#jimin fanfic

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DESTINY ♡

When your whole world revolves around one boy, but destiny sets you with a unexpectedly expected man.

Pairing:Yoongi × reader ft. Jimin

Genre:brother’s friend, only old crush, heartbreak, college oc au.

Summary:you’re over him, a new world sets in front of you. But the heartbreak you both got at the same time is not what you have had thought of. It must be the destiny to set you with your only old crush Yoongi. But still you ain’t prepared for the third heartbreak in a row, what if he breaks your heart again?

Warnings:fluff, mild smut, angst, heartbreak, like flooded with tears, oc is so sweet, confusion, misunderstanding,  crush , breakup, traitor, betrayal, brother’s bestfriend, roommate, college oc, angst shower smut, smokey, dirty talk, seokjin is oc’s brother, he’s a dick, yoongi is a Heartbreaker, jimin is also a dick, expectations ruined, one-shot.

Word limit:6.5k

Author’s note :besties, here’s the new fic of Yoongi. Spare sometime of your to read this piece of beauty and let me know if you guys need a part 2 and how much you loved it. Kindly apologizing for not editing it cause it’s already so late. Remember I always love you <3

MASTER LIST

♡˖꒰ᵕ༚ᵕ⑅꒱♡˖꒰ᵕ༚ᵕ⑅꒱♡˖꒰ᵕ༚ᵕ⑅꒱♡˖꒰ᵕ༚ᵕ⑅꒱♡˖꒰ᵕ༚ᵕ⑅꒱♡˖꒰ᵕ༚ᵕ⑅꒱

“I’m done with you, dude.” You screamed at your brother and ran into your room. You have been mad at your brother since so long. You both never get along. Fights, quarrelling and being mad at each other is both of your favourite things. You never want to live with your brother during your college years but only for the sake of your parents you were there sharing apartments with your brother. If you get any chance you would change your apartment.

“Stop overreacting, I’ll be home till night. Enjoy yourself.” Your brother said slamming your door. He was never in the house, always out there having fun with girls, alcohol and money. This is what he called life and you totally were different from him. You’re more conserved, introverted and only allow certain people in your life. But here you’re happy that atleast the whole house is yours now. You can watch Disney weird fantasy movies or eat pineapple pizza without being judged. At night after he left for partying you ordered a big size pizza and started watching the saddest movies to cry.

At the mean time of your crying session, you heard a ding bell sound at the doorstep. It’s almost two at the morning and you were confused who’s now. But at your surprise it’s you brother walking inside the house with one more person just like him. You saw him, but he was head down walking inside but you guessed it right. In the black jacket it was Min Yoongi. Your brother’s friend or kind of used to be classmate. You have been seeing him from the starting years of college. And now you’re almost at the end of the year. The person right before seems sad and num. But it was not a surprising thing cause everytime you meet Yoongi he looks so sad and calm. No emotions can be read from his expression.

“I guess you’re too early to come home!” You glared at your brother who settled himself at the couch, beside him Yoongi takes his sit.

“None of your business, girl. And why are you up this late, huh? Again watching your weird fantasy movies.” Your brother hummed.

“Yo, bitch. Don’t interfere in my life. Just go, I’m in the middle of something.” You ranted.

“Y/n language! Haven’t you seen Yoongi sitting right here? A guest is in the house and you’re talking to me like this?” Your brother glared. Yoongi just scoffs still head down.

“Let me clear this to you. Yoongi’s girlfriend kicked him out of there shared apartment. So, for few days or weeks he’ll be here with us until or unless there fight get resolved.” He said.

“None of my business though.” You rolled your eyes still focussing on the television screen.

Yoongi in his deep voice “we soon gonna be together again. Thanks Seokjin for giving me shelter.” Both of the boys then straight up walked into the rooms and you were there ending the last scenes.

From the starting years living with your brother Seokjin, you always met with all his friends. Yoongi was also one of them. But he was the one whom you talked the most in his group circle. Yoongi seems so calm and intelligent to your eyes. He was also a good listener while a great adviser. You both added each other in every social media platforms you were present. You almost talked with him daily the past years. But the sudden change that developed in him was still unknown to you. You didn’t get what ghosted him but this past few months he randomly stopped talking to you. No in person talks, no messages or neither calls. He even blocked you from all his social medias. You thought he was mad at you for something but you never get it for what. You tried asking him what’s the matter of not talking or having no contact with you randomly. But he never answered it in a right way. Neither did you exaggerated the matter. As told you were very picky about the people in your life. If somebody don’t want to have contact with you then it’s his loss. You’re always there to help anyone and everyone you know.


The very next day, you were excited to meet with your new crush Jimin. He’s new to your campus for few months and you both became good friends with eachother. He seems so cool to your eyes. Never did you think of dating anyone from your college but if it’s about Jimin then you can’t say no to it. He’s kind and fun guy to goof around. But the thing that make your heart flutter was his flirty side. The way he acts like he’s in love with you with all his picky lines on you. You can’t denied that you liked it, really every much. Your heart always pound whenever he goes all flirty with you. But you also can’t deny the fact that he seems flirty with all the other girls in the campus. Kind of like the new fuck boy in the college. Sad for you that at last you did fall for the flirty kid.


“ Jimin! How’s your day going bub?” You yelled at Jimin who was standing there flirting with some other girls.

“Y/n beautiful! You’re becoming more beautiful day by day.” Jimin walk up to and said.

“Ahh you boy! Shut up. Any plan for this weekends?” You asked.

“As you know our college last year gonna end in this month. So, I’m quite busy.” Jimin sighed.

“Yeah, but I’m excited for our graduation day. But Jimin I’m gonna confess something before our graduation day to you.” You whispered in his ears.

“Oh-okay. What’s it about can I ask?” Jimin hesitantly said.

“Meet me at the basket ball court at evening in this weekend. Okay?” You excitedly said.

“I-i will be there. But if anything necessary then you can tell me now.” Jimin asked.

“Patience Jimin. Don’t forget to come.” You winked at him and walk straight up to your house.

You were really happy that finally after taking a whole one year you now gonna confess to Jimin. Your heart saying that he gonna accept you but your brain already shown you some red flags. But you just ignored it. After denying for so long, now your feelings for him was strong and directive. You can sense it. Before the end of the graduation day you decide to confess the feelings. As you believe in ‘if you like someone, let them know how you feel for them’ philosophy.

You open the door of your living room, at your surprise a whole shirtless Yoongi was sitting at the couch watching his favourite football. His dark strands of hair was wet and a towel was hanging at his shoulders. The track pants which he was wearing was quite unrecognisable as the only thing you concentrated was on his pale smooth white skin. You can’t deny his beauty. He was unknowingly beautiful. His cheek bones, cat eyes and gummy smile. At the sound of the door he quickly trail his eyes on you.

You screamed “dress up, you naked man.”

Yoongi just rolled his eyes on you and put on his shirt and said “I’m not even naked. Haven’t you seen a shirtless man before?”

“S-sorry sir! But I’m not habituated to see a whole naked man in my house everyday.” You hesitantly exaggerated your words and sit at the corner couch.

“Then get habituated.” He said with a straight face almost focused on the sports.

You don’t seem to reply at his last words. Your eyes trail down to find your brother, who was nowhere in the house. You already figured it out again that he had gone to somewhere as most of the time he was not home when you came back from college.

“Have you seen my brother?” You asked Yoongi.

“I don’t know might me out of the home.” Yoongi said. Your inner brain was screaming that you also know that when Seokjin was not at home he was probably out of the house. You sighed at his words.

Hearing your frustrated sound, Yoongi looked at you and goes like “you can watch now, I’m good at the room.” And he get up from the couch and walked towards the room.

“hey! Yaa! Stop, you can watch. I’m not frustrated because of you. Come here.” You yelled at him.

Yoongi calmly come and sit at the exact spot. You were constantly looking at him but he say no to eye contact. With his baby eyes he was looking at the screen. The surrounding filled with the whistle of football match. You don’t know what to say to him. You were still thinking of starting a conversation but you don’t know how. But you want to ask that person beside you that why he was ignoring the hell out of you. You missed him, you accepted. Before even catching those feelings we cuts you off. You already added him in your good relationship bucket list. But he tend to follow the opposite both. Your eyes are kind of stuck at him without even realising.

Yoongi scoffs “you can stop staring. I’m feeling uncomfortable.”

His deep voice fetch you to the reality and you stumbled “umm.. i-i was just. S-sorry, can we talk?”

For the first time Yoongi’s eyes lands on you. You both made an eye contact for mili second until or unless Yoongi broke it. He goes “for what? I think I should go.”

“This is what I’m talking. Why did you just cut me off from your life, Yoongi. I mean what’s happened suddenly you stop talking to me?” You sighed.

“Is I’m not talking to you now?” Yoongi glared at you.

“You also know what I’m talking. You blocked me from every social media handles. Even you didn’t replied my texts. Why are you mad at me, Yoongi?” You said with a worried face.

“I was quite distrub from the past months. Might be because of that. We’re good.” Yoongi cleared it.

“No, we ain’t. The past months you only ignored me. I saw you attending each and every party. And you’re looking quite happy at that time” Your voice raised.

“Tell me, why you want to talk to me? Why you need me? Why you can’t resist me? Is you’re feeling for me? Do you wanna have something with me?” Yoongi screamed some unusual questions which you never thought of.

The question stuck to your head. When he asked you all this, you also questioned yourself. Why actually you want to talk to him. You realise you’re expecting something from. But it was also right your heart carries some part of love for him at that time might be now too. But the way Yoongi yelled at you, you’re expecting that.

“Min, are you okay? Is everything good? I know you and your girlfriend have a fight going on and I know how you feel. But that doesn’t mean you would shout at me like that.” You sighed.

“No, I’m not okay, y/n. I don’t know what’s happening. I can’t understand my feelings right now. My girlfriend is cheating on me at one hand and at another my feelings are growing for someone else. It feels like I’m cheating. But I ain’t a cheater, y/n.” Yoongi broke down. His deep voice mixes with some tearing emotions but he tried hard to not express.

Yoongi feels like he was the cheater because of you. The truth is he really likes you. That he can’t resist to talk to you. That whenever he saw you, he wants to wrap you around his body. Even when he have a girlfriend, you filled him with joy. Even having someone to love, he need you to be in love. You make him go crazy. But he knows it’s all wrong. That catching feelings for someone else instead of having a girlfriend is wrong. So, the best solution he found was to cut you off. Only for this reason he stopped talking to you. You feels like a complete stranger to him.

Still it didn’t work. At the times he talked to you he always stay happy and focussed but after cutting you off he seems sad most of the time. Also he feels so frustrating at times and fight with anyone and everyone he saw. That’s also a reason that after stop talking to you he and his girlfriend have fight most of the time. And after a long series of fighting and quarrelling with each other, his relationship becomes toxic as hell. He wants to scape out of the place. So, he did. But destiny have different plans, after pushing you so far. Atlast he came back at your arms only. Now, he was sitting beside you. You’re trying your best to confront him.

“Min, calm down. I’m here. I’ll not abandoned you. Tell me everything.” You quitely whispered in his ears while talking his hands on yours. His cold hands fit yours and it felt good.

“Thanks y/n. Sorry for everything I did to you. I’m the worst. I broke your heart and I also cheated on my girlfriend. Even though I know she was cheating on me since so long.” Yoongi calmly put his each word.

“No, you’re best. She’s cheating on you first. And feeling for someone else doesn’t make you cheater, Min.” You confronted him.

“You don’t understand. Right now in my life, I want somebody to hold be tight, to love me like I do and to protect me. No one in this earth loves me.” Yoongi frustrated and smack the pillow beside him.

You can’t hold how sad and frustrated he was that time. You never have seen him in like. He was broke, totally broke. You glanced at him and hugged his huge posture which was unstable. But with presence of your hugging body it get calm and the huge body turns down to small. He completely fitted between your arms. You patted his back, he didn’t argued to back off from the hug neither did he hold you back. You were just there holding him and confronting him. Seeing him like this you also got broke.

“I’m here, Yoongi. See, I’m holding you, loving you and even confronting you. Don’t even say those words. I care for you.” You said calmly still holding him in your arms like a baby.

His cologne smells like you’re in a mountain and forest. With each time going you like wrapped him around. He quietly sitting like a baby.

“Remember if the relationship is getting toxic, calls it a off. And if you like someone else and your feelings are genuine then let the person know it. Tell her that how much you feel for her. I know you will.” You geniunely said. He back off from your hug and nodded it a yes.

“And what if the person seems so close to me that knowing I like her, she’ll be surprised. And she also broke my heart.” Yoongi asked.

“I promise she’ll not. Just be brave and tell her your feelings. Not all people are heartbreaker like you.” You giggled to calm the situation down.

“You aren’t a heart break, huh?” Yoongi asked and you laughed at him.

As the atmosphere becomes a little lighter Seokjin your brother walks inside the room. Unknowingly you were around Yoongi’s arms and he was half heartedly hugging you. As your brother entered you both sit apart acting like nothing happens.

You glared at him and shouted “where were you brat?”

Seokjiin narrowed his eyes “language! You don’t need to know that. But let me tell you, for the rest of this week days you have to be alone as I’m leaving for a business trip.”

You excitedly said “really? Thank god! I’ll have my alone time now.” You love to be alone and as said you hated your nosy brother.

Seokjiin frowned “hold on girl! Don’t ever dare to think of bringing your boyfriend Jimin at this house.”

He then looked at Yoongi and goes “Min, can you please have an eye on my little sister. Don’t let her bring any boy.” Yoongi nodded but with a confusing face.

The last time your brother was not home, you bring Jimin and some of his other friends in your house. And to be honest it was a disaster. Next day your house smells like a pond of alcohol and smoking junction. Unfortunately your brother comes home at the wrong time and see all of those. He even saw how Jimin flirted with you and from then onwards he hated him.

You yelled “he isn’t my boyfriend.” But you slowly whispered to yourself “but he’ll be soon.”

“It’s better if he’s not. That boy is a dick. If you ran around him like that he surely gonna break your heart. Cut him off from your life.” Seokjiin said as packing his stuff.

“None of your buisness, brat. Have fun weekends. Me and Yoongi will also have fun.” You laughed devilishly.

Seokjiin moved all his clothes and necessary things in his suitcase and you say a bye to him. Well, sometimes you love your brother in real. But most of the time you hate him because of him being correct always. As for now, he already predicted that Jimin gonna broke your heart but you know Jimin really very well. He’s a sweetheart in your eyes who is so soft to broke anyone’s heart. This time you gonna prove your brother wrong by confessing Jimin. Your guts were telling you that your doing something right and should go on.

You two were alone in a house full of rooms. But it didn’t feel different as Yoongi entered in his room as soon as Seokjin left and you all visited your room to complete graduation studys. You were quite pressurized for the day but happy that you gonna confess to Jimin tomorrow. A perfect proposal you dreamt of . Long basketball court where you and he will be standing all alone and some butterflies kicking in your stomach.

Here Yoongi in his room ingrossed into his long fluffy blanket. His mind was full of you. He can’t stop thinking about you. All he need is you and you. His heart was playing some sort of games to go in your room and kiss your lips. When you were hugging me in the couch his eyes were constantly trailing down to your lips. He can’t resist his desire to kiss on that peach soft lips that taste like berries. He already know how you’ll taste. Your fragrance, soft skin, long finger, smooth hairs drives him crazy. It’s not like he was attracted to you for the first time . Whenever you come nearer to him, he can sense his hormones bobbing out of his nerves. He liked you, he knows. The only thing that stopping him was his bothered self. He wasn’t sure if you also feel the same, but he knows you feel the exact same. Without resisting his desires he got straight up from the bed and walk up to yours.

You were strolling down your eyes within the gigantic piles of pages right before you. He peep through the door to see your face. Your hair strands lacking his view and your frustrated face increases his rage. He liked you, he can’t see you like this. He does a sigh sound closing his eyes, which shifted your attention. You were no longer interested in your books but the person peeping you through the door interests you more.

You calmly open the door and whispered in his hear “do you need something, Yoongi?”

He got shuttered to your cat voice and stumbled “umm.. y-no. Actually you look so frustrated!”

You does a small laugh and said “graduation studies! It’s frustrating.”

He nodded his head looking at the floor and then said “if you’re okay, then we can watch some movies?”

You frowned your eyes in a playful manner “i can’t say no to you but -”

Yoongi intreuppted you “no buts. Living room in 10.” He turned to his room.

You chuckled on his cuteness. Well, if Jimin didn’t entered your life then Yoongi have been the one you would die on. You liked him from the every first of your college days. You haven’t met anyone as calm and as loyal as him. But presence of his girlfriend broke you down. You don’t want to interfere in his relationship. But as for now, he was in a verge of breaking up with his girlfriend. If you still have that active Yoongi loving bone in your body then you would have said everything to him. But fate have different plans.

The couch was cozy, the room was dark with various beam of light from television echoes. Freash buttery popcorn lined by your side. You were half lying on the couch beside Yoongi who was calmly looking at the movie you choosed. For sure you have your own romantic taste in movies. And he can’t say no to you. You were stealing some glance of him in the name of watching movie. He’s ethereal. You again felt the same butterflies when you used to talk to him. Again the feelings were kicking your stomach. You are liking it. Your sudden urge to touch him filled your heart but your mind keep debating about Jimin.

“Yoongi!” Your soft voice echoes the background.

He looked at you but his eyes were on your peack lips “umm…?”

“Are you liking this movie? If not then we can change it.” You hesitantly said.

“Loving it so far. Romance is never my thing but you made it mine now.” Yoongi softly chuckled again stick his eyes to the screen. But the one thing you don’t know that his focus never shifted from you. He also sees how badly you want him but no one makes a move.

“Can you pass me the blanket, Min?” You again grapped his attention. He gently took the blanket and cover your legs and torso. You both were just centimetres away. You shifted a little close to him to feel the heat. He smiled at you.

“Thanks, Min. You want the blanket?” You asked nervously. Without any hesitation he unfold the whole blanket and cover both you. You gently smiled at him. There was a big silence echoing your heart. You want to make the move to kiss him, to touch him and to play with his hairs. And that was when stopped when you actually did while there was a kissing scene going on .

You gently grapped his thighs and rubbed it slowly. “It’s cold here.” You slowly yet seductively said.

“Umm! Yes!” He nodded and pressed his cold hands on your bare legs. He also does the same thing you did.

But soon his hands trail upward inside from your loose shorts. He’s circling inside your inner things. His finger nails form a line in your inner thigh. You were loving that feeling. As soon as you put your hands out of his thighs, he makes a unsatisfied sound.

“Umm?” You looked at him innocently with a devilish thought. Both of your eyes met at once.

“Can I kiss you?” You hesitantly asked.

As soon as you ended the sentence his lips are already on your neck. This smooth lips does a great job in your bare neck area. He was gently kissing , devilishly sucking and you were pleasantly moaning his name. He kissed your collar bone and your pale skin turns to violet in seconds. He pressed you in the couch and lean over you. But you want his lips on yours.

The moment was made for Yoongi, he slowly takes his time to respond each and every moans of your. His lips were playing with your skin. Happily sucking each corner of your neck. Soon the realisation stuck him and he was now concentrating on your lips. Took a few times to glance at your lips while massaging your hair with one hand. He pressed his lips on your sharp jaw line. You were enjoying ever bit of it.

'Jimin’ this name echoed in your brain. That few minutes you can’t proceed, before you it was Yoongi but your heart his on Jimin’s hand. You can’t betray him like this. You have a deep feeling for him. You thought you were doing wrong, it was wrong. You can’t sleep with anyone like this. The realisation make you push Yoongi so hard.

He was at a verge of kissing your lips but the sudden push was unexpected for him. He got shuttered and hold the other side of the couch. He looks at you in a awe. You were looking at him in a deep guilt. Your face was telling you that it was wrong.

“What’s happened?” Yoongi innocently asked and came forward to you.

“Don’t touch me! It’s wrong.” You yelled at him as you run towards your room.

You heard him shout at you for what’s the matter or why you suddenly reacted like that as you’re the one you wanted all of this. But blaming and treating him like that, he felt so miserable. He realised that you ain’t the random hook up for only one night but he carries deep feeling for you. He should be sorry, he was wrong he accepted. But reacting like that was so astonishing for him.

Yoongi pushed your door and shouted for you. But there you were lying senselessly at your bed. Your face was pale and heart with a heavy weigh of guilt. You shouldn’t act like a kid. You wanted all of that, you started it and not him. You were wrong, but you haven’t the courage to tell him why you did that to him. Maybe tomorrow, you can tell him that Jimin was all over your head that time.

“Yoongi, can I explain this to you tomorrow. Please, leave me alone.” You yelled at him across the door.

Yoongi sighed “sure, I also have something to explain you. I can wait.” And he sadly walked at his room.

The whole night Yoongi’s mind keep on thinking about you. He can’t any more relay his feelings to himself. He needs to tell you what he feels for you. That he don’t think you as a one time hook up but a forever home. He decides to tell you his genuine feelings tomorrow as soon as you’re good to talk to him.

Tomorrow arrives, your guilt was eaten you up badly. Without wasting your time you walked to Yoongi’s room. You already prepared your words what you will tell him. That you like Jimin and that you can’t break his trust. Also you should be sorry for the last night because you make a move first but you were also the same person who weirdly ran off without saying anything.

“Yoongi! Can we talk?” You said glancing at the floor that shows you felt guilty.

He was still on his bed half asleep, in his rapsy voice “are you okay?”

“Y-ye.. n-no. I’m not. I really felt so bad for last night.” You stumbled.

“It’s completely okay. Consent is more important than anything. But -” Yoongi got intreuppted by you.

“No, I want to do. I mean I’m sorry. There is a reason why I didn’t want to have anything now with you.” You slowly mumbled.

“I understand. I’m good, don’t worry.” Yoongi yawned. You felt everything goes back that it use to and you left for your college. But the midway of his room Yoongi called you again.

“Excuse me, if you’re not in a hurry can I tell you something?” Yoongi was no more a half dead human but his tone shifted to seriousness.

“Sure, anything important?”

“Well, let’s have a sit. It’s important for me.” You sat at the edge of his bed.

“Oh! You okay?”

“Something is really eating me up, I don’t know how to tell you but I think I really feel attached to you. You does feel home. Always I think about you. You keep buzzing inside my head. I feel for you… Deeply.” Yoongi patiencely confronted everything. His eyes were glancing at your bracelet as he is bad at making eye contact.

Your eyes were no longer want to hide but you without blinking looked at his pale fluffy face. He like you, he mean he really feel for you, in real. The topsy turvey land appears infront of you. Just right now, you were going to confront to Jimin about his feelings and before that someone else did to you. The heart inside knows that Yoongi never jokes around, he say what he feels. But he still didn’t broke up with his girlfriend and what about those days when he completely cuts you off. You remembered all of this.

“Oh! I-i … Are you serious? You never even want to talk to me. You ignored me, remember?” You ranted angrily.

“Yes, I do ignore you but you know what’s the reason? I feel attracted to you, I can’t resist to talk to you, I always think about you and your little things hurts me easily. But I don’t want to cheat on my ex girlfriend so I simply say a goodbye. Though after all these months you can see where I’m!” Yoongi put over his point nonchalantly.

“Ah! Yoongi? You did all these because of some unfelt feelings! At last you need to tell me. But this is too late. I already feel for someone else.” You nervously ended your words.

“I understand but don’t you also feel the same way at some point? Don’t you also feel attracted towards me?” He passionately glance at you, his high voice pitch echoes all through his room.

“What if I used to do? Now, things are changed.” You screamed.

“Nothing changed. You still have feelings for me. Or else you would not want to fuck me!” The total atmosphere shifted into a peeaceful procession. Yoongi ranted the words which are harsh and real. You do feel the same way he does, but what about Jimin. God have a sinful duty to only designated single soulmate to oneself. You feel for true and you ain’t a traitor.

“Don’t you also? What are you doing at your so called friends house cause your girlfriend kick you out. And middle of your break up you’re hitting on your friend’s sister. Also trying your level best to make her fall for you.” You calmly stated. But your neurons are burning inside.

“And she’s falling for me? Isn’t she?” Yoongi in the heat of the debate flirtatiously walked up to you.

“Yes, she did. But I know I’m not a traitor like you. Now fuck off. Also today I’m gonna confess to Jimin. Pray that he also likes me. Now, good bye.” You pushed Yoongi out of your sight and walk up to the main door.

“May Jimin and you never meet again.” Yoongi chuckled at his words. You only rolled your eyes and left for college.

Fall of the darkness after a heavy heart break take lots of sadness. That numb cold weather with a wreaking heart gives shivering pain in your wholesome heart. You didn’t expected that, you never thought that but initially it happened. He said the most cruel words you never even thought he would know. You cried for the last time he did said 'goodbye’ not with a smiling innocent face but with a smug showing he played with your feelings. The words ’ I’d never even thought of you around my arms’ was spitted  by Jimin. He betrayed you. But the last line stuck to your soul 'do you think I would let you suck my dick, y/n? Haven’t you seen yourself! You’re a pity. Go find someone else to do this shit. Good bye’ and he smirkingly ended your beautiful and hopefull day.

You cried under the dark and cold rainy evening. You just want to ran into your bed and cried for hours that you’re wrong. The heavy rain drenched all your clothes and you. Without waiting for the bus you walked down all the street still numb and overthinking in your head. No one loves you right now, whom do you want to live for? Under the nature’s water your own tears vanished.

It take no time to measure your home distance. You shut the door so loudly that you also got out of those painful thought. You are broke, your heart is. The pain has no bounds. The drenched clothes can’t match your drenched soul. Already the winter rain is eating you up but you need more coldness to be out of this burning world. You cried loudly sitting at the couch. Hearing you Suga came and look a glance at you. He didn’t said anything, just standing there quietly like observing your intentions. You felt his glance, you looked at his pale face with your small eyes. You wanted him to ask you about the pain you’re feeling, about the situation you’re in and about everything which breaks your heart. But you don’t why your heart beating and wanting him to console you. You aren’t about this side of yours. Your feelings are confused more than numb.

’ Aren’t you gonna ask me anything?’ you screamed in your teary voice.

Suga smiled ’ umm! I can see the rejection on your face.’

'shut the hell up. Everything happens because of you. I - I’ you screamed but the ending of your sentences vanished on your heavy crying voice.

Suga walk up to you and sit beside you ’ I understand everything. No need to cry this happens with everyone.’

’ Suga, if you don’t know how to console someone then it best to shut your pity mouth.’ you aggressively pushed him away.

’ Wow girl, is it so? In the morning you also broke my heart in the same way. You don’t know how much I care for you, how much I need you now. But you! You just spit some cruel words and not even regretting. This is how you feel when someone broke your heart.’ Suga bashed on you.

You look dumbfound. You’re processing everything he said but you realized he ain’t right. You need to correct him. 'Why’d you came in my life? Huh! I was so happy without talking to you after you stop talking. I do have feelings for you and you clearly know each and everything. You broke my heart first. And again when I’m finally good with a boy, you came back. You don’t know how much you broke my feelings internally from a long time. And you’re giving me this fucking reason?’ you finished and ran to your room and lock yourself under the cold shower.

Suga just for a whole minute hear your words again. He can’t processed that you liked him before even he does. And the fact that you still have feelings for him. His heart got flutter and a pound of sadness hugs his heart. He felt guilty of treating you like that. But he no more wants to be a heartbreaker. He wants to prove you that he loves you, a lot. And want to promise you that he ain’t like those flirty brat to goof around. He’s the sky of your earth that’s permanent and no one else is allowed here.

He ran towards your room and screamed at the top of his lungs when he can’t see you there 'y/n, I’m sorry!’ You heard his voice but weeped under the shower. Your voice is enough to know where are you. He opened the door of the wash room and saw you under the shower with all your drenched clothes.

'Y/n, what’s wrong? You will get cold.’ he softly said and came towards the shower the knob.

'just get out, Suga. Leave me alone.’ you screamed.

'calm down, let me turn the shower off.’ he said softly as he lean towards you to turn it off.

You pushed him ’ can’t you hear me, leave me alone .You brat!’

Suga tilt a little but he pushed you against the shower wall and pinned you down “shut up. I told you I’m here for you.’ he said in his low cold voice which spend shiver down your spine. You both got drenched in that cold water. The shower is still on and you’re numb by Suga’s dominance.

You look at his fierce eyes and broke down 'I-I am hurt. I don’t want anything.’ He still pinned you down the wall.

He said  'You want me. Don’t you?’ and looked in your eyes.

You’re feelings are peeping out and you can’t withstand the man before you. The gorgeous, tall and broke man said enough to console your feelings. Your eyes can’t resist those plum lips to kiss on. He’s unknowingly hot and you accepted it. You tiptoed and kissed him while your tears are still all over your face.

Suga is deep down kissing you and your whole sad soul. You loved it, you geniunely did. The kiss was intense and passionate. His hands trail down to your head and lean you more to have a perfect kiss which he was imagining for years. Out of breath you broke the kiss and sighed. He himself lean down and put both of your forward together. You both heavily breathed and smiled at each other.

"Thanks.” Suga calmly said.

You look at him with love in your eyes and “I’m not stopping with just a kiss. I’d been thinking about this for over years. Now, that you’re here, I can’t leave you. Just tell me you also carry that deep feelings for me.”

He paused for a moment and complete silence surronds that freezing cold shower leaving you both a hot mess. You again think about doing something nonsense.

Suga take a deep breath “ Y/n, I feel you’re the one I have been loosing for years because you were always there for me to find you. But I never took initiative to find you. Please I really do li- like you. Do-dont ever leave me.”

He stutters and hugged you so hard. The moment filled you with joy but often reality strikes everyone so hard. Under the shower, two humans both in love with eachother having a special moment yet the bang in door wakes both of you up.

Suga hesitantly look outside the shower door to look if anyone was there but again doorbell rang and to both of your surprises, it’s Seokjin.

You are still figuring out if telling your brother about you and Suga is a good option.

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

Grace ✩

You come to realize that your highschool sweetheart and you just aren’t meant to be when his attractive best friend walks back into town and sweeps you off your feet.

pairing: model!jimin x teacher!reader

genre: smau, crack/humor, fluff, drama

updates:tbd

series: unfortunate beginnings

status:ongoing

a/n: round 2 my dudes✌I’m really excited for this au since it’s the beginning of a little project I’m working on! there’s gonna be a lot of drama/borderline slight angst(?) anyway let me know if you wanna be on the tag list and I hope y’all have fun reading and enjoy!!

intro: profiles

part 1~kid cooties

part 2~current status

main masterlist

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 6th 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

11:30 A Domestic Bliss ShortStory | Park Jimin

Pairing:Husband! Jimin x fem reader

Genre:Smut

Word Count:700

Summary: Hot late night call between Jimin and yn.

✙ Warnings: Female and male masturbation and explicitly sexual talk.

a/n:this story is within the Domestic Blissuniverse.

Later that night when you finally put all the kids to sleep, you quickly prepared yourself for the call that your husband promised earlier that day, you did your makeup and put a provocative but comfy outfit, underneath some lingerie to spice things up and your trusted vibrator right beside you, you closed the door of your room and just in time the face of Jimin was glaring at you with a cheeky smile.

He let several buttons of his shirt loose, in his hand a cup of wine though you notice two emptied cans of beer.

In the background you recognized his current favorite band playing.

Drunk Jimin was fun, so you didn’t mind.

“Hi there, kitten” he said to you chuckling in way that you found cute but also sexy.

“Hi babe” you responded “You are having a drink, I see” he nodded in way that resembled an enthusiastic child.

“umhm” he mumbled “why you look so hot today? your tits look amazing in that dress” he bluntly confessed.

You blushed at his comment.

“And you unbuttoned your shirt just for me, right?” you asked him playfully, he bit his lip “I can even see you pierced nipple, if i had to guess, I’d say you are flirting, what a slut” you teased him chuckling.

“Watch your mouth or I will have you fixed properly when I come back” he warned raising an eyebrow “I want to see your body, take off the dress” he requested, you did as he said only leaving you with a very skimpy lingerie, he smiled pleased opening his legs on his chair.

“Good” he said with a raspy tone “kitten you are so fine, my pants are so tight right now because of you” he confessed.

“Show me”

Jimin stoop up from his chair, you could only see the  lower torso and crotch area where a tent was forming in his pants, then he suddenly  unzipped his pants and took out his dick from his underwear, the erected member went up to Jimin’s bellybutton, he took his dick with one hand and started to give it a few strokes, you could hear him moan, you immediately felt how your walls clenched and how the juices were now spilling in your lingerie, he seated in his chair again his lips parted and with darker eyes full of desire.

“I want your pussy around my cock so bad” he said giving his dick a few more strokes while he moaned again “Are you wet? Show me”

You opened your legs and with a hand put aside your panties and introduced a finger inside then you took it out and passed your fingers through you slit until you found your clit making you moan and started to give it a few circular strokes, then you showed to the camera the sticky mess that your fingers were.

“Shit that’s so hot” he said stroking his cock harder while he moaned.

“Unbutton your shirt” you requested while you played with your nipple and the other hand stimulating your clit.

He followed your instructions revealing his two pierced nipples and his rib tattoo, pants on his thigs, while you watched him touch himself with his moaning and the lewd sounds he was making, you dammed the distance that in this moment was between you two.

You took your bra off letting your swollen breast be free, Jimin choked a moan at the sight and his breathing was heavier, took off your panties and turned on your vibrator.

“Uh your are such a fucking…ugh slut aren’t you…ah kitten?”- he said with difficulty, his cock wet of precum, his digits caressing the tip while he kept his strokes, shamelessly looking at you.

Your walls clenched once more and you felt the knot in your lower belly beginning to unknot, while you were hot mess, moaning at the pleasure you were giving yourself.

You felt your breast starting to leak milk, at that moment you saw how your husband was getting desperate to keep it together, now he is moving his hips with his hand still in his length.

“Ahh yn, I can’t” he mumbled “I’m gonna cum, I can’t mmm” he was slurring all fucked up from pleasure, you could also feel it.

“Me too, me too” it didn’t pass long when spurts of white cum spilled on Jimin’s abdomen, while he said your name when he came, he closed his eyes riding the wave of pleasure, and you did too, it felt delightful.

“You better prepare yourself, because when I come back home I will not stop till next week” a devilish smile on his soft face.

You were counting the days.

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.

❝ ❞

You knew three things about Park Jimin. In order, he was, despite all, a very kind man. Secondly, he was the devil and thirdly, which Jimin himself insisted to be true, was that he was in love with you.

type: Jimin x reader • rating: SFW • w/c:6.3kmain masterlist

genre/about: fluff, friends? to lovers? very much romantic vs. emotionally constipated feat. adulthood feat. extremely pining Jimin because when the guy is the pining one is peak intellect fight me, the reader has specific zodiac placements but other than that nothing bodily wise is mentioned

c/w: mentioned attempt to coerce someone into drug abuse, mention of past eating disorder, discussion of self-image issues, mildly suggestive

a/n: was just rifling through my drafts and remembered this was a thing. I liked it even though it’s unfinished and kinda sappy

permanent taglist:@ilsan-seoul;@chimchimmarie;@pinkcherrybombs;@introlxv

There were three things that needed to be known about Park Jimin, was what Tilla told you while you had jogged to meet her boyfriend’s roommate. In order: he was a Libra Sun, Gemini Moon, and Cancer Rising, which can all be summarised in one category - he was incredibly flirty. Though Tilla insisted she had already said Libra Sun whatever that meant and that there was no other, literally no other, bar for her Namjoonie, that was as ethereal as Jimin. Those were the things that preceded his fine name - good looking to an insane degree and flirty. Hence why when you had glimpsed the top of his bleached head, you had already swerved hard left then and remained the only one from the clash of two social circles - Namjoon’s and Tilla’s - as an absolute mystery.

Tilla once again insisted that she had alreadymade everyone aware of your Scorpio Sun status…whatever the hell that meant.

Now, some years, not a lot but some years gone, you knew three more accurate things about Park Jimin. In order, he was, despite all, a very kind man. Really, not even being an eternal sceptic -

It’s that Capricorn Moon of yours, I’m telling you,” Tilla declared, passionately waving around a fork and accidentally sending a piece of egg flying into Namjoon’s face who was unsuspectingly sitting by the neighbouring cafeteria table. A victim in many cases. That’s how they met actually.

- not even being an eternal sceptic, could sway that despite the occasional, human hiccup, Park Jimin was an attentive and caring man. Secondly, he was the devil.

As you had gawked at the suggestive photo of him, grabbing his crotch, long tongue poking at the corner of his full lips, the entire shebang and acknowledging that he made that sort of lewd act look artistic, you knew that Park Jimin was an ocean if not the whole world of hurt. When you confronted him over the group breakfast, why would he ever send such a thing, he had only smirked over a cup of orange juice and after innocently fluttering his eyelashes, asked whatever did you mean. Of course, not five minutes after another picture had followed.

All of that could be ignored, pushed, shoved, burned and forgotten. If not for the third thing.

The third thing which Jimin himself had insisted to be true.

Which is that he was in love with you.

You wake up one day and you’re an adult. An adult with bills to pay and taxes to be deducted. You work away in a job you don’t like but don’t dare to change because unemployment is no joke and you live in a studio apartment too small that costs too much and is not in any shape or form of any resemblance to the appealing pictures of the white and green variety found on Instagram. Your socks have holes and your shoes let in water when it rains too hard. You’re so very lonely but you’ve given up on the dating scene because the fear of being messed up, being damaged is too great. Dating is hard. Opening up to people is hard.

There is very little romance to be found while you wander on a path that feels like a wrong choice but you don’t want to think about it too hard yet because what if you had messed up and what if you will end up exactly like hundreds of others, figures in the disgruntled mass, all chasing a dream that maybe didn’t even exist.

It’s all very bleak.

Except for Saturdays.

Saturdays are these nice little blankets of comfort where nice things are possible, given, of course, that you spend money on them but that doesn’t matter. You can sleep in, then tuck the sheets that need a wash, over the bed and grabbing only your wallet to name, venture out into the city. You’ve got your tote bag, because nowadays everyone has them and you stroll, briefly careless, underneath the sun. And then you can get a coffee of your choice and an overpriced something that the barista swears their soul for and you can sit and dream in the plushy chairs of the ambient little coffee shop.

It’s as near to perfection as you can get.

If not for Park fucking Jimin.

You’re not a university student anymore and you’re far from high school, all the romantic nonsense of meet-cute, friend of a friend and such are well over, you’re simply too old for it. It must be some ultra ironic twist of fate for him to look into the shop window just at the moment when you look out. He freezes mid-step and meets your gaze, recognizing you, well because…because supposedly he was in love with you.

It was a damp July night and cicadas were in a full shriek all around the small meadow. You passively watch from the sidelines as Namjoon and Tilla sway together, completely in their own world. Namjoon had gone through your immaculately designed trials and tribulations from hell and made it through with passable grades. And in spite of the habitual threats of emasculating him with a corkscrew and the rather deep resentment for their romance, you are, in the end, happy for these two baboons and hold your fingers crossed that they will not contribute to the divorce rates and instead be one of those couples, farting next to each other in their old. Or whatever the fuck they did.

You guard your champagne like it’s a lifeline because holy hell Yoongi was snorting that shit by the litres and you salute quietly to yourself - to the end of an era.

But… but Jimin is also there. Jimin was…complicated. For you, at least. He’s looking at you. He was always looking at you but it never quite grows into being creepy. It’s simply peculiar by now but it’s been already four years since you were begrudgingly introduced to each other and you’ve made peace with being in his focus.

He outdid himself this evening. Absolutely stunning visuals from Mr Park. It’s just an objective fact, you think to yourself.

“I like you,” he suddenly says, the light breeze ruffling his hair.

You laugh awkwardly but Jimin doesn’t.

“Uh…I like you too.”

“No, no,” he shakes his head. “I’m in love with you.”

After a stilted pause, he continues.

“Strange, isn’t it?” his smile seems bizarrely self-conscious. “To be in love?”

What do you say when such a thing is just dropped upon you with no warning whatsoever?

“Guess so.”

Well, probably not that.

Jimin left quickly after. Went on the world tour or whatever models did and you don’t see him anymore.

Usually, the confession meant the end of the movie, the culmination of the plot, the beginning of the happy ever after but this was real life and as such there was nothing, just the fearful pondering of what could have been better and self-congratulatory pats of what was avoided. He becomes a voice in your head, forever confusing you as to why would he say such a thing and a distantly familiar face printed on the covers of laminated, high-end magazines. 

Yes, all the cuteness, all the cliche romance is over. But if you believed them, which you didn’t, but if you did, then the image of Park Jimin bounding towards you with a smile so wide his eyes did the thing of narrowing into thin lines, would be the only one who’d fit the scenarios.

“Hello, stranger,” he beamed, hooking off the mask and advancing forward with great speed and agility. It was that grace of an unceasing charmer. Cancer Rising. Whatever that meant. You scamper upwards, weighing between a hand wave or a nod of the head and then you’re left standing still as Jimin hugs you. Not a casual press against the side hug but a bone-crushing, enveloping-you-fully-until-all-you-smell-is-my-cologne type of hug. The breed of which you’ve missed dearly.

It takes him a while, a couple of wags from left and right, to step back and look you over. As he’s smiling wide you focus on that one crooked tooth in his mouth. A one, neat little flaw to remind you and everyone else that he was, in fact, a human being but unfortunately this was Park Jimin and even his flaws were at their worst merely endearing.

“You look lovely,” he praises and you clear your throat. Did he have to be so sincere about it?

“You too. Though you must hear it often.”

He inclines his head.

“I like to hear it from you. Thank you.”

You hum, glancing down at your occupied seat. Jimin does too.

“May I join?” he asks.

“Sure.”

You meant to say no. Did you? Did you really? There’s nothing wrong with talking a bit with Jimin, right? Catch up? He wasa friend of a friend, anyway.

And also the guy who was in love with you.

Okay.

Alright.

Like that makes sense.

He pulls the chair and nestles into it, running his hands through his hair. You had seen nearly all the colours of the rainbow on his head. How he had even a scalp to hold onto, the world may never know.

“How have you been?”

“….I’ve been here.”

He gives a gracious laugh. Jimin was always so quick to laugh.

“And is it nice here?”

You glimpse outside.

“Not really.“

He chuckles again. It must be the condensation from all the coffee making. The shop was getting quite toasty.

"What about you? What have you been doing?”

You fetch Jimin his matcha latte, declining his offer to pay back.

“Worked nonstop, pretty much,” he shrugs. “I went on a runway once, but I stopped doing it when I developed an eating disorder and my manager suggested to do cocaine.”

You are left sitting with your mouth wide open like a fool.

Jimin’s eyes crinkle as he smiles at such a thing. Like it wasn’t fucked up as all shit that it happened.

“I’m better now though. Kicked that piece of shit away.“

Everyone knew that everyone had self-image issues. That was the selling point, it was profitable for even the objectively perfect to be doubtful of themselves and spend thousands and thousands on diet pills, form-fitted clothes, alternative "healthier” eating which was the same look-obsessed culture now rebranded itself as wellness. Yes, you comprehended that but it didn’t make it any less unbelievable to hear someone like Jimin, Park the motherfucking Jimin, openly reveal that he didn’t like how he looked.

He curiously watches your brain gear and error over and over again.

“Don’t apologise if that’s what you want to do?” he laughs, quietly, shyly, like he’d done something wrong. “It’s not your fau-”

“I just think that’s an atrocious fucking horseshit,” your mouth runs on auto-pilot because your brain is lacking. It was never a good combination.

“What is?”

“For anyone to ever think you’re not beautiful.”

Unbeknownst to you, Jimin blushes bright red because it’s the brutal honesty in your tone that truly does him in. He was used to the saccharine compliments that seeped like poison from strangers’ mouths, designed to reel in and it never failed to sicken him. But he still found enjoyment in hearing the odd little praises if they came from you. You who had no ulterior motive. Oh, how he knew about the lack of any motives. Truth be told just fifteen minutes ago he had yelled at himself “enough!”. But all the attempts to forget you had boarded a plane, flew to the Himalayas and tossed themselves from the highest peak the moment he glanced at you through the window. Not even he himself quite understood this thing he had for you. What he did know was that he hated matcha latte but never had the heart to correct you so he suffered through it the times that you got it for him. And that was perhaps more of an insight than he could ever explain to others or to himself.

“And to…to suggest drugs? What the fuck is wrong with these people?” you snarl, gripping your coffee cup with pulverising strength, briefly wondering why Jimin winced. Did he not like the coffee? He had never complained before…

“Don’t know,” he replied casually, “I didn’t stick around to ask.”

“That’s good. Are you..are you actually fine, though? Or are you doing your thing of lying to not seem like a burden?”

He smirked mirthlessly.

“I’m actually fine. Dealt with it.”

You leaned back into the chair with a heavy sigh.

“So, how’s Joontill?”

You snort.

“Enjoying the fine Australian weather.”

Jimin frowns in confusion and you mirror his expression.

“They’re in Australia right now?”

“Well, yeah. Namjoon got that internship at Murdoch University. They’re doing some kind of study about the Coral Reef. Tilla is finding herself on a new spiritual journey. Something about crystals.“

More than once, you had looked at Tilla and Namjoon and thought that there were more commonalities between a tiger and a cockatoo than those two. Nevertheless, the two weirdos persisted in their mutual obsession with each other.

“I knew that, it’s just…I was meaning to stay here for a while and they offered me their place to stay until I found my own.”

“Maybe they left you a key in a mailbox or something,” you ponder.

“Maybe,“ he agrees and sips on the drink.

“So, you’re actually settling down? Can’t be! Mr Eternal Bachelor?”

“Oh, yes, truth is indeed stranger than fiction. I’m settling down here. Since I’m not doing runways anymore, I applied for a place in a local fashion and lifestyle magazine. I’m done chasing the glory,” he exhaled snidely, eyes momentarily darkening at what clearly were fractures of some sour memories.

“That’s nice,” you lightly remark, careful not to prod at anything still aching. “What will you be doing?”

“Writing, editing, maybe modelling,” he took a sip of the coffee, flinching again. 

He must hate it, so why was he still drinking it? 

“Sort of jack-of-all-trades help.”

Both of you agree that it’s a needed start over. Seemingly only minutes pass but then the barista reminds you that they’ll be closing in fifteen minutes.

Dishes of pastries have piled all around and when you look outside, with a stiff neck and even stiffer backside to your surprise the sky has turned dark. Unavoidably, like all good things did, Saturday had come to its inevitable end. The air is fresh and cool outside and your cheeks glisten with unexplainable heat. Jimin stretches with a smile, whining at the sore muscles. The lights of the nearby fruit vendors starkly remind you of Joontill’s wedding night and so, still operating on a basic instinct of speaking first - thinking never, the question rips out of you whilst lingering in each other’s presence.

“Do you still like me?”

Jimin, who was in the middle of saying goodbye, freezes like a deer caught in the headlights. He stands like that for a moment and then smiles as though you were sharing some private joke. 

“Yeah,” he laughs. “Yeah, I still do.”

“Scorpio venus,” Tilla enunciated like you were not getting some rudimentary piece of common knowledge. “If he’s making eyes at you, you’re doomed, sis.”

You put the powder brush away with a sigh. All you asked was did she knew why that Jimin guy had been gawking at you at her boyfriend’s party.

“Ain’t your boy-toy the same house?”

“Those are placements, not houses,“ Tilla amended, hanging upside down on the bed, lollipop sticking out of her mouth. "And yes, Joonie -

“Joonie,” you scoffed.

“- is also Scorpio venus. How do you think I know I’ll get my guts rearranged this night andtomorrow morning?”

You crinkle your nose in disgust.

“Gross.”

“I’ll be going now,” he sighs and it is mind-boggling to you how he does that. Confesses and then proceeds life as normal. Most people would be digging themselves in a ditch, you first and foremost, but not Mr Park. He had told you twice already that he fancied you and then simply left.

You bite discreetly on your lip. What would happen if you would cast everything aside? Take him by the hand and lead away? Well, the thing would be is that he would probably fall out of love the moment you’d fall into it. That’s why there was the term “timing”. Time was a precarious thing and often changed with every passing wind. And you were well aware of how painful it’d be to actually fall in love with Park Jimin. You had been dancing on that edge for years now and as such had tethered nicely to the side of inactivity. Even if you found out that loitering around him in person made you irrationally want to kiss him.

As you part, each walking in your own separate directions, you think of being so sneaky by waiting until the very last second to glimpse back at him. Just once. But as you do, you find that to his credit, Jimin was, as before, already looking.

“Shut the fuck up,” you growl not even bothering to lift your head from the pillow. Tilla doesn’t have to say anything. That smarmy, annoying little face of hers does more than words ever could.

“I did not speak!“ she objects but with a tint of amusement. The weird subject of you and Jimin had entertained her for years with no signs of stopping. Behind her, there sprawls the beautiful vistas of the Australian sea, the sun high in the sky while outside you can perhaps glance at a faint glimmer of stars aimlessly wandering through space.

"Oh, I do wish you would just seize the bull by the horns. Jimin’s fine enough of a stallion and by rumours -”

“Don’t you dare to discuss Jimin’s dick out loud!”

Somewhere outside of the camera comes Namjoon’s grumbling threat. When Tilla points her phone at him, he’s found with a toothbrush lodged in his mouth, tugging his shorts over his ass.

Unfortunately not an unseen sight.

“I’ve got eyes only for you, babe.“

"Liar, liar, tiny thong on fire,” he throws her a stormy glare. “You were thirsting over those surfers all day. I know.”

“Oh, you do? Why don’t you come here and punish me then.”

“Please, I beg of you, there’s only so much vomit I can project!” you interrupt, physically gagging at the unfolding scene.

Tilla merely rolled her eyes and you try not to ponder too much on the fact that judging from the peculiar angle one of her hands must be tied to the bed.

“But back to you, listen, I know it may be hard to believe, only for you of course, but Jimin is still carrying a massive fucking torch for you. If you don’t do anything, that flame will go out.”

“So? Wonderful! I want it to go out!“

Tilla’s eyes soften.

"Babe…”

You shake your head once more.

“No, don’t pity me.“

"I’m not pitying you! It’s just that it’s not really a plan - to move to Alberta, adopt seventeen dogs, go insane one night and then die from hypothermia while streaking outside, after which your dogs feast on your decomposing flesh.”

You regard her with a raised brow.

“Why ever not? I’ve spent my entire life with that plan.“

Tilla sighed leaning back into the pillows. Her wrist was indeed locked in a pair of fuzzy, pink handcuffs.

“You know you are capable of love, right?”

“I’ve loved you my entire life,“ you are quick to agree.

"And Namjoon.”

“Doubtful.“

Tilla smirks and Namjoon groans somewhere in the distance.

"Know your place, boy-toy,” you bark at him. “I was here first.”

“She was,” Tilla interjects, pointing one solemn finger off the camera. At this point, Namjoon mutters something about “women” and exits stage left.

“You know I’m not saying you should jump Jimin because he’s gorgeous and nice and has the hots for you-”

“That’s exactly what you’re saying.”

“No, well, maybe a little bit, but it’s fine if you reject him because you don’t like him or because you know you won’t regret it. But do you remember Katie?”

Could you ever forget the little wench who’d stolen your purple, fuzz covered purse bedazzled with the words “icon”? It was a vicious and unjust crime that took weeks to get over.

“Do you not regret punching her in the face that day she came to school with your bag?”

Of course, you did. Being a seven-year-old who had not yet hit a growth spurt such as yourself, Katie then seemed so invincible and tall. But now as an adult, having the sage wisdom and knowledge that one famed day you’ll knock out not one, but two dudes of senior class when they tried to pocket your hard-earned money, you deeply mourned the fact that you hadn’t given her the knuckle sandwich that heinous skank clearly deserved.

“My point is, don’t let Jimin be another Katie. You’re so bitter already, god knows, we don’t need you to be any grouchier in your old.”

“Ha ha ha,” you mock her dryly but deep down you knew she was right. It was that mutated, single-celled organism called a brain you both shared like any other friendship that lasted longer than most marriages. “Anyway, I’m surprised you let him stay over. You’re usually so twitchy about anyone touching your stuff.”

Tilla frowned and a sickly squirming feeling rose in your stomach.

“I didn’t? What are you talking about?”

“Jimin said that until he’ll find his own place, he’ll stay at yours. Went to look for the spare key and everything.”

She shot upright in terror.

“Namjoon! NaMJOONIE!”

Immediately, the doors burst open.

“What happened? Are you hurt? Are you alright?!”

“Did we actually say “yes” when Jimin called us about staying over?!“

"I did say "yes”,“ comes his bashful voice. "But I didn’t mean it for him! I meant it for you, considering what we were in the middle of…”

These horny amoebas.

“You picked up the phone when you were having sex?!”

Tilla graciously ignores your outrage.

“Do we have any spare keys?”

“Of course, not. It’s unsafe.”

If group chat messages were true, then Yoongi moved back to Korea three months ago and Hoseok had left across the country to finally finish his degree in contemporary dance, that means -

A ring by the door.

- that you were the only one in the city that Jimin was familiar with.

You and Tilla exchange glances and slowly, annoyingly slowly, upon reaching the same conclusion as you, she blossoms into a broad smirk. When you rip open the door, the phone still in hand, you find Jimin there, knuckles suspended in the air, clearly not expecting the eager welcome.

“So, a funny thing -”

“JIMIN!! HELLO!” comes a scream from down your thigh.

“Oh, hello, Tilla!” he leans down to wave at her, smiling brightly. “You seem to not have left me a spare key, Mrs Kim-Hogen.”

“Uh, yeah,” Tilla glances nervously to the side where no doubt guilty Namjoon was hiding outside the camera. “Well, you know Joon, all butterfingers.”“

"Or skilled fingers. Are those handcuffs I see?”

As he was leaning down, a chain previously tucked underneath Jimin’s shirt falls out. It sways in the air, back and forth and you have this small but really rather intrusive thought. Would it sway like this in your face when he’s on top of you? The thought vanishes with an aggressive shake of the head.

“Why yes, they are,” Tilla purrs. “Whoever said that long-lasting relationships are a drag needs to find themselves a better partner. I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. Don’t you forget it, angel!”

“Oh, I’m nothing if not a hopeless romantic, Mrs Kim-Hogen,” and with that chain still dangling, he has the absolute gall to look up and meet your gaze. “Just my person’s quite stubborn.”

No. You’re not doing this.

“Okay, well that’s enough of that,“ you huff.

“WAIT NO! There’s so much I want to ask him! What happened to the fashion show? What happened with Mi-Ran? Are you settling dOWN JUST FOR-”

You smack the phone shut, tired of serving as a tripod so these two gossipy bitches could discuss their sexcapades. No, you did not want to hear any of the details of what they both got up to, thank you very much. The thought alone left a sour taste in your mouth. The phone is tossed on the sofa. It bounces back and falls onto the floor.

Naturally.

Jimin crosses his arms behind his back.

“So,” he begins awkwardly.

“So,” you echo.

It’s weird. You’re strangers but not really. You’re sweethearts but not even close. You’re friends but were you?

It’s all so very odd.

“I understand if you don’t want me to crash here but on the off chance, if you say yes, may I ask?”

Smooth. He has engaged the Libra as Tilla would say.

“Yes,” you dumbly answer, without hesitation gripping the door in a panic. You did not just agree to it.

Jimin too seems shocked. His eyes are wide and his mouth is falling slightly open. There’s that crooked tooth again.

“Yes? Wait, yes, as in, I can ask or yes as in…” he exhales a shaky breath. “As in I can stay with you?”

“Yes, you can stay with me,” you drawl. No, that was not what the shards of brain masquerading themselves as an intellect told you to say. You were meant to say that you’re truly sorry and you wish you could but the space is simply too small to allow another person in. But as such you say neither of those words, the sentiment coming from your mouth is quite the opposite.

“You sure?” he clarifies and you roll your eyes.

“Do you want to stay on the street? Because one more -”

“No, no,” Jimin laughs, hastily waving his hands. He’s practically glowing and you turn to look away. “I’d rather stay here, thanks.”

“Well, then, come on in.”

He shuffles inside and you note the lack of baggage. He also didn’t have any in the coffee shop. The only thing he carried was an unassuming shoulder bag thrown over his shoulder.

“Chanel?” you point at it, with an arched eyebrow as he shimmies through the small hallway, trying to shrug his jacket off.

“What? Oh, no, an airport at…Berlin, I think. It’s hard to keep track of all the places I was.” Showoff. “Why Chanel specifically?” he grunts, kicking his shoes off. It’s only by a miracle that you have spare slippers available. They were fuzzy and adorned with large cows but he’ll have to suck it up. To his credit, Jimin doesn’t even bat an eye.

“Oh, I don’t know,” you reply after a moment. “I just thought that Chanel was your outbreak.”

A teasing smile is back on his face and you turn your back on it, switching on the overhead lamps in the living room.

“Hmm, I wonder how you knew that.”

“…Tilla told me,” you stubbornly refute, peering into your fridge to offer as a snack.

“And not those magazines on the table?”

Your eyes snap to the offending objects, recalling that underneath the odd bill and notebook, there did sit a varied collection of Jimin’s faces. Harper’s Bazaar, L'Officiel Hommes. Pieces he knew you had no interest in. When drunk on a political debate night one night, you’d sparred with Namjoon for about thirty minutes about how journals like these were nothing but laminated drivel and the fact that they were grey was just about the only thing that differentiated them from yellow pages.

“Wrong subscription,“ you brush away and Jimin chuckles while taking in your house.

His eyes are wide and his gaze curious. With a reminiscent smile, he inspects your diplomas, most of which he was there to witness in the audience. You remembered, when you got your honorary diploma, the so-called summa cum laude, after long hours and tears and breakdowns. He had been the loudest to cheer you on. So loud, he, in fact, beat not only your entire family and Tilla combined but also made himself noticeable in the eyes of the university choir’s leader. Your classmates had teased you on and on about what supportive boyfriend you had and you were so happy that day the distinction didn’t seem worth pointing out. Your hands tighten around the fruit plate. Had he…liked you already then? No, impossible! Impossible. Wasn’t he dating someone around that time? Christine? Magnus? Rosa? You couldn’t even recall. The point was, there wasn’t a day in university Jimin’s life that was spent in a bed unwarmed. You smack the plate perhaps a tad harsher on the table than strictly necessary.

Jimin giggles on the side. Despite much of your protests, Tilla had hung up some of the childhood polaroids you both shared, making for rather nostalgic, albeit embarrassing mementos.

"Oh, my God, look at those cheeks,” he coos, pointing at a five-year-old you, wrenched in a tin foil spacesuit. The combined result of watching both E.T. and Back to the Future a day before the “what do you want to be” theme day in the kindergarten.

“And the pigtails! This is gold. I must capture this!” he pulls out his phone and before you can throw something sharp in his direction, the mortifying embarrassment is already stored in his gallery.

“You share that to the group chat and I’ll-”

“-emasculate me?” he finishes. “Yes, I know. I think you’ve threatened to do that over a hundred times and yet here I stand - still endowed.”

“Don’t test your luck, Park,” you growl, arranging the final orange slices. “Any day now. It could happen any day now.”

He snickers and sits down by the table.

“I like your home,“ he says, swaying a bit. "But why is it so small?”

“Oh, I’m trying to save up as much as I can. This place already costs an arm and a leg. Hard to imagine what bigger spaces would rip off.“

Jimin pops a grape in his mouth.

“True.”

“Do you want ramen, perhaps?“

He tilts his head.

"As a food, not as a pickup line,” you threaten him with a knife that was used to cut the oranges. Jimin quickly tugs it aside.

“Sure. I’m just wondering since when did you get so nice? Did you miss me, perhaps?” he clicks his tongue and leans in with a mischievous smile illuminating his face.

“Don’t say nonsense,” you snap back but you did. Just a little tiny bit. Sometimes. On the oddest of days.

While the water boils you get down to business.

“There is only the couch that you can sleep on. It’s a pull-out, but still a little small overall. You’re okay with that?”

“I’m okay with a pull out though I much prefer the keep in method,” he wiggles his eyebrows while leaning against the countertop. You push past it.

“As you can see there’s not much to explore. The door on the left there is the bathroom, door on the right just this weird storage space. Any questions?”

“You’ve got a partner?”

You close your eyes and exhale rather dramatically. 

“Say goodbye to your penis, Jimin,” you grimly mutter and move towards him with a melon scooper clutched tightly between fingers. He rushes backwards, laughing. 

“I’ll take it as a no,” he blurts out, looking too unconcerned for someone whose life hinged on the kindness of your rotten soul. “It’s just so I would know what to do if someone rushes here while I’m there naked on the sofa.”

The water boils and you pour the packet into it, stirring absent-mindedly with Jimin’s eyes locked on the back of your skull. 

“And, of course, so I would know whether or not I’m free to seduce you.”

You drop the seasoning into the water. 

“What makes you think you can seduce me?” you casually reply, fishing out the plastic. “It hasn’t worked in all the years we’ve known each other.”

He crosses his palms underneath the chin, appearing for a second misleadingly angelic.

“Yes, but I wasn’t really trying then. All in all, it’s getting quite pathetic on my end to pine you after all these years." 

It’s just the steam from the pot, it’s just the steam from the pot, that’s why my face is so warm, you tell yourself. 

"So I’ll take this opportunity to be straightforward with you.”

You really didn’t need for him to be any more straightforward. He already confessed - twice! - what was there even left to do?

“And if you’re not my girlfriend/my wife/my fiance by the end of this, I guess…" he trails off into silence. The humour in his voice had drained and you find yourself fearing the end of that sentence. As much as you would prefer Jimin not to waste his time on you, ultimately and with no little amount of heinous selfishness it would still sting to have these feelings be lost. You let out a small groan.

Make up your mind woman, you scold yourself, let him go if he wants to go. Yes, it’s for the best. You and Jimin were simply incompatible. Worse than being two opposite magnets, you were brown and he was blue, mixing them together would just make a sludge, a neither that nor this colour which was both dull and unusable for any self-respecting artwork. Some people could be the opposite and meshed well, green and blue, Tilla and Namjoon, some, you and Jimin, was a no go. 

As you’re weighing the matter in your own metaphors, you don’t notice that Jimin never actually finished the sentence. The threat was largely only reserved for himself. “I guess, I’ll leave you alone.” But he never had the guts to say it out loud, scared that it would come true if he did.

Your eyes droop dangerously low. You and Jimin had made him a place to sleep, using decorative pillows and extra fleece blankets for now. He told you that his stuff was still being shipped. He had washed the dishes while you made a quick run to the store to get him some toiletries. He was given his towel and the apartment was coated in the small glow of the living room lamp. Quiet music was swimming through. Jimin said that he’ll turn it off. It was strange to have him here. To have anyone here. The second Tilla and Namjoon had gotten married, her absence gradually grew more and more until now she was in Australia. It was unusual, but you found that you didn’t mind it just yet. 

“Hey, __________,” Jimin whispered and your ears naturally perked at the sound of his voice, all the way from your lofted bed. 

“Hmmm?”

“Don’t….don’t believe too much what these papers say about me.”

There was a hint of frailty in his tone and you’re once again brought to the fact of how horrible these last few years had been for him. The times that he appeared in yellow pages were not tremendous in the count, but there was never a single good entry. Just the clubs, the arrest, the reckless spending and driving and so forth. 

“Don’t worry,” you murmur back, eyes closing. “I never did.”

At first, Sunday comes like it had a thousand times before - lazy with sleep weighted eyes, the gnawing realisation that the fun is halfway over. Tomorrow is Monday and it’s just hours, once again hoursaway from Doing The Labour. It’s exhausting to Do The Labour. As you pull a pillow over your head, scoffing at the sunlight streaming through the window, you whine to yourself - you don’t want to Do The Labour. But the hunger grumbling in your stomach is a stern reminder that you have to, want to or not. You lift your head up, groggy and squinting in the pouring light. You stretch, something cracks, and there’s a persistent, mysterious ache somewhere in your back. Adulthood. But as you climb down, opening the window to let in the fresh, morning air, you glimpse at Jimin sleeping on the sofa. Dark hair messy on the pillow, soft snores rising from his open mouth.

The gust of morning breeze rips through the curtains and he shivers, instinctively pulling the blanket nearly up to his ears to protect himself from the unwanted elements. You smile and then for the first time in a very long time you allow yourself to sit and simply gaze into the city. Dogs and their sleep weary owners trudged in and out of the park, runners in their never-ending mission to make everyone else feel lazy took laps amidst the freshly opened shops, half-abandoned construction and the occasional stray cat. Together and separate - the life of a city.

And when Jimin wakes much has changed and yet nothing really. The Sunday like many before this one is spent quietly, with a nameless, bright cartoon in the background, coffee made, and yoghurt to be enjoyed. Despite what your fears always insisted, it’s actually quite simple. You’re still you and he’s still him and you’re both here in this small apartment, on this lazy Sunday morning because you want to be here. It’s just that simple.

As Jimin shuffles over, still partially sinking into slumber, you quickly delved into a bowl of non-sugar non-fat diet no-additive greek yoghurt just not before throwing a handful of strawberries and half a pack of chocolate chips. 

Jimin smiles over his cup of coffee. 

“I like to eat healthily,” you establish, shaking the very last of the chips into the bowl.

“I can see that,” he bites his lip to not laugh and the chain around his neck dangles in the air as he reaches down to lay a light kiss on the side of your cheek.

© sor-vette, 2022

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Previous|Next

Summary & Masterlist

Pairings: vminkook x reader

I know It’s short, I’m sorry, I’ve been dealing with some things at home. I haven’t had a chance to edit this because I just really wanted to get it out. Tomorrow morning I’ll edit it! Thank you for all the love and support, I love you.  

______________

Classes soon started and for a little over a week, you didn’t see much of your roommate or his friends. The few times you had run into them had been brief and barely more than a “hey,” before someone was rushing out the door or to a class.

You’d also learned pretty quick just how well known the trio was, although to you, their popularity didn’t quite add up because they didn’t really do anything. At least not that you’d seen.

You were lounged under a tree in one of the courtyards with the two friends you’d managed to make, when the topic of Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook came up.

“Man, look at them. Their life seems so easy!” Gabriel, your lanky red-headed friend groaned, his words saturated with jealousy.

You paused reviewing your notes, glancing up to follow his gaze to the three men that had just walked out of one of the lounge areas. Nothing they were doing was any different from the dozen other students scattered around the courtyard, so you looked to your friend quizzically.

“It does?”

Your second friend, Cody, piped up, “Yes! Look at them! They’re so handsome, rich, and everyone around them loves them!”

You didn’t really understand how that made studying, passing tests, and generally living college life easy, but for all you knew, it could.

“Oh,” your interest ended there and you returned to your notes.

Conversation died down after that, everyone resuming their studies. A good ten minutes of comfortable silence passed before something happened.

“Want a bite?” You, Cody, and Gabriel all jumped at the unexpected presence as a piece of sushi was held in front of you, Jimin’s recognizable ringed fingers expertly holding it with chopsticks.

You leaned to the side, turning your head back to look at the man crouched behind you. His blonde hair was brushed back, highlighting the earrings dangling from his ears, and with the way the sweater he wore hung loosely on his frame, you weren’t entirely convinced it was his.

You managed to shake your head at his offer, too scared to open your mouth for fear you would stutter. He pouted at your denial and as if it was a reflex to his disappointment, your mouth dropped open. Grinning, he shoved the sushi slice into your mouth before you had a chance to change your mind.

Gauging your reaction as you slowly chewed, he smiled blindingly.

“It’s good, right?” He encouraged a response so you nodded. You couldn’t remember the last time you had sushi.

A clearing of the throat grabbed your attention and you turned to your friends. They both looked at you with wide, questioning eyes.

Your ears got hot and you reached for your water bottle to wash down the bite of food. You almost choked when Jimin made himself comfortable next to you, giving the others with you a nod, his expression neutral. Polite.

Gabriel and Cody were all too excited to introduce themselves, no doubt hoping to get in Jimin’s friend circle. The three boys chatted for a bit, but Jimin didn’t seem particularly interested in what they were saying and you were suddenly much too shy for casual conversation. A common occurrence when Jimin, Taehyung, or Jungkook were involved.

Eventually, Taehyung and Jungkook wandered over as well — much to Gabriel and Cody’s delight. Your hands became clammy as you avoided their gazes, eyes repeatedly scanning over the same paragraph in your notes but not retaining any information.

After that, word got out that you were Taehyung’s roommate and people seemed to think that meant you were somehow super close with the three men, which was not true.

“What are they like? You know, behind the scenes.” You were asked, having been cornered after class by a few peers.

“Uh-I, I’m not sure?”

“Can I come over to yours?”

“I don’t think that’s…” You struggled to find words.

“We should be friends!”

“A-alright.”

“Do you want to grab lunch with-” 

“I’m sorry, I have to go.” You abruptly cut off, hating the amount of attention that was on you. Ducking away, you rushed back to your dorm room.

When you reached your dorm, you were overjoyed to find it unoccupied. You’d met your quota of human interaction for the week and planned to stay in the dorm until your next class on Monday. You were excited because you found that on the weekends, Taehyung & Company were nowhere to be found.

Dumping your belongings onto your bed, you dug around in your bag for your notebook and laptop. Taking a seat at the shared desk between yours and Taehyung’s bed, you buckled down and did your homework.

It took a few hours, but eventually, all your work was finished and you were able to just relax and enjoy the rest of the evening. First, though, you wanted to take a shower.

Gathering all your necessary belongings, you slipped into the bathroom and began our shower routine.

About 45 minutes later, you were out and getting ready to get dressed, only to realize you must’ve dropped your underwear on the floor.

Peaking your head out the door, your eyes searched the room to make sure it was still empty. It was. You stepped out, your hair in a towel, clothes in hand, eyeing the floor for your underwear.

Furrowing your brow, you became confused when you didn’t see them. You were sure you’d grabbed a pair.

Standing in the center of the room, you turned around for one last once over of the room. You did a double-take, noticing what looked suspiciously like your underwear in the little space between the end of your bed and the chest.

You didn’t even get the chance to make a move towards them before the door swung wide open…

Let me know what you think! (❁´◡`❁)

Next

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Previous|Next

Summary & Masterlist

Pairings: vminkook x reader

——————–

The two’s argument, that lasted all the way back to the dorms, luckily came to an end when their attention was diverted by a group of men walking by. You concluded that Jungkook and Jimin were on very good terms with the group because they stopped helping unpack the car, wandered over, and began a very animated conversation with the group. Well, Jimin was animated, Jungkook was noticeably calmer.

Although you were relieved to once again be a part of the background, you were nervous to go back to your room without them. You didn’t know if Taehyung would be there and you weren’t quite ready to face him alone yet. You knew your fear was irrational — he was your dorm-mate, you’d have to face him at some point.

Stuffing two pillows under your arms, you struggled to collect all the bags in your hands. The lack of muscle on your thin and lanky frame proved an issue as you attempted to lift everything out of the trunk. Determined, you successfully heaved it out and trudged to the door. Using your elbow, you bumped the handicap button and the doors slowly swung open. Making your way to the elevator, the weight of everything making you waddle somewhat, you again used your elbow to try and press the button. After your third unsuccessful attempt, you huffed and set down all the bags, stuffing one of the pillows between your legs and angrily jabbed at the stubborn ‘up’ arrow. You glared at the steel doors in wait.

“Ellliee!” You heard him complain moments before he draped himself over you.

Never in your life had someone made you as uncomfortable as Jimin. Most men were put off by you — your soft features and smaller build making them fear their sexual orientation being questioned. A stupid fear, because so what? But they feared it all the same. Jimin, of course, being twice as beautiful as you had no reason to fear this. Not to mention, nothing and no one seemed to deter him and he acted like everyone was his best friend. It wouldn’t surprise you if everyone was his best friend.

Now, you didn’t exactly dislike him, but he definitely put you on edge. From what you’d learned in the hours you’d known him was that he was very touchy-feely. Always hanging off someone as if he lacked the ability to hold himself up. He was too comfortable and you were nevercomfortable.

Gently shrugging him off, so as not to hurt his feelings, you bent down to resituate the pillow back under your arm. As you began picking the bags back up, the distinct ding of the elevator met your ears.

Helping you out, almost absentmindedly, Jimin grabbed half the bags and stepped confidently into the small metal box. Making a move to follow his lead, you jumped when his head popped back out.

“Guess he’s taking the stairs,” he laughed when he didn’t see Jungkook. You didn’t comment.

As the doors closed and you slowly began to rise up, you can’t help it as your eyes trail to the man next to you. His attention is on whatever is on his phone screen, leaving you with the opening to admire his beauty. His jawline was surprisingly sharp, contradicting his otherwise soft facial features, rings adorned almost all of his fingers and you wondered if it was painful to hold the bags.

“Is Taehyung going to be there?” The words came out before you could properly think them through.

Luckily Jimin didn’t seem to think much of it as he shrugged, “I doubt it. I think he wants to avoid you about as much as you want to avoid him.”

You tried not to flush at his words, embarrassment coursing through you. Were you really that see-through?

Thankfully the arrival of your floor saved you from having to respond.

Unlocking your respective door, you dropped everything off by the bed.

“Ready to go?” Jimin asked, almost impatiently.

Just the thought of seeing Taehyung again had your stomach rolling, making you feel ill. He was scary.

“Actually, I think I’m gonna stay here and unpack,” you motioned back to your stuff.

Before Jimin could argue, Jungkook came in, unannounced.

“You didn’t hold the elevator,” he glared at Jimin.

You shrunk back under his stare, there was no way you were going out with them now, especially with Jungkook upset.

“More importantly, you don’t want to come and eat with us?” Jimin seemed genuinely offended as he turned to frown at you and you suddenly felt the pressing urge to take back your words, just to please him and return his smile.

Jungkook sobered up, “You don’t want to come?”

“I-I,” you felt like puking. It’d been a long time since you’d been this nervous.

“How can you not want to go? Le Fabricant de Pain has the best food in the world!” Jimin continued and Jungkook nodded in agreement.

“Did you do something?” He accused Jimin.

Jimin looked affronted, “No!”

“Please ignore Jimin, he has no respect for personal boundaries,” Jungkook apologized sincerely, for the first time all day looking genuinely annoyed with Jimin.

“I didn’t!” He insisted, hesitating for a second before looking at you. “Did I?”

You looked back and forth between the two.

“You guys should really go,” you said with a hint of finality, resisting the urge to wring your fingers. What you’d really meant was ‘You guys should really go eat without me’ but the words had gotten stuck in your throat and in turn come out of your mouth much too harshly.

They both looked visibly taken aback, not expecting your tone.

Jimin sobered, leaving the room without another word. Jungkook hesitated before following after him.

Shutting the door behind them, you let out a sigh of relief. It felt good to be alone again, almost euphoric after the stressful morning you’d had.

Methodically, you began to unpack your things, willfully falling into a calm state.

*****

*Taehyung’s POV (ish)*

The morning sun glared too brightly through the restaurant window, aggravating the painful throbbing in his head. The fact that Jungkook and Jimin were late only furthered his bristling annoyance. Briefly, he wondered if his new roomie would be tagging along.

Elliot Wiley, 19, born in Quincy, Illinois. 4.0 average, received a scholarship to St. Helena’s University. He mentally ran over everything he knew about the man he now shared a room with.

Man. He almost scoffed. Boy fit his character much more.

A firm clap on Taehyung’s back broke him from his thoughts. Immediately, he noticed the change in Jimin’s mood, his normal bubbly attitude considerably dampened as he sat across from Taehyung without a word.

Taehyung looked at Jungkook accusingly as he sat beside him, “What happened?”

Jungkook shrugged, “Elle told us to leave, Chim is upset,” he explained.

Taehyung raised his brows. Elliot didn’t strike him as the kind of person to say no to anyone, much less ask them to leave him alone. And as much as Elliot didn’t seem like one to say no, Jimin didn’t like to be told no. His mood was expected under the circumstances.

“Does he know you call him that?” He asked, a smirk playing on his lips as he leaned back into his chair and took a sip from his iced tea.

“Call him what?” Jungkook had already moved on from the conversation and turned his attention to the menu, even though Taehyung knew he was going to get what he always got. The only thing that ever changed was his drink order.

“Elle.”

“Yes. It fits him better, don’t you think?” Jungkook responded, not looking up.

Taehyung hummed thoughtfully.

……

You walked out of the bathroom in clean clothing, towel drying your freshly washed hair, and jumped a little when an unexpected knock sounded at the door. Curiously, you cracked open the door. Standing on the other side were two overly excited females. You held back a grimace and instead forced a smile, opening the door a little more. They both looked a little startled at your appearance, but it didn’t deter them.

“Yes?” You urged, brows raised.

“Hey, i-is Taehyung Kim here?” One asked. She had bright magenta hair that complemented her caramel skin tone nicely. Not that you would ever tell her and risk focusing her attention on you.

You shook your head, “He’s out with some friends,” you made sure your words were vague enough that no one could be mad at you for spilling beans.

The girls simultaneously drooped and you almost smirked. It was much easier to be amused by pining girls when it wasn’t directed at you.

“Do you know when they’ll be back?” The second girl questioned hopefully. She was much shorter than her friend, looking like she barely stood at 5’0.

“I do not,” You feigned sympathy.

“Okay,” Purple hair sighed, discouraged.

After a few moments of silence, you piped up, “Was there something else? I can pass along a message,” please don’t make me pass along a message.

“No…” Shortie blushed, refusing to look you in the eye.

“Okie-dokie, have a good day,” you waved, quickly closing the door so as not to give them any more chances to talk.

Sighing, you swan dove onto your bed with a huff. Everything from the shopping trip had been unpacked, you just needed to wash the sheets before she could make the bed.

Standing back up, you gathered everything you needed and headed to the dorm laundromat.

***

Three hours later, you were laying down on your clean bedding, nose deep in a fat book. You tensed, though, when you heard muffled voices outside the door and from what you could make out, most of it was not in English.

You almost didn’t recognize Jimin’s voice as he came barging into the room, Taehyung commenting something back, following him into the room, but you couldn’t understand any of it. You were frozen, your book clenched tightly in front of your face.

Another response was thrown, followed by what was definitely Jimin’s laugh.

“I don’t know why I’m friends with you,” Taehyung grumbled in English and you could hear someone sit on the bed across from yours.

“Ellie!” You barely had time to brace herself before Jimin jumped on you.

“Oof!” You wheezed, not prepared for a grown man to pounce on you.

“Nice Chim, two times in a day,” Jungkook teased carefully, but you couldn’t see anything past the curly locks and blue eyes that stared down at you.

“Hello,” you breathed, still a bit in shock.

He grinned, teeth showing proudly, “Hey”

“You’re a bit heavy,” you whispered, trying to gently push him off you.

“And you’re a bit bone-y!” He laughed, rolling off you and onto the mattress beside you. Your breath hitched at his words, but just like that, his attention was back on the other two boys.

“He’s going to get annoyed at you again,” Jungkook gently advised, sitting next to Taehyung and for the first time that you’d encountered, Jimin hesitated and looked at you warily.

“I’m not annoyed,” you assured, offering an uncomfortable smile. Jimin relaxed immediately, crashing back into the mattress.

“What are you reading?” He asked and you had to resist flinching when he leaned so close that you could feel his breath on you. You immediately handed him the book, hoping he’d back up. Jungkook started a quiet conversation with Taehyung, threatening to divert your attention to them.

“Inheritance,” you finally answered, although you knew it was pointless because he was already flipping through the pages.

“Eragon is the first book, right?” He asked, unexpectedly interested.

“Yeah,” you smiled more genuinely, pushing yourself upright so that you were sitting and subtly scooting further from his warm body. You were especially uncomfortable at the desire coursing through you to move closer to his warmth.

“Do you recommend the series?” He wondered, his eyes alight with curiosity. You nodded numbly, not sure what to say.

“It’s good,” you finally got out.

He nodded, handing you the book back and resting his head on his arm. He started absentmindedly fiddling with your comforter, looking exhausted and you recalled him mentioning that Taehyung hadn’t gotten much sleep and you wondered if he, too, hadn’t slept. You’d initially written it off as goofing off and too much partying, but the melancholy look in his eye had you second guessing that assumption.

“Jimin, if you’re going to sleep, take out your contacts.” Taehyung suddenly commented, cutting off Jungkook in the middle of whatever he’d been talking about.

Sleep?! It was your bed! He couldn’t possibly be so bold…could he?

Before Jimin could respond, you shuffled down the bed, hopping off the end and making an escape to the small bathroom. You were in there for a good ten minutes, staring at yourself in the mirror, wracking your brain for what to say, what to do. You’d never been in this situation before, never been around people quite so shameless.

Finally flushing the toilet (even though you hadn’t used it), you washed your hands and crept back into the room. It seemed whilst you were in the bathroom, everyone had settled in. Taehyung was laying on his back, phone in his hand, Jungkook was sat beside Taehyung, on his laptop (that you had noticed on his bedside table earlier) and Jimin was out cold on your bed, leaving you at a loss as to what to do. He wasn’t taking up a lot of space, hardly any in fact, but you were still hesitant to return onto your bed.

You didn’t understand why your body and mind was reacting the way it was, you’d been around men your entire life! Men were usually a comfort zone for you, so why did these three cause your heart to race and your mind to get muddled? Sure, Taehyung had snapped at you one time, but that didn’t explain how you felt about the other two.

Taehyung must’ve noticed your hesitation because he spoke up.

“I can move him,” he offered, shocking you. Jungkook glanced up curiously before returning his attention to whatever he’d been doing.

Taking in Jimin’s peaceful expression, you just couldn’t bring yourself to ask Taehyung to disturb him.

Could this possibly be what it was like to have friends? Friends shared things, right? Friends slept over. For fucks sake you were rooming with someone now, you should get used to having people over.

“No, it’s alright,” you mumbled, very carefully climbing over Jimin, picking your book up and continuing where you left off.

The hours passed in a blur as you were sucked into the land of dragons and monsters. You didn’t even notice Jungkook leave or Taehyung fall asleep. It wasn’t until the light coming through the window became too dim to read with that you realized what time it was.

Biting your lip, you gave yourself a moment to gather the courage to wake Jimin up.

“Hey,” you whispered, gently shaking his shoulder.

No response. You tried again.

“Jimin, wake up,” you still kept your volume low, not particularly wanting to wake up Taehyung.

This time, Jimin gave a response, rolling over. Your heart jumped in panic when he rolled towards the edge of the bed and you thoughtlessly grabbed at his waist in an attempt to catch him before you fell.

Of course, because the man weighed twice as much as you, he took you both over the edge.

“Shit!” You hissed as you felt gravity take you both down and winced as you landed on top of him. The petty part of you absently called karma for jumping on you, but you were quick to brush the thought away.

You both let out a groan, but he actually started laughing quietly.

You looked down at him in confusion.

“You didn’t have to body slam me to the ground, or is this revenge for this morning? I didn’t take you for vindictive,” he chuckled with a wince as he brought his hand up to rub the back of his head.

You quickly scrambled off him, “N-no! Of course not!”

He sat up slowly, taking in his surroundings and your eyes widened at his brown ones before you remembered Taehyung telling him to take out his contacts. Habitually, you copied Jimin and did a once over of your surroundings, doing a double take when you saw Taehyung’s head resting on the edge of his bed, one eye peeking up at you.

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Previous|Next

Summary & Masterlist

Pairings: vminkook x reader

——————–

You were jerked awake by the ceiling light being suddenly flipped on. Squinting, you rolled onto your back, gazing around in confusion.

Glaring at you, a storm brewing in his eyes, was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen. His hair was dark and wavy, falling into his anger-filled eyes and you wondered if he was a god. It took you entirely too long to stop staring and realize it was just your roommate.

“Move your shit” he growled, aggressively kicking your bags closer to your bed. It dawned on you that he must’ve tripped over them when he got up to use the bathroom. It had been so dark when you’d arrived that you hadn’t realized just how far away from your bed you’d placed them.

“I’m so sorry!” You gasped, sitting up and reaching over to pull them onto the bed. He just huffed and stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

You squeezed your eyes closed in regret and fell back onto the bed, completely embarrassed, “I’m such an idiot.”

By the time he came back out, you were rolled back onto your side, facing the wall and pretending to be asleep. You wanted to avoid his confrontation for as long as possible.

You heard him roughly shut the light off and crawl back into his bed. You waited, counting the seconds that turned into minutes before rolling onto your back and staring up at the ceiling. The moon shining through the window cast haunting shadows across the room and although you hadn’t expected it, the presence of your roommate actually made you feel better. You weren’t facing the shadows alone. With that thought, your eyes drifted shut.

***

“Wake up sunshine!” You barely had time to open your eyes before a figure landed right on top of you, a feral grunt escaping your lips at their weight.

“Oh shit!” They exclaimed when they realized.

“Chim?” Someone else questioned, flipping on the light. You shied away as the person scrambled to get off you.

“Apparently Tae’s roommate got in a little early,” the so-called Chim replied, sounding a bit sheepish.

“What is going on?” A deep, raspy voice quieted the two males down.

“Tae!” Chim cried in excitement, jumping onto the other bed.

Your roommate grunted at the weight, much like you had, but he was strong enough to roll out from under him and face the wall, pulling his blanket over his head. Chim sat up and looked over at your undoubtedly disheveled appearance.

“Sorry I jumped on you, we were told you wouldn’t be here till this afternoon,” You got a better look at him now that he wasn’t moving around. His curly blonde locks were wild and untamed as he ran a hand through it apologetically, his eyes were a starling icy blue and his white v-neck shirt hung off one of his well-defined shoulders delicately. It was unreal how beautiful the man was and if you were any less awake you would have thought him a god, too. Aphrodite, maybe.

“You jumped on him?” the 3rd, unidentified male echoed, shifting uncomfortably. He had dark hair, brushed neatly across his forehead, big brown eyes, and multiple earrings dangling from both of his ears. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his black jeans, and in fact, everything he wore was black; his hoodie, his jeans, the aircraft carriers he had disguised as shoes. All black and yet somehow he was pulling the look off as ‘cool’ instead of ‘emo and depressed’. He, too, was unrealistically beautiful.

“It’s not like I meant to!” Chim defended, panicked.

“It’s okay” You murmured, rubbing your sternum where his elbow had jabbed into it.

“I’m Jungkook,” the man in black introduced, a subtle accent peeking through.

You gave him a smile, albeit a little strained, and returned the introduction, “Elliot.”

Sitting up, you brought your knees to your chest, turning your attention to Chim on the bed opposite yours. He was mimicking your positioning, not mockingly so, and bringing his knees to his chest. You briefly wondered what material his skinny jeans were made of for them to so comfortably stretch over his impressive thighs like that.

“I’m Jimin! Again, sorry for the…” He trailed off, motioning to the bed with a sheepish grin. His accent was much stronger than Jungkook’s, but you still had no idea where it was from.

“You’re fine,” you really wished he would stop bringing it up.

“You’re Tae’s new roommate?” Jungkook changed the topic, likely having noticed your discomfort.

“Tae?” You trailed, turning your head to take in the slumped figure on the bed.

Taehyung,” the said man corrected sharply, raising his head to glare at the three of you. Jimin smirked and leaned back into him, letting his legs fall down again whilst Jungkook just gave you a small, somewhat awkward smile.

Focusing back on you, Jimin tilted his head to the side. “You have no,” he paused, motioning to the naked mattress, “bedsheets.”

You looked down, “I was going to get them yesterday, but I got in later than I’d thought,” you explained sheepishly, scratching the back of your neck.

“We can take you?” That was the last thing you’d expected from the quiet one in black. From anyone really. You were more of a lone wolf, help wasn’t something you offered or accepted often.

“Who’s we?” You asked hesitantly, glancing over at your roommate’s slumped figure. He’d raised into a sitting position and was heavily leaning into Jimin, obviously the least awake out of all of us.

“Ah, ignore him. He hasn’t slept much the past week,” Jimin waved off and Jungkook nodded in affirmation

Taehyung rolled his eyes and got up, causing you to flinch back. The movement caught his attention, but he disregarded it as he stalked into the bathroom.

“Is bedding the only thing you need?” Jungkook wondered aloud, eyeing your small bags doubtfully.

“It’s okay, I can get everything myself,” you assured, rifling through the duffle for a clean shirt.

“This is your first year though, right?” Jimin asked as Jungkook took a seat on Taehyung’s bed.

“Yes…” Where was he going with this?

“This is our third year, so we know where everything is,” he continued.

“Oh, okay,” you caved, realizing they weren’t going to let it go. Glancing warily at the bathroom, you leaned back into the bed, perfectly happy to wait for Taehyung to finish if it meant avoiding him.

“Tae! Hurry up!” Jimin yelled when he realized your train of thought.

Taehyung stepped out of the bathroom with a glare and you shrunk back in fear of his wrath. Deciding that you could just go in your pajamas, you grabbed some socks and shoes and hurriedly put them on.

“You aren’t going to change?” Jimin asked in confusion, completely unphased by Taehyung’s irritation.

“No, this is fine,” you brushed off, grabbing your coat and wallet before darting across the room and out the door.

“Hey, wait up!”

You frowned as the two men followed you, but you hesitated for them all the same.

“Don’t mind Taehyung, he’s just annoyed that he has to share a dorm,” Jimin explained, much to your confusion.

“What do you mean?” The words slipped out before you could process them.

“Tae usually has his own wing, but because they’re expanding the school this year, he has to live in the dorms until they’re done building,” he explained.

You came to the conclusion that Taehyung was very well off if he had his own wing. Clearly spoiled too, if his bratty actions were anything to go by.

“I’m sorry if he’s been unpleasant. I’ve known Tae for a long time, I know he can be…difficult sometimes,” Jungkook spoke up quietly from behind.

“He hasn’t done anything,” you quickly diffused, knowing that it was your fault for leaving your bags in the middle of the room, anyways.

Both Jimin and Jungkook looked at you skeptically.

“Where to first?” You changed subjects, uncomfortable with the attention that was on you.

***********

You had never met a guy that liked to shop as much as Jimin did. If you’d had it your way, you’d have been in and out two hours ago, but the happy-go-lucky, and admittedly adorable, Jimin insisted on going down every aisle and showing you anything he found minutely interesting.

“Softer is better, there’s no way anyone finds firm pillows comfortable,” Jimin snipped, glaring at the wide variety of pillows.

“Chim, they’re for Elle, not you,” Jungkook reminded softly, his ears reddening slightly when you looked shocked at his nickname for you

“Yeah! But as the guide, it is my job to make sure that he gets the best one!”

Jungkook ignored him, turning to you, “Which one do you want?”

“Either is fine!” You rushed out, not wanting them to be focused on you any longer than necessary. You were enjoying being the third wheel, it was as close as you’d ever gotten to comfortably being around friends.

“See Kook? I told you,” Jimin grinned, turning back to the pillows in satisfaction. After grabbing the soft pillow, he twirled back around, “alright, what’s next?”

A bit startled, you glanced to the basket of everything you needed, “that was the last item.”

“That’s all you’re getting?” Jungkook questioned in surprise.

“I don’t need much,” you shrugged, gripping the cart a little tighter.

“Oh, so we’re done then? Great, I’m starving!” Jimin pushed past, marching in the direction of the cashiers. Jungkook seemed to agree with him because he was right on Jimin’s tail.

Trailing after them slowly, a large part of you wished they’d go get food without you and leave you be, but a small, tiny, itty-bitty part of you wanted to go eat with them, wanted to makefriends.

“Hurry up!” Jimin called back, jumping onto a startled Jungkook’s back.

As you approached the checkout counter, Jungkook’s phone began to ring. Looking at the screen, he immediately answered, shrugging Jimin off and making his way out of the store for more privacy.

“Is that really all you need?” Jimin questioned, looking over everything, unconvinced.

“Yes,” in fact it was more than you had originally planned on getting.

“Man, you’re so easy. We went shopping with Tae last month and he was so needy!” You scrunched your brows together, unable to imagine that anything about Taehyung was needy.

As you were piling the bags back into the cart, Jungkook returned.

“Tae is going to meet us at Le Fabricant de Pain for lunch,” he explained, mostly addressing Jimin.

Jimin made a delighted groaning sound, startling you so much you almost dropped a bag.

“We haven’t been there in ages!” He exclaimed, turning his attention to you and continuing, “they have the best sandwiches.”

You nodded, having no real intention of eating anything. You hadn’t eaten a sandwich since you were 8 and if you wanted to keep your secret, it needed to stay that way.

“Come on, we’ll drop your stuff off at the dorm and then head over there,” Jimin said, taking the cart full of bags and walking out the store.

Looking back to the pretty cashier, you accepted her receipt with a shy head bow and an awkward smile before nervously following the boys out.

Noticing Jungkook was doing all the work to pack your things into the trunk of his car, you jogged up and quickly began helping.

“It’s okay, I can do it,” you insisted, grabbing ahold of the bag in his hand and receiving a funny look. He didn’t argue though and instead took the opportunity to join Jimin, who was already in the car connecting his music to the Bluetooth.

“Tae already revoked your rights to the Bluetooth,” you heard Jungkook scold quietly and you noticed that the longer you spent with them, the less you noticed their accents, which was frustrating because you still didn’t know its origin.

“But Tae isn’t here, is he?” You could hear the grin in Jimin’s words.

“No, but the rest of us haven’t suddenly gone deaf,” was Jungkook’s quipped response and the music was abruptly shut off. Personally, you hadn’t minded the song, but you weren’t about to speak up.

After pushing the empty cart off to the side and shutting the trunk, you came around to the passenger door and tapped 3 times on the window.

Jungkook’s car was only a 2 door Challenger, which meant Jimin had to get out and the seat had to be pulled up before you could get in.

He didn’t pay you much mind as he hopped out, still bickering with Jungkook. Luckily, the seat was on spring rollers, otherwise, you didn’t think you’d have had the upper body strength to pull it up.

“Huh, you like her too, right Elle?” Jimin addressed loudly over your shoulder as you climbed into the back seat, making sure Jungkook could hear him.

Jungkook interrupted before you had a chance to say anything, not that you had much to say on the matter anyway.

“You can’t ask him, just because you know you’re wrong.”

“That makes no sense!” Jimin disagreed, pushing the seat back roughly, unknowingly hitting you in the process. You bit your lip, bringing your knee up to your chest. He hadn’t hurt you, but you still didn’t want to be in the way.

The two’s argument continued all the way back to the dorms. Honestly, it was the most you’d heard Jade speak and you wondered if this was his true personality or if Jimin just annoyed him that much.

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Next

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Next

Summary & Masterlist

Pairings: vminkook x reader

Warnings:Crossdressing, anorexia, and disguised child abuse. Please read with caution if you think this might be triggering.  

——————–

“All packed?” Your mother asked gently, petting your head lovingly.

“Yeah,” you were always a shy kid, a recluse inside yourself. This was showcased in the meager items you had packed to bring with you.

“Are you sure that this is all you want to bring?” Your father worried.

You looked over what you were taking. Your favorite shirts, a new pack of underwear, a few pairs of jeans, 2 sweats, a hoodie, a pair of pajamas, shoes, a small first aid kit, and a couple of miscellaneous things. You’d also packed a suit, just in case.

“What about shampoo? A toothbrush?” It was your mother who was worried this time.

“I’ll buy them new when I get there,” you assured, placing your carry-on bag next to the open duffle.

“Oh, I’m going to miss you,” your mother gushed, yanking you into a bone-crushing hug. You patted the teary-eyed woman’s back, uncomfortable with the sudden affection.

“It’ll be fine,” you muttered, pulling away.

“And don’t cheat your diet again! You don’t want to gain weight and start menstruating again,” she reminded.

“I know.”

“And don’t change in any locker rooms!” Your father pitched in. As if you could forget.

You nodded, quietly letting them get out all their worries and reminders while zipping up your duffle. You were anxious to get to the airport.

“I know you hate it, love, but it’s for your own good. Girls don’t get treated in society the same way boys do, we just want what’s best for you,” Your mother sympathized as she took in your pained expression, but you’d heard this lecture more times than you could count.

You sighed, giving your mother a smile, “I know, mom. You worry too much, I’ll be fine.”

“Oh, we just love you so much!” She gushed, bringing your father and you in for a group hug.

“I love you too. The taxi will be here soon though, I need to get downstairs,” You reminded, stepping out of reach.

“Come on, honey, we don’t want to make him late,” Your father chided, guiding your mother out of your room.

Him. You hated the word.

Picking up your bags, you heaved them out of your room and to the front door. It was perfect timing too, the taxi had just pulled up.

“I love you! Be safe! Make smart choices!” Your mother called as you shuffled out the front door.

You too. You thought back, giving the taxi man a smile as he got out of the car to open the trunk.

“Thanks,” you breathed out as he lifted your bags into the trunk. He nodded in return.

Slipping into the back seat, you sent your parents one last wave as the taxi pulled away.

You were staring out the window, lost in thought when the driver said something, pulling you back to reality.

“I’m sorry?”

“Off to college?” he repeated.

“Oh, yes,” the conversation fizzled out there.

The rest of the drive was exactly how you liked it—quiet and uneventful. You were able to zone out with your headphones, daydreaming as you stared out the window. The time danced by with the notes of the music, making the ride seem much faster than it was.

“Here you are, young man,” the driver grinned, removing your bags and setting them before you on the sidewalk.

You nodded and gave a cursory smile in appreciation to the man, handing him the money you owed for the ride.

“Have a safe flight!” He called, getting back into the car and pulling out into the hectic traffic of the airport drop-off.

You nodded to yourself, an action meant to help build your confidence for the upcoming events.

With your ticket in hand, you entered the large building, getting in line to check your bags. There was a group of women on the other side of the rope guidelines, giving you flirtatious glances and your skin instantly crawled. You wanted to shrink into yourself and disappear.

Avoiding eye contact, you noticed a service dog walking by. Perking up slightly, you admired the dedication the animal had to its job of helping his disabled owner.

You had always defaulted to animals, feeling calmer around them. Maybe it was because they didn’t care, maybe it was because they didn’t talk, you didn’t really know. But you loved them.

Not wanting to be rude by staring, you turned away, startling yourself as you realized you’d turned back towards the women.

They were cooing at you.

Just leave me alone. You thought bitterly, wiping your clammy hands onto your loose jeans and taking a shaky breath.

You didn’t understand what about you was so attractive to other women. You weren’t tall, maybe 5’7, and your frame was thin and scrawny, not much muscle on you at all. Your shaggy hair was always a mess and you had no style or ‘swagger’ whatsoever. It just didn’t make sense to you why so many females tried to flirt.

You turned your attention to the ticket in your hand, your name in bold letters at the top; Elliot Wiley.

You frowned, you’d always hated your name.

Your body language only got stiffer and stiffer as the line moved on until you eventually checked your bags, got through security, and boarded the plane.

Your seat number was C-16, right between a mother and her infant and a tired businessman. You hoped the flight wouldn’t be like the movies where he fell asleep on your shoulder and the baby screamed nonstop.

The mother gave you a friendly, if not somewhat awkward smile as you squeezed past her and you tried not to cringe away when your legs brushed. Unfortunately, the plane you were in was one of those planes that stuffed as many passengers as possible in the cabin, leaving ridiculously small seats that made it nearly impossible to avoid touching your neighbor.

You sat down and put your belt on, picking nervously at the dirt under your nails, impatient for the plane to take off.

“Nervous flyer?” You flinched back when the woman next to you murmured in your ear.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m Delilah, this is Elle” the woman smiled apologetically, motioning to the small creature asleep in her arms.

You nodded in forgiveness, your voice quiet and timid as usual as you returned the introduction, “Elliot.”

“Is this your first time flying?” The woman’s voice was still calm, patient.

You hesitated before nodding. She smiled reassuringly.

“I was terrified the first time I flew, but it’s really not as scary as you think. After a while, you forget you’re even in the air.”

Right. you’ll just conveniently forget you’re thousands of feet off the ground. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

“Thanks,” you muttered anyways, turning away.

Come to find, the woman was right. After the initial take-off and the occasional turbulence, the flight wasn’t bad. It didn’t feel like you were hurtling through the air at alarming speeds, instead, the world floated by almost peacefully outside the window. You couldn’t see much over the businessman’s shoulder, but whenever they passed a mountain, it was a unique experience to observe something you’d seen a thousand times, but at a completely different angle.

The landing of the plane was by far the most nerve-wracking part of the entire flight. Getting so close to the ground, seeing no runway, no runway, no runway, and suddenly⁠—BAM! You hit the runway. The ‘wrrr’ of the engines working overtime, the terrifying hum of flaps fighting the air. It had your heart beating erratically in fear.

“Thank you for flying with us, we hope you had a good flight!” a flight attendant bid adieu as you and the rest of the passengers filed off the plane. The second you stepped out off the plane and into the tunnel, it suddenly felt like gravity was pulling at you differently. You’d never appreciated solid ground quite so much.

The trip to baggage claim was longer than you’d expected, giving the fear that your bag might get stolen plenty of time to arise in your chest.

Relief flooded you when you saw bags still getting spit out and glee filled you when your light brown leather duffle came toppling down onto the slowly circulating belt.

Snatching it up quickly, not wanting to lose sight of it, you headed out of the airport. You were supposed to take a bus to the city the college was located, but the papers were in your smaller carry on bag.

Setting your things down beside you, you shuffled through the bag, pulling out the envelope you’d stuffed all your necessary documents in.

Reading the name off the printed receipt, you looked around for the bus stop, pleased to find that it wasn’t a very far walk.

By the time you reached your dorm room, the sun had long since passed, leaving you worried that your roommate might’ve already checked in and you were in danger of waking them up.

Opening the plain wooden door as quietly as you could, you popped your head in, looking around. It looked like a basic room—two twin beds across from each other, a desk and chair between them, and a chest at the base of each bed. On the right wall, there was another door, leading to what you assumed was the shared bathroom.

Your heart beat faster when you took in the sleeping figure spread out on the left bed. Tip-toeing in as quietly as possible, you gently placed your bags beside the other bed and sat on the mattress. Thankfully, the bed wasn’t loud, so there was no risk of waking your roommate that way.

You tapped your fingers against your knees anxiously. You hadn’t planned on getting in so late and now it was too late to pick up a new pillow and bedding. Letting out a small sigh, you grabbed your navy blue pajama bottoms and a white t-shirt, then as quietly as possible, you slipped into the bathroom to change.

Looking at yourself in the mirror one last time before you slipped back into the room, you frowned at your shaggy locks. It fell just passed your jaw in a very messy fashion and it was even longer in the back, reaching the base of your neck.

I really do need a haircut. You thought bitterly.

Shuffling back into the room and climbing onto the bare mattress, you curled into yourself and let your eyes slide shut.

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Previous|Next

Summary & Masterlist

Pairings: ot7 x female

Warnings:Panic attack and floofy fluff. Yoongi is a babe in this one. Also so very very loosely edited, heh. I’m sorry.

——————–

“Would you run away with me?”

…..

“Tasia!” Jungkook exclaimed frantically.

“Jungkook? What’s wrong?” At my serious tone, the three men with me instantly turned their attention my way.

“Put it on speaker.” Hoseok demanded and I did as told.

“-what happened! I just-I left to use the bathroom for like 2 seconds! That’s it!” He trailed off, Korean tumbling out of his mouth in what I assumed were panicked curses.

“Hey, it’s okay, just tell me what happened. You’re okay,” I consoled, doing my best to bring his attention back to me.

“I won’t be after I tell you what happened” he mumbled.

“What the hell did you do, Kook?” I sighed, exasperated.

“I maybe, sorta, kinda…lit…your kitchen on fire?”

“You did what?!

“It was an accident!” He exclaimed and I could hear Jimin and Hoseok snickering behind me.

“Shut the fuck up!” I snapped at them causing them to flinch back and stop laughing.

Turning back to my phone I asked, “are you fucking with me right now?”

He let out a whimper, “no.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to reign in my anger. “Okay, so, how did you manage…that?” My breathing was shallow from the effort I was putting in to keep my patience.

“I was making food and I didn’t see the kitchen towel by the stove and I just left for a second to use the bathroom and when I came back….there were a lot of flames”

I hung up the phone, rushing over to the curb and crouching into a ball, trying to battle back the panic attack that threatened to overtake me. I was going to be evicted, I was going to have to pay for repairs, I didn’t have a place to stay.

I flinched when someone gently placed a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t touch me.”

“Maybe it’s not that bad,” Jimin murmured, crouching beside me.

I could feel the tears welling but I nodded nonetheless. We stayed crouched there for a while, Jimin affectionately brushing my hair back behind my ear and rubbing my back.

“Come on, let’ go” he encouraged a minute or two later, ushering me to stand back up. “Hoseok, take-” Jimin hesitated, not remembering Beatrice’s name, “Tasia’s friend back, we’re gonna get a cab.”

I didn’t even argue, too far gone in self-pity.

***

When the cab pulled up outside the apartment building, I saw the hoard of police and firemen. The threat of a panic attack crept up again, but Jimin must have been paying attention because he was quick to wrap his arms around me. I couldn’t fathom why I felt so comforted when not even a half hour ago I wanted the ground to swallow me whole every time he so much as glanced my way.

“Tasia!” I was tackled the second I stepped out of the cab.

“Get off.” I wasn’t stable enough to put any emotion into my voice.

Jungkook flinched back, likely not expecting it.

“Tasia?” He murmured cupping my cheeks but I shrugged him off, I was afraid that if I looked at him I would say something I would later regret.

I stalked into my apartment, brushing past the firemen and police officers, my chest tightening uncomfortably the second I laid eyes on my roastedkitchen.

“Excuse me, Miss Lloyd?” I turned at the sound of my name, coming face to face with my landlord.

It felt like the world was closing in on me, my chest getting tighter as I fought to breathe. I stumbled round the side of the building, hoping no one had followed me, slumping against the brick wall and sliding down til my ass roughly landed on the cement.

***

I darted out of my apartment a few hours later and hurled myself down the steps. I couldn’t stop the flow of tears any longer. Everything was too much, it was all too much. Too many people, too many problems, too many emotions—I couldn’t handle it. The officials had all left but the seven men now in my life were more than I could handle in that moment.

Breach of contract. Evicted. The words repeated over and over til my head was swimming.

I wasn’t sure how much time had passed before I finally calmed down, but when I did, I took notice of the figure standing beside my slumped form.

His dark hair was almost completely covering his eyes and he had a black mask covering the rest of his face, but his silhouette was unmistakable.

“Yoongi?” I asked. The only response I got was an almost imperceptible turn of his head as his one visible eye met mine. “Do you want to get out of here?” I held my hand up for him to take, hoping that he would.

His gaze flickered down to my hand. There was a beat of silence before he cautiously pulled his hand from his jean pocket and gripped mine. He pulled me, with more strength than I thought he had, up from the ground. Not prepared, I stumbled forward into his chest.

“Was that payback?” I snickered into his chest. I wasn’t sure what it was, but something about him in that moment made me feel safe. I knew I wasn’t being rational and the last thing I should be doing right now is running away, but I didn’t want to stay. I didn’t want to deal with my anger towards Jungkook or my inevitable homelessness. I wanted to run.

And so we did. Still hand in hand, we took off running. I don’t think either of us had a destination in mind, our only goal was to get away. We ran like our asses were on fire down the sidewalk, taking a chance and darting across the too-busy-to-be-jaywalking street. We kept running till we could no longer see the dreaded apartment building.

Jogging to a stop, we were both panting and clutching our sides, laughter bubbling up inside me. Looking at Yoongi I noticed that somewhere along the way he’d removed his mask and for a moment I was struck dumb by his beauty. He wasn’t quite laughing, but there was a grin on his lips that I’d never seen before. Slowly, we both sobered up as we stared, studying each other.

“Come on,” I nudged after a moment, a taxi pulling up to the curb behind him catching my attention. It still didn’t feel like we were far enough away if one of the boys decided to come looking for us.

Yoongi helped the elderly woman get out and I took the opportunity to slip in. I waited for Yoongi to join before I told the driver to do just that. Drive.

It was about thirty minutes of driving around and we eventually got to the more populated part of the city with lots of little boutiques and tourist attractions.

“Here’s fine!” I called, startling the driver a little I think. Yoongi had his mask up again, but I think I saw his cheeks lift into a smile and I grinned back at him.

Where had the fear I’d felt for him gone? Where was the anxiety I felt around any of them at any given time? Where was the stress from my home situation? I wasn’t sure but right then I wasn’t going to worry about it.

Yoongi slipped the driver some cash and we both tumbled out of the vehicle, small giggles leaving my lips.

People were hustling and bustling down the streets, the tourists easy to pick out. Not wanting to lose Yoongi in the crowd, I laced my fingers with his.

Spotting what had prompted me to tell the driver to stop, I tugged gently on Yoongi’s hand and began making my way to the entrance. It was a small bar that I’d never been to but had always wanted to try.

The little bell chimed above the door the moment we stepped in and Yoongi pulled his mask down to rest under his chin, looking around. The place wasn’t anything special or fancy, but it looked clean.

Leading him to the stools, I sat down. “Let’s drink.”

…..

The first thing that caught my attention as I woke up was the horrendous taste in my mouth, my tongue feeling like it’d been glued to the roof of it. I had a few blissful seconds of this before the headache registered, pulling a pained moan from my lips. I rolled over, deeper into the covers while clutching my skull.

I’m never drinking again. I thought.

The last thing I remembered was bar hopping with Yoongi and I prayed that was who I had just heard walk into the room.

My breath hitched when they clumsily plopped onto the bed, rolled closer and threw an arm around my waist — pulling me closer. I risked a glance down and closed my eyes in relief when I recognized the ring and bracelets on the hand.

“You scared the shit out of me,” I sighed, not willing to speak any louder. Yoongi just hummed halfheartedly in return, the sound muffled by the pillow his face was pressed into.

“Where are we?” I grimaced once again at the taste in my mouth, somewhat regretting opening it.

He let out an annoyed sigh, took his arm off me and shifted to lay on his back.

“A hotel room.” He deadpanned.

“Did…did we do something?” I sat up, biting my lip nervously not missing the opportunity to appreciate his beauty. His eyes were closed, his hair messy and brushed back.

He cracked one eye open, unexpectedly sitting up too, the proximity making our noses brush. “Why? Do you want something to have happened?” There was a mischievous glint in his eye, his minty fresh breath fanning across my lips.

I pulled back, not wanting him to smell my breath.

“I have to use the bathroom!” I blurted, stumbling out of the bed. I had moved too fast because now the pressure in my brain made me feel like it was going to pop. I took a second to wait for the pain to ebb away.

“You good, jagi?” He asked with humor clear in his tone of voice.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” I paused, furrowing my brows and looking back at him, “what did you just call me?” I’d heard Jungkook call me that a few times before and he’d always made it seem like it was a slip of the tongue, but the way Yoongi was smirking at me, I knew he’d said it intentionally.

“Jagiya.” He said, slow and mocking.

I rolled my eyes, “yes, and what does that mean?”

“It means your breath stinks. Go brush your teeth, I’ll order room service.” He huffed, rolling off the bed and leaving the room.

My eyes narrowed in annoyance, glaring at the door he’d just exited out of before huffing and stalking off to the bathroom.

Sitting on the marble countertop was an unopened toothbrush, some toothpaste placed next to a second, used toothbrush. Somewhere in the back of my mind I wondered when he got toothbrushes and toothpaste, but I was more concerned with my missing memories of last night to give it much attention.

With my mouth full of sudsy paste, Yoongi walks in.

“What do you want?” He asked in such a way, I was confused. He was the one that walked in, why was he asking me what I wanted?

Then I realized he meant for breakfast. Or lunch. I wasn’t sure what time it was.

I spit out what was in my mouth, my heart skipping a beat when I felt him carefully tuck some stray hair back behind my ear before I accidentally spit on it.

“Thanks,” I smiled shyly after I’d rinsed out my mouth.

He nodded in dismissal, “so?”

“Oh, um, anything is fine.” I finally answered the question he’d come in for.

He frowned but didn’t argue, turning to leave. He wasn’t a really expressive person, but something told me that he hadn’t been asking me what I wanted to be polite—he actually wanted me to pick something.

“Eggs and bacon!” I called out to his departing figure. He looked back at me and nodded.

I nodded as well, mentally congratulating myself as I turned to face myself in the mirror. I cringed at my reflection. My hair was an actual rats nest and my complexion looked like I had just risen from the dead. I felt a little like it too.

Making my way barefoot out of the room, I took in my surroundings. It was clear we were in a hotel suite and my stomach dropped at the thought that Yoongi had paid for this just because I didn’t want to go back home.

How much did a room like this even cost? I wondered fleetingly.

I followed the sound of Yoongi’s low voice, finding him on a couch with a phone the hotel provided pressed to his ear. He hung up when he saw me come round to the front of the couch.

“They said it will be 15 minutes. How’s the head?” He was mocking again, probably more than amused by how much alcohol I must have consumed the night before.

“It’s fine.” I snapped, trying to hide my embarrassment, “What time is it? And where are my shoes?”

He vaguely motioned to the side of the couch, his eyes not leaving me as I stalked around to find them lined up beside his own with my socks neatly tucked inside.

“Are you usually this grumpy in the morning, or is it just the hangover?” I looked up in time to see him casually brushing his hair out of his eyes and the arrogance in that simple action had annoyance flaring up inside me.

“Are you flirting or trying to start a fight right now?” I called him out, hoping for some kind of reaction, be it irritation or, better yet, embarrassment but he just shrugged noncommittal.

Huffing, I plopped down onto the couch, as far from him as possible. I didn’t really have a right to be annoyed with him, he’d pretty much taken care of me all night but I just couldn’t help but feel annoyed. A lot of it probably stemmed from my own embarrassment and I begrudgingly had to be thankful that he seemed to realize this as well.

We sat there in silence until room service came, him scrolling through something on his phone and me staring absently out the window.

When the table of food was wheeled in and Yoongi took in upon himself to uncover everything, I saw that he’d ordered us the same thing. When I looked at him in question, he just shrugged. And then I understood, it wasn’t that he hadn’t wanted to decide forme, he hadn’t wanted to decide at all.

Sitting down beside him on the couch in front of the trolley, I picked up the utensils neatly wrapped in cloth and pulled a plate closer to me. “Do you want my bacon?” I offered.

He shook his head, “you eat.”

I winced, “I-I don’t actually like bacon…” I trailed off, guilty.

He squinted at me for a moment, probably trying to decide if I was mentally challenged or something. I avoided his stare, nibbling on one of the apple slices that were available.

***

I let out a loud sigh as Yoongi’s phone made another *ding*. It was the sixth notification and he hadn’t shown any sign of getting up and checking who was trying to contact him.

“It’s Jungkook. He’s worried about you.” He announced, at least acknowledging my annoyance.

Guilt gripped my heart. I’d reacted too dramatically yesterday and now that I’d calmed down and even blown off some steam, I was ready to forgive him. I knew it had been a mistake.

I slouched down a little, my body rejecting my next words, “I guess we should head back and join reality again, huh?”

He studied me for a moment, “I’m not in a hurry.”

“I think he’s been stewing in guilt long enough,” I sighed. He hesitated, surprising me, before nodding. He didn’t seem to necessarily disagree with my statement, instead he seemed to be wondering if I truly believed my statement. I did.

***

“Tasia? Tasia!” Jungkook sprung up from his seat on my couch and rushed over. “I’m so sorry, okay? Please forgive me”

“Of course I forgive you, I’m a simp,” I sighed, knowing it was true.

Jungkook sagged in relief and wrapped his arms around me, pulling a wheezed huff out of me at the tightness of his hold. I had been holding Yoongi’s hand because I hadn’t admittedly been ready to face everyone alone and despite Yoongi being a little unapproachable, the events the evening before had made us much closer. Even if neither of us would admit it.

“You’re gonna break me,” I breathed out, doing my best to pull away. He let me go.

“Hobi-hyung is talking to the landlord right now, I promise we’ll do our best to make sure you still have a place to stay. I’m really sorry,” his big doe eyes stared into me and I held back the urge to pull him back into a hug.

Hobi-hyung? We? I’d heard him call Hoseok that before, so I knew that was who he was referring to, but what I couldn’t understand was what any of the others had to do with the situation.

“He’s talking to the landlord?” I echoed. Jungkook nodded but didn’t elaborate and frankly I was a little too scared to ask.

“Um, alright,” I wasn’t really sure what to say anymore so I just moved towards the couch, bringing Yoongi with me.

He hadn’t said anything the whole time but he hadn’t pulled away either so I decided to keep him as close as possible for as long as he’d let me. At this point, his warm hand in mine was the only thing grounding me and keeping me from getting lost in the panic. Something told me he knew it too.

Pausing, you realized there was only one open seat on the couch. Yoongi obviously had noticed long before me, though, because he didn’t even hesitate letting go of my hand and taking a seat on the arm rest next to the open seat. He didn’t motion for me to sit, or even really give me any indication that his actions had been for me…but it was pretty obvious he’d done it for me.

Glancing about the room, Jungkook was the only one paying attention to us. Taehyung looked exhausted, staring blankly at the wall, Jimin was resting heavily into him focusing on whatever Jin was telling him in Korean, and Namjoon had his nose in a book, looking completely oblivious of his surroundings. My face flushed and I ducked my head, taking a seat beside Yoongi. My shoulder pressed against his side as I did my best not to disturb Taeyung who was sat next to me on the cushion. I was a little surprised when, not looking up from his phone, Yoongi dropped his hand down onto my lap and laced our fingers.

I couldn’t help but look at Jungkook, wondering what the man I was in love with thought about Yoongi’s and I’s new relationship. I couldn’t help the feeling of pain that shot through my heart when he stared fondly at our hands.

Please let me know your thoughts! I love to hear what you guys think! :))

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Previous|Next

Summary & Masterlist

Pairings: ot7 x female

Warnings:Mmm, unedited-ness?

——————–

“Me to me: you stress me out” - Someone

…….

Since I hadn’t really planned to go anywhere, it didn’t take me very long to get ready at all. I had let my hair air dry, I had no intention of putting on makeup and my clothes consisted of black leggings and an oversized white t-shirt. These were all decisions I regretted deeply the moment I told Namjoon I was ready and he’d replied with, “let’s go to the library”

Public? He wanted to go out in public? Normally I wouldn’t have given it a second thought, because really, who dresses up to study? But the fact that I was going to be accompanied by an unrealistically attractive man had me second guessing my life choices that morning.

The memory of what those girls thought of me when I was seen with them flashed through my mind and I grimaced. I didn’t need a rerun of yesterday.

“You sure you don’t want to just stay here?” I asked, hoping he would see the desperation in my eyes and have pity.

“No, we should go somewhere the others won’t feel tempted to follow and interrupt” I slouched at his words.

“Kay…” I sniffled, staring longingly at my kitchen table. He rolled his eyes at my antics, grabbed my bag and led the way out of my home.

In the time it’d taken for me to eat breakfast, he had showered, styled his hair and transformed into some kind of wandering, homeless, monk. Even stranger was how well he was pulling it off.

I’d successfully dodged Jimin thus far, although I had a feeling he wasn’t trying all that hard to interact with me either. He, Seokjin, and Hoseok had all gone back to Jungkook’s before Jungkook and I had even finished our conversation. And although I hadn’t checked, I suspected that along with Jungkook, Taehyung and Yoongi were asleep.

Under any other circumstances, I would never have left strange men alone in my home, but with Jungkook being there and them being the people he trusted most…I felt that it was somewhat safe to leave them unattended for a while. That saying, I was also piss poor so it wasn’t like I owned anything these aristocrats would want.

“Your school has a library, yes?” Namjoon broke through my thoughts as we trotted down the stairs to the ground floor.

Now it was my turn to roll my eyes, huffing, “of course”

If I had been looking I would’ve seen the smirk on his face.

We were about halfway to my school when I began to have that itching feeling that I had forgotten something.

Patting my legging pockets as subtly as possible, I mentally did a checklist.

Phone? Check. Wallet…my wallet! My bag!

“Oh no!” I gasped.

Namjoon jumped a little at my outburst, shooting me an annoyed but confused glare.

“My bag! It’s—oh.” I drooped as he held up my bag that he’d been carrying. A fierce blush shaded my cheeks.

I stayed quiet the rest of the way there, more or less shrugging off all his attempts to start a conversation. The building embarrassment from the growing list of stupid mistakes I kept making around them had my mind otherwise preoccupied.

When we got to the library, the calm, focused atmosphere rapidly relieved me of my anxiety. We settled at a table by the windows and it was when he sat next to me and leaned in to read what I was setting out before us, I realized just how good he smelled.

I inwardly groaned. How was I supposed to not think of this man as more than Jungkook’s best friend when he 1. Looked like a greek god 2. Smelled devine, and 3. Had the biggest brain of anyone I’d ever met.

Still, I sent him a shy smile in hopes of hiding my internal battle.

The day carried on quickly and I was astonished by how much more things made sense when he explained them. He was also unexpectedly patient, so at the times my brain just wouldn’t comprehend what he was trying to explain, he would calmly figure out new ways to explain instead of getting annoyed. I would’ve gotten annoyed with me ten times over if I had been in his place.

“Want to take a break?” He asked after my third brain fart in a row.

I bit my lip, unsure. “Can we?”

He was already sacrificing so much of his time to help me study, but I really needed to be away from the books for a while.

“Yeah, of course. You pack up, I’ll get a ride and then we’ll go eat” he stated, grabbing his phone off the table and stepping away.

I wasn’t exactly sure what he had in mind. My thoughts were that we were just going to go to the food court, but it was clear he had different expectations. Whatever, he’d been kind enough to help me this much, I wasn’t going to complain over where he wanted to eat. So I did as told and packed up my bag.

It wasn’t long before he returned.

“He said he’d pick us up,” he announced, again coming to sit next to me.

“Who?”

“Hoseok,” he elaborated, not looking up from his phone. He was sitting close enough and in such a way that I could easily see what was on the screen, but out of respect and slight disinterest, I turned my attention elsewhere.

“Ah”

A few minutes of silence passed and my attention had returned to his phone. I hadn’t even noticed that I was leaning into him or that he had angled his phone so I had a batter view until we were approached.

“Tasia!” I jerked back at the sound of my name, looking around to find who had called it. I instantly recognized the woman, a friendly acquaintance I knew from highschool.

“Bea! Hey!” I greeted, returning the somewhat awkward hug she pulled me into with a couple pats on the back.

Pulling back, she helped herself to the seat across from me and her gaze understandably wandered over to the man sitting beside me, who was much more interested in his phone than her. He’d actually slouched back into his chair, looking the most unapproachable I’d seen him.

That didn’t deter her. “Who’s this?” she wiggled her eyebrows at me and I had to stop myself from rolling my eyes. The woman was acting like we were in grade school and I was sitting next to my crush.

She wasn’t too far off on the “crush” part though.

“This is my friend Namjoon,” at the sound of his name, his eyes trailed up to meet mine, “Namjoon, this is Beatrice”

For the first time, Namjoon looked at her. He didn’t say anything, just stared. It was like he was waiting for her to do something worthwhile to pay him back for the attention he was giving her. I squirmed in my seat. Why was he being so rude?

“I didn’t know you went here!” I did, I’d seen her in the hall once before, but for the sake of breaking the ice, I pretended I didn’t. “What are you studying?”

She seemed grateful for the escape, “I’m an art major! What’s your major?”

“I’m a psychology major”

“Oh, so you’re learning to read minds?” I stared at her for a second, deciding whether or not she was being serious.

Taking the safe bet, I just laughed and shook my head.

“Nothing that cool. Though if they ever give telepathy classes, I’ll be the first in line” I laughed, the strained interaction already taking its toll on my energy reserves.

“So what exactly is-” she was cut off by Namjoon’s voice.

“Yeah?” I turned to see his phone pressed to his ear.

“In the library…Okay…Yeah” with that he hung up, shoving his phone into his pocket.

Returning my attention to Beatrice, I smiled apologetically.

“Hoseok is outside,” Namjoon announced, flicking at my ponytail to get my attention.

“Oh, okay”

“I’ll walk you guys out! I need to get some food anyways, I’m starving” Beatrice groaned, rubbing her belly.

A part of me admired her confidence. Even after being stared down, she was still making the effort to interact with us.

On a whim, I offered, “We’re headed out to eat right now too, wanna come?”

She lit up at my offer, “Yeah! Where are we going?”

“Um…” I looked at Namjoon for guidance, but he ignored me, grabbed my bag and walked away.

“Oh! Guess we’re going then!” She laughed and we both walked quickly to catch up with him.

I wanted to call him out, tell him that his legs were almost twice as long as ours, but I knew he wouldn’t appreciate being told off in public. I didn’t even know him well enough to tell him off in private.

At the pace he was walking, we got to the front parking lot in record time.

Leaning against the hood of a grey Charger was Hoseok and the very last person I wanted to see—Jimin.

Out of reflex, I grabbed the back of Namjoon’s navy kimono. He looked back at me curiously, “what?”

“Uh, n-nothing” I shook my head, letting him go.

Jimin spotted us first, coming to meet us halfway. In a very lazy fashion, he bumped into Namjoon in what vaguely resembled a hug.

“Anastasia” Hoseok singsonged in a way that felt somewhat mocking, “you brought a friend”

“I-uh-yeah. This is my friend Beatrice” I introduced, stiffening when Hoseok threw his arm around my shoulders the same way he had the night before. Goosebumps travelled across my skin as I recalled his hot breath fanning across my neck.

“Hello, Beatrice” I couldn’t see his face, but from the saccharine tone he used, I knew he was smirking at her.

She wasn’t immune to his charms and her ears instantly became red hot. “Hello!” she squeaked.

“Will you be joining us?” Now it was Jimin, who’d rested his hand on Hoseok’s shoulder and his chin on top of it. Again, I couldn’t see his face, but by the way Beatrice was fidgeting and blushing, I knew she was getting his bedroom eyes full force.

“I mean, Tasia?” She looked at me desperately, as if I was any less flustered than she was.

“Anastasia invited her” Namjoon didn’t even try to hide his displeasure.

“How exciting” Hoseok didn’t exactly sound as thrilled by the news as his words might lead you to believe, but he didn’t lose his friendly tone.

“Let’s go eat!” I blurted, lurching away from Hoseok and grabbing Beatrice by the wrist, marching off towards the car.

I knew there were only five seats in the car, but it wasn’t until I actually climbed in and scooched to the middle seat that I understood just how tight a fit it was going to be. Beatrice was on the curvier side, which just meant that she took up as much space as the boys did, leaving a little more than a foot of room in the middle for me to sit.

And of course, of course Jimin was the one that climbed in next to me. He didn’t look angry, but being pressed flush against me probably wasn’t what he wanted either.

Beatrice struggling to buckle in her seatbelt caught my attention, notifying me that I was half on it.

“Oh, sorry” I murmured and shuffled over, consequently bumping into Jimin. I tried not to react and just wait patiently for her to finish before scooting back because I was too scared to see his reaction.

Awkwardly, I twisted back to reach for my own seatbelt, freezing when a hand came to rest over mine.

“Lemme help” he murmured and I probably wouldn’t have heard him if he wasn’t leaning in so close.

“Okay!” I squeaked, wrenching my hand back. He didn’t exactly laugh at me, but the huff of air he let out and the smug grin on his lips told me that he was in fact finding amusement in my embarrassment.

The back of his hand glided across my abdomen as he pulled the seatbelt out and around. I bit my lip and averted my eyes to the roof of the car. Was this man bipolar? Suddenly Taehyung’s face popped up in my brain and I grimaced. Those two were eerily similar.

I glanced over to Beatrice, wondering what she thought of the whole situation, looking for something that told me I wasn’t going crazy, but she wasn’t paying attention. Whoever was outside the window (I couldn’t see from where I sat) had all of her focus.

Namjoon opening the front passenger door and sliding in successfully brought my attention away from Jimin strapping me in, though it was hard to ignore our shoulders bumping as he shifted to get better access to the buckle.

I could hear Hoseok standing outside Namjoon’s open door, the two discussing something in Korean and if I had to guess, I’d say it was lunch plans. I almost laughed when in the middle of Hoseok’s sentence, Namjoon pulled out his phone and started typing. I hoped Beatrice saw it, though unlikely as he was directly in front of her, so maybe she wouldn’t feel bad that he was ignoring her earlier.

“Where are we going?” I spoke up, relaxing slightly when Jimin leaned into the window and away from me, closing his eyes.

Hoseok ducked down so I could see his face and gave me a smile, “Namjoon is getting the directions”

I nodded and smiled back. It was hard not to get caught up in him, his smile was so contagious and…happy.

When he moved away and I saw his figure walk around the hood of the car, Beatrice whispered in my ear.

“I can’t decide if he’s hot or cute” I couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled up because she had spoken my thoughts.

Still laughing, I nodded my agreement.

The drive was pretty funny, with Namjoon not paying as close attention to the directions as he should have been, leading to us making more than one U-turn. Throughout, I tried my very hardest not to tip into anyone’s personal space every time we turned, knowing neither person well enough to be that close. After about half an hour of driving, Hoseok pulled into an open space on the street, a little ways down from where I knew there was an upscale restaurant.

I was nervous because I was a broke college student but I had a feeling that Beatrice was probably feeling the same way so at least I wasn’t alone. Although I was curious, didn’t you need a reservation to eat there? There was no way they got one on such short notice on a busy Saturday.

I let out a hiss of pain when I leaned in to unbuckle myself, not realizing Jimin had done the same leading to us bumping heads.

“Sorry,” I winced, rubbing my head.

“It’s okay,” he mumbled, putting a ring clad hand to his own head.

Biting my lip anxiously, I ungracefully shuffled out of the car after Beatrice, almost tripping on the curb.

The five of us gathered, making our way towards the restaurant’s front doors. There was a lot of hustle and bustle on the streets, people enjoying their Saturday to the fullest and although I probably shouldn’t have even been surprised at this point, my eyes still went wide when Hoseok put a protective arm around my shoulders, pulling me close.

I chewed on the inside of my cheek as we entered the restaurant, not sure how it would go. I’d never been inside before, let alone had a meal here, but still I expected the luxury and comfort that was presented before us. The moment you stepped into the well lit entrance there was beautiful gold latticing on the walls and a warm brown podium about ten feet deep into the room. I immediately felt sorely underdressed in my leggings and t-shirt.

Namjoon took the lead, strolling up to the podium where an employee stood, ready to check customers in.

The man behind the podium had short, quaffed bleach-blonde hair that clashed with the elegant black uniform he wore, his nametag reading Zach. He looked Namjoon up and down, no doubt judging his hobo-chic, but the suspicion and judgment in his eyes left quickly when he took in Jimin and Hoseok who were clearly wearing designer clothing and expensive jewelry—Hoseok’s big gold watch was hard to miss. He barely spared Beatrice and I a glance before he refocused on Namjoon.

“Hello! Do you have a reservation?” Zach’s tone was considerably brighter than I thought it would be.

I winced at the question, I was right. You needed a reservation to get in.

“Hoseok Jung” Namjoon’s voice commanded. My eyebrows shot up and I pulled away to look at Hoseok.

“I know people,” He murmured with a smirk, answering my questioning gaze.

My curiosity wasn’t exactly sated, but I would wait til we were at least seated before I started asking more questions.

Zach looked more shocked than I did at the sound of Hoseok’s name and I could see the panic in his eyes as he sputtered a little bit with his response, “You’re-of course! Your table is right over here” He bowed, ushering us around the beautiful island wall leading to the rest of the restaurant.

I don’t know why I was expecting a low lit, sultry vibe but that was not what greeted us. Instead, it was a bright, spacious room filled with soft chatter and laughter. There were modern chandeliers hanging over the bigger tables and the decor about the room was impeccable. It felt strangely welcoming.

Zach led our small group to one of the tables in the center. It was a bigger table that could sit twice as many people than we had but I wasn’t about to argue.

Hoseok absentmindedly pulled out my chair before taking the seat next to me and engaging Namjoon in conversation, both of them ignoring Zach completely. Beside me, on my other side, I noticed Jimin pull Beatrice’s seat out for her too and watched as she flushed pink. Jimin gave her a knowing smirk and went to go sit beside Namjoon who was across from us.

We were all sat fairly centered at the table, empty seats on both sides of us and for some reason that made the table seem not as big as it had before.

“Your waiter will be right with you,” Zach notified, looking a little miffed but bowed in departure nonetheless.

I made sure to give him a kind smile and said “Thanks, Zach.” He smiled back and left.

At my words, both Namjoon and Hoseok cut off whatever they were saying and looked at me.

My eyes widened. What?

“You look good today” Hoseok commented after a moment and I scoffed. He and I both knew I looked terrible. Although when he shot me a confused stare, I began to question his sanity.

Before I could say anything about his questionable sanity, a beautiful woman interrupted us and it took me a second to realize she was our waitress.

“Good afternoon,” she smiled enchantingly, making me feel small and even more out of place in this lavish restaurant. “I’m Terrance, I’ll be your waitress today” the gentle smile never left her face as she carefully passed out the menus.

“Thanks” I murmured, noticing the way Terrance eyed Beatrice. My mouth made a small “o”.

“Of course! May we start you off with something to drink?” she grinned, her eyes continuously flickering back to an oblivious Beatrice as she waited for our responses. I couldn’t help the smirk on my lips as I looked down and fiddled with the utensils that were beautifully wrapped in a cloth napkin.

“Just water” Namjoon answered dismissively, probably more oblivious than even Beatrice.

“Water for me too, what about you Bee?” I prompted. I knew from highschool that Beatrice played both sides.

She looked so flustered when agreeing that just water was fine that I had to reconsider, maybe she wasn’t as clueless as I’d pegged.

Suddenly I got a rush of excitement at the thought of the two but I squashed it down, catching Jimin’s gaze. He was relaxed back into his chair, legs crossed with an arm slung lazily over the back of Namjoon’s chair. He raised an eyebrow at me, a smirk playing on his lips.

My breath hitched at the sight, trying desperately not to get caught up in him. Luckily Hoseok saved me when he lightly nudged my arm with his elbow.

“Hey, I don’t have your number” he announced, as if for some reason that was myfault.

“My number?” I repeated like an idiot.

“Yeah,” he nodded holding up his expensive phone that was displaying his contact list.

“Twenty eight hundred contacts?! Would you be able to find it even if you did?” I guffawed, tearing my eyes away from his screen to look at him.

He just grinned, pressed on the screen a few times and held it back out for me. The recognizable “Create new contact” page was now open.

I bit my lip, contemplating. Did I really want to give my number to him? My nerves were shot enough as it were, more contact with them didn’t really seem like the best idea for my health.

My decision was steadfast in my brain, it really was, but the moment he smiled at me my brain just stopped functioning and I autopiloted my number into his phone.

His smile grew at my actions and I couldn’t even find it in me to regret them.

“So how did you guys all meet?” Beatrice asked suddenly, probably feeling like the odd man out and I suddenly realized I hadn’t introduced anyone after Namjoon.

“Oh! Um, do you remember Jungkook? From highschool?” I asked.

“Of course!” Her eyes lit up, “are you guys still friends? I remember that by graduation you two were basically connected at the hip.”

I laughed, memories sparking in my mind. It was true, we’d both been pretty lost teenagers, resulting in us becoming emotionally dependent on each other. Three, almost four years later, we’d grown up a lot and made our own friends. We didn’t need each other to survive anymore.

“They moved in together” Jimin spoke up with a smugness before I could confirm Jungkook’s and mine’s ongoing friendship status. Beatrice’s eyes grew comically and she whipped her head to look at me for confirmation.

“No! No. We did not” I corrected, holding my hands up as if to stop her thoughts. “And that’s not even the point. Point is, Hoseok, Jimin, and Namjoon all grew up with him” I said, pointing at each man respectively.

“Oh really? What was he like growing up?” she asked what I’d been wanting for a while.

They stopped to think about it for a moment.

“Irreplaceable.” Jimin eventually surmised.

I was about to coo at the statement, but Namjoon interrupted me.

“Woah, hey, careful! What are you trying to do, eyeball it from the empire state building?” We all turned to see what he was talking about and I had to roll my lips together to stop from laughing. A young boy had been pouring water into glasses and Namjoon was right, he was pouring from way too high.

The boy apologized and all was forgiven and forgotten and the afternoon carried on seamlessly after that, conversation coming easy.

Exiting the fancy establishment two hours later, I got a call. Pulling out my phone, I glanced noncommittal at the caller ID but a smile unknowingly stretched across my face at Jungkook’s name.

“Hello?” I answered.

“Tasia!” I sobered up at his frantic tone of voice.

I’d love to hear your feedback! It’s what keeps us authors going :)

Next

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Previous|Next

Summary & Masterlist

Pairings: ot7 x female

Warnings:Violence that you can’t really call violence?

Um, I love you, I’m so sorry it took me so long to get this out I was dealing with some issues. I’m doing a lot better now so I’ll be able to more regularly update! And longer updates! This one is a little shorter but I needed to get something out.

Love you x

——————–

“It passes, but it does not pass away” - F. Scott Fitzgerald

…..

After I had recovered from Taehyung’s disarming good looks, we finished cleaning up the kitchen and surprisingly didn’t wake anyone up, though when I voiced my concern he’d had let me know that they could all sleep through a tornado. I knew Jungkook was like that and if I took a second to think about it, it made sense that the rest of them would be like that too. I remembered a year or two ago, when I was babysitting my cousins, they’d been able to sleep peacefully through their siblings rather enthusiastic reenactment of King Arthur and Merlin. I suppose if I was around people all the time too, I might be able to sleep through my trip to OZ as well.

Now that everything was cleaned up and put away, we stood at the edge of the living room looking over the six sleeping figures. I bit my lip, should we wake them? I wasn’t exactly thrilled about the idea of waking any of them up, but the thought of them spending the night in my home was just as nerve-wracking.

Taehyung must have seen my face because he offered to wake them.

For some reason, one unbeknownst to me, I grabbed his wrist before he could get far. “No, don’t”

He looked back at me questioningly, but I didn’t have an answer for him.

“They look so tired, is it okay to wake them?” I finally whispered out, suddenly feeling the need to be quiet even though we’d been anything but not five minutes prior.

An odd look passed over his face but it was gone before I could place it.

“Where do you all sleep at Jungkook’s, anyway? He only has one guest room” This question had been gnawing at me for a while.

Taehyung didn’t hesitate, “three in Jungkook’s, two in the guest and two on the couch”

Three in Kook’s?” I couldn’t imagine. He only had a queen bed (he’d wanted to buy a bigger one but it wouldn’t fit in the room), how had they been able to fit three grown men comfortably? Although, looking at them curled awkwardly, in neck cramping positions, maybe comfort wasn’t a necessity for them to sleep.

“Yeah, Jin-hyung, Hoseok-hyung, and Yoongi-hyung. Jimin and I took the guest bed and Namjoon-hyung and Jungkook took the couches”

“Jungkook took the couch?” I was becoming more and more convinced that the Jungkook I knew and the Jungkook they knew were two different people. The Jungkook I knew wouldn’t even share his bed with any of his friends, much less give it up entirely. In fact, if he could avoid it, he wouldn’t have his friends over at his place at all. The Jungkook I knew was territorial and a bit selfish, always wanting to be the best at everything he did. And he was.

I didn’t notice Taehyung nodding, too caught up in my own mind.

“Anastasia?”

“Mm?” I hummed, glancing his way. I kept having to remind myself that he was a con artist and his sweet, innocent smile was nothing but a play to get something out of me. But what, though? The million-dollar question right there.

“Where should I sleep?”

“Huh?” Now he had my full attention. “Oh, um, take advantage of the empty apartment next door and get a good night’s sleep”

He slouched into a pout at my words.

“But it’s lonely, don’t you have a guest room too?” He stared down at me with hopeful eyes.

Oh yeah, I have a guest room.

“Oh right, uh, yeah I guess you can take it? Can’t promise it’s very fresh, I haven’t aired it out in a hot minute” I warned, cringing inwardly.

“That’s okay, I’ll sleep with the window open” He shrugged, sauntering off towards the said room. He’d obviously noticed that Jungkook and I had the same floor layout.

I jumped when suddenly Yoongi got up off the couch and followed after him, making me wonder how long he’d been awake or if he’d ever even been asleep in the first place.

I did one last sweep of the room before I awkwardly made my way to my own, changing into a pair of pajamas. After making a quick trip to the bathroom to wash up, I climbed into bed, my body instantly relaxing. I had a full day of studying with Namjoon tomorrow and it would do me well to get a good, restful sleep or at least the illusion of it.

***

“Turn that shit off” Somone growled in my ear, effectively pulling me from unconsciousness. Patting blindly around my bedside table, I did as told and shut off the blaring alarm coming from my phone.

“Kook, get off” I grunted, slapping Jungkook’s arm impatiently after I’d attempted to roll onto my back but his arm had been too firmly wrapped around my waist to allow such movement.

He groaned and rolled away, immediately falling back to sleep. Briefly, I wondered when he had come to my room because I usually didn’t let him sleep in my bed as it wasn’t good for my heart, but I quickly decided it wasn’t really a pressing question. I couldn’t exactly blame him for choosing my bed over sharing a couch with multiple people, after all.

Rolling my eyes at him, I climbed out of bed and stumbled to my closet, silently picking out a change of clothes. Tip-toeing to my door, I carefully opened it and peeked my head out, taking a second to listen for any sign of life. I grinned, pleased when everyone appeared to still be sleeping.

Jetting to the bathroom as quickly as possible so I wouldn’t be seen in my PJs, I closed and locked the door securely behind me. Wincing, I turned the shower on, praying that the noise wouldn’t disturb anyone before removing my clothes and slipping in.

I was in and out of the shower in record time, speedily drying off and throwing on clothes. Being naked, even with a locked door between us, when there were 7 gorgeous men around made me jittery with nerves.

This time opening the door, I was positive that someone would be awake by now but as I made my way into the living room—everyone was still asleep.

The panic set in instantly. It was one thing to see them sleeping in the middle of the night with Taehyung, but what if my presence woke them and they found me staring at them? What if they thought I was watching them sleep?!

Spinning around, I headed back to my room to wake Jungkook. He’d know how to handle the situation.

“Psst! Kook!” I hissed, shaking his shoulder, “Wake up!”

He groggily opened his eyes, licking his dry lips as his gaze focused on mine above him. His mouth pulled into a smile that made my heart skip.

“Hey, baby” I jerked back at his morning voice, even though I’d heard it a thousand times before.

“Get up, you have to wake everyone” It took everything in me not to stutter when he looked at me like that.

I almost wanted to take my words back when he frowned and pulled away, curling into the blankets.

“You do it,” he grumbled.

“Wha-! Jungkook, I can’t! They’re your friends, not mine!” I insisted, shaking him again.

He barely turned to look back at me. “I don’t wanna. It’s okay to wake them, they won’t mind if you wake them” his words becoming progressively more garbled.

“Jungkook!” I resisted stomping my feet lest I anger the downstairs neighbors, but my clenched fists still tempted me to hit him.

Deciding better than to act on my violent impulses, I stormed out of the room, ending up where I started—in the main room. Taking a deep breath, I eyed the possible candidates. There was absolutely no way I was going to wake up Hoseok or Jimin, Namjoon intimidated me so he was out of the question as well which left…Seokjin.

My thoughts went back to yesterday morning when he’d done his best to make me feel comfortable and welcomed. I wasn’t feeling very enthusiastic about undoubtedly ruining any good feelings he had for me by waking him up, but my only other option was Taehyung and he was with Yoongi who I was still terrified of and if I accidentally woke him up too it would only make everything worse.

Biting my lip, I accepted my fate and carefully stepped over a sleeping Jimin on the floor and crouched in front of Seokjin, not wanting him to find me looming over him when he woke.

Very,very gently I patted his thigh as I couldn’t reach his shoulder from where I was without the risk of losing my balance and tipping into his lap. I softly called his name and at first, there was no response, but after some persistent nudging he finally roused. His awareness seemed to come a lot sooner than Jungkook’s ever did, his eyes blinking open as if he’d only been resting them for a few moments, not the entire night.

However, when they settled on me and he just stared and blinked for a few seconds, I realized that he wasn’t quite as awake as he appeared to be.

“Hi” I whispered with a small wave, still crouched. I didn’t want to stand up quite yet and risk making him more confused than he already was and possibly uncomfortable as well.

“Hi,” he responded, his voice low and raspy as he turned his head to take in Hoseok next to him and Namjoon on the floor. His attention came back my way but didn’t stay long as he focused on Jimin’s figure behind me.

“I was hoping you might help me wake them up?” I felt so bad for waking him up that on a whim I’d decided that if he helped me, I would suck it up and wake some of them up as well.

He nodded, taking me in for real now that he was a little more awake.

“Your hair is wet” he murmured so quietly that I almost missed it, reaching out to feel it between his fingers.

“I just took a shower” I explained nervously.

“You look pretty,” he concluded, not giving me a chance to reply before shaking Hoseok awake.

Hoseok jumped, startling me enough that I jerked back and lost my already precarious balance. This would have been fine, except Seokjin had tried to grab my hand in an attempt to catch me but didn’t get a good enough grip making me lose my footing entirely, sending me back…on top of Jimin.

The said victim cried out, curling into a ball with his hands over his crotch that had just been elbowed.

“Oh no! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to! Are you okay?” My hands fluttered uselessly over him, not sure what to do to make things better. I’d never stuck around after nailing a guy in the jewels so I wasn’t exactly sure what the proper protocol was or if there even was a protocol. Was there a way to lessen the pain or did he just have to wait it out?

“Fuck off!” He growled and I quickly pulled back, not expecting his tone even though I should’ve. I could hear Seokjin and Hoseok snickering behind me and my humiliation grew tenfold.

“I’m so sorry” I murmured one last time before standing up and dashing to my room, fully prepared to never leave it again.

Slamming the door behind me, I dove face-first onto my bed, letting out a groan into my pillow.

“What happened?” I’d almost forgotten Jungkook was there.

Anger stemming from embarrassment licked up my spine and I whipped my head around to glower at him. “I told you to fucking wake them up!” I seethed, making sure I was quiet enough not to be heard from outside the room.

He seemed utterly confused and rightfully so, but I wasn’t in the mood to see reason.

“What happened?” He asked, reaching out cautiously to rub my arm. His question brought back the feeling of humiliation and I shoved my face back into my pillow, letting out a low whine.

I wanted to curl up and die. I wanted the ground to swallow me whole so I would never have to face Jungkook’s too-attractive-to-be-real friends ever again.

“Tasia” he prompted gently.

“I elbowed Jimin in the dick, okay?” I snapped, knowing he would find out anyway.

“You-…what?” If he wasn’t confused before, he sure as hell was now.

“I’m never leaving this room” I mumbled to myself, ignoring my baffled best friend.

“Tasia”

“Ugh, he probably hates me”

“Tasia”

“Everyone closest to you hates me, Ihate me”

“Tasia!”

“Jungkook, I’m gonna move away and I’m never coming back, okay?” I ended, looking at him with tears in my eyes.

He rolled his. “You’re such a drama queen, no one hates you”

I guffawed, “says you! I’m positive the six men on the other side of that door have opposing opinions”

This made his brow furrow, “Why would you think that?”

“Because! The first night I meet them, Seokjin interrogates me, Jimin and Taehyung give me the third degree, I made Yoongi fall and I’m pretty sure they all blame me for you not going back to Korea and I mean, are they even wrong? Am I the reason you didn’t go back to your family?”

“Stop, stop, stop, woah. Tasia, no one hates you or blames you. I’m my own person, I make my own choices and they know that. They also know you’re not the only reason I stayed.”

Things in his story weren’t lining up with my personal experiences with them, but I decided not to comment on that. And not the only reason he stayed? Did this have something to do with why he was sent here in the first place? A long-dormant curiosity flared back to life but I knew right now was not the time to confront him.

“Yoongi still hates me. And Jimin, there’s no way he doesn’t hate me, I just….” I couldn’t get the words out.

“Yoongi-hyung doesn’t hate you and Jimin might put salt in your drink or shake your soda in retaliation, but he won’t hate you either”

I didn’t answer, knowing the only thing to come out of my mouth right then would be complaints.

“Come on, you have a study date with Namjoonie-hyung today, get up,” Jungkook said shoving me off the bed.

I let out a squeal, resisting the urge to curse at him.

Next

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Previous|Next

Summary & Masterlist

Pairings: ot7 x female

Warnings: Pretty vanilla for now, just setting up the plot.

——————–

“I’m acting like I’m okay, please don’t interrupt my perfomance” - Unknown

…..

I paced back and forth in my living room, unhappy with how I left Jungkook. I knew the others cared for him, I knew Taehyung cared for him, but what if Jungkook said something else that tipped the scale for the rest of them and they all started brawling? What if someone got seriously injured?

Regret pooled in my belly, I shouldn’t have let Jungkook talk me into going home.

I sat down on my couch and rested my head in my hands as my leg bounced with anxiety. Nibbling my lip, I contemplated going back. But when I thought about it, what help could I have given when I was the problem! If I went back over, I could be the thing that tipped the scale and started a brawl.

Sighing in resignation, I leaned back into the couch and rested my head against the cushions. I stayed like that for a minute or two before deciding that it was a waste of time to sit around twiddling my thumbs. I may as well get some homework done whilst I waited for news from Jungkook.

I heaved myself off the couch and clumsily stumbled over my own feet as I headed towards the front door—where I usually left my bag. A split second of panic went through me when I didn’t find it there, but then I remembered that Seokjin had left it by the door in Jungkook’s apartment. Groaning, I crouched down into a ball.

I had everything in that bag, my laptop, my notes, my books, even the novel I was in the middle of reading. Letting myself tip backward, I sprawled out on the floor, contemplating my life choices.

And that’s how Jungkook found me—spread out like a starfish on the floor, staring absently at the ceiling.

“Hey,” his sudden presence had my limbs folding to my chest like a lawn chair.

“Shit” I hissed and scrambled to my feet. How had I not heard him come in?

When I turned to face him, my embarrassment turned to horror when I saw that he was not alone. Beside him in the open doorway stood Yoongi, holding two full bags of take-out.

“Sorry, we didn’t mean to scare you” Jungkook apologized with a guilty smile.

“Don’t worry about it,” I waved off, trying to hide the shake in my voice before motioning to the bags, “that food?”

“Yeah!” Jungkook agreed, stepping in further so that Yoongi could come inside all the way.

I made a move to close the door behind him, but more people trailed in after him until there were seven men total standing in my living room. Taehyung and Jimin were the most surprising guests. Hoseok, who had come in after Yoongi, also held bags full of food and Jungkook held my schoolbag in one hand but the rest were visibly empty-handed.

For a brief moment, I wondered how much they spent feeding themselves because they seemed to eat a lot.

“Thought we could all eat here? My place is so messy because of them” Jungkook didn’t wait for my response and instead set my bag down where I usually did and headed straight for the couch while Yoongi and Hoseok headed for the open kitchen/dining space to put the food on the table.

“Don’t lie, it was messy before that. The only place you keep tidy is your room” I responded with a scoff.

Jungkook let out a small laugh and to my surprise, Taehyung came to sit on the arm of the couch, placing his hand lazily on Jungkook’s shoulder for balance. What had I missed in the 30 minutes I was absent?

I was astonished by how easy they were acting with each other, not a hint of tension. In fact, they almost seemed closer.I’d definitely missed something.

A light hand on my waist caught my attention and I looked back to see Seokjin.

“May we use your dishes for the food?” he asked politely and I turned to look into the kitchen where Hoseok was already helping himself to my cabinets.

Rushing over, I showed him where the plates were and right as I was opening the right cabinet, I noticed Yoongi fishing through my drawers for, presumably, utensils. He was about to open my junk drawer where I shoved every miscellaneous screw, lightbulb, pen, paper, coughdrop and even sometimes mail that I didn’t have a home for, but I lunged for his hand and yanked hard. Apparently too hard because it caused him to lose his balance and stumble into me, sending us both to the floor.

It took me a second to catch my breath and a second longer to realize that he was on top of me with his legs entangled with mine. Our eyes met and the world faded out for a moment until he dropped his forehead to my chest breathed out a quiet ‘fuck’. The warmth of his breath made me shiver as a thousand little goosebumps appeared on my skin.

Using his arms, he pushed himself off me and a whoosh of cold air came between us. Hoseok, who had been laughing hardily at our expense, bent down to help us both up. Once we were both upright Yoongi pretty much immediately left the room and I had a nagging feeling that I should probably go after him and apologize, but I ignored it and turned to face Hoseok, who was still grinning ear to ear but at least his snickering had subsided.

“You okay?” he asked, unable to help the giggle that followed as he brushed the hair that had fallen in my face back behind my ear.

“I’m great, thanks” I rolled my eyes, swatting his hand away. I was far too embarrassed to be cordial.

“Don’t be upset,” he coaxed.

“I’m not, I just…I think Yoongi is” I sighed quietly, glancing in the direction he’d escaped in.

Hoseok looked delighted by my confession, “He’s not.”

I huffed, not believing him for a second, turning around and getting the utensils from their drawer.

My eyes went wide, though, when Hoseok threw an arm over my shoulder, resting it across my chest and pulling me into his.

“I’ll prove it if you want” his breath was hot in my ear.

For a split second, I was tempted, but then I remembered they all hated me and this was probably just a follow-up game to Jimin’s pash sesh.

“No thanks,” my tone came out a little harsh as I shrugged him off and walked away.

He didn’t stop me.

I made my way to the living room, placing the acquired knives and forks down on the table as I passed by before taking a seat on the floor in front of Jungkook, leaning back against his legs. There was still a free spot on the couch, what with Taehyung still on the armrest and Jimin, Namjoon and Seokjin also on the floor, but it was between Jungkook and Yoongi and if Yoongi was mad, I didn’t want to make it worse by sitting next to him.

I made a mental note to apologize to him before the night ended.

“Okay! Come eat!” We all looked up to Hoseok who stood at the kitchen table, taking out boxes of food from the bags.

Taehyung was the first up, practically vaulting off Jungkook as he darted to the table. Jimin wasn’t far behind, followed closely by Jungkook, Namjoon, and Yoongi. Seokjin and I took our time, him being a gentleman and helping me up. I smiled and offered a shy ‘thanks’.

The night went on fairly uneventful until we eventually migrated back to the couch to watch movies. Somehow, they’d fit five people on my 3-seater couch, leaving Taehyung, Namjoon, and me to sit on the floor. Although the earlier tension had seemed to have magically disappeared, I was still wary of Taehyung.

When I had hesitantly gone to sit between him and Namjoon, he’d smirked flirtatiously at me. It was the same smirk I’d noticed on Jimin’s lips a couple of times—like they had a secret that no one else was in on.

“You don’t have any classes tomorrow, right?” Junkook asked randomly when Yoongi got up to pick out the next movie, pulling me from my thoughts.

“No, I don’t, but I haven’t gotten any homework done the past two nights, thanks to you, so I’m dedicating the entirety of tomorrow to that” I declared, shooting down any plans he might’ve wanted to make.

He hummed, pouting a bit, “are you still having trouble with your thesis?”

I groaned, partially because yes I was still having trouble with it but mostly because Jungkook had no filter and had just blabbed in front of everyone that I was struggling with my schoolwork.

“You know, Namjoon is really smart, he could help you,” Hoseok offered.

At the sound of his name, Namjoon looked up from his phone.

“Huh?” We all laughed at the irony.

‘Really smart’, how smart could the guy be if he didn’t even have a major and was only taking, what was it, two classes?

“Nothing, really, it’s—”

“Tasia was wondering if you could help her with her thesis” Taehyung cut me off.

“Wha—” I whipped around to stare at him in disbelief. He just grinned and winked.

“Okay,” came Namjoon’s reply and I turned back, not expecting him to have agreed.

“No, honestly, you’d have to have taken the class to be able to help. I mean, I’m in the class and I barely understand how to do it” I waved off.

“Which class is it for?”

“Psychological Statistics” I answered immediately.

He was quiet for a second before nodding, “I can help.”

“I just said—”

“I’ve taken the class” he interrupted, sparking some irritation in me but it was overshadowed by my surprise.

“You’ve taken the class?”

He nodded, “I got my Master’s in Psychology two years ago”

The nonchalant way he had said it made that tidbit of information seem like it wasn’t a big deal, but it most definitely was.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Yeah! Joonie has a bunch of degrees. Business, Accounting, Psychology, and Mathematics” Hoseok bragged proudly.

I felt like my brain was going to explode. How could he have that many degrees when he didn’t look anywhere near old enough to have gone to school for the amount of time it would require.

“He…what?” I could barely get the words out.

“He’s got a sexy brain” Seokjin threw with a chuckle and I got the feeling I’d missed some inside joke, but at this point I was speechless so I just nodded and let it go.

“So, if you want, I can help” Namjoon offered, ducking his head so our eyes could meet.

My face flushed but I nodded nonetheless.

“If you wouldn’t mind…” I trailed, scared that if I accepted his help he’d be annoyed and grow to dislike me as well. He’d been so casual this morning, I didn’t want to push the boundaries of what he would put up with from me.

However, when I thought about it, all of them seemed to have had some sort of change of heart with me, though I’d be willing to bet money that it had something to do with Jungkook’s earlier ‘if you want to be in my life, you need to accept that she’s a part of it’ comment.

“I don’t mind”

“While you’re at it, Namjoon-hyung, help her with the rest of her homework. The faster she gets it done, the sooner we can hang out” Jungkook said.

“Since when did you need me around to hang out with your friends? Besides, what about yourhomework, Kook? Have you done it?” I turned back, glaring at him suspiciously.

“I always do my homework, Taisa” Jungkook smirked, flicking my nose with his finger.

I blushed fiercely and looked away.

“Whatever” I grumbled, shifting my weight so I was facing completely away from him and towards the TV.

“And we don’t need you there to have fun, it’s just more fun when you’re there” he finished.

And so it was settled, Namjoon would be over, bright and early tomorrow to help me with my homework.

As the hours passed, I became fully engrossed in the movie that played on the telly so it was startling when a weight came to rest against my shoulder, but not nearly as startling as the fact that the weight was Taehyung’s head.

It didn’t take long for me to realize that he had fallen asleep and probably wasn’t snuggled into me of his own accord. When I looked around the room to see if any of the others had noticed, I realized that most of them were asleep too. I couldn’t see Jungkook, who was directly behind me, but Hoseok, Yoongi, Namjoon, and Jin were all asleep and Jimin, who’d gotten up earlier to get water and opted for the floor when he’d returned, was now laying down passed out. I couldn’t help my eyes from trailing down where his shirt had ridden up ever so slightly, highlighting his slim, fit waist.

My attention came hurtling back to Taehyung when he looped his arm around mine and snuggled closer, making my heart rate speed up.

In a moment of panic, I nudged him awake. The second that I did, I regretted it, but by then it was too late. His eyes slowly blinked open, staring up at me. It took him a moment to become fully coherent and pull away. His movements were sluggish, but he surprisingly didn’t fall back asleep and instead watched me as I got up and moved to the kitchen to clean.

He didn’t immediately follow me like I was for some reason expecting, so I was able to throw all the trash away and begin washing the dishes in peace.

“I’ll help”

I jumped a bit at the deep voice behind me, almost dropping a plate into the sink.

“Taehyung?” The surprise was clear as day in my voice.

“Anastasia.” I bit back a shiver at the way my name sounded from his deep, sleepy voice.

Snapping out of it, I turned back to the dishes, “it’s okay, I can do it”

“I’m really good at washing dishes,” he insisted, coming next to me and submerging his hands into the soapy water as well.

“O-okay” I squeaked, taking a second to appreciate his flawless side profile. Honestly, did the man even have a bad side?

We washed the dishes in silence for a while before he broke it. “I’d like to apologize”

“Huh?”Apologize?

“For my behavior,” he continued, “I was angry, but it was wrong of me to take it out on you”

I couldn’t understand.

“So,” he paused to take my hands in his and make me face him, “I’m sorry for being intentionally rude to you”

I was at a loss for words. Was this even the same person?

“I forgive you” I eventually croaked out, the oxygen leaving my lungs when the most beautiful smile appeared on his face.

Next

Summary: Your boyfriend is currently miles away on Halloween night and you watch the special live he and the rest of the members had scheduled for tonight. But things get interesting when you come up with a special unplanned costume that he seems to rather enjoy on you.

Warnings: SMUT! For this fic there will be: swearing, erotic body touching, mutual masturbation, female masturbation, male masturbation, phone sex over videocall, dirty talk (like, lots).

Word Count: 3759

You turned on your computer and smiled once the video started, watching your boyfriend and his friends on the other side of the screen. Jimin was too busy to celebrate the 31st of October with you this year. He was currently shooting a Halloween special live with the rest of the members quite a few miles away from the city you both lived in. There was no way he could make the trip back in one night, so he and the boys would just sleep in hotel rooms.

Still, as you watched his cute mushy face smiling at the camera, you really wished you could be with him right now. Sighing, you get off your couch and grab some snacks and a drink from the kitchen. You couldn’t be with him personally, but you would be with him digitally. You would watch the full live and text him all about it after.

Chuckling to yourself in your empty apartment, you watch curiously as they play a game to decide who gets what costume for the night. You didn’t know they would be dressed up for Halloween, but it made sense when you thought about it. Their team would definitely prepare something like that for them.

It couldn’t have gone better. You almost choke in your food once you realize what outfit Jimin was supposed to put on. An angel. Coincidentally, he was wearing a white blouse that went along perfectly with the pair of wings he struggled to get on his back. Alongside his blond painted hair and already angelic features, it took your breath away. This man was truly an angel among men, no question about it.

Your eyes couldn’t leave him for the first half hour of the live, your lips with the corners pulled up without you even noticing it until your cheeks hurt. Once they made a little break halfway though, it was like you were called back to reality. You got up and went to the bathroom in the meantime, only to come back in time to hear your phone ping with a message.

Grabbing it from between the cushions of your couch, your smile returns as you realize it’s a text from Jimin. He tells you about how much he misses you and how his day is going, namely about how he got stuck with the angel’s costume. He actually sends you a selfie showcasing his wings, as if you haven’t been watching from the beginning.

That makes you think of something. You always wanted to go out on Halloween with a boyfriend on a couple’s costume. Maybe you two couldn’t be together this year, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t match your costumes. You were pretty sure you still had the props you needed that would go along with the scandalous red dress at the back of your closet…

In a whim, you get up and run to your bedroom, searching for the things you needed. You strip from your hoodie and leggings to a short spaghetti strap red dress, showcasing your bountiful cleavage and soft fluffy arms, as well as your rounded legs. The dress was tight fitting, hugging at your curves perfectly. You skip any make-up except for a bold red lip. And, of course, to tie it all together, you grab the props from a box at a top shelf of your closet: a red trident and a hair band with two little red horns.

Damn, you looked good. Before you second-guessed yourself, you pick up your phone, lay in your still unmade bed and take a pick. Just a bit suggestive, enough to raise a bit of blood. You tell him you miss him too, that you dressed up to match with him and send the picture after.

Back in the living room, you wait in front of the computer for the live to continue and a few of the guys are already sited back in place. You wait for Jimin to come up, but he takes longer than the others and is the last to show up, something the members tease him about as always. Only when the camera zooms on his face do you realize the slight blush ramifying from his cheeks to his ears. You bit your lip as you wonder if it was because of you.

Eventually the rest of the program they had for the live continues and it actually stretches another twenty minutes longer than the planned time. You had a good time watching them, like you always did. But it did feel lonely once the live ended and you closed your computer, realizing you were alone with nothing to do for Halloween.

You were picking up all the snacks you brought to the living room and putting them back in place when your phone rang again. Finishing your task, you go back into the living room and see a message from Jimin. He is telling you not to change your outfit and give him twenty minutes. All in caps.

You suck in your smiling lips as a rush of excitement runs through you. He only used all caps when really passionate about something, he must have really liked your costume. Thankfully, you still had everything on except the lipstick that had smudge while eating. So, as you wait to hear back from him, you take your time to style you hair a bit better, reapply the lipstick and, as silly as it was since it’s not like you would be seeing him personally, you even put on your favorite perfume.

By the time he video-called you, your stomach was in butterflies and your heart skipped a beat at the first ringtone. When you answer, you see him back at the hotel, in his own room, still in his white shirt but no longer wearing the wings. He is laying with his stomach down on his bed, usually slim eyes enlarged as he looked at you through the phone’s screen.

“You’re still wearing it” he whispers in an incredulous manner.

“Of course, you asked me to” you answer back, standing up only to sit back at the head of your bed, where the light from the lamp was best.

“Why are you doing this to me?… You know I can’t go and be with you today, still you sent me a pic like that? You’re killing me here, angel” he whines, with that amazingly cute pout he always made.

“You’re the angel here, Mr. Jimin. May I remind you, today I’m the devil” you point with an index finger to the pointy horns on your head.

He grins and looks away embarrassed for a moment, only to look back at the camera with half-moon eyes.

“You tease me too much, Y/N. Do you know how hard it is to see you like this and not being there to witness? To see you in person, to hug you and touch you and kiss those pretty red lips and… Arrgg!” Jimin was only frustrating himself, it seemed.

“I wish you were here too, love” you confess. Then, a most devilish idea crosses your mind and your heart accelerates with eagerness and anticipation. Maybe you were getting too much into character today, letting such sinful desires guide you. “But, if you were here, just out of curiosity, what would you do? You know, to me, I mean.”

Your bottom lip disappears behind your teeth as you watch Jimin blink in surprise and look away as he licks his lips, gulping hard before responding. The colored flare from before seems to return gradually to his cheeks. All of this pulls at the muscles of your lower stomach in a familiar way.

“I, hum… I would kiss you, for sure” he shyly starts.

“No, no. You never just come up to me and just kiss me like that. You always build up to the kiss, Jimin. So, how would you do it if you were here?” you press for detail.

Jimin changes his position on the other side of the screen, sitting in a similar position to you in bed, with his back against the headboard. He takes a deep breath and looks slightly away from the phone as he answers you again, in a more thoughtful way.

“Well, if I could go and see you right now, the first thing I would do is hug you tight in my arms. Wrap my arms around your shoulders and pull your warm body to mine, breathe in your unique scent.”

You smile at that, picturing it effortlessly in your head.

“And I would hug you back, my hands on your back keeping you close to me. What next?”

“Then I would pull back just a little. Just enough to look at your face. I would frame your cheeks in my hands” he seems to look at his hands as he talks, as if imagining it vividly like you. “I would let my fingers brush your skin slightly before leaning in and kissing you.”

“I can see that. Perfectly, in fact. What type of kiss?”

It’s his turn to bite his plump lip, no more denying the blush evident on his face. He looks away to his right, giving you a nice view of his lean neck and the collar-bones peeking through the shirt. He then looks slightly down as he answers in a lower voice.

“Small pecks. At first.” His eyes glance up quickly into yours before he continues. Even through the phone, the intensity behind them sends sparks down your body. “Then longer kisses. Deep loving ones.”

You nod your head, wondering if he could tell your cheeks were flushed too.

“And I would kiss you back. My hands would be around your shoulders, grasping at the nape of your neck or along your spine. Care to tell me where yours would be?”

When he gets up of bed instead of answering you, you think that maybe you went too far and he didn’t like it. That he was uncomfortable with this. But instead, you listen rather than watch, since he had the camera of his phone against his pants and all you saw was a black screen, as he walks to his room’s door and the sound of the door locking is clear as day.

Jimin resumes his place in bed as if nothing happened, but you were both relieved and giddy.

“Honestly?” he questions staring at the screen with a bit of uncertainty behind shy eyes.

“Yes. Honestly” you assure with poise.

“They would probably move from your face to your waist” he begins, now a bit more confident as he keeps his stare on yours. Those dark eyes have your skin burning from underneath and it gets harder to breathe as he keeps talking. “I would let my fingers sink into your fluffy skin and then squeeze it. Maybe let them wonder all the way to your round bum. Give it a few pinches too, hear you yelp as I do so.”

You body starts itching for something and it’s difficult to keep still. You clean your throat as you switch your position a little, letting your phone stand on the nightstand against the lamp as you sit sideways to look at him, your hands now free. You keep them hugging at your sides.

“You do like to do that” you acquiesce. Jimin smirks on the other side. “I would probably be pulling at your hair by then, one hand clawing at your shoulders or down your chest. Ask you to take your shirt off.”

To your surprise but undeniable delight, he does just that. The phone falls to the bed but you can still see his arms as he raises them to take the white shirt off. Once he picks the phone again, he is half-naked and you can see the blush is spreading heavily to his ears now. But he keeps his eyes on yours, intense and provoking.

“We would be in the bedroom by now, next to the bed. I would… I would kiss down your neck as I pulled those tiny straps down your shoulders” he continued, referring to the current red straps from your dress. He pauses and you realize he is waiting. With a hammering beat inside your chest, you tilt the phone so he can see as you use your fingers to slowly brush them off your shoulders like he wanted. He swallows dry and nods. “Like… Like that, yes.”

“My hands would be all over your skin, down your muscular back, tracing the curves down your arms or creating paths down your torso” you murmur in a deeper voice, expressive. You don’t tell him how you would feel his muscles tensing under your digits whenever you did so, or how he would shudder under your touch. “And then?”

“Then…” he seems to be breathing heavier now, and the crimson color is spreading to his neck. “Then I would pull the dress down your chest and watch your breasts just jump out.” His voice was almost shy, small but filled with want. It made your skin prickle, anticipating his touch that would never really come.

“Oh? You mean these?”

Your hands travel up your body to grab at your chest yourself, squeezing them roughly before you pull the tight fabric off of them and display your naked tits to him. He gasps in surprise, small eyes doubling in size before he closes them and throws his head back against the headboard, half groaning and half whimpering.

“Y/N, fuck, you’re killing me!” he whines, sucking a breath as he looks back at the screen.

“It will be worth it, love. Now, c’mon, what would you do with these?” you try and refocus, ignoring the chills going down your back.

“I… I would burry my face in them. I would hold them in my hands and play with them, kiss them, lick them, suck on them until you scream and pull at my hair.”

Nervous but determined, your hands act as if they belonged to him and start teasing at your hardened nubs, flicking them and pulling at them, rubbing them exactly the way Jimin would do it, except you couldn’t replicate the feeling of his mouth on them. Even so, doing this as he moaned on the other side of the screen was more than enough to have your core burning with desire, jolts of electricity going straight to your womb at every brush of your nipples. Your back arches into your hands and your legs rub together on their own accord.

“Y/N, I am… I want to…!” Jimin is struggling to communicate how he feels but you can see it in his face. Even if far from the perfection it is to see it in person, the pixels don’t hide his blown out heavy eyes, his heated-up face and parted lips, breathing heavier and heavier through them. His hands are nowhere to be seen on the screen and you have a feeling you know where they are placed.

“Show me yours and I’ll show you mine, love” you whisper seductively to the phone.

“What?” Jimin is confused, not getting what you’re hinting at.

So, to clarify him, your hands drop down from your naked chest and, out of his view for now, you pull the rest of your dress down your body and even pull your panties off. You go back to your position in front of the phone’s camera and dangle your underwear in front of it.

“Show me yours, I’ll show you mine” you repeat, and now understanding dawns on his face.

“Oh, fuck me” he exhales, the phone suddenly being moved and once again you don’t see much but you can hear him moving around in a frenzy.

“That’s the point, yes” you chuckle and decide to get a better angle for him as well.

It was a bit awkward, trying to position the phone against your stacked-up pillows so that the most of your naked body is on view for what you are about to do. But Jimin’s reaction so far silence the doubts that threaten to creep in and make you feel embarrassed. You couldn’t be with your boyfriend in person, but it didn’t mean you two couldn’t find pleasure together. And there was nothing wrong with that.

“Ready, love?” you ask as you are laying in bed on your side, facing the still dark screen of the phone.

“Hum, yeah, yes!”

He finally comes into view again, the phone now standing on something tall that gives a perfect angle of him laying down in bed as well. Except, he still has his boxers on.

“C’mon, love, that’s unfair. I’m all naked, why aren’t you?”

He licks his lips and in a swift move, his boxers are gone. And there he was, laying in all his naked glory, his girthy hard shaft standing proud and flushed against his belly. His hands twitch while they remained on his thighs, probably refraining from using them on his cock just yet. Dark eyes set on you, awaiting your next move.

Your hands travel down your soft skin, around the curve of your protruding lower belly, down the sides of your thick legs, into your warm and malleable inner thighs. You huff slightly as your fingers reach your core, delving in between your labia just slightly.

“I’m already so juicy for you, Jimin. I didn’t know I would get this worked up over phone sex” you confess, almost a bit embarrassed by it.

“M-Me too. I didn’t want to tell you, but I was already, hum… hum, leaking and I had to clean myself up before. This… This is really hot, Y/N. It’s making me dizzy.”

You smile at that and your heart expands, while the fire down bellow is fueled by the notion.

“You can touch yourself, Jimin. As if it was me. As if I was there with you right now, taking a hold of your pretty dick and pumping you until you were hot and throbbing, completely hardened in my hands.”

It doesn’t take any further encouragement, Jimin’s hands wrap around himself and you watch in amazement as he moves his hand up and down his stiff member, in a faster pace than you would have probably had, sliding with ease and using his thumb to engage with the red tip every other turn. He has his eyes half-closed as he does so, puffy lips opened, muscles tense and a glint to his skin form the low light around him. It was the most erotic view you had ever seen, Jimin getting himself off at the thought of you, in front of you.

He whispers your name breathless and you moan, your fingers that had been still all this time starting their own work. You imagine his hands on you, much like he was doing. You rub at your moist folds and your body shudders at the jolts of pleasure that curse through you, dragging the tips of your digits up and down the slit until your reach your painfully throbbing clit.

“J-Jimin!” you moan as you start drawing circles around the flesh button, your legs widely spread as you lay with your back to the mattress.

“F-Fuck, Y/N! You look so pretty like that!” he tells you in a high-pitched breath. His hands, from what you can tell through your heavy eyelids, speed up on his shaft. “S-Sink your finger in for me, angel! Let me know how warm and wet you are inside.”

Your fingers brush your clit just once more before going south and easily sliding in to your entrance. You mewl at the feeling, juices gushing around your fingers as you start thrusting them in and out. It takes a lot of will power for you to concentrate and convey with words the feeling to your partner.

“I’m… I’m sizzling and drenched, Jimin. I wish… I wish it was you, love. Ahhh, I wish it was your cock instead” you confess bashfully, your fingers never stopping their work.

You hear him curse under his breath but your blood is starting to rush too rapidly in your veins that it muffles your hearing. You curl your palm so that you can use it to drag against your clit at the same time you sink your fingers, deeper and faster as a ball of pure tension grows and grows down in your belly, about to blow up.

“I’m about to… Y/N, oh, fuck, Y/N let me see it, please, angel” he begs in a cry and you don’t quite get it at first. “Let me see your fingers, please, I’m so close.”

Breathless, you nod and take a hold of the phone with your free hand and, the best you can, angle it so you can still see the screen while he can see your fingers continuously disappearing between your spread legs, into your pink glistening and slick flesh. He groans loudly and you force yourself to keep your eyes open just so you can see the blur that is his hand on his cock, moving so quickly the phone can’t pick it up with definition and it just hazes. His angry red mushroom head is already spewing white cum and you watch as more starts to come out and lands on his ever-moving hand.

Your fingers work to match his impossible pace and you curl them inside just as your walls start fluttering and strings start pulling at the blistering knot inside. The palm of your hands continues rubbing against the engorged pearl of nerves while your fingers curl at that exact spot that has your body jolting and spasming, exactly at the same time Jimin groans and curses your name as thick ropes of white spew out from his throbbing length and land on his abdominal muscles.

You squeal breathless as your hips buck up and the ball of nerves burst inside, spreading rushes of pleasurable relief all across your body, white noise defining your ears, black dotes impairing your vision and your brain melts away in the feeling of being high on dopamine. Your fingers slip out coated in your juices and you struggle to move the phone back to your side, now with only a vision of your face on the camera as you struggle to regain your breathing and coherence.

“That… That was incredible” you hear Jimin say, he too trying to catch his breath.

You smile, happily tired and spent.

“The devil works wonders, love.”

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.”


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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.

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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.


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