide it back, closing the mechanism.

“You know this from experience?”

Jimin waits until your lips break into a smile. Relief comes that you’re not actually amused athim, at least that’s what he tells himself.

“I’ve worked at a couple of places before getting here but owning my own hours, feeding people good food - I’ll always come back to that.”

You stand up, hopping on one foot, twirling and totally disinhibited.

“And what would I do there?”

Without hesitating, Jimin says, “you’d be the face of the restaurant.”

You hand him his shirt back, he shoves his arms through, “you have a lot of faith in me.”

Jimin shakes his head, buttoning to the lowest level of decency. That meant three buttons unattended to, making the upper parts of his shirt gape.

“You’d be the one people would come and see, you’d know which drinks paired with which meals, know what kind of music fit the mood. You’d be the most memorable thing there,” he said, enjoying the way you grew shy.

“Each morning, without fail, we’d head down to the local market and buy the freshest produce, I’d let you choose the fish we need because I know you’d choose something good. We’ll end the day with a glass of wine by the beach, stroll along the coast as the sun sets. Me and you, barefoot. It’ll be bliss.”

It’s so vivid to him, he can feel the weight of the bags from the market on his fingers, the sour drop of wine on his tongue. He wriggles his toes as if sand had settled in the web, he’s grinning now because it’s all real. Across the room, you’re biting the skin of your thumb as you lean on the enormous speaker.

“And you’ve planned this with me in mind too?”

It’s a happy accident that his dream has room for you, he could grasp it so clearly which was why it came out in an effortless paragraph.

“We could drive all night, we’d be there in four hours. In fact, we could be by the sea by midday.”

Your expression falters suddenly, you’re teeth bites on the skin more firmly. Jimin braces himself because your eyes sparkle with a distinct edge to them.

“Do you love me, Min?”

Does he?

He plays it by ear, “I could. I want to.”

It doesn’t go well. You remove your hand near your mouth and twist your body away slightly, “what’s that supposed to mean? I thought you wanted me, that you were sick of feeling broken from not being with me.”

Jimin clenches his jaw, springing up to sit straighter, the creases at the elbow of his shirt make it harder to gesture, “it means that I can’t do that in this house. I can’t love you in the way I want to here.”

“Why? You need to explain that to me.”

It’s not the whinging that gets him, it’s the fact that his dream disappeared in the gulf you created. The lack of foresight, of yourforesight is a reminder.

“Your father.”

What he really wanted to say was what he knew: you were both different. It’s not the kind of different that can easily be surmounted by compromise, it’s fated and runs across generations. He surrenders to the reality he’s ensnared in.

“It wouldn’t work anyway,” he said, hanging his head. Apparently, that concerned you so you come back to straddle him. The glitter on your skin has scattered, some shimmer on the tip of your nose.

“It could,” you murmured, your lips ghosting over his, making his eyes close.

For a moment, he let’s himself be fooled that it’s all possible.

“We could build something together, make it real,” he replied, gaining some confidence in between hungry kisses. You giggled as his hands frame your face, the slip of your tongue is playful.

“You’re so serious about this,” you said, “you want to be like someone who employs others, earn your own keep. You’ll be like me then.”

Jimin knows it’s all in jest, that your words were meant to match your actions but that stings a little. His reply comes out before he could stop himself.

“It’s not possible for me to be like you.”

Another kiss, innocent.

“Why not?”

Pulling away, there’s a smile that edges your lips that he wanted to fade.

“Because I would have earned everything myself.”

A beat passes, you give out the softest of exhales, your brows pinching together.

“If that wasn’t so glaringly true I’d actually be offended.”

Jimin’s not sure if he’s crossed the line. Then again, what happened tonight crosses all of the thresholds. You laugh it off, getting up and wandering around again. The cerulean colour on your toenails appear like jelly.

“But seriously, how much have you planned about this restaurant by the sea?”

“I’ve planned enough,” he replied, moving towards you, cradling you in his arms. He feels you melt, going all limber.

“Well could you love me then?”

He doesn’t hesitate, “yes.”

You fall back on the couch together, giddy with dreams. He kisses your forehead, the tip of your nose, the apples of you cheeks. Then came the column of your neck, sweet skin that was his moments ago. He feels drunk on you, hands smoothing at your sides through the jacket that he lent you, sighing at your quiet moans.

“Have you got any?”

Bewildered, he asks, “any what?”

Nervousness is clear on your face, you toy with the collar of his shirt, “money?”

Quick on his feet, he lunges for an answer, “I have some saved. But I have other capital that’s worth more.”

“What other capital?”

Sensing another moot point, he keeps his distance, “you know, I have the skills I’ve picked up, I have the experience - ”

If you weren’t so close, he’d think that he saw you roll your eyes at him.

“Min, you can’t build a restaurant on experience,you can’t balance books on skill alone, where’s the money going to come from?”

Desperate for his dream not to sink so soon, he tucks your hair behind your ear, untangles what he could of your necklaces, “which is whyI need a partner who can provide the funds.”

“And where is this partner that you need at such short notice?”

Jimin bites his lip before speaking, “I mean, you must have something hidden away somewhere, maybe - ”

Abruptly, you untangle yourself from him, “hidden what? Have what? Do you mean cash at hand? People I know who will bend at my every whim?”

He’s silent and takes to buttoning the rest of his shirt up.

“Do you think it’s my choice to move back here? Do you think I’m back sleeping in my childhood bedroom voluntarily?” You complete this with a rough push of your fingers through your hair. “Min, I feel so… defective.If I had what you needed, do you think I’d still be living here?”

Staunch in his belief, he gets up and tries to wrangle you back in his arms, “you’re not really telling me that you have nothing at all, you must have something.”

You turn to him, scoffing, “what you’re looking for, and let’s call it what it is - my inheritance - is in a trust. I can’t just access it whenever I want.”

“But it’s yours, they can’t keep it from you -”

“Everything that I’ve inherited from -” you faltered for a moment, Jimin watches you blink back something he can’t read, “everything I’ve inherited from heris locked up in a trust. That’s the whole point of it, it’s to stop me from acting all reckless, like this,” you said, pointing generally to the room. “The process takes ago too, months even.”

Jimin deflates, “well, nothing happens then. We can’t do anything.” He makes for the door that leads to the kitchen, riled up for a reason he’d like to keep to himself.

Where’s the fucking techno-pop when you need it?

previous. / next.

masterlist (I)|masterlist (II)

Fool’s Gold. | II. | Park Jimin, 6.5k

Pairing:Reader x Jimin

Summary:The party carries on but you and Jimin settle in the kitchen. Talking seems better than dancing anyway.

Warnings/Tags: RATED T for language; references to alcohol; Jimin’s a chauffeur (yesss); the reader still isn’t having a very good time at all; more references to shitty techno-pop music; blood (nothing major because it’s tended to through finger sucking, yes, you got that right); nothing like mean-spirted banter to get things going; and dreams!it gets a little introspective; also there’s pining (surprise!); risqué ending if you ask me (seriously); angst - non-idol!AU.

=====

-

To be alone with you is rare, Jimin thinks. Since he’s technically under your father’s orders, he doesn’t get moments like these often. It’s mostly a mere brush in the hallway, or the occasional drop off or pick up at the airport. Sometimes, he might have a conversation with you about the weather, your next appointment, even the state of the gardens on the rooftop. You liked to compliment him yet it’s never amounted to more than surface-level chatter. He was fine with that, fine with being the only one doing the perceiving.

“Nice shirt,” you said, laying on the table, gaze to the spotlights above.

“You’re doing it again,” Jimin replied, finding a smile on his face.

“Doing what?”

“Flattering me.”

For a few seconds, nothing happens. Time crawls; he isn’t sure if he’s done anything wrong or gone too far.

“Flatter you?”

“It’s either you’re exaggerating or you want something from me. Either way, it’s flattery,” he explains, unlike what he would usually do, which was to shut up and go about his day.

“How old are you again? You’re so formal when you speak.”

You turn your head in time for Jimin to see you don a lazy smile. You get this tone in your voice, you get timid and he guesses that it’s to appear sanguine. Daftly, he ropes himself into believing it, comfortable that at least here,while the speakers are ran through upstairs and the nobodies wreck the space, he can get to know you.

“Twenty-seven.”

“Ah, I see, you’re close to thirty already,” you grinned, gathering your body up, spine reverting upright. Both straps fall, Jimin sees the way your skin glows under the artificial lighting. His insides buzz, alone in this tension.

“Not that old, and I’m not formal,” he muttered, assuming Taehyung’s role in making the kitchen his. There weren’t many things to do, he curses Taehyung for being so diligent. Why did he even like the idea of being alone with you?

“Beg to differ, Ahjussi.I can imagine you driving around father’s minions as they whisper in the back seat. I bet you know Russian! How about a couple of phrases in Chinese? Don’t tell me you’re not fluent by now,” you said, he sees the drink in your hand, the slice of lime floats pathetically near the top. Jimin doesn’t reply because he doesn’t know how.It’s affronting to be met with your perception of him. Nonchalant, you take a long gulp of the clear liquid, the lime hitting your lips.

“How long have you been working here, Min?”

Again, there’s that damn banmalthat sends Jimin’s pulse quickening.

“You know this,” he replied, coming off a little hurt. The rim of the glass is pressed against your chin, your eyes seem genuinely lost as they blink at the floor. He sees your lashes, wet with dew.

“I do?”

Jimin remembers his first day, fumbling with the knot in his tie being too tight. You were with a few friends, young and laughing too loudly that the sound echoed in the high ceilings. He passed by but you didn’t take notice of him at all. The first car was a Mercedes, quietly luxurious and set low near the ground. Your father was gracious and forgave his early mistakes with a slight wave, It’s alright, the traffic is worse on the other side of the bridge anyway. Jimin recalls the shine of your father’s signet ring choking the pinky finger, a family crest engraved in gold. His own father wore shoes till the soles gave up to the sidewalk. Jimin was able to buy him a decent watch when he got his fifth pay check. After taxes, it’s actually the sixth.

“You were on a break from college -”

“Oh no! I leftcollege during that time, couldn’t stand it. Wait… that was three years ago.”

The recognition is stark on your face, Jimin nods.

“We’ve known each other for ages,” you said, swaying a little as you walked an unsure path in the kitchen. You weren’t wearing any shoes and your toenails were painted a cerulean blue. Jimin relaxes against the counter while you finished your drink. He sees the way your throat expands and contracts. It’s not meant to be erotic but it stirs something similar in him all the same.

More silence occurs so he treads towards you, the backs of his thighs cut by the blunt curve of the table as he rests. When you turn, it’s like you were on the verge of laughter but it leaves you, your features ironing out.

“Do you have someone?”

Jimin stares and stares. In the back of his mind is a sunlit garden, the flutter of the breeze and the feeling of peace at the fact that there was nowhere to go. You flick the straps of your top back up, he notes the details of you. The delicate layer of necklaces, the way your fingers are adorned by rings apart from where they should be. The diamond studs by your ears and the divot between your collarbones where the scent of your perfume would be the strongest.

“Almost,” he said.

Your eyebrows shoot up, the subtle tug of your mouth downwards he takes a victory. Taehyung’s laugh is loud, it breaks his trance, causing him to shove his hands into his pockets. There wasn’t much room since the trousers he wore were fitted.

“Was she good to you to at least?” You asked, holding him hostage with your gaze.

Jimin doesn’t know what to say.

“Was she?” You reiterate, hand clenching over the empty glass. The lime slides and knocks against its walls as your smile returns, though he deems it to be more robotic; the kind you give to guests. “good?”

The tension is shared but he waits. Then your features come alive, your hand shoots out to invite him.

“Sit down, Min. C’mere.”

Jimin wished he had consumed something to help alleviate this burning temperature inside. He stands still, sees you take up space on the tufted chair, one of the straps dropping again.

“You’re allowing me to sit?”

“Oh c’mon on, don’t be difficult,” you exclaimed, patting the backrest of the empty seat. Before he could settle however, you flick your hand.

“Actually, wait, get me another refill,” you said, tone clear and authoritative. The obedient part of Jimin’s brain lights up, his ass doesn’t even touch the seat before he’s springing into action.

“What do you want?”

Craning your head, you end up waving vigorously, “anything you can get your hands on.”

Jimin grabs the hefty bottle of champagne, swiftly pouring the golden fizz into a spare flute.

“Have one with me, please!” You exclaimed, stretching out, the skirt falling open to reveal your legs. Jimin ignores you and controls the portion to a level that he’s seen Taehyung serve. You snatch another flute and knocks the one he’s pouring into to the side.

“Can’t - driving later.”

You rolled your eyes, caressing the rim of the thin glass till it sang.

“It’sonedrink, Min. Go on, I bet father won’t even call you, he’s got a deal going on.”

At that, Jimin feels a certain calm go over him. Your eyes sparkle conspiratorially, raising the flute from the stem.

“Let’s toast!”

He laughs a little, weightless in his next action.

“To what?” He asked, lips tingling for that buzz, the prickle of the fruity bubbles bursting in his throat. You inhale deeply, raising the glass higher still.

“Who else? To me.”

Sprawling in his seat, Jimin cocks his head and arches his brow. You seem to take it the wrong way.

“Is that selfish?” You asked, unsure again, scratching a spot on your forehead that didn’t need attending to. “I mean, it is my birthday. Someoneshould at least toast me even if I have to be the one doing it.”

The air doesn’t crackle this time, instead it becomes listless, as if you were in the stratosphere. You press your lips together, humming as the flute in your hand is held in a weak grip. It comes in flashes, your sadness. Jimin spares you the indignity of begging so he too raised his glass.

“To you.”

Another smile, a grateful one, one that he decides to frame in his mind.

“Thanks.”

After a moment of reluctance, you drink together. Interestingly, the liquid doesn’t scald as he had hoped. What does is the way your stare holds him, irises blown out, skin dewy as your breath mists the inside of the glass. You think everything is easy, I want to know how that feels, his mind blares.

Conversations are louder now, which makes him spring up from his position, the bottom of the flute crashing on the surface of the table. He wipes his mouth with a rough drag of his hand, focusing on the matter at present. Unbothered, you finished your drink.

“Those people up there? They’re not who they claim to be, you know,” he said.

It’s a curse that he has, he can’t help himself. If his family had enough money orif he was smart enough to knock all out all the competitors for a scholarship, he would have been a prosecutor. An interlocutor telling people what’s right or wrong. But, like all dreams that come to pass, he keeps it and calls it part of his character.

The flute in your hand lowers to a muted clink.

“What are you talking about?”

Stopping himself from laughing at the ridiculousness of your inquiry, he gestures vaguely to the entryway.

“Did you not see how they look at you? Don’t you hear what they say when they think you aren’t listening?”

You tuck your hair behind your ear but he sees it, he sees the way your fingertips tremble.

“What were they saying?” You asked, your tone light, like you were merely asking for directions.

It’s easy to accept that the world is flawed but breaking that news to others is often the harder task, his father said once.

“C’mon, tell me,” you urged, blinking rapidly. The dew on your eyelashes might as well have been tears. Jimin bites his lip, scratching the back of his neck.

“I don’t want to…”

You cross your legs, tucking yourself inwards, “what? Think you’d hurt me?”

A beat passes, Jimin finds it difficult to counter that fact.

“If you didn’t want that to happen then why bring it up in the first place?”

There’s a certain boldness that Jimin could access here that would otherwise be unavailable to him in other circumstances. He walks towards you.

“Just tell me, Min! Why be such a tease about this,” you said, frustration edging your tone. You slip the strap of your top up brusquely.

“You have to pay more attention when you’re around people or when you’re in a room,” he said, palm up, forearm articulating outwards. You press your knees together, brows pinching in a way that forces a part in your lips too.

“I don’t -” he stops himself for the moment, “youdon’t want people to take advantage of you.”

The movement in your face is incremental as you drink his caution in, it’s like a reluctant administration of medicine. But what happens next makes his hands go all clammy. You lean away from him, fingers loosely webbed on the table.

“What if I don’t mind people… taking advantage of me?”

Jimin casts a look at the gyrating shadows cast on the exposed hallway behind you. Technicolour warnings flash in his mind: where the fuck is Taehyung? Why isn’t his phone lighting up with orders to go to the business district and pick your father up, stat?

“We shouldn’t be alone like this,” he said, fumbling for something to centre himself. The party has gone on for way too long, he wants the shitty techno-pop to make a mess of his eardrums, he wants the smooth texture of a steering wheel in his hands.

“Why?” You asked, leg come out suddenly, the cerulean tips of your toenails touch the back of his hand. You flick your foot at him and he doesn’t resist.

“We shouldn’t be alone,” he emphasises, making a grab for your arm. Your wallet flies out and you give a shrill shriek. The small plastic sleeve of snow slides out and he kicks at it until it slips where it’s unreachable. He’s strong enough to hold you while you thrash in his arms, cursing him loudly.

“Don’t dothat,” he said through gritted teeth, biceps bulging through his shirt as he restrains you.

“Why? Are you worried? Worried that you’d lose your precious gig of driving my father - fuck,just let me go,” you gasped, but your act wanes and you wilt while whinging about things that didn’t matter. Confident that you weren’t going to try anything funny, he does let you go and you stand up, hugging your arms close to yourself. His phone flashes but it’s just another notification from Naver.

“Waiting to be summoned?” You asked, petulant.

Liberal with his silences, Jimin scrolls and scrolls.

“Can’t he order a taxi-service? It’s soboring for you to be at his beck-and-call all the time, he’s so fucking lazy,” you said, vulgar in the image you portray. Jimin smiles, eyes on the surface of his palm. Lines are cut deep on pale-pink skin, some patches are rough and dry though. When he rubs his fingertips together, they sound like fine grains rushing against each other.

“Why are you smiling?” You asked, grinning yourself.

“You really wanna know?”

“Yes,” you said, perching on the table, bare feet on the sticky leather seat.

“Because you’re gullible - naive.”

You don’t even let that simmer, pressing your hand on your forehead, disturbing your smooth skin into corrugated folds.

“Don’t you think I know that already? But I don’t think you’ve used the right words…”

“What’s the right one then?” Jimin asked, looking up at you as you rub your fingers over your collarbone, your free hand whipping your skirt for more access underneath. Jimin follows each tic, each change in movement till it takes root in him. He becomes hyperaware of his pulse, the sweat trickling from the nape of his neck down the inside of his collar. He’s warm in a drunk kind of way, cheeks likely hot to the touch.

“Weird,” you said, wistful. “I feel really weird,” you said, waving your hand in a tight circle rather dramatically. “That’s what I actually am: weird.”

One summer, Jimin remembers seeing you come home in a strop, throwing your belongings against the wall. An hour later, you were laughing over the phone, kicking your feet up in delight, the phone close to your ear as you ate chips. Back then, Taehyung wasn’t there to fill him in but he saw your sport’s equipment going all mouldy at the entrance on his way to the parking lot. That and a dented trophy, its plaque streaked with mud. As he drove out into the roads choking with sleepers behind the wheel, he put two and two together. Your father completed a deal that day.

“What do you mean?” He pries, you turn your attention to a spot in the kitchen, golden accessories glinting as you settled.

“I have this dream. I have it often - like I’m swallowed by something warm. And it’s dark and I can’t move much, but the thing is, it feels really nice? Like it starts off as something comforting… but then I hearsomething, I hear this tiny scratching that escalates…”

Jimin watches you scratch the skin of your thigh, your eyes closed to recall that alcove in your dream. Your lashes spill dew genuine in your terror, your body giving away a rumble of fear that you couldn’t contain.

“And it gets to the point where it’s unbearable, like nails on a chalk board or people banging cutlery on plates, and it gets so bad that I try to scream but the noise overpowers me. It alwaysdoes.”

Enraptured, Jimin clasps his hands together out of concern. Your eyes are still closed, your tone is pained now.

“Then, as if by some miracle, this light arrives, it’s so bright that I try and cover my eyes with my arms, but they’re so so heavy, like I have weights around my wrist, so I haven’t got any choice. And when I scream for help, nothing comes back, and there’s nothing warm on me anymore, all I can feel is this hot flash of heat, this clash of sound and - ”

There was a pause in which the music from the upper floors inject the silence. Jimin knuckles strain due to how hard he was clenching his fists.

“And when I woke up once, I found a feather in my mouth,” you said, laughing. “Must have come from those boa scarves I had hanging off my headboard. Told Tae to throw it away but I guess he forgot.”

You open your eyes, Jimin finally sees that they appear bloodshot and tired. He didn’t realise that he was holding his breath until you muster a wry smile, the cracked fissures in your lips shine wetly from your saliva.

“Have you ever had dreams like that?”

Immediately, he shakes his head, “not like that but I mostly dream that I’m moving.”

Supposing that you were grateful for the break, you lean close and observe him with your shimmering complexion, “how do you mean?”

Sleeping isn’t insurmountable for Jimin; he could do it anywhere. Once, during the days when he used to halve his time between the southern regions, he slept fetal position in a ferry station till the morning because he was late for the last boat. It’s not often that he dreams but when he does, it’s in motion. Running or walking. Like he knows he’s going somewhere but he wakes before knowing wherehe should end up. A fucking nightmare if you asked him to label it. Rubbing his hands together, he swelters under your gaze. The dry sting he feels after every blink signals that he’s more tired than he thinks.

“It’s always like this: I’m either running or walking,going in one direction but it never ends. Like this treadmill, the path disappears under my feet but it’s infinite. I reach out my hands, I try and grab something real - in fact,” he said, getting lost in the narration, gesticulating as if he was building a diorama for you. “Every single time I thinkI have it, like I can taste, smell, and feelit, there’s…nothing.”

Even awake, he couldn’t hold on to it.

“But what is it? What are you trying to get at?” You asked, eyes wide in your search for him. You run your finger along your lip, pushing the pliant skin till your bottom teeth and gum peeked through.

Jimin shrugs, lightly punching his knuckles together, “dunno.”

Jolted, you set your glass down, shaking your limbs, fingers waggling to spur some life in them, “we shouldn’t be talking about this, we’re not even asleep!” Hopping off the table, you clear the space between the table and the small entryway meant to lead up to the roof. “C’mon and watch the sun come up with me.”

There’s a small glass meant for port wine nearby and Jimin tries to stop you from leaping towards it. In his haste, his hand knocks a flute outwards flat on the table till it shatters. Blood drips from his forefinger, vermillion at first, then a deep wine-dark that trickle on the shard. Turns out that you missed the small glass and patter back to him, your gentle hands guiding his arm up, his finger draining a red vein down into the wrist of his shirt.

“You’re bleeding,” you murmured, the heady scent of bergamot descends on him in a mist.

Jimin’s head goes all fuzzy, he’s never been this close to you that he could see finer details on your face, the way your make up kind of looks like second skin, your necklaces are tangled, one pendant is actually a pair of wings. He lets you guide him so that he’s sitting down again, his finger throbs as more blood leaks; he doesn’t dare look.

Then, you lift his hand and it hovers near your lips, his eyes widen as you slip it in your mouth. It feels strange,the slow suck of your lips, your tongue shaping itself so that it forms a ditch in which his finger rests upon. He feels every bump of your tastebuds whereas you’re probably tasting copper. The blood drains and drains and you hold his gaze, the hollows of your cheeks are prominent. You’re not gripping his hand particularly hard yet he shivers as you push his finger out, the digit coated in your spit, your breath fans his palm and he feels something stir between his thighs, he hears a snag of breath that’s actually his.

Your name comes out in a tortured whisper, he watches you tuck your bottom lip under your teeth, the barest pressure on it seems so enticing to admire.

“Stop fucking with me,” he said, his voice hoarse. You narrow your eyes, fickle in your plans.

“I’m not fucking with you.”

A heavy feeling constricts Jimin’s chest, like his heart is too big for his ribcage. He says your name again, stern,“I mean it.”

You were waiting, doe-eyed and jacked-up, it didn’t matter to him the he may have looked like your next high. He almost does it in a lunge, a split second decision to plant his lips on yours in an open-mouthed admission.

The door slams open because Taehyung bounds in, Jimin prises himself away from you, frantically searching for that goddamn dust pan and brush. The handle juts out near the trash can and he makes a grab for it while you nervously pace around.

“Tae!”

“Everything good?” Taehyung asked, elongated eyes flitting between you and Jimin.

“Yeah,” you replied, another flute in your hand. “I’m sorry that the party’s not over yet,” you add belatedly.

“It’s okay, as long as you’re having a good time,” Taehyung said.

“Mhm, I had fun - am having fun.”

Jimin swipes the crumbs onto the odd angle of the dust pan, tapping it into the designated trash.

“Well, if I’m not needed here, I’m heading home for tonight, that okay?”

It’s not apparent to Jimin straightaway that his hands hand had stopped brushing unnecessary debris into the trash. In his peripheries, he sees Taehyung unhook his jacket, a green bomber that Jimin got him during a trip together in Ulsan. The patches were basically ripped off owing to its cheap manufacturing but Taehyung loves it. Jimin constantly said, It looks vintage, right out of some over-priced thrift store. You’ll fit right in if you ever decide to walk along Garosu-gil.

“Yeah, sure! Thanks so much for staying and helping out Tae,” you said, your voice farther away. Taehyung leaves, waving at Jimin at the same time, “drive safe, kay?”

Jimin nods. The music makes its way back into the kitchen again, he clenches his jaw at the sound of another mashup ruining his sacred memories of eighties synth-pop. The lights dim because you pressed something on your phone, you hum inordinately, twirling in a way that balloons your skirt once more.

“I’m gonna tell the rest hanging around to leave,” he announced.

“You’re gonna tell my friends to leave? Why?”

Getting up and running his hands under the faucet, Jimin finds that the chill helps ground him a little, his wound gradually closing up. Music comes through the speakers in the kitchen, the honey vocals of some current ballad singer acts a salve for his nerves. The lyrics are familiar, aided by the timber in the singer’s voice.

“I can’t leave you with them around, you should head to bed.”

Flicking off the faucet, the trail of blood stained water drains into the metal holes. Warmth follows you wherever you go and he feels it near, even through his shirt.

“You’re not here to look after me.”

Water dulls the shine of stainless steel.

“Then don’t act like you need looking after.”

Bloodshot eyes and a wry smile, they’re the same even in the muted light. Jimin doesn’t like this but he’d rather be the one seeing it that those nobodies. He thinks largely about absence, the immensity of it all.

“Do you want him to come home and see you like this? I don’t think you should keep -”

Lambasted, you pull away with a scowl, “don’t you think that his ‘deal’ has turned into something a little more informal? I know my father, he’s a closer. He should have been here hours ago. Maybe he’s holed up in that studio apartment in Hannam right now.”

You watch him with a kind of strength befitting someone unlike what he expects of you. The apartment was newly refurbished, he went there a couple of days ago because he was instructed to drive someone other than you or your father. She was lovely, demure, and young. Still, he doesn’t entertain your suspicion, he decides that it’s not in his place to do so. But you pry and when you do, it’s an ache poorly disguised as venom.

“What? You think I’m clueless about that place?”

This was a time when Jimin would pray for a notification from Naver, he’ll take anything. A dating scandal centring on some poor idol and a model, a secret affair between co-stars, the discovery of a slush-fund from an esteemed politician. But it’s a miracle distraction that isn’t so easily granted, so he fishes his phone out to scroll and scroll.

“He’s not a bad person,” he murmurs, balking from the weight of your stare.

“Sorry?”

“I said that he’s not a bad person,” he said, pocketing his phone. There was nothing interesting apart from an upcoming holiday involving Peppero’s. You cross your arms, making the glittery top contract from the tightness.

“Doesn’t that depend on what you define as ‘bad’? Sounds like your definition is a little… wide.”

Sure, Jimin has seen things and then some in the years that he’s worked for your father. Everyone is looking for a type of love that fits them. Until that happens, you’re reaching for people that feel like home but really aren’t worth a dime. He gets it because it happens. Instead, he says:

“He works a lot. He works hard all the time.”

You snort, ramping up the music as an obnoxious display, “at least he’s getting some. If he’s gonna bail on me on my birthday, he might as well be having his cake and eat it. The poor girl must be suffering though: two-hundred thread count isn’t really Egyptian cotton, is it? I saw the receipt from Lotte World. He’s so fucking stingy.”

Steps interrupt the flow of the ballad, Jimin cocks his head to hear swearing and merriment.

“There must be another party happening,” you said, lowering the volume to a hush.

“What? Right now?”

“Yeah. The others were talking about another one near Itaewon, a friend of a friend is hosting it.”

Jimin hadn’t heard a single name uttered to address those nobodies. Guess he was right.

“Some friends they are,” he said bitterly.

“Look - I’d appreciate it if you didn’t talk about them that way. You’re not supposed to be here anyway, you don’t work for me tonight. You should be waiting in a car, waiting for my father to ask you to drive him back here so he could see how much of a good time I’m having.”

He says nothing because that’s implicit in the words you said. Then, as if you weren’t used to it, as if you weren’tborn looking down on people as you speak, you retreat, trying to bury your sentences in makeshift quicksand.

“Min, I’m sorry - I didn’t - I didn’t mean what I said just now.”

The thing is, there was a lot that you said just now. Having had enough for the night, he turns on his heel, a headache simmering beneath the skin of his temples. To acknowledge your apology was to bring light to the truth.

“Min - wait.”

It’s not about you being superior that he considers it. More of the fact that there’s a part of you lodged in his rib, there from the moment he saw you, bathed in the glow of the afternoon sun that day. He stops.

“Have you ever had your heart broken?”

Jimin thinks he has.

He thinks that he’s been walking around with his heart cleaved in two all this time.

“Ever had someone leave you like doing that was nothing to them? Ever lose someone you loved so desperately that it knocks the wind out of your lungs?”

You sound wounded. He thinks back to the parking lot, to images of smeared mascara and a runny nose. The unifying and shameful gaze of the downtrodden in the face of rejection. You’re getting too personal and he doesn’t know where to place himself. He wishes Taehyung was here to diffuse the situation. He hears you scoff.

“Didn’t think so.”

“Why would you ask me that?”

Allowing himself to look, he is met with the sight of you wringing your hands together.

“‘Cause you come off as a happy person.”

Another perception of himself that he fails to register. Jimin feels restless not happy. If there was an hourglass meant to represent his time on earth, the grains are falling at a faster speed than normal. He wonders what kind of person you see in him, what his touch means to you altogether.

“Yeah… well, you know, as happy as one can get nowadays,” you said in the face of his silence.

The buzz of his phone breaks his thoughts, if any. He brings it up to his face, Naver shoots out a frosted rectangle that states gas prices are to hike up starting next month.

“I don’t see how that’s got anything to do with anything.”

Just as he pockets his phone, you draw closer, there’s more mirth in your scent than anything. Your hand finds his arm, fingers tightening over fabric, over muscle, over his pulse.

“Tell me it’ll be okay. Tell me that I’ll feel better.”

As if in a trance, he parrots your plea, “you’ll be okay. You’ll feel better.”

Perhaps he needed to hear it too.

Then there’s that distance again, as wide as a gulf. You worry the waistband of your skirt, twisting it inwards. Frantic, you speed to the counter, pour another drink into a spare glass, there are no limes this time. Jimin presses his palms of the hard table, no matter how much force he puts, it barely shudders.

“It’ll pass.”

And when you look at him there’s a sense of finality in your fear, he couldn’t quite place it. An emotion that looked like a nobody; a faceless being in the ether. He thinks he’s known it before, that fleeting kiss of loneliness, as striking and black ice on a clear, November day.

“How do you know that? You can’t possibly know that, you can’t -”

You’re cradling the glass close as if it’s something precious. Jimin takes a step forward, waits for a beat before letting it out.

“I know what you felt, I’ve experienced it before.”

You don’t drink anything, setting the glass down in a loud clink.

“What have you felt?”

Jimin doesn’t hesitate this time, meeting you in the eye.

“Love.”

You wipe your nose roughly, the dew in your lashes touches the skin under your eyes as you blink.

“You?”

He crosses his arms, “is that something that surprises you?”

You shake your head, “it’s not that. It’s just… you don’t seem like the type of person who gives anything away.”

He retreats.

“It’s not like you know me.”

Sensing something wrong afoot, you approach him in slow steps, “that’s why I said ‘seem’.” You sit back down on a chair, luxuriating on the tough leather, the strap slinking down again. The curve on your shoulder where your bones connect under skin reflect fragments of glitter brushed over it. “Who was she?”

Jimin turns and observes his shadow along the wall, he sees the sunlit garden, remembers being cocooned in the pocket of a second where he could stop doing anything and there were no consequences awaiting him. In his rumination, nothing had changed in his surroundings, the kitchen is still the same, your disposition is buttery and he feels like mush. Being sapped from energy makes him like that: docile. He looks at you knowing that his face is impassive, if not irritated. It’s a fine line to balance.

“Well fine, if you don’t want to -”

“You.”

As if scalded, you rise from your seat and step back. The glass makes its way into the cradle of your hand, the liquid is clear but potent. He knows because his temple throbs on reflex. Restless, you float back to the seat, the gulf between you constricts, holding tension.

“When?”

Jimin digs his hands in his pockets, the left grasping the cool metal of his phone, the right clenching into a fist. You’ve done it now, he thinks.

“Min, when did you feel like that?”

There’s only time now, in this kitchen. Time he doesn’t want to waste.

“I had been working for your father for a couple of weeks and I’d never been invited up before, but he said it’ll be a while till he had to leave again. That wasn’t normal, I usually hang around the driver’s quarters but I found myself at the foot of the spiral steps that led to the roof.”

Sunlit garden.

Fractals of light bouncing off you, the light breeze animating the leaves. It was so bright that he had to shield his eyes.

You in the middle, divine like it was your birthright.

“And I knew your father could see me staring and I expected him to tell me to go back downstairs but he waved me away right as he answered the phone. I walked up and… it was so bright that afternoon, the garden was paradise. I’d never seen anything like it in my life.”

You wear a fond smile in front of him and he joins in, held together by a shared memory. He doesn’t tell you that before the calm that settled over him there was the feeling of strangeness, like he walked in on something private. It was the fact that you were so still, like a mannequin, back turned away from him, staring at a point in the horizon that only you could see. Your face was titled upwards, kissed softly by the rays of sun.

“The garden is pretty in the summer,” you said. Jimin bites his lip to gather himself.

“I saw you before anything else actually. The sunlight touching your face, you were…”

“What? I was what?” You asked, blinking slowly, the glass far away from your lips. It’s followed by that half smile that Jimin mirrors.

“I’d never seen anyone appear so… right. Like nothing was out of place, like nothing could touch you in that moment.”

He sees a slight shiver course through you as you inhaled through your mouth. More rapidly this time, you blink and your eyelashes come away wet, there’s a tremor in your chin that he picks up even though you tried to conceal it in a watery smile.

“When did you say this was again, Min?”

“I told you - a couple of weeks after I was employed.”

Your hand clasps your chin, brows scrunching in an effort to see what he saw, “I can’t remember what I was doing up there, maybe I was -”

Jimin recalls paper scattered in a semi-circle decorated by the fluorescent green squares of Post-it notes.

“There was a lot of paper with you.”

“Ah, I was writing…” you said, filling up the puzzle pieces he’d been missing all this time. “At least I was tryingto write. Why didn’t you come to me and say hi? You could have introduced yourself.”

Jimin shakes his head, fidgeting again, “I felt like I was intruding. Besides, I didn’t want to disturb whatever you were doing.”

You were writing amidst the stillness of the moment.

“Intruding? I wouldn’t have thought so, especially not during that time.”

He wanted to say something but stops himself. He stays in the silence again since he knows that there was a rapid changeover in staff of which he was a part of during that time. Your father said something about needing a fresh start; he understands that there’s more to it, heard snippets of conversations while he drove along the length of the Han. He stops there though, too afraid to ask or know.

Laughter crashes through the space, there was no longer any techno-pop music. Footsteps grow close, your name becomes interlaced in the eruption of noise, they must be coming from the pool, Jimin guessed. They call for you in synchronised squawks.

“Shit, hide!”

Jimin recoils,“why? I’ll just tell them to leave. Wait here.”

“No, I don’t want them to find me, just come and hide with me.”

Whenever he looks at you, he doesn’t feel fastened to reality. And when you touch him, it gets infinitesimally more intense. You grab at him, your grip firm on his bicep. Bergamot and mirth is what he wears tonight along with his wrinkled suit.

“Please -”

It happens when you pull and he pushes.

The kiss is warm, wet, and everything he’s ever allowed himself to dream of.

He tastes the tang of limes and the sweet, glacé cherries from the cocktails you’ve drunk. Then he comes to know something else. Something that ignites heat in his body, maybe it was the small sounds that you made, the tiny gasps and whimpers as he presses himself, crushing the space, your back meeting the wall in a muffled thump.

Whatever it was, it’s full of ardour spurred by his own greed.

His hands come down, feeling the different textures: skin, fabric, then skin.

You moaned in his mouth and sounded so right,his heart leaps, scrabbling fingertips finding your heat. The narrow entryway is dark and you bump along it like a pinball without force. The way his name sounds, full and long in a breathy gasp: Jimin.

Maybe it’s because he may have blurred fascination with love that it feels good.

The faceless nobody that encroaches on you both disappears into its ether for the moment.

You reach a spare room, the decoration matching the modern interior of the rest of the house. It’s quiet and private, an island off the vast continent that is your home.

There’s a moment before it all sets off. The kind that people coined as the point beforethe point of no return. Jimin looks down at you, panting, straps pooling down your arms, heavy golden skirt splayed on the sheets. So much skin is still covered, waiting for him to explore, to taste.The distance was the final gulf that begged to be surmounted. He asks but it’s gentle, he didn’t want to crowd you.

You speak so softly that it almost gets lost in the roar of his heartbeat.

“Yes.”

previous. / next.

masterlist (I)|masterlist (II)

Fool’s Gold. | I. | Park Jimin, 4.2k

Pairing:Reader x Jimin

Summary:There’s a party that roars in Gangnam. It’s your birthday and Jimin looks on, wondering why things are the way they are.

Warnings/Tags: RATED T for language; references to alcohol; a badbreakup; vmin being best friends; Taehyung is v soft here; Jimin’s a chauffeur (yes, I know lmao); the reader isn’t having a very good time at all; starts off a little bleak, then carries on in the same tune; it’s all about those simmering feelings imho; references to shitty techno-pop music; there’s cake though!; angst; non-idol!AU.

=====

-

The penthouse in Gangnam pulses with strobe lights on its uppermost floor. Jimin thinks that the bright shock of colours in the several row of windows would make an unusually artificial break in the inky sky. He watches the party from a secluded corner, mostly in the shadows. The glass in his hand was already sweating, the surface of the drink vibrating along with the jarring techno-pop flooding from the speakers.

In the centre, you’re dancing with a bunch of nobodies, writhing under the host of colours that flashed on the planes of your face. You had his stupid smile on to compliment that hazy look in your eye while you draped yourself onto the next available person. Together, you whirl in this dance that he likens to chaos. The skirt you wore was long and gold, the slit at the side allowing for generous access to the bare skin of your leg. Your top was really just a strip of glittery fabric across your chest, secured by equally flimsy straps.

Jimin frowns.

Another person - likely a stranger from the long list of nobodies on your contact list - decides to make you drink something. You come away with an even stupider smile, lurid in the way the corners of your mouth flick up.

“You’ll stick out like a sore thumb if you don’t at least move ‘Chim,” Taehyung said, near enough to register.

Setting his drink on a space, Jimin cards his hand through his hair. The suit he wore despite being cotton was rough on his skin, his collar a little too tight.

“I have to leave in a while anyway,” he replied, low enough to make it seem like he was talking to himself. Taehyung sighs, moving along with the crowd, picking up more drinks than what he was setting down. Jimin looks on till he disappears, entering another door.

The music changes, a mash-up of a track from the nineties and something abhorrent. But you were enjoying it, jumping on your feet, arms to the sky, head lolling in a slow roll. The smile stays plastered on your face, and while he was too far away to know for sure, your pupils are blown wide, afflicted by a self-administered elixir meant to last the beyond this night. A glance at his watch showed that he had time to spare before heading down the basement. There was no use in drinking if his job involved him being behind the wheel.

Taehyung appears again, this time hooking his arm through his and he lets himself get dragged along backwards, his attention on you never wavering. The last thing he sees before the wall divides the scene was your arm slinging over someones neck, the sliver of your tongue on their skin. You’ve always sought pleasure but tonight he thinks there’s a harder edge to it. Heat coils in the pit of his stomach, he gets a hold of himself and shrugs off Taehyung, who only rolls his eyes.

“There’s some cake downstairs.”

On the way out, your eyes meet but he isn’t so sure if you recognised him through the haze.

-

As always, Jimin sees Taehyung being busy. The party rages throughout the floors, shaking the foundations of the apartment. Jimin observes him slide numerous cakes out from their flimsy boxes. Aligned neatly, he reads the usual birthday greetings in careful cursive, the icing is consistent, lacking any bubbles. Most of the ones laid out were framed with decorative additions, some having a red border or edible wreathes. Jimin thinks it all looks florid against the obsidian surface of the kitchen counter.

“She’s acting so wild tonight,” he said, grabbing a few abandoned glasses and lowering them into the sink.

Taehyung yanks the door of the dishwasher, grimacing at the moist steam that breathes onto his face. Jimin hands him a couple of plates waiting nearby. Taehyung takes them wordlessly, stacking them on the meshed tray, the sleeves of his white shirt are wrinkled as they nestle on the crook of his elbow. Jimin checks his watch and takes out his phone.

“Still nothing yet?” Taehyung asked, resurfacing with his cheeks a little rosy from the effort.

Jimin shakes his head, dragging a smaller cake towards him. In mint green lettering, it read ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY DARLING, HAVE A GOOD ONE.’ He dips his finger right in the middle, scooping a sizeable dollop and licking it right after. Taehyung shakes his head but makes no move to stop him.

“He should really have been here, it’s been hours,” Taehyung said.

“He’s busy, it’s not like he can leave at the drop of the hat,” Jimin muttered, his temples ringing suddenly.

The kitchen was all black marble and grey accents but he sought the plush interior of a car, the muted lights embedded on the dashboard. Taehyung scrapes his nail at the border of the cake, taking the mint green frosting with it. He sucks on his finger, his brows creasing subtly.

“He could have at least been here for the toast thenleft, she would have appreciated that -”

Jimin takes another dip with his finger, sullying the letters until it read ‘PPY BIRTHD DAR.’ The frosting melts on his tongue, the mint is barely noticeable. It was like eating mild fluoride meant for kids.

“The deals take a while. Besides, he’s working with unfamiliar clients - that doubles the time needed to complete everything,” Jimin replied, running his tongue over his teeth.

“Really? That’s the best you can come up with for him?” Taehyung challenged, his tone dry. Jimin remains unfairly level-headed and practical, he gives a dismissive shrug and wanders around the space, fingers trailing over the chrome handles of the drawers.

“She doesn’t need her father to breathe down her shoulder all the time and she seems like she’s having a good time anyway.”

Not too far off, there was a clear sound of door slamming and unapologetic laughter. Jimin’s frown returns as he hears a few ‘hoots’ and clapping. He assumes that the door stays propped open as more of that fucking techno-pop drivel intrudes the kitchen.

“I don’t think that’s the case,” Taehyung argues. Jimin’s jaw clenches, he’s in half a mind to stride over to the upper floors and seal the clamour shut.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t think she’s having a good time at all,” Taehyung supplied, busy again with unloading a separate dishwasher. The steam doesn’t bother him this time, his hands are efficient and deploys several plates and glasses in quick succession. Jimin disagrees.

“She was dancing all over the place, with that - that man, the one who’s always around her.”

Taehyung’s brows shoot up so much that they disappear under his bangs.

“You mean the DJ? They’re friends, he offered to do this gig for free.”

Ignoring the rational explanation, Jimin crosses his arms tightly over his chest, “the music isn’t worth a single won anyway.”

At that, Taehyung laughed.

“She was dragging him around and he was pushing her off at some point,” Jimin started again, blinking at the memory of you being passed around because you couldn’t stand by yourself for a couple of minutes while disinhibited. He lets his gaze travel down to his shoes, pristine with barely any creases. “It’s embarrassing to watch,” he finished. When he looks up, Taehyung scoffed, slamming the dishwasher shut. But Jimin wasn’t done, tailing his friend to drive his point home.

“You know earlier, when she saw me, she tried to get me to dance with her, then…” he paused, gathering the fragments of the moment in his mind. Your unnaturally strong grip on his wrist as you dragged him into the belly of the crowd, eyes bright and smile wide. Your touch was clammy over his, nails cutting an impression for the few seconds he couldn’t control himself. “I’ve never seen her get thisbad.”

It was Taehyung’s turn to ignore him, getting up to swipe more kitchenware into the sink.

“How many guests are left?”

Jimin shrugs but he had taken a mental note of the people hanging around, “dunno, like fifteen or twenty?”

The sound of your voice pierces the silence in the conversation. It was a loud cheer, a vague plea to keep the music on. And so, the bass thumps the speakers and trickles into the sanctuary of the kitchen. Jimin sighed deeply.

“She’s always been… vibrant, you know? But this year… it’s been tough for her,” Taehyung said, relentless in the way he was wiping down the countertop.

Jimin thinks that Taehyung should have gone to college, been somebody.Not someone who lives with his tail between his legs, picking up after you and bending over backwards to tend to your every whim. Jimin knew he was stuck, caught between the world and an even harder place. He doesn’t like thinking it but it’s there: Taehyung’s too soft for reality.

“Tough?” He inquired, curious as to what could possibly lead you this much astray.

“Yeah - the whole thing hit her harder than what she’s showing us - them,” Taehyung replied.

Jimin puffed out a big breath, turning so that he could have another morsel of cake. He messes with the surface so much that what’s left after his conquest was ‘AVE A GOOD O.’ His fingers come away from his mouth shiny and dries tackily.

“I thought that Jeon kid proposed to her last month.”

Taehyung shrugs, tilting his head so that his hair didn’t get in the way, “no idea.”

A crash resounds in the space, more laughter, the music pounds, pounds, and pounds.Neither make a move to check, that was beyond the scope of what they’re asked for within these walls.

“She doesn’t seem sad, not to me,” Jimin countered, flashes of your stupid smile wrecks through his mind. You almost seemed insultingly happy these days.

“I think that she’s ashamed, ‘Chim.”

Jimin sighed forcefully, laughing to himself.

“That’s a bullshit if I ever heard any.”

Taehyung shoves a couple of cakes so that they’re crowded together, the base cardboards in scalloped trim touch at the sides.

“Of course you don’t believe it.”

Jimin’s mouth twists a little, unsure if Taehyung is privy to what he knows. Thinking about his wording, he throws caution to the wind anyway. Gossiping about employers was nothing new and gossiping about theiremployers has always resulted in more intrigue than answers. It’s like being trapped in a permeant illusion: he thinks that he knows you but you’re just an apparition in the end.

“I saw it. I saw what happened between them,” he said. Taehyung’s eyes widen slightly then narrowed.

“Why play around it then? And why not believe that she’s ashamed after what you saw?”

“How do you know that it went badly?” Jimin asked, “‘sides, I don’t think I was meant to see any of it.”

Taehyung sighed, parting his lips so that Jimin saw him rest the tip of his tongue on the smooth interior of his mouth.

“I pick up after her, I clean where she works, sleeps, and hangs out. She cries when she thinks that no one else is looking. C’mon, tell me ‘Chim.”

It was an ordinary evening, Jimin was meant to pick up your father but got shuttled off to drive you instead. Everything was fine up until you reached the basement parking lot. He had parked the car at a safe enough distance. What he saw was a kind of bloated anger that serrated through you. It was memorable only because it ended unexpectedly. He couldn’t forget the sight of you on your knees, a snivelling heap, fingers clutching at the sleeve of the heir to the Jeon Group. He had to look away, counting the threads on the leather interior until it reached thirty before you were impatiently yanking at the door handle to the passenger seat. Mascara streaked down your cheeks, you sniffed more times than you spoke.

The fucking bastard didn’t even spare a single glance, shooting off in his expensive white Lamborghini before you could even buckle your seatbelt.

“That Jeon kid broke it off. Was an asshole about it too, to the point where she was begging for him to take her back.”

Jimin edited the scene into a couple of sparse words as Taehyung couldn’t wait for him to begin, arranging a couple of the bouquets delivered earlier in a presentable row. Though Jimin preferred if people were doing something while he was speaking, takes the pressure of getting his words right.

“Fuck - really?” Taehyung asked, stopping his fidgety fingers from doing anymore, “I feel sorry her. Where was it?”

Jimin thinks that it doesn’t matter. The emotions were the same. He remembers you being unable to look at him in the eye on the drive back, you were so flustered that you sat in the front rather than the back. He wished that the tremor in your hands were from his imagination but everything was so clear that night, shame dripping over you like a heavy oil spill, coating your wings stiff.

“Seoul Tower. In the parking lot.”

“And you still think that she’s not ashamed?” Taehyung asked, leaning on the counter and resting his pruned fingers on the cool marble. Jimin noticed that the most of the dishes by the sink were now drying.

“I only said that because if she wasashamed, she wouldn’t have gotten on her knees and begged. That’s the whole point of it: shame doesn’t let you do things like that.”

Silence settles like a heavy force over them. Jimin wished he hadn’t said it but it’s out there now. He makes his way to the discrete wine rack, tugging the door open and taking out a bottle of Pétrus. The year is printed at 1921. Taehyung tried to lunge forward but Jimin is agile and spins away, smiling for what he thinks is the first time tonight.

“No! ‘Chim, stop -”

Fortunately, the kitchen is large enough for them to start this sparring. Jimin cradles the bottle close, fingers blindly searching for an opener and Taehyung creeps forward, not a real threat.

“Her father would notice, give.”

The tanned hand that beckons him shows long, well-kept nails. Jimin snatches the opener and begins to slice the sealed foil open, “he won’t, c’mon Tae. Just a sip.”

“He’llnotice,” Taehyung echoes, eyes zeroing on how the coiled spring pierces the spongy cork. “Do you know how much that bottle costs? Of course he’ll notice, you ass.”

Jimin works to ease it up and high until it emit a muted pop.A deep maroon waterfall trickles straight into a wine glass, the delicate stem slotting so easily in his hand. He tastes it in a brief sip, sour at first then it morphs into a richer aftertaste. Hm, so this is what money tastes like nowadays.

“If I do end up driving tonight, I’m allowed one drink. And if I’m having a drink, I want it to be good, carpe diem you know?”

Vehemently unconvinced, and it shows in the way Taehyung handles the dishwasher with a little more deliberation, he walks away muttering, “you’re fucking crazy. That’s not coming out of mypay.”

As Jimin was about to pipe in, he hears you louder and nearer.

“I’ll be back, oh no, don’t worry, yeah… Just stay there!”

Meek, he hides the bottle and glass in a deep drawer and stands up, smoothing down his front. Taehyung ducks away, pretending to arrange the stacked plates, wiping down the counter in frantic motions using a frayed towel.

Then, you enter the kitchen, bounding down the steps, the hem of your skirt fluttering behind. Jimin sees the crown of flowers on your head immediately, but you take it off, passing him by. Cool air laced with bergamot mixed with mirth greets him. The canary coloured petals are wilted but are vibrant all the same. You stop by a box of ornate flowers springing from a box. Jimin had to bring that up earlier, it was heavier than it looked.

“Let me guess,” you said, “straight from the office?”

Finally, you notice him. Your eyes met and yours shine like glass, the smile he saw earlier is there but more contrived, like you walked into their space without permission. Taehyung makes a sound meant to signify a ‘yes.’ Whirling till your skirt expands like a golden umbrella, you pluck a rose from the collection. Jimin doesn’t miss the way your animated movement reveals your legs altogether. He shamelessly drinks that sight in, aching for smooth skin beneath his touch. He sees you sniff the centre, eyes concealed as your head tilts up.

“Smells like…”

You slide up on the counter, sitting with your legs crossing over the other. The skirt falls away, bare leg entering his view as the glittery strap of your top slides down past your shoulder. You appeared ravaged, then. He hates that others could see you like this.

“It smells like my father’s guilt,” you said, abruptly thrusting it to Taehyung’s direction.

“Have them Tae!” You said, grinning once more, swinging your legs. Jimin clears his throat, pacing up the length of the kitchen, praying that by the time he reached the end, you’d gone.

“It’s really okay,” Taehyung said, that voice of submission was back. Jimin doesn’t think that Taehyung could tell you to keep your hands off anything or to not open that bottle of wine now in a random drawer, aerating.

“Have them, please!” You replied, not missing a beat. Jimin hears Taehyung’s nervous chuckle, he glances back and you’re shuffling the box, possibly ruining the arrangement. “Don’t you have a sister? Or these could be for your mother! I’m sure she’ll love these, please Tae.”

The music encroaches into the kitchen. It’s even worse than before and Jimin wants to strangle the DJ for perpetuating such garish entertainment. Prior to any reaction, he hears you plant your feet on the floor. He turns and is met with your stern expression, hands resting on your hips as Taehyung carts off the box of flowers, out of sight.

“Come with me upstairs,” you said, gesturing with your hands to the said direction. Jimin shakes his head. Fuck techno-pop, fuck these nobodies, and fuck this stupid party.

“Should stay here. Might get called anytime soon,” he replied.

“C’mon Min,” you said, urgency in your tone. Whiny even. Jimin never really consented to that nickname but he’s been around long enough that it stuck.

“How come?” You challenged, arching your brow.

Because I fucking hate the music, I hate the way you’re like this right now, and I hate -

“I want you up there with me, please don’t make me beg. It sounds vain but I want to look…” you trailed off, rubbing your arm with your hand. Under the spotlight, you were awfully forlorn. “I need to look…”

Jimin knits his brows together, his suit alarmingly fitted all of the sudden.

“Look like what?”

Taehyung will be back soon since the walk from his room to the kitchen is a couple of meters, but he’s taking longer than what Jimin is used to. The air crackles as he sees you retreat till you meet the counter with nowhere to go. Your fingers inch towards the abandoned flower crown, your pretty nails carving crescents onto the velvet petal.

“To look like I’m wanted.”

Jimin inhales deeply, unable to conceal his discomfort. He tugs at his tie and threads the top button of his shirt through, breathing shakily. Taehyung comes in and you stand up, your shoulders squaring. That stupid smile returns accompanied by outstretched arms. Jimin finds himself drawn to you, his private guise for protection making his wooden limbs move.

“Don’t look so serious Min. I just want to dance more, it’s my birthday,” you said, slurring at the end. Your touch finds him as you lead him upwards. Jimin doesn’t look back but Taehyung’s stare burned nonetheless.

-

Upstairs, the music rattles Jimin’s frame. You weave through the throngs of people - of nobodies - and find an adequate space, right under the brilliant strobe of red, purple, and blue. He lets himself hold your waist, his own hands at the hem of your skirt, barely touching where it counted. Your arms settle on his neck, comfortable.

He supposed that he was out of place wearing a suit amongst party-goers decked out in the latest styles or fashionable garments. Yet, if people thought him odd, they didn’t show it. He even lets himself move to the beat, no matter how irksome it was.

Besides, he liked your warmth near his. The smell of bergamot and mirth is balmy and woodsy: it suited you.

Always have, he thinks.

There was a moment when he felt like time was suspended, when the strobe light, a luminous violet that made all the other bodies melt into a whorl, fell over you both. No one else was in the room and the music wasn’t as shit as he decided. The highlight on your cheeks made it look like there was glitter embedded in your skin and that smile, it wasn’t stupid anymore, it was radiant.

Warm.

You say something to him but it’s lost in the thump of bass, he laughs anyway, his body loosening up a little more. Again, you start speaking so he leans in, too close for justification. He hears you laugh, it’s a wonderful sound, light and airy, like you had never experienced anything that could possibly weigh you down. Then, you raise your arms up, closing your eyes, a strand of your hair caught at your brow due to the tacky surface of your skin. You move to the rhythm with this glow about you. He blinks, awestruck.

A cord snaps.

The music thumps, corroding everything in its wake and you are engulfed with people, the laughter turns menacing then mean.

The spell breaks and he strides towards a doorway, perturbed.

-

As if he was spat out, Jimin stumbles back into the kitchen alone to find Taehyung unloading the dishwasher again.

“She’s gone crazy,” he announced, skin damp from being trapped between people. He doesn’t know how you stand it, being touched unwarrantedly like that. Taehyung shakes his head, laughing through his nose.

“She’s having fun -”

Jimin grabs the forgotten wine and pours more than he was probably allowed.

“You know that people out there are laughingat her?”

“What?” Taehyung asked, standing and shoving his sleeves up further. Jimin blinks back the memories of you dancing theatrically, garnerning smiles and guffaws that were lost due to the blare of EDM. Jimin caught them though, so he stalked off in a huff.

“Most of those people in there aren’t even her friends. And those who stayed don’t even know her middle name.”

Taehyung leans on the corner of the table, the tilt of his head is pensive, “do youknow her middle name?”

“Of course I do. It’s -”

“You’ve got the balls to abandon me in the middle of the dance floor like that,” you said, entering the kitchen with a champagne flute in hand, “and why are you still dressed like that? What are you, a lawyer? Take off your jacket,” you commanded. Jimin forgets about the wine glass in his hand and promptly brings it down. The dark liquid sloshes before it settles.

“Why?”

In the background, Taehyung slinks away, pretending to clean something.

“It’s my birthday, you’re the spoiling the theme,” you replied, gesturing to your glittery gold outfit. Jimin clenches his jaw, cursing the party inwardly.

“Take it off Min,” you said, hauling yourself up to sit on the counter. His ear pricks up at your use of banmaland stares at you, like blinking would be enough to reverse this implicit imbalance. He tries that thing that Taehyung does, running his tongue first on top of his molars till it encounters the smooth interior of his mouth. Doesn’t work. The air crackles again, along with the goosebumps on his skin. Taehyung catches his eye and he could tell that it meant ‘Just do it for fuck sake.’

Times like these, Jimin gets reminded of things he’d rather leave buried far beneath the surface.

In seconds, he turns on his heel and leaves the kitchen. He hears you ask where he was going but he doesn’t catch Taehyung’s reply.

Past Taehyung’s living quarters was a narrow hallway to the elevator that goes straight to the parking lot. Jimin stops in front of the steel doors, fingers itching to punch the downward arrow. The lack of notifications from his phone was becoming an issue. He slips off his jacket, hanging it on a spare wooden peg and heads back in.

On the kitchen island, he finds you and Taehyung conversing in hushed voices. Your hand curves over his shoulders, your body leaning over his back, the wisps off your hair brushing against his. Taehyung has that goofy expression on his face, the apples of his cheeks flushed pink. Jimin lets his eyes linger.

“See! You look way better without your jacket,” you beamed, leaving Taehyung’s side and sitting on the table this time. The skirt gapes and shows more skin, Jimin’s gotten better at directing his eyes elsewhere. There’s more movement, Taehyung gets up and waves his phone, the screen is lit up and buzzing.

“Gotta answer this,” he announced, and you turn, chin resting on your shoulder mouthing Come back soon.

Taehyung gives you a tight-lipped smile, sauntering into another doorway, his voice soothing as he greets the caller on the other side of the line.

next.

masterlist (I)|masterlist (II)

Strangers (V) | Park Jimin, 4.9k

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Summary: Months have passed. Jimin tries to take charge of his life, it’s not easy and he doesn’t feel like himself but you’re there. In a way, you always have been. You were strangers for a time, then friends, then mere strangers again, but is going forward and being more what you both want? 

Warnings/Tags: Rated G-angst; but there are good parents out there (specifically in this chapter lmao); there are tears too, ooof; Jimin is going throughit rn, but it’ll be okay; if the word ‘maybe’ was a fic (oops); - non-idol!AU (University —> Young adults). 

-

Jimin never knew what to do with himself during family dinners. He never knew when to interject or stay silent, which made him an easy target. 

“What are your plans, Jimin-sshi?” 

Ji-Eun’s father says this as he drinks himself into a violent shade of red. Jimin fidgets, trying to scramble for a diplomatic yet adequate answer. The question was too vague, too open-ended. Did he mean his current plans or plans into the future? Because Jimin didn’t know if he had either. Next to him, Ji-Eun remains silent, a thing that became pressingly irritating in the given circumstances.

“Not sure, Abeoji. I’m happy where I am,” Jimin replies, eating to give himself a break. He doesn’t miss Ji-Eun’s soft sigh as she rises from her seat. Her mother gives Jimin as a small smile. 

“I’m sure Jimin’s plans are well and good,” she adds, patting him on the shoulder. 

To this, Jimin can’t seem to understand why he felt a dreaded sense of suffocation. The weight of his inadequacies far too oppressive for his liking. He wishes to be apart or elsewhere, perhaps to detach himself from who he was as a person. He tries to pivot, to prepare himself for an onslaught. 

Ji-Eun returns with a glass of water for him, “here, drink this.” 

Jimin obliges, melting any possibility of being drunk. He guesses that he won’t be escorted to the bus stop tonight. 

“How is the job though?” Ji-Eun mother says after a while. Jimin’s nerves don’t settle. 

“It’s fine, Eomma.” 

The feeling of calling other people’s parents is foreign to him, especially since he doesn’t feel in any way at home under their scrutiny. But he smiles and nods. 

That’s all he ever did nowadays. 

-

The gate to Jimin’s home is left open. 

He walks across the tiny path, his hair ruffled by the breeze. When he finally enters his childhood home, he is startled by his mother’s presence in the kitchen. Illuminated by a single light, she works to wash a couple of vegetables in the sink, shaking them before laying them down. Jimin makes his presence known quickly to avoid being scolded at the late hour. He scrapes the chair back and fills a small glass with water for himself. 

“Did my son have a good day?”  

Jimin gulps down the drink, unable to feel nothing but shame in holding that title. It wells up and pokes through his eyes, as if he was a sieve for his emotions. In the past months, while getting more serious with Ji-Eun, it’s been a never ending barrage of humiliation; he has never felt good enough, even in his home town. But because it’s his mother, a person who has seen him in every hue, he surrenders and becomes small. She approaches him, placing a tender hand on his shoulders as he dips his head, the tears coming suddenly. 

“You can tell Eomma what’s bothering you. It’s okay.” 

Jimin inhales a shuddering breath, his chest tight. 

Should he even risk baring himself when his problems are so hollow?

It’s been three months of stagnation, of being a convenience store manager, of being in a relationship that he neither feels happy or fulfilled in. 

“Eomma,”he whispers, curling his hands into fists since they couldn’t stop shaking, “I’m just having a hard time.” 

And it’s this silence that’s most comforting, the gentle embrace of his mother, the scent of her clothes and her warmth. Jimin can’t even look at her in the eye. 

“I’m very proud of you,” she murmurs into his hair. 

Then, she did what she would do when he was younger, a slight push of her fingers in his hair, a gentle scratch on his scalp. It’s a small comfort that sent a tremendous sense of nostalgia through him. Jimin was back to being a child, he was years younger, and someone else more capable is bearing the burden for now. He snivelled, braving the torrent of emotions. He couldn’t say much as he was crying too hard, the pain of being acknowledged right in the moment being too much.

“Eomma,” he says, his breath coming out like a tremor, “I need to leave.” 

She takes his face in her hands, the surface of her palms are soft and warm. She’s always looked at him kindly, in way that he doesn’t understand. Jimin looked like his father but he was raised by his mother, a kind and gentle soul who was selfless to a fault. 

“I’ll support you. Eommawill support you.” 

And for the first time in a long while, Jimin finds a certain serenity overcome him. 

-

You wedge your phone between your ear and your shoulder, shoving past the door as you heft another box. 

“You better get here soon, Tae. They think it’s myplace that I’m moving into.” 

The line is static for a bit before clearing, “yeah. I’m just stuck at work for another twenty minutes. My roommate’ll be there in a two minutes.” 

You rolled your eyes, setting the box in a vacant room. The apartment, under Seoul standards, is decent. It’s not uncommon for people to shoulder the rent by adopting a roommate or two. The times are harder now more than ever, so you understood Taehyung’s compromise. 

“Fine,” you huffed, sitting down on the mattress, looking down on the miniature setting of downtown Mapo. Students tour the streets as afternoon wanes into evening; Taehyung shouldn’t have been running this late but it couldn’t be helped. 

“Ah, thanks Ahjussi, just there. Okay…” 

The voice renders you to a state of alert. It’s familiar in its tone: how it sounds like a song most times, gentle in the delivery of vowels, conjuring up images of a handsome thief. A once a good friend turned temporary foe after a misdirected kiss. Months have elapsed, the time riddled in silence and half-hearted interactions online. 

Jimin appears suddenly through the door, as surprised as you were. 

“Oh,” he mutters, opening the door widely and letting himself in. 

“Jimin.” 

His smile is strained and all you could think of was how naive you were. Of course Taehyung and Jimin kept in touch, of course Taehyung trusted Jimin to be his roommate. You examine Jimin subtly; it’s been months and he’s drifted, as he does, further than you liked. You make room, dragging yourself along the bed. The excitement is different, tentative. As if Jimin materialising in front of you suddenly makes him realagain. 

“When Taehyung told me that his ‘friend’ will be here, I never expected it to be you.” 

That stings a little. 

“Oh, I didn’t mean it in a bad way,” he cautions, seeing your face. He gestures with his hands in front of him slightly, “I just meant that, I guess I didn’t expect you and Taehyung to keep in touch.” 

The air is suffused with a kind of easy acknowledgment between you, the bygones solidifying at the sight of each other being well and healthy.  He came without Ji-Eun after all and a kiss was just a kiss. You worried about Jimin, despite it all. 

“He moved back here from Daegu a while back and we hung out a lot since ‘cause I ran into him in a café,” you explained. 

Taehyung, boisterous in his embrace, never quite let you go from that day forward. But you can’t help but admit that it was nice to have someone from university who knew you then, before life took over. Taehyung kept his easy-going outlook in life, weathering the dreaded consequences of growing up with a can-do attitude. 

Jimin nods, tucking his bottom lip under his teeth. You wait for him to speak, to lend part of himself out in the open. He gives you a strained smile instead, hesitating to meet you in the eye. 

“I’m glad though, cause I don’t think we’d see each other.” 

You shake your head, “we’re not very good at being strangers, are we?” 

His smile grows and your mirror it too. 

“No. But I’m kind of glad that’s the case.” 

And you think that deep down, past the uncomfortable territory of mishaps that you shared, you really were. 

-

Taehyung begins to rise from where he was sat, much to you and Jimin’s protest. 

“Where are you going?” You asked, failing to grasp at the hem of his pants. 

Jimin hides his face in his hands to laugh, chasing that joke you hauled out from years back. Strange how nostalgia can shape a conversation, varnishing your earlier years in technicolour. It was all so simple; the one thing plaguing your minds were reserving a booth at a student pub or when the next exam was.

“I’m tired guys, and I have work tomorrow,” Taehyung announced, not bothering to wait for a reply. The door slams behind him, leaving you and Jimin alone. You didn’t take it as anything mean, Taehyung had an especially long day and sleep is a currency that was hard to come by these days. 

“Must be stressful for him,” Jimin said, his voice a little hoarse. 

You nod. Taehyung was spinning plates with all of what he was trying to achieve. There was work, then moving back to the city, then more work. He would often complain that there aren’t enough hours in the day to do anything. Though you all knew that what he really meant was rest.

Seoul wears down even the most resilient eventually. 

“Are you still working in that office?” 

You swallow the shot of soju and suppress a cough, “yeah. I wanted to leave but they promoted me.” 

Jimin chuckled, adjusting his posture, “show off.” 

“I’m not showing off! I really wanted to leave,” you exclaimed, thinking about the long hours chained to your desk, as well as the same, banal routine eroding your sense of self. You didn’t understand why living would take such a toll despite being rewarded in spades. You had a place to yourself, enough food, a somewhat independent state of living. Your parents were prouder than most. It’s picture perfect, a future you strive for now a reality. In fact, all that’s left is the company of a small pet, barred solely by the standards of your apartment. 

Jimin purses his lips, considering the murky surface of his shot glass. These were the times that you think he was the hardest to read, as if he was caving in himself, retreating away from you. 

“Wish I had the option to leave,” he sighed. You remembered that he was in between jobs again, back to tempting and such. 

“We can trade places if you like, I’m sure my boss would love to have you.” 

Jimin grinned, shoving your shoulder weakly, “I hate office jobs, you know that.” 

“Doesn’t mean that you won’t be suited for it.” 

Jimin sighs deeply again, craning his head back against the curve of the couch. His hair was back to its dark locks, and it was longer this time. They fanned out in graceful strands onto the fabric, his profile is sharp and his jaw angular.

“I don’t know. Sometimes, I just want time to stop, you know?” 

You nod because you do get it. You don’t understand why it all goes so fast, how much older you both were now. Life seemed doable back in university, a steep challenge. You suppose that it still is now, but with the added notion of pressure, of the need to be somewhere already even if you didn’t know where that place or state of being was. An idea comes to mind suddenly, so you face him just as he turns his head. Jimin’s cheeks were flushed pink, his lips equally rosy. Here, he was less hard to read and was back to the handsome thief in your eyes. 

“How about we go have that day out, you know, watching performances.” 

It’s a suggestion borne out of a hazy memory, of conversations in diners, the kind of wishful thinking that was harmless but held the weight of a promise. Jimin blinks, registering your words. 

“You remembered that?” 

And you smiled, wistful. 

“Of course I did.”

-

Jimin hasn’t been thishappy in a while. 

The National Theatre of Korea was magnificent on an ordinary Saturday evening, it’s halls brimming with regulars or newcomers. Dressed closer to the nines that your usual style, you both made it out of the theatre, grinning from ear to ear. 

Hoseok waved at you and him. To Jimin’s knowledge, he had been working there for the past two years as the resident set designer. The backdrop for the evening’s performance was his vision coming to life, Jimin had never been prouder. You looped your arm through his, tugging him eagerly. He laughed at your enthusiasm, allowing himself to be guided. 

“Did you guys enjoy it?” 

Jimin leaps to answer, “of course, Hyung.” 

You smiled, “it was wonderful. Thanks for getting us tickets last minute.” 

Jimin glances at you then, noticing every detail. Absorbing your features, your happiness, as if that was the very force keeping him upright. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling but it was something other than guilt this time, and for that he was grateful. 

Hoseok blushes at the warm greeting, “I haven’t seen you guys for ages, so I’m happy to do this.” 

“Do you still have access to the stage, Hyung?” Jimin asked, trying his luck. Hoseok arches his brow but is congenial. You giggled next to him, a conspirator in his scheme. Eventually though, Hoseok leads the way, all three of you going against the current of the crowd. 

-

Things looked different on stage. 

You and Jimin were sat right where the actors were minutes ago. Shredded confetti littered the corners, the floor is scratched up, the furious swipes of various footwear marking it beyond repair. Jimin liked seeing that because it meant that it was used, that people came to see these performances. You whistled at the overhead lights, the complicated rigging that, from afar, the audience wouldn’t see. Jimin found himself observing you again as the silence conveyed the enormity of the place. Here, the dreams of the performers echoed in the hearts of the audience and he felt a sort of kinship to that. 

He hadn’t properly thought about it since leaving but it felt so good to be around others, to be invisible, and to have no responsibilities or any kind of pressure around him. Leaving Busan for Seoul again, that re-centred him. Leaving Ji-Eun, no matter how painful it was to instigate, was a mindful change for the better. He didn’t like seeing anyone unhappy and that was Ji-Eun in the latter part of their relationship. That’s why seeing his mother and father wave him off from the train station was less intimidating and more cathartic. 

Now, he was reaping the benefits of trying. He liked your company, he felt at ease. 

“I would have been happy as part of the theatre ensemble, anyensemble. I’ve always loved the stage…” 

Jimin lets the seemingly endless space of the theatre hold the things unsaid. They lurk in certain spaces, in the curtains, the levelled tiers where seats are found. You wait, comfortable in his musings, his half-baked dreams. 

“How are you?” 

You ask this while Jimin fidgets then fixates on a faraway point near the back of the theatre. The question isn’t difficult, he’s heard it before, too often these days. 

“Well, work’s been the same and -”

You cut him off immediately, “no, I meant - what’s been happening with you? I don’t care about work or what you’re doing.”

Jimin looks at you again as you finish your point. 

“Howare you, Jimin?” 

He should be relieved really, which makes it silly that all he wants to do is cry. In front of him, you’re oblivious, as your concern is genuine. To add, your eyes are attentive. He finds himself welcoming this spate of emotions that encourages honesty. The space between, where your hands are splayed, the tips of them just touching. He wonders how you knew what to say, to have that ability to reach into his mind.

He holds your attention, his eyes seeking yours, unafraid for once. The first graze of your fingers together makes both of you smile. 

“Better.”

It’s not meant to sound like a confession but it feels like it because it’s you. Here, in a venue that holds thousands that it might have been the world’s stage, it’s the most sincere he’s been. He holds onto your smile as the lights flicker above, he cleared his throat to expel any dredge of emotion making him choke up. 

“I loved the pansori,” you mused, shifting your legs as if you were making snow angels. Jimin leans on his hands. 

“Does it have to be about love, though?” He thought aloud. 

You scoffed, “it wasn’t allabout love. There were themes of social class, too.” 

Jimin rolled his eyes, “would it kill them to support productions that have less conflict?” 

You laughed, “careful, Hoseok might hear you.” 

“Good!” He bellowed, his voice reverberating on every surface. You stifled your laugh between your fingers and a part of him wanted to hear it loudly since he missed it so much.

“Besides,” you said, gathering your breath, “that’s what it’s about.” 

Jimin cocks his head to the side, confused. 

“What’s what all about?” He asked. 

You met him in the eye and he registers something flash in them. Maybe it’s in the way your brows scrunched for a second, or how swift you were in blinking it away. 

“Love,” you concluded, staring up at the ceiling again, “love’s about conflict.” 

-

“Remind me to wear more comfortable shoes,” you complained, grasping onto Jimin’s hand so tightly that his knuckles were ashen.

Namsan Seoul Tower is a distinct spindle that glowed in brilliant blue tonight. Jimin had spontaneously booked tickets prior to the performance and told you whilst changing lines at the subway. The night hadn’t ended yet and you were glad, given that he had been so sullen. It was nice that he took initiative. 

“Let’s swap then,” he says, slowing down a little to allow you to adjust. Heat creeped up your neck and spilled over to your cheeks. 

“No, I’m fine,” you replied, scurrying forward to join the line of people waiting to be shuffled into the elevators. Jimin rubs your lower back, affectionate and serious. 

“You sure?” 

You nod, avoiding him in the eye. He brushes this off by grasping your waist so that you weren’t pushing all of your weight into the heels you wore. The warmth of him was distracting, to say the least. You remind yourself that Jimin’s always been like this. Soon, you were directed into one of the elevators, leading to the observatory deck. 

Seoul from above is a maze of highways and blacked out shapes. The deck was circular in structure and there weren’t too many people around as it was late. Jimin stayed near, at times, strolling with you to point at vague areas of interest. He even took to pointing out where he used to get the bus to work. Then, in a quieter section, past the watchful eyes of the stewards, you leaned onto the fortified glass, the silence between you oddly comforting. 

It makes you braver in ways that alcohol could and it seems that Jimin is anticipating it too, this question at the tip of your tongue. 

“We never talked about it,” you muttered. 

Jimin blinks, tucking his bottom lip under his teeth. The blood spreads and it becomes redder. You didn’t meant to sully the atmosphere, you didn’t even know where you were headed with your words. All that you remembered was a kiss, the uncomfortable train ride back, and the months of walking around in eggshells and barely interacting.  

This confrontation was bound to happen anyway. 

“I’m sorry for that,” he began, looking down at the floor, at your feet.

Apologies were overdue but that wasn’t what you wanted to hear. Something aches in your chest, a definite sting as your heart struggles to beat regularly. You don’t say anything, admiring the neon dots that decorate the landscape. From this high, you seemed invincible, ready to tackle any problem. It’s only when you looked at Jimin did you realise the error of your ways. 

“I don’t want you to misunderstand. You’ve always been someone I could talk to about anything, I never had to hide myself from you, we’re like that.” 

Funny how the words stemming from empathy served the opposite effect. You let out a shaky breath. 

The kiss meant nothing to him. 

“Right. So, I guess I’ll just be the person, who you go to if you’re feeling like you need a pick me up.” 

Jimin’s features flicker to something akin to hurt, but you had to push through. It wasn’t ideal to talk about it in public like this, tainting the beautiful view below. Seoul has always been kind to you at any hour and the nights were yours to dream up infinite possibilities. Now, it seemed too saturated because of this inexplicable hurt. 

“It’s not like that,” Jimin replied, reaching for you again. This time, you don’t bother shrugging him off. 

“Then what is it? What am I to you?” 

And the silence that follows was even harder to bear. He lets go of your sleeve, regretful in every action but at a loss for words. You cast your mind back to all of the points in your life where Jimin was in it, each one coloured in joy despite it all. He says your name, soft and careful. 

“Please don’t misunderstand. I don’t want us to be apart or not talk again.”

You remembered the numerous texts he sent, the phone calls you ignored. You weren’t blocking him out of your life out of spite, it just hurt too much to be rejected like that. You had kept it together in the past week as he was undergoing this period of change, but you didn’t want to drag it out for longer. It was hard to pretend that things were alright but it was harder to gloss over the previous events as if they were insignificant. 

“I’m really tired of this,” you mumbled, rubbing the heel of your palms over your eyes until you saw white dots. You feel him grasp at your wrist, and you exhale forcefully to keep yourself from acting irrationally. 

“I don’t want to hurt you, I never -”

You wrench away from him, narrowly avoiding a passerby. 

“You don’t want to hurtme?” 

It was crass and accusatory. You didn’t bother to rectify it as Jimin shuts down, appearing awash with guilt. He pressed himself against the window pane, no sure where to look. Then, he makes a move to say something but a steward enters your space, cautious as to the nature of your conversation but nevertheless dutiful. 

“We’ll be closing in 10 minutes,” she said, her voice low. You nod, turning away. Jimin grasps at your wrist, saying your name in a plea. 

“Let’s talk,” he said, sounding desperate, “please.”

“What is there to talk about?” You snap, ducking into the elevator. Other people filtered in, crowding you into a corner. Jimin shields you despite having enough room, but it’s really because something hot streams down your cheek, blurring your vision. 

It’s embarrassing to be crying in an elevator. 

It’s embarrassing that the one person you didn’t want as witness is the one protecting you from other, prying eyes. 

And it’s even more embarrassing that you can’t run away. 

Jimin tries to salvage the situation. The ground floor couldn’t come any faster, the people around you are animated in their conversations, oblivious to your tears. Jimin cradles your head, pushing your face onto his chest. He still smells like he does years ago, it’s a sweet scent you worked hard to forget. It’s ridiculous that the thud of his heart through his clothes made you weak, how his embrace, steady and unwavering, made you want to scream about the unfairness of it all. 

Instead, the tears came, staining his chest. Your shoulders shook from holding back, but Jimin cradles your head, this gentle manner startling you into a stupor. 

The ring of the elevator disrupts everything, the hurried footsteps around you signalling the time for exit. Jimin doesn’t press you though, holding onto you tightly. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmured into your hair. 

You shake your head, unspeakably tired, pushing him off. You wipe your face roughly, sniffing as the biting air cools your skin. Jimin firmly holds your elbow as you try and rush out. You turn back to him, suddenly furious. 

“Was it not clear to you that that kiss meant something to me?” 

He stops in his tracks, dumbfounded in a way that conveyed just how clueless he was. That makes your heart ache in its hollow thud. The night air skims your skin, the tips of your finger grows cold. Jimin halts his attempts to draw you closer to him and stands his ground. 

“What do you mean?” 

You gathered yourself, “it may be a mistake to you but it wasn’t for me.” 

Jimin swallows down your words, his face slightly pale under the artificial streetlights. The rustle of leaves from the overhead canopies are intrusive, competing with your shallow breaths. He steps closer. 

“You mean that -”

“When you kissed me, I thought that you -” you said, struggling to get the words out, “I thought that you wanted me.” 

Jimin pushes his hand along his hair, unravelling it from its style, the dark locks fall and is gently jostled by the wind. He doesn’t say anything, which makes you laugh. 

“Yeah. I know,” you said, too far into the other side of things to back out. The humiliation wasn’t ideal but it was out there. Jimin shakes his head suddenly. 

“How could you like someone like me?” 

What? 

His response was unexpected, and you both find yourselves on a bench. You hissed at the cold wood that penetrated your clothes. 

“I have a hard time forming a reply,” you said, trying your best to calm down. 

Jimin places his jacket over your shoulders suddenly. The warmth abates the chatter in your teeth, he seems to withstand the cold for the moment. He lets out a shaky breath, clasping his hands together. 

“I didn’t think you could like me because I’m so…” 

You wait, somewhat nervous. 

Jimin takes to looking at you in the eye, “because I’m this nobody.” 

“What?” 

It wasn’t clear to you. Sure, Jimin had trouble adjusting but that wasn’t something you considered as a bad thing. Everyone had their own pace, their own way in life. For a moment, he’s too pained to carry on. 

“I mean that I’m stuck. I don’t have anything for myself, I don’t even have my own place, I hate my job. I don’t have any sense of responsibility.”

For the first time it felt like Jimin was the most transparent he’s ever been. You knew that what he was saying was something he preferred to keep to himself. You draw his jacket tightly around yourself, shivering. 

“I don’t care about any of that,” you muttered. 

It was true. That had no bearing on the kind of person Jimin was to you.

“You will, eventually.” 

Jimin says this in a softer tone, a certain kind of sadness that echoes in your chest. He really felt like those things he described and there was nothing you could say to better it. 

“I know you, I know that you just need time and -”

“I’vehad time, I’ve had enough of it and I still haven’t done anything,” he said, interrupting you. “And I just can’t see why someone like you would go for someone like me.” 

“Jimin, you’re more capable that anyone I know,” you began, “it’s not easy to uproot yourself and move back home, or start over again, here.” 

Jimin’s mouth twists into a grimace. You feel like you’ve said the wrong words and given the wrong meaning. 

“I just feel like I’ll weigh you down. That you’ll be embarrassed of me.” 

You place your hand over his, feeling the raised veins, “you could never be those things to me.” 

To this, he inhales a deep breath and lets it out slowly. 

“It’s been years since I felt like I had any control over my life. I just don’t want to drag you into this mess.

“That’s not true, Jimin.” 

He shakes his head, “I feel like I’m not the kind of person anyone can be proud of.” 

You realise then that you and Jimin were operating on a different understanding. You weren’t sure if that made you feel better or not. It comes from a recessed well of feelings he probably had since graduation. An uncertainty that stayed hooked on his back, feeding off his energy. The harrowing part was that he was carrying this privately, in silence. 

“Not to me.” 

That was the truth of it. But it snags at your chest, this moment of honesty between you. It’s almost too abrupt, for the first time, you were wary of just how transparent you were being.  Jimin squeezes his hand over yours. His gaze is sorrowful, laced in a sort of helplessness that you wished you never saw in anyone, let alone him. 

Seoul shines from afar. This was how you ended your day, the performances that made you happy a mere vignette in your mind and the observatory deck is far off. Jimin is dejected while your tears made your cheeks tacky. 

It leads you one resounding thought: that it’s harder to be like this with Jimin than strangers these days.  

“I’m sorry.” 

This time, you accept his apology. 

Previous chapters:I. | II. | III. | IV.

masterlist (I) | masterlist (II)

nishibishi:

Our Universal Husband’s A.K.A Park Jimin’s Fic-Recs (Super-Duper Short)

Hello Peeps, before I recommend anything I would like like to pre-inform y'all that THIS IS MY FIRST TIME RECOMMENDING FCS AND I’M SCARED AF CAUSE’ I’VE NEVER USED THIS APP EVER. But, I thought that I could use my critical skills and try, to say at the least. None of these wonderful masterpieces are mine, they belong to these loveliest writers who created a safe home for people like me; in fact, I would encourage y'all to give their masterlists a shot. As of now, I’m keeping this list short due to lack of time.

Please follow up for more!!!!

1. Power-playby@dovechimPark Jimin, an A-listed Pornstar , is struggling of ramming into random girls. At this brink of devastation, his need can quenched by only one person, but owing to their past hateful encounter, will that person actually agree?
2. Theophany (To Paint A God)by@ilikemesometaetaesIn a haste to cover up your one-sided feelings for your best friend, you end up confessing to her brother. But what happens when he ends up at the same university as yours? Simple, he becomes your muse.
3. Star Light, Star Brightby@readyplayerhobiPark Jimin, being a single dad at 18, has led a life full of hardships he’d never imagined, making him lose all hopes and dreams for himself. Nevertheless, enters you, who’s gonna make him reconsider his choices.
4. Cupid’s Bowby@tayegiOn Valentine’s eve, you and your best friend decide to break the rules and lose your virginity to each other.
5. Erisedby@jamaisjoons Jimin and you have always been roommates. To him, you’re the most innocent person alive in this universe. But one day, when he ends up following you into the room of requirements, he realizes how truly innocent you are.

So that is it guys, stay hydrated.

Not you summarizing my story better than I did ‍♀️ thanks so much for the rec! I’m glad you enjoyed it!

jiminiesfavouritecolourisblue:

Error - BTS OT7 CEO AU Bonus chapter 13.5

*Bonus chapter - Flashback alert* This takes place before chapter 1 (and after chapter 8.5 ‘envy’). There’s a lot of negative emotions in this one so proceed with caution ~ 3K words

Prev / Next

“There’s an error,” Yoongi says, frowning at you from his desk in his private office. It ticks your nerves, you don’t have time for his usual bickering today.

“No I didn’t,” you snap, turning away with a roll to your eyes but he grabs your hand gently, coming to stand next to you as he leans you against the desk as if that would brace you somehow.

“The margins are 1.5, for pink and pink they have to be 1.25,” he tries to lighten the mood by scrunching his nose similar to the maknae and while you found it adorable the implication of his words had you reeling.

“I made a mistake?” Your voice is small but Yoongi can hear the sinking feeling in your chest through it. You skimmed the formatting instructions for this company very briefly, a jaded feeling running through your veins when you were given the project, images of Jungkook and Jin with the Pink and Pink CEO running through your mind. But that was no excuse for not doing your job properly.

Keep reading

Boys are so stupid. But then again, she’s so silly. If I didn’t like her I would lecture her about her self-image issues like the big fucking hypocrite I am! But all those negative thoughts keep piling up and the pressure is increasing, alongside with the existence of Susan because if I get my hands on that bitch I will wipe those luxurious floors with her face. Women should not hate on other women, especially because of men. I hate how she acts like YN is the one seeking them out. The CEOs follow after her like lost puppies and suddenly it’s YN’s fault that the boys don’t pay attention to Susan. UGH, so annoying.

The jealousy… jealousy… poor baby. I wonder how the boys would react if they saw her ex… Omg I’m a sadist that would be so funny. I can see the steam coming out of their ears *cackles* oblivious little duckling, so cute and so sad. I can’t decide.

I might have to *coughs* admit that the CEOs’s worry is cute. *coughs and makes a weird face - must be the pain from the previous chapter when she was choking on a dick so big I felt it - swallows hard* oh wow i could not have written anything weirder… I feel like I’m challenging myself and If I don’t fuck off this reblog will take a w h i l e

So they’re sweet and have to communicate *blushes in hypocrite* with my little duckling to make them happy and horny. Da boom tss.

I love this. I love this a lot. Brilliant work by Brilliant Blue

Love Again | PJM (Twelve)

Summary: A friend of yours is eager to introduce you to her new man but what happens when Park Jimin, the man who broke your heart 5 years ago walks in through the door?

Pairing: Jimin x Female reader

Genre: exes au, exes to ???, fluff, angst, smut

Word Count: 15.6k

Warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, sexual tension (????!!!!!????!!!!), soft, soft sex, mention of pot brownie, dirty talk, jimin says ‘little slut’ lol, lots of kissing, ew intimacy, creampie, mention of cum eating, implied oral (male rec.) everyone’s having sex dude, lots of drama, lots of unsaid feelings and everyone being an idiot! 

Notes: sorry I took longer than usual! I hope you guys like this chapter:] thanks for being patient with me!  I hope you continue to enjoy this story. Love hearing from you guys<3  Send an ask if you want to be added to a tag list or just want to chat:) 

Previously on…in chapter 11 of Love again, Namjoon has offered you a relationship! You meet with Jin and Justine to learn more about Lucy’s past. Tension (not the bad kind) keeps rising with Jimin. You and Naomi meet with Lucy and learn the truth. Everyone’s busy for the weekend: Jeremy with dates, Naomi with friends, Hobi fake dating Dae for a work party but you and Jimin decide to eat a ‘special’ brownie and uh oh, you had sex. 

© Taestefully-in-luv

Previous—Next

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This might be one of the more awkward outings you have been a part of in a while—or ever. The atmosphere feels a little bit tense, so many pairs of eyes roaming around, never meeting one another. Something is obviously going on between like, everyone. But the only person who seems to be free, lively and so freaking oblivious is Taehyung. Bless Taehyung and his inability to read the room right now as he drunkenly declares you should all take shots. Again.

“Taehyung, you’re already shit faced, dude.” You reach for your water, “You realize if you take another shot you are absolutely going to throw up?”

“Eh, let him.” Dae shrugs from beside you, “He stole my chips the trip here and ate them all so this is kind of his karma, I’d like to believe.” 

“You want your brother to puke because he…ate your chips?” Hoseok raises a brow, “You truly are something.”

“That feels valid actually” You begin to agree, finally gulping back some of the water. 

“Of course you would be the first to agree with that.” Hoseok shakes his head, “The women I surround myself with…”

“Oh?” Dae looks a bit blank as she glances at Hoseok. “Am I woman you surround yourself—"

“Oh come on!” Taehyung drags out his words with an adorable slur, “Jeremy? I know you won’t let me drink alone right?”

“I’ll take a shot if my brothers take a shot too.” Jeremy grins at Hoseok and Jimin. “Forget the girls we don’t need them to have a good time.”

“We’re literally right here?” Naomi grumbles on the other side of Dae. “We should have gotten our own table at this point.”

“Ever since their weird ass boys thing—”

“Weird?!” Taehyung scoffs, but his own grin starts to show itself. “You’re all just jealous.”

“Totally. That’s what it is.” You comment with a straight face, “Anyway—”

“Are you…Taehyung, by chance?” A feminine voice cuts in, you all look in Taehyung’s direction when you see a girl standing next to him with her hand on his shoulder. “You probably don’t remember me but I’m pretty sure we went to college together.”

“Aeri?” Taehyung tilts his head, “Like, the girl who hooked up with Jungkook one time in my apartment bathroom?” 

“Oh!” The girl lights up, “So you do remember me!” 

Well, that’s one way to remember someone, you think.

“Yeah!” Taehyung’s grin widens, “You look kind of different though?”

“I think my hair was dark and short when you last saw me.” Aeri returns his smile with her own, her hand finally leaving his shoulder. “Which was so many years ago.” She giggles, stumbling a little bit in her spot. She looks drunk too. 

“No, that’s not it.” Taehyung waves her off, shaking his head slightly as he tries to think. “Oh! Last time I saw you was literally in the bathroom when you and Jungkook were…you know,” He winks now. “The thing that’s different is…clothes.” He says with a blank face while gesturing towards her and she widens her eyes before she laughs loudly.

“Oh yeah! You did walk in on us!”

“Does Taehyung just walk in on everyone having sex?” Hoseok laughs, shooting you a look when you glare at him. “I wonder if this chick stopped though unlike…” He trails off with a smirk, his hands motioning between you and Jimin. You want to kill him. 

“So how have you been?” Aeri slurs a little as she chats with Taehyung, “Are you still living here?”

“Nah, nah, nah.” Taehyung glances at the rest of you, “Just visiting my friends!” 

“Oh!” Aeri looks at you all now, smiling at everyone as she offers a greeting. “I know, I saw you from across the bar. You are like me!” She starts giggling cutely, hand back on his shoulder. “Fifth wheeling as the only single one in the group. That’s why I wanted to come say hi.” 

“Only…single?” Taehyung asks, confusion growing as he eyes you all. “Oh.” He sings out, “No, no! We’re all single actually. Trust me, no one in this group is gettin’ any.” He starts chuckling to himself. 

Aeri looks like the one who is confused now. “Really? Oh. I was so sure…” Her eyes find yours, “These two.” She points at you and at Jimin who sits across from you. “They’re a couple. And those two,” She points at Dae and Hoseok who sits across from her now. “They’re definitely a couple.” Now she points at Naomi and Jeremy, “And these two as well.”

“HA!” Naomi rolls her eyes, “Never in a fucking million years.” 

“Yeah, that’s got to be the joke of the fucking century. Right, Naomi?” Jeremy spits back with a smile. 

“I still don’t get what is up with them.” You say towards Hoseok and he nods. “But you’re wrong.” You say to Aeri before your eyes try to find Jimin’s but he avoids your gaze. Instead he reaches for his drink and takes a few sips, not even flinching as the alcohol runs down his throat, no doubt leaving a burn along the way. 

“No, I’m not.” Aeri drunkenly laughs, “I’m never wrong about these things.”

“Trust me, no one is gettin’ any.” Taehyung snorts. “y/n over here basically has a whole ass boyfriend and isn’t even gettin’ any.” 

Your insides start to twist at this mention but you try not to show it on your face.

Taehyung and Aeri are giggling when Taehyung lifts his drink and says, “Watch this! Hey everyone,” He looks at all of you with a confident smile. “Take a drink if you haven’t gotten laid in a while.” He wiggles his brows, even giving Aeri a cocky wink as he waits for you all to drink. But when Taehyung doesn’t see any hands reaching for drinks his cocky grin begins to falter. Aeri shrugs, her own cockiness showing now as she looks at him like it’s obvious. 

“Uh…” Taehyung begins lowering his drink. “Okay….” He mumbles unsure, “Take a drink if you…have…? Like, have gotten laid recently…?” 

Well, you and Jimin agreed you wouldn’t lie to anyone if the question was asked. And Taehyung kind of sort of has the exact question hanging in the air, waiting for an answer. You are the first to wrap your fingers around the glass that holds your mixed drink. You don’t look at anyone else as you bring it to your lips and take a sip. When you finally lift your eyes, they find Jimin who sits across from you and you see he is taking a sip of his drink as well. And then the dramatic ass gasp that leaves Taehyung’s lips can be heard and you glance around the table to see Hoseok and Dae have lifted their glasses as well as they drink back some of their alcohol…well, you knew about that already. But what surprises you is that Jeremy and Naomi are also sipping from their glasses.

“What?” Taehyung searches everyone’s eyes for answers. “You all…? Huh? Okay, okay.” He shakes his head, closing his eyes as he thinks for a moment. “How recent?” He looks at everyone again. No one says anything. “Okay…take a drink if it was like, a day ago.” 

No one drinks and Taehyung sighs in relief but he notices everyone looks weird as hell so he continues. “Okay…take a drink if it was one week…?” 

And then he dramatically gasps again as everyone awkwardly lifts their glasses, all eyes everywhere but each other. But then everyone does get a look at the other when too many pairs of eyes start widening. Taehyung points at his sister first, you are pointing at Naomi and Jeremy is pointing at Hoseok. Everyone’s looking real confused. 

“Wait, wait, wait, wait!!!” Taehyung stands from his bar stool now, “What the fuck does that mean?” 

Yes, Taehyung, you think. What the fuck does it mean?

One week ago

The way Jimin’s lips rub against yours as his hips roll into you makes you feel the sort of intimacy that terrifies you but in this moment there is nothing scary…just you and Jimin and this dreamy connection that makes your body feel like it’s floating. 

You want to blame the brownie for this feeling but that high has already began to fade…only Jimin in your system at this point. And he didn’t lie. He is fucking you exactly how he said he would…he is fucking you the way you agreed, the way you chanted ‘yes’ over and over before you two even left for your bedroom. His words to you, his horrible, tragic, beautiful, dangerous and exceptional words that he whispered towards you on your couch. 

“You want to get fucked y/n? You want me to fuck you? Me, right? You want me to fuck you like you’re my little slut? Fucked like you never been fucked before? Maybe you need me to fuck you like I’ve always fucked you, huh? You need to get fucked like someone is so, so in love with you? That the kind of fucking you need, babe? Need me to fuck you as if I was so, so in love with you? You want to get fucked like that?”

You never said yes a million times as fast as that. And he didn’t lie…he is fucking you exactly like that. He said ‘as if I was’ but if you are honest…the way he is fucking you, you might believe it if he told you he was still in love with you. 

That is a ridiculous thought, you know. But every time his length slides in and out of you, hips rolling and eyes staying on yours…you feel that euphoria of being fucked in a way that feels like it is love. He’s just that good, you think. 

You’re both panting, lips connecting every few moments to kiss—kisses that are so slow and deep, tongues taking their time and your bottom lip getting pulled lightly between his teeth. Your fingers caress his cheeks and he leans his forehead against yours, soaking in every light touch your fingers give his skin—eyes closing in satisfaction because your touch is just pure magic. 

“I’m…” Jimin pauses, groaning in your mouth as he speeds up, thrusting just a little harder. “I’m going to come soon, babe.” 

“Yeah?” You moan when his thumb makes contact with your clit, he puts just the right amount of pressure, circling it expertly. 

“Mhm.” He nips at your lip, “Where do…” He releases a long breath, hips slamming into you just a bit harder. “Where should I…fuck, y/n, where should I—”

“We both know.” You whine. His thumb circles your clit faster, you feel your body start to tense, back arching as you prepare for what is to come.

Jimin’s eyes roll to the back of his head at what you are insinuating, satisfied with your response but he still prolongs his orgasm to ask you again. “Where baby?” 

“Jimin…” You mewl, your orgasm already on the brink of arrival…”Please.”

Before you and Jimin started to have sex again, he discarded the first condom…it was full of his cum already and was uncomfortable but you were quick to guide his member back to your hole that needed to be filled. He didn’t object at the idea of fucking you raw…

“You want me to fill you with my cum, hm?” He starts picking up his pace again, his face right over yours, noses brushing and lips rubbing against each other so messily. “You need that?”

“Jimin.” Your mouth hangs open, body tensing intensely as you feel this build up start to overwhelm you. “I’m going to…” You can’t even finish that sentence when his thumb works harder and his cock hits a certain spot inside you that feels almost heavenly. 

“Come for me babe.” He groans again. “Come for me, come for me like you always have.” 

His words and everything else are enough to make you feel the kind of warmth that a long, intense, drawn out orgasm could give. You walls start squeezing around him so tightly and he is losing his mind over you. You, how you feel, how you look, everything. 

“I’m going to…” His strokes don’t stop, regardless that he is about to come…his lips part when short, rapid breaths escape him. The moans he starts letting out as his cum shoots from the head of his cock and into the deepest parts of your core are so sinful. He doesn’t still his hips, he keeps fucking you but much more slowly, he pushes through to keep your orgasms intense and long. You might even come again when he whimpers—yes, whimpers at the feeling of fucking his cum into you. 

You’re both feeling overwhelmed, overstimulated but his hips rolls into you a few more times, his cries of pleasure keeping you from stopping him. One more pump, then another before Jimin is finally stilling himself. Quick breaths hitting your lips as your own chest heaves. Jimin’s thumb leaves you when he raises it to his lips and sucks on it before taking your face with his hand, cupping it gently and leaning in for more slow kisses. 

You kiss him back, lips moving over his as your hand reaches between your bodies and you carefully help him pull his cock out of you. Moaning into each other’s mouths when he’s finally no longer inside you and with his lips still connected to yours, he rolls over so you are laying side by side, still making out. 

The room is hot, bodies sweaty, your skin sticking to his so easily. You can’t even process how you definitely need to replace these sheets before bed because his lips are still on yours and they are so addicting. You’ve never felt more obsessed with a pair of lips than this moment. It’s almost as if neither of you are prepared for this moment to end—for this night to end. Almost like if you two never stop then you don’t have to ever face the reality…maybe tomorrow will never arrive. 

The kisses are slow and lazy and it sucks when you two finally pull away, foreheads resting against each other, soft breaths mingling. Jimin eyes you carefully, tenderly and you gaze back, both of you trying to communicate without saying words. 

But words need to be said. 

“Wow.” Jimin sighs out, “That was…” His voice gets a little quieter before a small smile pulls at his lips. “You’re very amazing.”

You crack a smile, “How amazing?”

“Most amazing.” Jimin quietly chuckles, leans in again to peck your lips. “What we just did…what we shared with one another just now…that’s rare.” He tells you, voice soft and almost careful.

“Rare?” You ask and he only hums in response. You don’t pry for an explanation and he doesn’t give one. Because you both know what he means. What you two just shared…the closeness, the connection, the intimacy…that is rare. 

You and Jimin clean up, change the sheets and put on some clothes to sleep. Even though you are both more sober now and you two have officially pulled away to do other things, the atmosphere in the room has not changed. The night is still this night. Tomorrow is not here yet and no thought comforts either of you more. 

You settle into your bed, blanket pulled up to your nose when Jimin slides in the sheets to lay next to you. It’s almost automatic how you scoot closer to him and he’s already welcoming you to lay your head on his chest. His arm wraps over you, stroking your arm softly. It is automatic when you nuzzle your face into his bare chest, inhaling his scent and listening closely for his heartbeat. 

There is no feeling quite like this. There might not even be a feeling that can top this. This is a feeling you want to drown in. This is a feeling you want to kill you. You’d be fine, dying in this feeling because it means it’s the last thing you ever felt and you will leave this life and enter the next one with this feeling. This fucking feeling. 

Even still, you are careful. Even with this feeling… you are careful. Careful because you have to be. Careful because you won’t be dying in this feeling…you will wake up tomorrow and this feeling is not allowed. So many words that could be said…between you and Jimin, there are millions of words that could stroke this feeling into something even more. But that is dangerous. So, you are careful. And so is he. 

Nothing is said for a long while…you think over an hour has passed by and you believe Jimin must be fast asleep. You on the other hand…you are witnessing the night end and tomorrow arriving. And because of a fact so simple as that…the thoughts of reality are starting to settle in your messy little mind. 

You aren’t even sure what to make of this entire night. What could it even mean? If it even means anything at all. Exes fall into each other’s beds all the time! This is not some rare instance…this is not some crazy thing that never happens. You know that, you get that. Feeling familiar with someone can be so, so dangerous. You are learning that. But that doesn’t always mean something deep. You know that too, you get that too. This is probably—

“Can’t sleep?” Jimin’s raspy voice slightly startles you, “Sorry.” He chuckles quietly. “I can tell you’re still awake.” He tells you, taking a pause before continuing. “Are you overthinking everything like me?”

You let silence linger for a moment before snuggling closer to him, “You know,” You whisper out, trying to gather your thoughts. “I’m supposed to give Namjoon an answer about me and him…I should be thinking about that. I should be having a lot of thoughts about that. But I’m here having no thoughts about it because I think you fucked those thoughts out of my head.” You scoff quietly at yourself. “Instead I am thinking about how tonight you gave me the best orgasms I have ever had in my life.”

“In your life?” Jimin asks, trying to stop his lips from curving into some sort of satisfied smile. 

“Yeah.” You hum, “I mean, don’t get me wrong…in the past you also gave me great orgasms but this was…I don’t know. I’m sure the last time we had sex I came hard too but this—”

“The last time…? The last time we had sex…?” Jimin’s soft voice is hushed. “y/n…do you not remember?”

“Remember what?”

“We didn’t come last time. The morning of my flight. We had sex but neither of us came.” He tells you, “We uh, we never got that far.” 

“Oh.” You blink, “That sounds like it sucks, sorry. No wonder you cried.” You can’t help but chuckle and he shakes his head.

“No. It was amazing.” He tells you quickly, “It was emotional, yeah…but even though I didn’t finish…I had never felt more satisfied at that time in my life. I just wanted to be close to you, y/n. As close as physically and emotionally as possible.” He nuzzles his face into the top of your head. “I felt so connected to you…that even in those moments of pleasure, even without climaxing, I felt so fucking good. And maybe it was just me…”

“What?”

“I didn’t even feel like I needed to finish…just having that connection with you…I felt like I was at the edge already, the edge of the Earth. And I jumped. I jumped and I drowned in you. You drowned me, y/n. Drowned me in every bit of love your body and soul could give me. It was one of the most powerful things I’ve experienced and yeah, I cried.” He chuckles, “I cried because I knew I would never have that again.” 

“Oh.”

“And when we decided to stop…and I left your body I don’t think I had ever felt more empty.”

You’re quiet. His words finding a spot in your mind, making themselves at home as you decide they are allowed to live there forever. You release a breath before finally deciding to respond. “Well,” You lift your head to look at him, the room just light enough from the almost rising sun that you two can lock eyes. He gazes at you expectantly, waiting for you to say something. “…I mean, technically wouldn’t it have been me who felt empty? You know,” you gesture towards your lady bits, “Since—”

Jimin snorts, laughing at your smart ass mouth and squeezing you to his body. “Yeah, yeah.”

Your face breaks into a small grin, “But uh, that was um, pretty.”

“Pretty?” Jimin quirks a brow. “What was?”

“Your words. Like poetry. Your words are pretty. Just like you.”

Jimin can’t help but lean more into the pillow and smile up at the ceiling now. “Pretty like the moon?”

“Like the moon.” You tell him, “But Jimin.” You glance over at the window, “The moon is no longer in the sky…and the sun is starting to take its place. A new day is arriving and…”

Jimin squeezes you even tighter towards him when he sighs out. “I know.” He whispers. “A new day means this day is over. And…”

“And the day that is over can’t bleed into tomorrow.” You finish for him. “You know?”

“I know.” Jimin sighs again, “But…can we pretend the sun doesn’t control our day? Just for now. Can we live in this night until we wake up and it is actually tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” You lay your head back down on his chest, “We can do that.” 

~

It’s after 1pm when you and Jimin finally wake up. It’s not necessarily awkward but there is an understanding between you both…and understanding that last night’s events were exactly that—last night’s events—and nothing more. You have reasons and he has reasons and neither of you really speak on those reasons but you both know they’re there and you both have them and that has to be enough. 

“Okay, I’ll get going.” Jimin starts gathering his things and makes his way towards your door to slide on his shoes. “We’ll talk later, yeah?” He smiles at you and his smile is making this weird, dangerous warmth start heating up your body. But you can’t show any sign that this heat is creeping up your neck, onto your cheeks and so on. 

“Yeah. Get home safe.” You return his smile, a smile so calm and careful. 

“I will.” Jimin nods at you, “See you.” 

And he is opening the door, turning his head to steal one last glance at you before walking through and closing the door behind him. 

Your eyes stay on your white wood door for a few seconds, your calm and careful smile still on your face when you finally release a long, long breath that you had been holding and your smile drops completely. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. That’s the only real words in your mind right now.

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.” And the only real words you’re even able to mutter at the moment. You blink repeatedly, eyes still on your door as the reality hits you hard. Oh fucking shit, you think. You finally turn towards the inside of your home and your legs are moving on their own as you start searching for your phone. You finally find the device stuck between the couch cushions and you are scrambling to unlock it and call the person you need to freaking call. Your one and only, your best friend. 

You wait on the line as it rings and rings and finally Hoseok answers.

“Hello?” 

“Hoseok!” You screech into the phone.

“Hi.” He sings, “Wait, hold on.” He tells you and you try to wait as patiently as possible. “Hey…Taehyung just got here. Me, him and Dae are going to grab some lunch before we get ready for Dae’s work party tonight. Can I call you later?”

“Oh my god.” You groan, “You being busy is ruining my life!”

“Dramatic as always. What’s up? What happened?”

“Nothing. Just call me later, okay? When do you get home?”

“Tomorrow afternoon!”

“Oh my god, just…” You groan again. “Whatever. Tell them I say hi. Have fun tonight, love you.”

“Will do. Love you with all my heart. See ya!” And then he’s quickly hanging up and leaving you to think about this all by yourself. 

~

It’s almost noon on Sunday now and you aren’t sure if Hoseok is home yet but you need to talk to him. Even if he’s still driving and it’s just over the phone. You’re desperate at this point. You’re sitting at your kitchen island, phone in your hands as you click on the screen to call him. This dude answers on the first ring. 

“Hoseok!—”

“—y/n!” 

You both yell at the same time, and neither of you waste another second or even wait for the other to just respond before you’re both yelling again.

“Code Red!” You shout in unison.

“What?” You ask, puzzled. “You’re Code Red?”

“You’re Code Red?” He asks on the other line. “Why are you Code Red?”

“No, why are you Code Red?”

“Holy fuck, why are we both—”

“Come over dude. I just got home, this is an emergency!” Hoseok shouts, “Fucking Code Red bro.”

“Trust me, I know it’s a fucking emergency dude!” 

“Hurry up.” 

~

You and Hoseok sit at his dining room table, looking and feeling antsy as hell. Legs shaking up and down, throats feeling dry, eyes boring into the other.

“You go first.” You look at Hoseok anxiously and he shakes his head quickly and motions for you to go first. “Okay.” You nod, “Let’s just go at the same time. Let’s just say whatever it is.” Hoseok nods now too, agreeing right away with the plan. “Okay, count of three. One…two…THREE!”

“I had sex with—”

“I had sex with—” You both shout but stop as soon as you both realize what you guys are saying.

“Woah, woah, woah.” Your eyes go wide. “Who the hell did you have sex with?”

Hoseok gives you an unimpressed look, “Oh come on, y/n. Who the hell do you think it was?!”

“Fair. But what?! How!? How did that…? You guys fucked for real?! You and…Dae?!” 

Hoseok shudders just at the mention of her name, “I don’t know how it happened!” He groans into his hands, “We just…I don’t know!” He yells out. 

“Were you guys like, really drunk at the party?!”

“Holy fuck this just keeps getting worse.” Hoseok’s lips set into a line. “We were fucking sober.” 

“Oh my god…” You can’t help but snort. “Come on Hobi…is this really such a surprise?” 

“YES?” He looks at you incredulously. “She is my frenemy!” 

“But you guys have fucked before!”
“Because…because we had to!”

“…Had to?” You look at him with a straight face.

“Trust me, y/n. We had so much tension back then! After she beat me at the competition it only made sense that I fuck her?!?????”

“Oh my god…” You start laughing, “You’re so ridiculous. So what? She humiliated you again?? You had to what? Punish—” You can’t even finish that because you’re laughing harder now. 

“Ha-Ha!” Hoseok rolls his eyes and once you stop laughing Hoseok continues, voice a little quieter. “I was pretending to be her boyfriend, remember? Well, I don’t know, it felt nice…all the small things.” He mumbles with a pout. “And then she mentioned she felt like no one really believed us so I kissed her—”

“Of course you did.” You giggle, “Classic. What movie is this?” 

“Shut up.” Hoseok deadpans. “Anyway, we left and then yeah, we had sex.”

“And that’s Code Red?”

“It’s Code Red because I woke up early and bolted.” He says with a straight face and your jaw drops.

“What?”

“Yeah.”

“You are dumb as hell.” You say with an equally straight face. 

“She texted me and I tried explaining it was a mistake and you know, whatever, whatever.”

“Do you think it was a mistake?” 

“I don’t know!” He throws his hands up, “I’m so…I really don’t know!”

“Damn…”

“But anyway, I had sex with Dae but who the hell did you have sex with? That’s the real fucking question.”

Suddenly you’re quiet. Hoseok narrows his eyes at you and he tries studying your expression, doing his best to figure it out. “Okay…it can’t be Namjoon. No, because that wouldn’t be Code Red…you have been expecting to have sex with him so who…” Then his eyes are widening and his mouth opens and a dumb ass smile starts forming. “Oh my god.” He points at you. Fucking accusing you…”You fucked Jimin.” He says matter of fact. 

Your eyes get just as wide as he assumes correctly. You still don’t say anything and he’s losing it.

“You totally…oh my god, you fucked Jimin!” He’s still pointing at you, stupid ass grin on his face because he knows he is right. You continue to look shocked before you drop your head to the dining table before groaning and dramatically crying out.

“Oh my god…” You whine, “I totally fucked Jimin.” 

“Holy shit!” Hoseok still hasn’t closed his mouth, he’s…surprised but not surprised but like super surprised but also not. “Oh my god. You fucked Jimin, dude.” 

“I fucked Jimin, dude.” You start banging your head on the table. “I’m a Jimin fucker.”

Finally, Hoseok closes his mouth and scrunches his brows together. “For some reason I don’t like the way that sounds so let’s not say it that way again.” Then he breathes out, “But still…you fucked Jimin. This is crazy.”

You finally lift your head, eyes beginning to pool with worry. “It is crazy.” 

Hoseok notices you look a little off now as you stare at him and he softens, “Is it?”

“Yes.” You tell him simply, voice unsure. “It’s crazy for multiple reasons. And I feel like I don’t even have to tell you all the reasons because you can probably guess. And realistically you could probably come up with even more reasons than me.”

“Should I start listing some?” He lightly teases but you frown at him. “Oh come on, you fucked your ex who you are like, really close with. Are you surprised?”

“Yes?” You slump your shoulders, “But like, no?”

“Yeah.” Hoseok offers a half smile. “You guys are…well, you’re really close. Anyone can see that and sure, it could be totally platonic. I think you two might really be capable of that. But I also understand there is a long history there. And there’s probably so many things between you both no one else would even begin to understand—”

“Maybe Taehyung.” You blink at Hoseok and he snorts.

“Okay, maybe Taehyung.” He laughs, his head shaking before he continues. “If I’m being honest with you, y/n. I know he broke your heart and I know I don’t know the full story. I don’t know everything and I don’t know his side. And he’s my friend…and even if he wasn’t…it’s probably not fair to judge an entire situation without knowing all the sides, right?” 

“You hated him before.” You deadpan.

“That was a few months ago…I’ve…” He starts nodding, eyes glancing up as he thinks. “…Matured?” He decides to go with that. “Anyway, regardless of what happened…you’re both in each other’s lives now, right? You’re close. You enjoy one another. Yada, Yada. Look, it’s not that big of a deal that you two had sex—”

“It was the intimate kind.” You let the words slip out quickly.

“Oh?” Hoseok raises a brow, “Like…how intimate?”

“Like, it felt like love, intimate.” You blurt but then try to recover, “I mean…I know it wasn’t that but I’m just saying that what it felt like.”

Hoseok lips part slightly as he realizes what you are saying. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.” You swallow, “I’m not saying we…it’s just…that’s the kind of sex we had.”

“Well,” Hoseok glances around trying to think of what to say next to try his best to comfort you, you’re sure but when his eyes start to expand you realize he is finally putting together some other important pieces here. “Wait.”

“Yup.” You blurt blandly. 

“What about Namjoon?” He asks, eyes still wide.

“Exactly.” You frown, “That’s exactly what I’m thinking. What about Namjoon…”

Hoseok stands from his chair abruptly, your eyes following him as he gives you a nod and he heads towards his kitchen, pulls out a bottle of wine and two glasses.

“We’re drinking?” 

“When we’re both in a Code Red situation, drinking seems completely appropriate.” 

“That…yeah, that checks out.” You stand as well and meet him in the kitchen, watching him open the wine bottle and fill both of your glasses to the absolute brim. 

“So,” He hands you your glass. “What are you going to do about Namjoon? I mean, did you have sex with Jimin because you guys are in love or like, did you two fuck because well, fucking your ex is easy?”

“Holy shit.” You murmur, bringing the glass to your lips as you suck up some of the wine that is close to spilling over. 

“Yeah, holy shit is right, sister.”

“We…we aren’t in love. But I think it would also be the easy way out to say we just had sex because it was an easy option.” 

“How do you know you aren’t in love?” Hoseok softens even more, his tone careful with you. 

“Trust me, if we were in love…wouldn’t we be together right now? Wouldn’t the sex maybe would have set off the type of chain of events where we aren’t pretending it didn’t happen?”

“Is…” Hoseok nibbles on his lip. “Don’t tell me you two are pretending…oh, that doesn’t seem like you two.”

“I know what you’re thinking. It’s not necessarily like pretending like totally avoiding and shit, but more like…it happened but it won’t happen again. We both get that.”

“But why?”

“Be-because? First, I owe Namjoon a fucking answer and probably the truth. And second…I don’t know.”

“You said the sex would have maybe set off a chain events where you two would want to be together again, right? But it didn’t? Did you ever think it’s because it just isn’t that simple, y/n? If it was that simple…then I feel like your actual relationship and dynamic has no depth. But because it’s more complex,” Hoseok picks up his own wine glass, stares at the liquid and sighs out heavily before continuing. “Well, I think it just proves how real it is.”

You stare at your best friend, mind beginning to race with thoughts you don’t even want to think about but maybe saying them out loud is a good way to ease your own mind.

“You’re right.” Your eyes fall to the counter top, “It is complex. He broke my heart, sure. But I’m not the only one who needs to work through things. He has stuff too.” A small smile creeps on your lips, “I could shove down my own problems and new insecurities to start new—whoever that may be with—but I could never expect him…especially at this point in time, to just get over his own trauma.” 

“Trauma?” Hoseok pulls his brows together. “What do you mean?”

“Right.” You gulp. Eyes lifting back to meet his, “I can’t share it because I don’t know how comfortable Jimin would be with it but yeah, he just…he has things and anyway, it is complex.”

“I’m not sure my situation is even complex.” Hoseok chuckles. “I’m just a chicken.”

“I’ll drink to that.” You wink, taking a sip of your wine and Hoseok flips you off.

“I’m just…I’m wanting the right one, you know? But it’s come to my attention I don’t know who that is and maybe I do. But how do I really know? And I don’t know. I’m stupid.”

“You aren’t stupid. You’re like every other human being on this planet. Scared.”

“But what am I scared of?”

“Love?” You shrug.

“No, love is this amazing thing!”

“Love is an amazing thing but when there’s good there’s bad!” You throw back at him. “And no one prepares their heart for the bad. Trust me.”

“Or” Hoseok sets his wine down, his eyes finding yours and you can see how the dark browns swirling around also swirl with sincerity. “We do prepare for the bad but we don’t like how it feels to imagine that and that’s why we’re scared. Because maybe we’ve gotten a taste and decided you know what? Is the good worth all this bad again?”

“Well,” You set your glass down as well. “Then I guess all I can say is…being human sucks.”

~~~~~

Monday morning and you are at the office much earlier than usual. Hoseok walks in some time after you and eyes you strangely as he sets up his desk.

“If you tell me you have not even slept…I swear—”

“Does 40 minutes count?” You cut him off, eyes on your screen. “Because if it does then I totally slept.”

“For your sake I’ll just agree that it counts.” Hoseok shakes his head before sitting down. 

“And for your sake I doubled the amount.” You mumble to yourself, eyes still on your screen as you try to convert this document. “So,” You click the mouse repeatedly, and…annoyingly. “Namjoon is out of town this week so I will have to live with my sins a little longer.”

Hoseok glances over at you, pity smile on his lips. “Maybe that’s good? Gives you more time to think.”

“Thinking is literally the last thing I want to—”

“Sup guys.” Jeremy comes towards you both, stopping at his desk to set his coffee down. “Is uh, is Naomi here yet?” 

You just continue to look at your screen, clicking your mouse as you shake your head. 

Jeremy releases a long breath before adjusting his jacket, “Okay. Cool, cool.” He finally takes his seat. 

“Why?” Hoseok turns in his chair to face Jeremy, “Need her for some—”

“Nope. No. No. Nah.” Jeremy shakes his head with his hands waving in front of him. “Just wondering. Yup, just having uh, wonders. It was…I was just…wonder—anyway, uh, have you guys umm, talked to her? Like over the weekend?”

You continue to stare at your screen, mouse clicking and you shake your head…again.

“Yeah, that’s cool. Okay, cool, cool.” Jeremy nods along, hands still adjusting his jacket.

“O…kay.” Hoseok gives Jeremy a confused look before turning in his chair to face you again. “Jeremy is being weird, y/n.”

“Jeremy is always weird, Hoseok.” You say, eyes probably straining thanks to the screen. 

“No. Just look at him.” Hoseok whispers and you finally tear your eyes away, glancing in their direction when you snort.

“What…what are you wearing?” You raise a brow at Jeremy. 

“What?” Jeremy starts to feel antsy. “Is it weird? It’s weird right. The jacket? Is it too much?”

“Uh, it’s not that. Just…why?” You look at Hoseok and he shrugs, holding in his own laugh.

“I can’t look nice?” Jeremy decides to act sassy. “You’re a slob half the time but I don’t try to make you feel weird when you wear a skirt!”
“Jeez.” You raise your hands in surrender, stifling your own laughter as well. “Fair point.”

“Hello friends!” Naomi’s voice can be heard, your turn your head to get a look at her when she walks towards you guys, her curls bouncing cutely above her shoulders. “Morning.” She says…only to you and Hoseok. “Love seeing my friends here.” 

“Yeah, hi.” You eye her over…she usually does look decently nice for work but this is…”You look pretty…is there an occasion? Are you and Jeremy going somewhere after working or something?”

“HA!” Naomi giggles, almost forced when she grins wide before spinning on her heels to face Jeremy. “Well, hello, Jeremiah.”

“Naomi-iah.” He stands from his chair, hands still freaking adjusting the jacket. 

“That’s like…neither of their names, right?” Hoseok whispers towards you and you shake your head before continuing to watch this weird ass interaction.

“Love coming to work to see my friends! Even you! Wow, especially you! Right? My friend?” Naomi flutters her lashes as she always does, smile still wide while Jeremy nods enthusiastically.

“Of course! Because I’m your friend. And uh, well, you’re my friend.” Then his head bobs around as he looks at you and Hoseok too. “We are all friends! Love being friends. I love having friends. Friends are so cool—”

“Exactly. You just love your friends so much!” Naomi starts laughing, “You are like, friend of the year.”

“I sure am. But uh, y/n is right! You look nice!” He forces a grin.

“Wow, thank you!” Naomi continues to smile, lashes still fluttering. “And you look…” She eyes him up and down, smile still in place when she blinks awkwardly. “…weird.”

“I-I-I-“

“Well,” Naomi smiles even wider, “Got to get to work, am I right, friends?” And then she walks off to her desk as Jeremy mumbles to himself, eyeing over his outfit.

“Weird.” You mouth at Hoseok and he shrugs.

~

Tuesday evening when you hear from Jimin for the first time since you saw him last. The texts are pretty awkward but at least he’s texting you.

Jimin 7:03pm

So have u eaten

y/n 7:10pm

yeah I have

Jimin 7:10pm

Oh ok

y/n 7:12pm

have you

Jimin 7:12pm

Uhhhhh not yet but I guess I should lol

y/n 7:12pm

I have leftovers if you want them

Jimin 7:13pm

Youre invited me over?

y/n 7:13pm

seems like it right

Jimin 7:15pm

Right

y/n 7:18pm

come on jimin just come over

Jimin 7:20pm

Its to talk about things isn’t it lol

y/n 7:22pm

you don’t think we should?

Jimin 7:23pm

No I definitely think we should 

y/n 7:23pm

alright then come

Jimin 7:38pm

On my way 

“This is pretty good.” Jimin says with his mouth full, the last bite finally conquered as he finishes the left overs you offered him.

“I know, right?” You smile, “It’s new. Opened up like less than two years ago.”

Jimin stands from the island and throws away his container and goes to the sink to wash his hands. “Didn’t you have a rule about trying to eat home cooked meals on week days?” 

“Well,” You laugh, “Things change!”

“Yeah.” Jimin dries his hands on the towelette before turning to you. “I guess they do…so, should we go into the living room?” He gestures towards the area of your sofa and you nod, standing from your chair and heading in that direction. Jimin follows, deciding not to sit too far from you so it doesn’t seem like he is being awkward and purposely staying away…but maybe he is sitting too close. Not even a foot of space between you both but nothing is said about it.

“So.” Jimin stares ahead, eyes on your black TV screen. 

“So.” You decide to follow his gaze, the black TV screen looking so entertaining. “Um.”

“Um.” He copies.

You release a breath before laughing to yourself, eyes falling to your lap now. “We are usually so good at talking and being open…why are we being so awkward?”
“So awkward, right?” Jimin laughs too, his head titling in your direction. “Let’s just say it. We had sex. And we want to discuss it. But are we discussing it like how it went?” He cracks a smile, “Or discussing what it meant? Why did we do that? What we should do now?”

“All of the above?” You lean back into the sofa cushion, small smile as well. “First, I think we can both admit sex between us has always been great so no surprise there.”

“That’s true.” Jimin hums. “It felt natural being with you but there was also something about it that felt so…thrilling. It felt brand new while also feeling like ho—well, I don’t know.” Jimin finishes timidly. 

“Yeah, I don’t know either.” You gulp, both knowing. “So…why did we do that?”

“You’re skipping over ‘what it meant’ already?” Jimin teases, “But uh, it would be bad to blame the brownie, right?” He chuckles, relaxing his shoulders some as he leans back on the couch as well. “Because even I know that even if the brownie was not a part of the equation…”
“What?”

“It was going to happen regardless.” Jimin tells you simply. “At least I would have wanted it to.”

You sigh out, eyes going to the ceiling. Yeah, you believe that actually. “Are you saying it was a matter of time?” You turn your head towards Jimin, crooked smile on your face. “That because everything is so familiar with me that we were bound to hook up?”

“Familiar? You think I only wanted to fuck you because it was familiar, y/n?” Jimin turns his head to face you as well. “I fucked you because I am very attracted to you and we have great chemistry.” He shrugs his shoulders, head facing forward again. “I fucked you because you’re you.”

“Oh.”

“Did you only have sex with me because I’m your ex and it seemed familiar?” Jimin asks you, voice quieter. 

“It makes things easier.” You respond. Jimin turns his head towards you again, eyes finding yours before he narrows them, not really believing your answer.

“But no,” You sigh out, “I guess not. Your reasons seem relatable.” 

“Hmm.” Jimin continues to gaze at you, “You can be honest y/n. If you only wanted me that night because you were just…in the mood for something like that…and I was an easy option—”

“No!” You lift your head and lean towards him, “That’s not what I—I didn’t mean to come across that way.”

Jimin’s lips lift into a smile, “I know.”

“You know?” You ask and he hums.

“Yeah. The way we fucked babe, you really think I would think you would only want something like that just because you were horny? Yeah, no.” 

“Jimin—”

“If you were just looking to get fucked don’t you think you would have just done it with Namjoon by now? But Namjoon isn’t what you wanted,” His voice goes lower, eyes boring into yours. “Now was it?”

He makes it sound so simple—and maybe it is. But you think you might refuse the idea of it being that easy. “W-What do we do now?”

“Still avoiding what it meant?” Jimin decides to tease you again, lips curved into one of his addicting smiles. “That’s okay.”

“It meant…” You start chewing on your lips, realizing you are avoiding that one because you haven’t even really thought about what it could mean. “I don’t know.”

“Me either.” Jimin’s smile continues to charm you. “And I think it’s okay that we don’t know right now. But what to do…”

“Yeah.”

“You’re very important to me, y/n.” Jimin breathes out, “So important.” 

“I know.” You smoosh your cheek into the couch cushion, “You’re important to me too.”

“You’re in this thing with Namjoon…I don’t mean like,” His eyes widen a bit as he stares at you, “It’s not like thing, thing—an official thing—right? But it’s a situation? I mean, he’s…are you going to tell him?”

“Yeah,” you close your eyes briefly, hating that you have to tell Namjoon about this. “I am. I feel like I owe him that much. Not sure how he will react. If he will be angry or just disappointed.”

“I don’t know either.” Jimin admits. “But say things go okay…he still wants to be in a relationship with you…what are you going to do?”

“What…” You pause. You can’t believe you are on the verge of asking Jimin what you should do…you are really on the verge of asking Jimin to tell you what it is you think you should do because apparently it matters to you—his thoughts and opinions. 

“Hm?” 

“What do you think I should do?” You blurt. 

“You…” Jimin raises his brows at you, “You want me to tell you what I think?”

“Yeah.” 

“I think you know already, y/n. Not just what I think but what you think. But you are fighting it and I cannot figure out why.”

“Fighting it?” 

“Mhm.” Jimin looks at you with a softness, a softness that seems to be bleeding into another look. Maybe one of guilt. “If I had to guess it would be because you’re just wanting something or someone and you know he’s good, maybe even safe. You’re afraid to ever feel something again like you had with me.” 

“Okay.” You stare at him, slowly nodding your head. “Maybe.”

“And that’s one reason why what we did cannot happen again. Right?” Jimin tilts his head just slightly, a smile that is barely there on his lips. 

You feel your chest tighten as the words leave his mouth, “Right.” You whisper. “And another reason is because of you. Right?”

Jimin’s lips curve just a little higher, his eyes shining with his understanding—and your understanding. “Right.” 

“We’ve moved on.” You state simply. “So, of course we wouldn’t fall into what we did again.”

“Oh?” Jimin’s lips start tugging into something sly. “So, you are telling me you won’t even think about it then?”

“The sex we had?” You question and he grins.

“Yeah. You won’t think about it? Won’t let your mind wander?”

“Even if it did…doesn’t mean—Listen, I’ve been successful. You think I haven’t thought about you like that? Nothing happened!”

“But…something did happen?” Jimin chuckles, “You weren’t successful.”

“Did you…did you ever think about—“

“I told you when I was fucking you that I had.”

“Yeah but—”

“I wasn’t just saying things to turn you on. Everything I said was the truth. I have been desperate to kiss you for some time.” 

You can’t help but snort, “Desperate is a pretty serious word, Jimin.” 

“It’s been pretty serious.” He laughs back. “Even with knowing it’s not a good idea or something I should do…even right now I am thinking about kissing you.”

Your mouth falls open, surprise gracing your features before you lean more forward to hit his arm. “You are not!” 

“I definitely am.” He smirks. “Maybe I’ll be thinking about that forever. Who knows.” 

“You really have no shame.” You roll your eyes, covering your mouth with your hand, doing your best to hide your growing smile. “You can’t just say that.”

“At least let me say it since I can’t do it.” Jimin jokes. “But anyway, y/n.” He grows a little more serious, “We’re okay?”

“Yeah, we are.” You smile towards him. “Want to watch a show?”

“Might as well.” Jimin returns your smile before standing from the sofa, walking to the other side to grab your designated blanket. He comes back to his spot but instead of a foot of distance between you both, he sits right next to you, thighs glued together. “Cold.” He mumbles as he lays the blanket over both of your laps. 

You reach for the TV remote, turning it on to Netflix. “A movie?”

“Sounds good to me,” Jimin says, head leaning on your shoulder, “Pick whatever you want.”

~

You aren’t really sure Jimin is paying too much attention to the movie you chose…every time you steal a glance at him, you see how his eyes are on your lap. His fingers play with yours and so much warmth starts radiating off of your body. You don’t know what he is thinking or how he is feeling in the moment. 

“Are you bored?” You whisper at him, “You look bored.”

“Not at all.” Jimin murmurs, “I am having a nice time actually.”

“You aren’t even watching the movie.” You laugh, pointing out the obvious. “Your eyes have only been on our hands.”

“Your hands are nice.” 

“So you would rather watch them than this movie? Yeah, you’re bored.”

“Not bored.” Jimin chuckles, his eyes finally lifting to look at you. And then he speaks slowly, “Touching you isn’t boring for me.” 

His touch relaxes you but his words send a strange feeling throughout your body. Tingles maybe. 

“You’re saying you could touch me forever and have fun then?” You quirk a brow, “You’d never get bored?”

“Is there a world where you let me touch you forever?” Jimin’s lips curve up, “Sounds like my ideal world.”

“Shut up.” You shake your head, “Don’t tell me something like that.”

“Like what?”

“That you have an ideal world and I’m in it.”

“You aren’t just in it. In the ideal world I get to touch you.” He whispers.

“Then are you in your ideal world then? You’re touching me right now.” 

“In my ideal world I am touching you a whole lot more than this.” Jimin’s tone falls lower, his eyes on yours and you want to shudder…because the tingles are here again and they are starting to feel dangerous to your health. 

“How much more?” Your breaths are soft but one leaves your mouth shaky and Jimin knows he’s got your mind wandering. 

“Don’t ask a question that you aren’t prepared to hear the answer.” Jimin’s fingers start threading through yours. “The only hint I can give you is that it’s so much touching that you would be aching to touch me back.” 

“Would I?” You tease, smirk on your lips while Jimin rolls his eyes at you, scoffing at how much of a tease you are.

“Yes.”

“How do you know?”

“I know because I know you.”

“Do you though?” You continue to tease him, your own fingers playing with his. “It’s been five years, Jimin. People change.”

Jimin starts chuckling, his hand leaving yours. He raises his head and turns it towards you, just a few inches from your face when he gazes into your eyes, a specific glint inside them. “That doesn’t work anymore, y/n.” He tells you softly, “I know you now. I know you all over again. I know this y/n. I know you.” 

Your breath gets stuck inside your throat somewhere. As much as you would love to breathe—you can’t. Not when Jimin stares at you like this…stares at you like he really does know you. Stares at you with eyes full of some unreadable emotion. You look at him, trying your best to read his expression. You finally release a long breath, still staring when it finally hits you. You can read him—you can read him well. You know exactly what he wants.

“You want to kiss me.” The worlds tumble out of your mouth quickly and quietly and Jimin’s smile drops and his eyes expand but before he can save himself and maybe even lie to you…you lean in and plant your lips on top of his. 

You weren’t thinking…not exactly. You just followed whatever your body wanted. And it seems Jimin is doing the same. The moment your lips touched his, he already had his hands traveling across your waist until they are now cupping the back of your neck, his own lips working over yours. 

You don’t know how long you two have been kissing but it feels good, there isn’t even tongue yet but it’s still messy and hot. The low groaning coming from Jimin is making every nerve in your body react, your fingers tugging his hair and pulling him closer to you, leading his body over yours as you start to lay back. 

Jimin is quick to slot himself between your legs, getting as close as possible to you while his lips never leave yours. When he lightly bites down on your bottom lip, tugging it back and making you buck your hips into his crotch, he finally slides his tongue in your mouth. Warm, wet and sloppy and so fucking hypnotizing. Especially the way he starts grinding into you.

Jimin pulls away from your lips so he can start exploring other parts of you with his mouth. His tongue glides across your jaw, your head leaning further back, a soft moan leaving you while Jimin continues to grind. He sucks a spot on your neck while his hands get busy—he wastes no time—his fingers already at your pants, trying his best to unbutton them quickly while he kisses your skin. 

“Wait, wait.” You whine, eyes slamming shut. “I’m on my period.” Your own hands go to his to stop him from taking your pants off. Jimin leans away from you before he smirks.

“You know I don’t care.” He whispers, his lips finding yours again. He pecks your lips over and over, his fingers still trying to mess with the button. Your eyes roll back, wanting nothing more than for him to do whatever it is he wants with you. But you stop him again, smile on your lips as you cup his face.

“It’s not light.” You inform him, “It’s okay, seriously.” 

Jimin breathes out roughly, his forehead coming down to yours as he calms himself down. “Okay, okay.” He tells you, “That’s okay—”

“You’re hard?”

Jimin disconnects his forehead from yours just barely, only for his eyes to meet your eyes. “y/n.” He moans your name and you feel yourself grow warmer and warmer. Jimin licks his lips before continuing, “You know I’m so hard right now. I’m so fucking hard for you.” 

“Let me take care of you.” You begin rising from the couch, your hands on his chest as you push him back. “Let me make you feel good.”

“I feel good already babe.” Jimin gazes at you, his eyes softening but the lust is still very much alive in them.

“You like looking at my hands right?” You push Jimin even more, his back hitting the couch cushion. “Don’t you want to see them wrapped around your cock?” 

Jimin freezes for only a second, his chest beginning to heave more and more as he lets the image of you playing with his cock linger in his mind. 

“You were right, Jimin.”

“About what?” He struggles to speak coherently, his dick so painfully erect now. 

“You do touch me in a way that I ache to touch you back.” Your fingers go to his jeans, already unbuttoning them and sliding down the zipper. “My ideal world…fuck,” You help him get his jeans off, your hand dipping inside his briefs. “I touch you too.” Your fingers barely brush against his member but you can feel it react instantly. It twitches and Jimin’s eyes become half lidded as he stares at you. “This is my ideal world, Jimin.” 

“Then touch me…fuck,” He whines, struggling to keep his eyes open and on you. Your fingers wrap around the shaft, barely stroking him when he breathes harder and harder. “Fucking touch me more baby.” 

“More? Maybe my hands aren’t enough for you Jimin.” You finally pull his member out as Jimin’s own hands scramble to tug his underwear down to his thick thighs. “You don’t want to come all over my hands right? You’d rather come down my throat, huh? You’d rather have me swallow your cum, taste you and crave you later when you aren’t here.” 

“You would crave me, wouldn’t you?” Jimin’s raspy voice makes your head spin. This entire scene in front of you makes your head spin actually. The way he looks at you, eyes barely open, his lips extra plump and swollen from kissing and his chest rising and falling quickly. “Because you’re so addicted to me.”

He nailed it, you think. You are addicted…the way he kisses, the way he touches, the way he fucks, the way he just exists in front of you.

“I am.” You tell him, eyes on his while you lower your face to his cock, wasting no time in wrapping your lips around the head. 

“y/n…” Jimin whimpers your name, his eyes closing for a moment. “I love this…love this…” 

You know he does. You know this addiction has you doing things you both agreed you wouldn’t do because you couldn’t—because you shouldn’t. Yet here you are, pleasing Jimin until he tenses beneath you and spilling all of his warm cum into your mouth. And here he is drowning in you all over again. 

~~~~~

“What is up with them?” You whisper to Hoseok, both of you staring at Naomi and Jeremy from across the table as they blatantly ignore one another. 

“By the way, y/n…” Jeremy gets your attention but stops midway to take a bite of his lunch, “It’s Wednesday, don’t forget to help me print out my report.”

“Uh huh.” You nod,  eyes going between him and Naomi. “Are you guys like…okay?”

“Us?” Naomi gestures between her and Jeremy. “Obviously. What great friends like us wouldn’t be okay?”

“Exactly.” Jeremy mumbles with his mouth full. “We’re amazing.”

“Oh dude, how was your date on Friday? What’s this one’s name again?” Hoseok asks, dipping pineapple into some sauce. “It was date two, right?”

Jeremy swallows his food before glancing at Naomi awkwardly, “Yeah, it was good. Her name is Mimi. I’m supposed to see her again sometime this weekend, maybe Saturday but I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Naomi stares ahead, eating her own lunch. “Right, you seem to not know a lot of things, huh?” 

Jeremy rolls his eyes at this, “Anyway, she’s a nice girl—”

“Well, if you like her so much you should definitely go out with her again!” Naomi turns her head towards Jeremy and smiles. “But you know, don’t tell her you like her if you aren’t even sure though. That would be pretty fucked up.” She tells him, smile still on her face before she turns to look at you and Hoseok. “Right, guys? Imagine?” 

“Yeah…” You blink at them, still so confused what is going on. 

The four of you get back to your office and continue working for the day. It’s around 4 when your boss, Mr. Lincoln calls for a meeting. You groan, not wanting to get lectured again on whatever it is he wants improved. You and Hoseok share a look with one another as you take your seats in the meeting room, waiting for whatever it is Mr. Lincoln wants to scold your office for. 

“Alright!” Mr. Lincoln claps his hands together, “I know most of you have already heard by now but I will be taking a leave for a few months! Some other business I have to attend to but no worries, my wife’s very capable nephew will be coming to fill in for a bit.”

“Great.” Hoseok leans in to whisper, his voice annoyed. “I bet this person doesn’t know shit.” 

“Same.” You mutter back.

Mr. Lincoln glances at the

taestefully-in-luv:

Love Again | PJM (Seven)

Summary: A friend of yours is eager to introduce you to her new man but what happens when Park Jimin, the man who broke your heart 5 years ago walks in through the door?

Pairing:Jimin x Female reader

Genre:exes au, exes to ???, fluff, angst, smut

Word Count: 12.2k

Warnings:swearing, alcohol consumption, crying lots of crying, is it time to start warning ‘sexual tension (?) any time soon? And umm, I think that’s it

Notes: woooo let’s go. Let’s get this story truly started ;) anyway, I hope you continue to enjoy this story. Love hearing from you guys<3 Send an ask if you want to be added to a tag list or just want to chat:)

Tag list: @yoongimentita7@rjsmochii@aria-grace-scott@ravensading@shrimpmsg@phossmos@ceyoongs@btsis7okay@loljrau@ggukkieland@forever-once-gone@taejoonswifey@awseokjin@telepathytae@ssaltytears@jikooksgirl19@koreanaestheticc@shesoldbutcute@main-bangtansmauyeondan@mawwnsterr@dopedreamfireparty@bri-mal@callmejimmeo@bloopkook@ncizen@natalie-rdr@familiarlikemymirror3@theestrangeddreamer@chimchimmarie@sugas-baby-girl@greezenini@somewhereinthestarss@keiarajm@80sbass@kthstrawberryshortcake-main@heem145@vonvi-blog@minijagiya@nadzzzblog@tannieastrology@emilypark01

© taestefully-in-luv

Previous — Next

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This shirt. This stupid ass shirt…is really your downfall, huh? It’s a lot of things, for sure. It’s hideous, it’s cheesy and most of all it is cringey as hell. But what you didn’t expect was for it to be a traitor. Exposing you for the things you have kept hidden. Well, there is no hiding now…not when your face and Jimin’s face is plastered everywhere and god, it is bad but you cannot tear your eyes away from it. Still standing here frozen, you gape at the shirt that lays down on your bed.

Keep reading

taestefully-in-luv:

Love Again | PJM (Seven)

Summary: A friend of yours is eager to introduce you to her new man but what happens when Park Jimin, the man who broke your heart 5 years ago walks in through the door?

Pairing:Jimin x Female reader

Genre:exes au, exes to ???, fluff, angst, smut

Word Count: 12.2k

Warnings:swearing, alcohol consumption, crying lots of crying, is it time to start warning ‘sexual tension (?) any time soon? And umm, I think that’s it

Notes: woooo let’s go. Let’s get this story truly started ;) anyway, I hope you continue to enjoy this story. Love hearing from you guys<3 Send an ask if you want to be added to a tag list or just want to chat:)

Tag list: @yoongimentita7@rjsmochii@aria-grace-scott@ravensading@shrimpmsg@phossmos@ceyoongs@btsis7okay@loljrau@ggukkieland@forever-once-gone@taejoonswifey@awseokjin@telepathytae@ssaltytears@jikooksgirl19@koreanaestheticc@shesoldbutcute@main-bangtansmauyeondan@mawwnsterr@dopedreamfireparty@bri-mal@callmejimmeo@bloopkook@ncizen@natalie-rdr@familiarlikemymirror3@theestrangeddreamer@chimchimmarie@sugas-baby-girl@greezenini@somewhereinthestarss@keiarajm@80sbass@kthstrawberryshortcake-main@heem145@vonvi-blog@minijagiya@nadzzzblog@tannieastrology@emilypark01

© taestefully-in-luv

Previous — Next

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This shirt. This stupid ass shirt…is really your downfall, huh? It’s a lot of things, for sure. It’s hideous, it’s cheesy and most of all it is cringey as hell. But what you didn’t expect was for it to be a traitor. Exposing you for the things you have kept hidden. Well, there is no hiding now…not when your face and Jimin’s face is plastered everywhere and god, it is bad but you cannot tear your eyes away from it. Still standing here frozen, you gape at the shirt that lays down on your bed.

Keep reading

author appreciation!!!

¼ of the amazing quartet, i will do the other 3 in due time! i love my queen, i live for her werewolf au, plus there’s always the right mix of angst, fluff, and smut that is always chefs kiss… i super like that although her male characters are so obviously strong they are super soft too then it comes to female leads… and and and theres sort of redemption always for characters like Yoongi in Third Wheeling & Jimin in Bird Cage.

below are my fave fics from this author, but please do go ahead and browse all her works as they are all equally beautiful.

I Waited for You - just because its a Kim Seokjin fic and he’s an alpha!!! maybe i have not explored tumblr properly but i have come across very few Alpha Seokjin stories.

Welcome to Seoul Land - again, just because its a Kim Namjoon fic and werewolf au. my queen did not disappoint! Namjoon is so soft, ima cry…

When it Rain it Pours - i was swooning, a soft Namjoon for a roommate turned lovers…

What’s up Doc - ooohhhhh! soft Yoongi and i love the part where they whispers while waiting for test results, its so cute i swear! but, don’t be fooled coz we are talking about the queen here so the smut is top tier as per usual.

Snowed In&Live, Laugh, Love - bestfriends to lovers stories featuring our eternal sunshine Hoseok. imagine Hoseok telling his girlfriend that his best friend means the most to him in the world!!! if that is not in love i dont know what.. but, Hoseok in our queens story is amazing.

Siver & Blue - alpha Taehyung with lots of smuts, what else can you ask for?

Marshmallows and Report Card - i melted just like those marshmllows. Single dad AU for Taehyung.

The Price of Love - i swear i cried when i read this story… i mean can you blame me? its like lost and found love..

In Bloom - this is just sweet the kiss and make up is super lovely.. plus really imagine our baby bear Taehyung with tats…

Cabin Fever - our queen has lots of stories for Jungkook but this is my fave coz its hybrid story. the story is cute but then again the smut is hot!

show lots of love for our queen @untaemedqueen and follow and reblog pls pls pls

taerseok:

Alice in the Madness of Wonderland: The Stygian Fairytale | Walkthrough

↳ Banner and dividers made by @kim-seok-jin​. Thank you^^. 

✉Titles:

➝Alice in the Madness of Wonderland: The Stygian Fairytale

➝Stygian (the madness corrupts me, and you, my saviour)

Though Alice ‘Y/N’ Liddell is overshadowed, and she doesn’t seem to think much of it, she yearns for a world which notices her- gives her a chance- a part of her wanting for a turn to be on the pedestal. But of course, nothing can change that-

Or can it?

One chance encounter with a boy with bunny ears and a strange hole, and she arrives at the world of Wonderland- a world of magic, mystery and madness. Protecting her life is one thing, but-

What more when everyone seems determined to capture her heart?

Take care, Alice…

✉ Information: 

➠ Pairing: Seokjin × reader, Yoongi × reader, Hoseok × reader, Namjoon × reader, Jimin × reader, Taehyung × reader, Jungkook × reader, OT7 × reader

➠ Genres: Angst, fantasy, alice in wonderland!au, reverse harem, isekai (teleported to a fantasy world), mystery 

➠ Overall Rating: PG-18

➠ Warnings: Violence, suicide, comatose, disturbing scenes, weapons, fights, yandere, insanity, mental illnesses, torture, massacre, serial killers, violent riots, executions, murders, large amount of people die, stalking, people lead other people on, threats, madness (but it’s wonderland so), tea parties and the white rabbit

✉ Character Profiles:

⇢ March Hare ‘ღ’

⇢ Ace of Hearts ‘ღ’

⇢ King of Hearts ‘ღ’

⇢ Cheshire Cat ‘ღ’

⇢ Clockmaker ‘ღ’

⇢ Mad Hatter ‘ღ’

⇢ White Rabbit ‘ღ’

✉ Beta-player [a.k.a. me, blog writer and walkthrough maker!] comments:

Several crashes may occur while playing the game, as the developers told me. This is still a beta version of the game, after all! The game also contains a lot of violence… hrmm, well, you’ll see for yourself. I’ve been told not to give too many spoilers, but the developers hinted to me that as the player, we have a special power!

If you complete a route, you don’t have to continue to the next one. You can pick whichever route you’re on and make it your true end. When that option pops out in the game, and you pick yes, Wonderland will close, and Alice and her suitor will be able to leave! It’s our choices while reading that matter!

Or… at least that’s what they said. Still, I’d warn you guys to be careful in choosing! This game is tricky, and it has several bad ends too… ah, I shouldn’t spoil anymore. This is an online game, so I put the links below if you want to play the beta version too! Careful though~ It links straight to the prologue, so for any players replaying, just choose the route after!

Oh, and one last thing- though all of the main cast are dateable characters; it’s of course, only one character per route though… or is it? Hehehe!

If you go through all routes, you might get a secret ending! Bonus scenes! So complete the full game when it comes out, okay?

No, the developers totally didn’t ask me to say all that to promote the game~

Have fun playing, and I hope this walkthrough helps you!

Reader discretion advised.

⇢ Preview the Prologue here.

            ╔═══════ ೋღ ღೋ ═══════╗

                       [Would you like to start the game?]

                                 [Yes]           [No]  

           ╚═══════ ೋღ ღೋ ═══════╝

✉Routes:

[Routes are still in development, please visit from time to time to check for a new update.]

✉Sidestory:

[Sidestories will be available after the release of the full game, please look forward to them.]

All rights reserved © 2020 kimtaejin [bangtan-dreamland | taerseok]. No editing, copying, translating, or reposting allowed.