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

Appreciate this man people~~

• PARK JIMIN FIC RECS •

• Here are some of my favourite Jimin fics. Go through these recs and find something to nourish yourself with. Show your support for these talented authors by leaving a comment and sharing feedback on their works. For posting their fics on the internet, each and every author listed here deserves a big warm hug. Thank you to each and every one of these authors for their efforts, we really appreciate your content •

[ Fluff | Angst | Smut ( minors dni.) ]

- one shots:

➵bully kisses youby@gamergguk | F

➵Virginby@gamergguk | S

➵To,my dearestby@btsstan12 | F/A

➵ Believe itby@writtenwhalien | F/S/A 

➵  Enlightenment@ditzymax​ | S

➵  Come out and Playby@lunar-jiminF/S 

➵Coconutby@jeonsweetpea | S/A 

➵ Making Him Jealousby@parkmuse | S ft. Jungkook

➵ grinch in lawby@mercurygguk​  | F/S/A 

➵ in the stars tonightby@mercurygguk | F/S

➵ lover to lean onby@sketchguk​  | F/S/A f

➵ running through the nightby@sketchguk | F/S/A

➵ a work of artby@missgeniality | S/A 

➵ devil on my heelsby@ditttiii​  | F

➵ the art of benefitsby@jimlingss​  | F/S

➵ shake shackby@kimtaehyunq | S

➵ caught elvesdroppingby@kimtaehyunq | F/S

➵ let’s get quizzicalby@taleasnewastime | F/S/A 

➵ the spoiled daughterby@yoon2k | S

➵ ain’t real cherryby@jimilter​  | S/Aft. Taehyung

➵flirtby@chateautae | S

➵ picking petalsby@cutechim | F/S

➵ mile high clubby@geniuslab  | S

➵ first kissby@ggukbabyy​  | F/S/A 

➵ point of no returnby@wwilloww​  | F/S/A 

➵ warm handsby@hobidreams​  | F/S/A 

- series :

➵ one time thingby@personasintro | F/S/A 

➵Noxiousby@dis-easedfairy | F/S/A ft. Taehyung

➵ One last timeby@chocominnie

➵betterby@jeonggukookies | F/A 

➵ Come Home to Me…Darlingby@roses-ruby | F/S/A 

➵etherby@to-star-lakes a (love triangle) ft. Jungkook

➵ angel on fireby@kofisips​  | F/S/A 

➵ no stringsby@kpopfanfictrash | S

➵ raise the barreby@kpopfanfictrash | S/A 

➵ plums and melonsby@winetae | S

➵ off limitsby@kaddiiction | S/A 

➵novocaineby@kinktae | S/A s

➵ i’ll never be herby@anon-luv | S/A 

➵ give me loveby@writtenwhalien | F/S/A 

➵ hide and seekby@writtenwhalien | F/S

➵ beside youby@kimnjssft. Seokjin

➵ the colour of our voicesby@jimlingss​  | F/A

➵heartburnby@jiminrings | A

➵ prettiest of them allby@jimintopia| F/A 

➵ a sweet touch, a finer delicacyby@http-pjm | F/S/A ft. Jungkook

➵betrayby@xjamlessparkx | A ft. Taehyung

➵ slight changesby@jiminimoon | S/A  ft. Taehyung

➵ caught in a lieby@jkeuphoriadreamland | F/S/A 

➵ peaches and piercingsby@jksangelic | S 

➵lollipopby@taetaesbaebaepsae​ | F/A 

➵ into itby@xpeachesncream | S/A 

➵ the misadventures listby@kimvvantae | F/S 

You Asked for Help, He Asked Your Name | PJM

You ran away from your responsibilities, but they caught you and tried to lay claim to your body. If your life was never going to be yours anyways, you decided might as well give it away and make a deal.

BTS Fantasy AU. fairyprince!Jimin x reader

Warnings: 18+ dark themes, this story discusses triggering topics, SA, arranged marriage, religion, dubcon, violence against women, murder, blood, gore, reader manipulation, oral sex f+m, sex,inexperienced!y/n

Word Count: 7.4k

—

‘I tried my best,’ you thought.

‘I knew it might not work,’ you thought, ‘but at least I tried.’ 

Grass and flowers and mushrooms crushed beneath you and you lay crushed beneath him.

‘The sky looks pretty passing through the leaves,’ you thought, looking up. ‘The sun looks bright, like fire.’ 

Days after you think upon this moment, that is what you remember the most, the way the light came through those leaves, the scatter of buds barely blooming across the branches, a light shade of yellow that seemed to glow under the sun so vividly, and the vivid pain in your heart. 

Then you closed your eyes, held tight to that image of light, and silently screamed. 

You weren’t aware of where you truly were, of where you had mindlessly ran to hoping to break free of the cuff around your finger, but you had fallen upon the entrance of a portal between your world and another. You didn’t know your thoughts could be heard. 

So when you heard a velvety voice respond in the deep recesses of your mind, you thought it was just your own self, comforting you when no one else could.

But the voice belonged to something else, not anything of this world. He watched the sight before him passively, curious, and though he did not follow the laws of good and evil, though he was not accustomed to the traditions of this world, as he watched he felt the wrongness of what he was witnessing, as visceral as you felt it.

‘Help!’ You thought.

‘Do you want my help?’ the voice asked.

—

Your life had been a series of decisions made by people who claimed to love you but never really actually listened to you, never asked what you wanted, what you needed, only told you what they expected of you. Nothing was really yours in the end, not your future, your decision to marry, and certainly not your body.

You weren’t happy, even as those around you gave their blessings on what should have been your happiest day. Your tears were not for show, you cried of despair, because you knew the life that really had never been yours was now tied to a man until death. 

It was only when you had truly given up hope that you decided to escape everything. You planned your escape quickly, carelessly in desperation. You took a bag of jewelry, gold you hoped could buy you freedom. And one inconspicuous night, after he was fed and pleased and taken to sleeping like a satisfied pig, you left.

But he and his brother searched after you. You knew you had no one on your side and he had everyone. So when they found you, you thought of nothing but running. You ran until pebble turned to grass, only hoping to lose sight of them, only wishing to be free.

‘Give me one last chance,’ you thought when they finally caught you. ‘This cannot be!’

It was unforgivable what you had done, you had disrespected your husband. Angry, humiliated, and disgusted you would betray him, you were victim to the temperaments of violent men who wanted retribution.

‘Not again,’ you thought, ‘no no no no no.’

You closed your eyes and silently begged, screaming your thoughts so loud, trying to drown out the heavy grunts and disgusting jeers that splintered what was left of your faith with every injury to your body. You begged for help, for anyone to come save you. You prayed for a miracle.

Quiet sobs and whimpers escaping, your soul screamed. 

It was your last bit of fight, unwilling to let them destroy all of you. You didn’t know your screams were heard. Your thoughts were being listened to. 

‘Help!’ You thought, ‘Help me!’

Again, the voice said. ‘Do you want me to help you?’

‘Yes,’ you begged, ‘Yes!’

‘Do you want me to stop them…to kill them?’

‘Yes, kill them, kill them, I wish they felt the pain they’ve caused.’ You imagined your captors sliced from head to toe, bodies brutalized so they could never hurt another woman again. You cried.

‘What is your name?’

You bit down sobs, screams threatening to escape as the dull ache becomes piercing once again, dimming the light behind your tightly shut eyes.

‘Die die die. Let them die, they deserve death.’ 

‘Your name?’

Your lungs burning, you allowed your name to travel past the tight lump in your throat, one small barely audible whisper in answer choked out.

‘Wonderful! How beautiful, perfectly suited to you!’ 

The voice repeats your name over and over again. And you repeat your wishes over and over again. ‘Make it stop now, make it stop, please…please!’

Against the harsh scrape of wood, your head knocking into tree roots, you felt something new, something warm next to you apart from the coldness of the dirt, a delicate hand so softly placing a tiny flower behind your ear. Too afraid to open your eyes, you thought of glowing yellow petals. 

The man above you pauses and you finally had courage to look.

The sight was what you wished for, red cascading down, drops falling on your cheeks mixing with your tears. The handle of an intricate knife lodged deep in the center of your husband’s throat.

You follow the handle to its wielder, arm outstretched, forearm flexed, his head tilts down and he sends you a dangerous smile before he pulls the blade out as quick as it entered.

You gasp and he smiles wider, stabbing over and over again, blood raining down on your aching body, you might as well be drowning in it. 

“Y/n.” The stranger’s words snap you out of your stupor, his voice the same tone you had heard in your mind, now so clear and crisp, eyes shining with happiness. 

“I kept him alive for you, he is yours.”

Yours? His life? His fate? 

You had lost yourself, but you had gained more.

You pushed yourself up, staring at your husband, his bloodied chest heaving, gasping for air. Something hard pressed up into your palm, you felt the smooth handle of the stranger’s knife appear like magic. Your fingers dug into the ruined earth, your hand now gripping the knife tightly.

The stranger was gone like he never was. Had he even been? The knife in your hand was your only clue now. It was you and your husband alone. His brother gone too, taken to running away in fright. 

You gripped the knife tighter until your fingers stung, the subdued ache in your muscles that you’ve forgotten in your shock now returning as well. It made you angry.

He looked up at you, coughing up blood. His ugly face, now perfectly matching his ugly heart. You gripped the knife tighter. You gripped it tighter, it was real, it was your freedom in the palm of your hand. It made you cry, made you angry, made you happy, made you stand up. 

Your husband lay crawling away in the dirt, like a wounded pig. Even on shaky legs you were able to move ahead of him, foot pressing into his skull to stop his shameful retreat.

You bent down, held the intricate beautiful handle of the knife in both hands, pressing it down into the back of his neck. The blade glided so smoothly, it surprised you how easy it had been. You grit your teeth, twisting the dagger, “How does it feel?” you ask, “to be penetrated against your will?” 

Your husband, your attacker, grunted, shallow breathing slowing down, and you begin to hear a soft melodious laughter filling the woods behind you.

You knelt down like you had done so many times before in prayer, pressing your head to the earth, mouth next to your husband’s ear. “May you die knowing it was a woman who took your life. May your last thought be of me, knowing that it was I, not you, I was the one who took away your chance at paradise.” You would have screamed your words, but like your pleas, you held your pain in still, whispering low, your eyes full of wrath meeting his terrified stare, he heard you loud and clear. 

You dragged the knife out of him, satisfied he will never have the opportunity to hurt you in this life or in the afterlife. “Die.”

-

Your muscles ached with every step you took, your body following the music echoing through the trees. It was slow travel, but you felt…light. Your heart was unburdened. You maneuvered your way between branches until you saw what you thought you had merely dreamed up, a man so alien in appearance, so beautiful and ethereal, smiling at you as if you were the best of friends. Pointed ears, striking bright eyes, and the same dangerous smile, he was real. And at his bare feet…the shivering whimpering brother had not outrun his sins after all. His body curled into himself, his hands held above his head together in prayer, now begging you not to end his life.

The stranger’s eyes travel down your bloodied hand, falling upon the knife you still braced. “Y/n! I brought you another gift.”

The brother wailed for mercy, reciting stuttering prayers, spewing words out quickly to cover the length of his sins. You scoffed at the pathetic sight.

Prayer is meaningless in this place as it was in your home. How many times did you kneel and pray, did you ask for help? How many days did your head touch the earth, hoping one day to be able to prostate in a better place? And yet you ended up here. Right here. Covered in bruises, covered in blood, your heart broken and your body broken, your faith finally broken.

It wasn’t prayer that saved you, not really, you know this when your eyes meet that stranger’s shining gaze and his devilish smile, clothes glittering so strangely in the sunlight. It surprised you, the tug of your own lips you felt, unable to stop the smirk lifting up.

Does he think he will be freed? Did he think he will be sent to paradise now? When there is no realm in heaven fit for this animal. This man and his false sense of superiority was now begging you for mercy, suddenly with an understanding of it. 

No! Judgment is a cold dagger, given by a trickster, bestowing power to a powerless woman.

“Y/n, come.”

You looked up, away from the blood, pulling the knife from the brother’s body one last time and nodded. What else could you do but follow? Committed a sin, you turned your back on the world that treated you so unjust.

Paradise is a ring of mushrooms, a creature so beautiful you can’t look away, who looks back at you as if you were precious treasure, hand outstretched the same way as when you first saw him.

And this time you decided the course of your life, reaching with your own hand for something more.

—

The hand you took belonged to no ordinary creature of the otherworld, he was a prince among his kind, a legend even to the legendary. Prince of the Faes, Jimin’s curiosities lead him away from his Kingdom, pulled by the cries of…a human?

The two worlds have always been separated, but as human interest grew away from the magicalness of nature and into rigid concrete structures and metal fixtures and technology and electricity and everything his kind despised, it was less and less likely for the two worlds to meet.

As royalty, Jimin had everything in his world at the tips of his fingers. But his power was also intrinsically tied to his world, he could not pass the boundaries with his powers…unless…

It was the first time he felt his realm breached. And then a far lonely cry, soft and pleading, calling out to him.

It was only when he had a human connection, a name, your name, could he fully step into the human realm and unleash his power without any restraint, with out any worry, and how much fun it had been!

You were magnificent! A worthy ally, the perfect vassal. Oh, it was a delight watching you transform in front of his eyes, taking every opportunity he had presented.

You could not even look upon his first gift, so his second gift came swift. The sudden outrage he felt witnessing the true cruelty of mankind contained to the precise tip of his dagger, for him it wasn’t a gift of vengeance, it was a tool to right the scales of balance that were so unfairly tipped. Because sometimes, for the Prince of Faes, righteousness was gratifying, and it was so delightful to be…vicious.

—

Perhaps you died, you think. There is no such beauty in the world you knew, no colors as bright as the ones that adorned the new garments that clung to your body. There were no musical chords that sounded as sweet as any note you’ve heard from…was it birds that passed you? Where are you?

The glamour around you made everything so alluring and new. And most enchanting of all, was the creature before you. Delicate yet masculine, calming and formidable, Jimin was an enigma of a man.

“Welcome, y/n.” 

“Where am I? What are you? A demon?” You felt the shine of your surroundings wear off just a tiny bit, your mind trying to process the events that occurred. 

He laughs a sweet soft chuckle. “No y/n, I’m not a demon.” He looks down at the jewelry adorning his fingers, turning the gold bands with his thumb. “A demon’s path is rigid, too strict for me,” he says dismissively. “Y/n, come.” You listened, your steps rigid and slow. “What’s wrong?”

“It hurts.” You wince, holding the pain in.

“Come here.” He held out his hand again, but this time you paused. You weren’t used to being so close to strangers like this, your family kept you sheltered…isolated. You gripped his hand, warmth heating your cheeks at the contact…then warmth all over, you gasp and stumble forward, your sore tired body feeling revitalized, feeling anew.

“How did you-”

“It’s a gift,” he breathes, smirking, hands righting your body up, taking in the clumsiness in your movements amusedly. “Your kind breaks too easily.”

“And what is your kind?” you swallow.

“Well, isn’t it obvious?” He spins around, looking over his shoulder. “A fae.”

“I’m s-sorry, I don’t know what-”

“It’s okay, you’ll learn,” he smiles mirthfully. “You’re in my world now, so you must listen to me precisely. So you don’t break again.” He plays with the tips of your fingers while the anxiety rose inside you, a trembling he noticed immediately. “Are you still hurt?” He asks confused, you shouldn’t be.

“No, I…Why did you save me?”

“Did I save you?” The knife appears again like magic, he balances the intricate handle on one finger, twirling it in the air before catching it. “Here, have it back. It’s yours now.”

“T-Thank you, it’s beautiful.” You murmured, mesmerized by the small weapon. Your admission made him smile even wider. “How can I repay you?”

He clapped his hands together. “Y/n…y/n, you’ve already given me a great gift…but I can think of something else as payment, there’s time for that.”

You suddenly realized he knew your name but you had no idea what to call him. “What is your name?”

He paused. “For that, I will need something more.”

“For me to learn your name?” you ask, more confused than you’ve ever been. He nods, studying you again. “I-I have nothing…oh wait!” Where were the clothes you wore? Where was anything of yours? How did you even arrive in his home, you can’t remember.

You look around at your surroundings, It was beautiful, greenery twisting around every surface and butterflies resting peacefully, their wings fluttering slowly before taking off and finding another surface to lay upon, and the flowers, oh! You’ve never seen anything so lovely! Oh! “I had a bag-”

“Hmm, this?” The bag appeared so quickly before you, as if fallen out of thin air and into his palms.

“Yes!”

“Beautiful,” he looks inside at the gems, red, blue and green pieces of jewelry. “But not worth a name.”

“It’s all I have,” You huff, “How am I supposed to call you?”

“You could call me ‘Your Highness,’” he smirks. You noticed the shining jewelry in his hair, weaved together by delicate strands of gold. Could he?

“What? Are you really?”

He nods, thumb running across your cheek. You thought briefly of tears, of dirt. It made you shudder, cold memories entering your mind, making you pull away from him.

Jimin frowned. “I could take them too, if you’d like.”

“What?”

“The memories.” 

You don’t doubt he can, even if it seems too good to be true. “No, I want to remember. I want to remember all of it,” you muttered, unready to part with the familiar feelings that rushed inside of you. The rage, and the pain, and the victory you had felt.

“Why?” he asks, tilting his head. You continued to fascinate him.

“If I forget it doesn’t change what has been done, what has been done to me.” The life you lived flashed before you as a series of pained memories. That’s what it was, what it could all be boiled down to in the end, pain. It was pain that you were unwilling to part with, pain that strengthened you, that made you unafraid. “Even if it were to help in some way, to forget, it takes away from me…who I am. And I can’t…I won’t have anything more taken.”

“I accept your decision, y/n,” he nods, thumb running across his bottom lip in thought, “but if you change your mind…” He stares into your eyes, so intensely it made you feel self conscious under his gaze. “I could make it so you feel no sadness…or anger,” he reaches for your cheek again, “only joy, only happiness.”

But at what cost?

—

Deals struck between one and another is what moves the lives of Fae. More precious than even gold, what is more valuable than our word in the end?

You don’t remember how long it’s been. Time felt like sand, it fell between your fingers so quickly you couldn’t grasp it, felt like sludge around your body, slowing your movements to almost a standstill, you felt frozen in time and pulled through its flow all at once.

“Is she your wife?” you ask Jimin, entering after watching a lovely fairy leave his quarters.

He smirks, “No, y/n. Why?”

You busy yourself by making his bed, dusting off a shimmering fabric fallen to the ground. He follows you around, so light on his feet you cannot even hear his footsteps apart from yours. 

“You must love her…very much.” You had listened to their declarations of love all day long, you thought, annoyed.

“Love?” Jimin laughs at that.

“Well, it sounded like you loved each other, quite passionately.” You chewed on the inside of your mouth, smoothing the silky fabric down. Jimin throws his body upon the bed, ruining all your work, craning his neck to look at you, amused by the annoyed look on your face. “Are you feeling…unloved? Would you like some love as well, y/n?”

You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “Don’t patronize me.” You kneeled on the soft ground, upon branches and brush woven together to make the palace floor which you sat. Jimin leaned his neck over the edge of his bed, then reached his arms for the floor, flipping his body over to take a seat next to you.

“I don’t think this is a fitting position for a Prince,” you mumble.

“Do Princes in your world not sit next to their subjects?” he muses.

You snort, “No,” suddenly smiling at the thought. “Perhaps for a photo op-ed, to look like good samaritans,” you look over to Jimin as he listens to your words and tries to make sense of the meaning. “But willingly?” you laugh, “No, I can’t imagine that.”  

“Interesting,” he lies back, placing his hands underneath his head, watching as small birds flutter around the palace canopy, flying around one another as if they were dancing. He calls your name so you lie down as well, trying to relax your stiff awkward limbs. “Do Princes lie with their subjects in your world?” He turns his head, nose so close he can smell your sweet human scent, hear the whispering of your jumbled thoughts.

You meet his eyes hesitantly. “Well I guess they do, sometimes.” Being so close, you felt pulled in by his gaze, his beautiful bright eyes, his plump lips you imagined were as soft as they looked. Now stretched into a large smile, you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling shyly back, quickly breaking eye contact before you let your urges take over.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Do what?”

“Hold yourself back.”

“I-I am not.”

“You do it quite often, hold things in.”

You swallow, quickly sitting up, “And should I be like you?” You look down at him accusingly, letting your anger get the best of you. “And…” you huff, “cavort about all day and night?”

Jimin laughs, “And in your world does every subject speak so brazenly to their Prince?” he challenges, sitting up next to you. He bites his lips, tries to catch your eyes again, but you’re already pulling away, stumbling to your feet, offering your apologies.

—

How long has it been since that night? Days?Weeks? You’re not sure, there were no clocks, light never seemed to dull in this place, even the moon lit the world here so beautifully. You had no idea how much time has passed since then, it was time you took to let yourself heal, to let yourself breathe. For so long you felt unable to take a deep breath, fill your lungs in fully. So anxious, so weighted down by your responsibilities, holding it in, like a scream ready to burst free, for so long you just couldn’t allow yourself to breathe.

You were used to the world running along without you, but did you like it? Did you like this place? Even if you could walk the halls of this palace freely, you felt secluded, you felt alone. Where was it that you were going? Back to your room? You were lost again, where were you? 

You admired the small insect crawling next to you, inching up the canopy. The gems on your dress catching the light and twinkling on the walls, it was almost as if the small caterpillar were following the shimmering flecks. You looked down at your dress, it was like nothing that you’ve ever worn before, showing more skin than you’ve ever shown. The shiny translucent fabric cascaded over your body. It’s beautiful, you admit, more beautiful than even your wedding dress., and you felt beautiful in it.

“Youarebeautiful.”

“Y-Your highness?” you turn around to see the familiar fae studying you again.

“There’s a celebration in the west wing, do you want to join me, y/n?” He holds his hand out again, and of course, you take it.

-

You felt the isolation again walking through the west wing alone. Jimin had been whisked away by two handsome fae and you were left to your own devices. You dressed like them, even given an intricate jeweled choker by the prince himself, another gift he said, but you were not like them, no matter how you tried to hold your head up high, you couldn’t act as gracefully as them, you couldn’t move as fast as them, you didn’t look as beautiful as them, and you couldn’t, for many reasons, celebrate as vicariously as them.

The faefolk danced and partied without inhibition. You moved awkwardly between them, and they moved to let you pass. Not one touch or look your way, you felt invisible to them. Why, you wondered, would no one even try to make conversation with you? And you were too timid, too shy to ask them to dance. You didn’t understand the laws of this world, that in this world power was traded, bargained cunningly, taken with words rather than force, and the most powerful word of all, was a name. You had already been spoken for by the most powerful of them all.

You watched the way the fae rolled their bodies, clothes flowing around them, slipping off their shoulders, away from their legs, revealing their thighs, where eager hands glided across their smooth skin. You held your breath, watching, wishing it was you.

“y/n, come.” A soft voice in your ear brings you out of your thoughts, his breath hot against your cheek.

“Where did you go?”

“Did you miss me?” He smirks. His hair looked more wild than before, his lips pinker, layers of his clothes you notice were missing. You rolled your eyes, turning away.

“No. I didn’t even notice you were gone, I was having so much fun.”

“You shouldn’t lie, y/n.”

“I wasn’t,” you lie again.

“He hooks his finger underneath your necklace, pulling your attention to him.”

“Is this the ‘sarcasm’ you were speaking of before?”

“Yes,” you huff, “Are humans unwelcomed here?”

“No,” he frowns, “were you mistreated by someone?” He acts swiftly, moving towards the crowds. His demeanor changed, it sent a chill down your spine, reminded you of blood and anger and revenge, and you quickly reach for him, arms pulling him back at the waist, clinging onto him to stop. 

“Don’t!” You didn’t realize how fast your heart was beating, pounding against his back. “I wasn’t!” you took in a deep breath, steadying yourself. “I haven’t even spoken to anyone since you left,” you mutter against his shoulder blades, saddened.

Jimin looked down at your hands, clasped together, holding him tightly. He ran a finger across your arm and felt goosebumps starting to appear. “Y/n, you’re upset.”

“Why won’t anyone else talk to me?” you whisper sadly, grip loosening.

Jimin turns around as you pull away, laying a hand delicately on your shoulder. He pulls the closest fae towards him, a man with curly flowing hair, a striking jaw, and the same piercing shining eyes as Jimin. “Entertain her.” Jimin nods in your direction.

The fae smiles wide, a large boxy grin, taking you in from head to toe. “Hello, lovely.”

“H-Hello. Did you want to dance?”

He nods, bowing at you, but before you can step away Jimin is pulling you back, “you said talk, not dance.”

You swallow, “Everyone else is dancing, why can’t I?” You kept your head up, standing tall, attempting to move towards the other fae again, but he keeps his head down, moving away at Jimin’s dark glare. You didn’t notice the way Jimin looked at him, but you noticed the way he retreated as you came closer, away from your reach. You huff, holding in tears of rejection. “Fine, I’ll just go dance with someone else,” you mutter, rushing into the crowd of fae with Jimin following closely behind.

“Y/n!” he hissed in your ear, telling you to stop. The sway of the bodies around you made you dizzy and confused, you moved quicker past them, or were you being pushed?No, pulled away? The music became louder as the room spun around you and then everything became quiet, until you were alone and able to catch your breath.

“What did you do!” you gasp, holding your head. It felt like you had been spinning in circles, only stopping now that you and Jimin were alone. You stumbled, steadying yourself against a branch, your body still feeling the effects. 

“Have I ever harmed you? Hurt you? Have I not only given you what you asked for?”

You stumbled again, your body falling into vertigo. “I know-”

“Then why, y/n?! Why would you want to dance with someone else?”

Your legs buckled as your head continued to spin, a hand grabbing your wrist before you can fall to the ground. You hang, body swinging forward into Jimin’s legs. 

“Why do you dance with everyone but me!” you yelled your accusations at the ground, unable to look or stand upright. Your body was pulled up as if you weighed nothing, right into Jimin’s embrace. “Why do you lay with everyone but me?” 

Did you expect to be whisked away by a Prince and have a love story you have only read in fairytales? Not particularly, not when you were covered in blood, barely able to process everything that’s been done to you, everything that you’ve done. Did you expect maybe…something from Jimin? He had given you so much already, what were you expecting? What did you want from the Fairy Prince? It frustrated you, having an ideal too fantastical for even a world of fantasy. It could have been, you would have taken it, you could have loved him.

Angry you were not in a love story, but a nightmare, you attempted to hit him, but the room had still yet to settle, and Jimin barely had to do anything to stop your strike, easily pulling you into him closer. Before you knew it, the Fae Prince was pressed against you entirely, from body to lips. Your vertigo subsided, grounded by his kiss.

You pull away, partly stunned, and entirely captivated by his presence. “You kis-”

Jimin’s lips pressed against yours again, softly this time. You pull away again, eyes widening. “What, that wasn’t a request?” Jimin whispers against your lips.

He teases you, entices you, annoys you so much. “Don’t kiss me, don’t touch me!” You yell, pushing him away, and before you can strike again he is gone like he never was, and you can hear his familiar laughter in the west wing with the others. You did not look for him, you were too upset, left to sulking in your room, and even if you had gone to find him, Jimin’s glamour would have never allowed you near the other faefolk that evening. You were not going to dance, or kiss, anyone but him.

—

You felt more like a teacher, a live-in tutor, teaching the Fae Prince all the things you knew of human history and human living. He danced around you while you slumped into the cushions of his love seat, mopey, tired of answering his endless questions.

“Tell me more about this electrical web.”

“Why are you so fascinated by this?” you groan, “Want to know real human nature?! We go into wars we cannot win, we take innocent lives over land we then destroy, and we do it over and over and over again-”

“Your kind is very good at that. Alright, then tell me more about yourself.”

“Well- I- What did you want to know?”

“What brings you joy other than killing?”

“Killing does not bring me joy!” You sit up, outraged. It was ridiculous, what he said, it wasn’t true!

“Then what does?” he asks, smile hidden behind his knuckles.

You think of yourself as a child, singing along to the radio, you had loved singing to your favorite songs, your father telling you to quiet yourself, complaining how off tune you were, you had only been a child and you never sang again. You still danced, every time you heard music, you hadn’t cared who was around, who was watching. You remembered the faint cheers of your mother, her laughter adding to the musical beat. Some time between now and then you stopped dancing, you couldn’t pin point it, when you grew up and only allowed your head to slightly bob to the beat instead, foot tapping anxiously instead of just dancing. When had it been, the first time your mother told you to stop instead of cheering you along?

You think of the museum you used to visit as a child, the excitement you felt when you noticed the brightly woven baskets on display, relics of the past that looked so beautiful, you wanted to learn how to create those baskets too, if only they let you. The designs were so intricate, the colors so bright, the patterns reminded you of the dagger fastened to your dress, reminded you of it’s handle, and blood, and death.

You shut your eyes and let go of the breath you’ve been holding. “Swimming. When I was a child my mother couldn’t get me out of the water. I still love swimming, it’s fun, I could still spend all day in the water, I think.”

“I see…”

You sigh, “You know what brings me joy?” Before your wedding, your friends visited you. They kissed your cheek, wiped your tears away and fixed your makeup. They made fun of your mother-in-law. They told you, it will be okay, your fiancé is old, they reminded you to cook with animal fat, so he can die sooner. They held your shaking hands and hugged you tightly, and promised to visit you soon.

“Seeing my friends happy,” you smile. “Can I now ask you a question?” The Fae Prince waits. “Can I know your name?”

“Y/n…” He paces his quarters, and your hopeful expressions falls as grains of sand slip through your fingers once again. “How about we go for a swim instead?”

You reach the water’s surface easily, inhaling air quickly. You wade the spring, looking up to watch the slow waterfall. It was peaceful, it made you smile.

A wave of water hits you, Jimin catching your attention instead. You splash water in his direction, laughing as he swims closer to you.

“Where are we?” You spin, following him as he swims around you. He ducks underneath the water, splashing you again. Two hands cover your eyes as you feel the Fae Prince resurface behind you.

“Close to the Palace,” he says softly in your ear. The spring water is cool and Jimin’s touch is warm. You pull one hand from your eyes away, holding onto him.

“Where is your s-shirt?” He surprises you, his usual soft curled hair wet and slicked back, chest exposed to you.

“Why are you wearing your clothes!” he laughs. The silky fabric lifts around you like a blanket, your jewelry heavy against your skin. Why did you jump into the water with your clothes, you can’t remember why now. You begin to feel anxious, moving your limbs faster to keep afloat, your legs exposed as the ends of your dress floats on the water’s surface. You push the front of your dress down, covering your virtue, and sink into the water as your limbs stop swimming.

Jimin joins you underwater, and he somehow seems even more beautiful floating in the water, hair wafting effortlessly and framing his face. He reaches for you, pulling you back to the surface.

“Your modesty is cute.”

You scoff, holding onto his shoulders. “Stop treating me like a child.”

“And how should I treat you, y/n?” his arms move from your waist to just under your bum, pulling you closer to him. You tense up under his intense gaze, unable to look down at him.

“Look at you!” he teases, laughing, “Always holding back.”

“Shut up,” you mutter.

“How dare you! You attempt to silence your Prince!” He laughs even louder, moving slowly into deeper water. He narrows his sparkling eyes at you, “The other Fae would have eaten you by now.”

“Oh yeah? I can’t imagine I would taste very good.”

“Such bravery and yet you are too timid to give into your desires.”

“I desire you to shut up.”

“Y/n, I can hear your desires always,” he lets you down back into the water, holding you close to his body.

You bite your lip in attempt to uncloud the haze you felt so suddenly. “So you know how much I desire to know your name.”

Jimin stops laughing, biting his lip as well, closing his eyes in thought. “I do know.” He could feel how much you desired his name, desired him, how you thought of his lips, his jaw, his bare chest, your fixation on everything about him only enlarging his ego, and enlarging…other things.

You watched his mouth part, his head slowly tilt back as he sighed deep. “Please, your highness.”

Jimin’s lips curled up. “Prove it to me, your devotion…hold your breath.”

You went underwater again, held tight in Jimin’s embrace. His hand cradled the back of your head, watching you as you held in your instincts to move, to break free, determined more than ever to learn something of his kind instead. You gripped his biceps, fingers digging into his muscles, holding on, and just when you feel your self slipping, Jimin’s lips press against yours.

You felt a rush of air fill your lungs, the rush of adrenaline cascade over your body where water should have been. It was only Jimin’s frenzied touch instead, cool air hitting your wet skin, your drenched clothes pulling you down as the weightlessness of water disappears. “Where are we?” you gasp.

Jimin’s lips move across your jaw and down your neck. “Your room, of course.” He pulls the wet fabric away from your shoulders, you shiver from the cold and his touch. His hand travels up your thigh and you freeze.

“Should I slow down? Is this too far?”

“I’ve had sex before,” you say, annoyed, trying to relax.

“But you’ve never gotten pleasure?” Jimin did not need to hear you answer, it was written as clear as the day across your anxious features. His had cupped your jaw. “Breathe out, y/n.”

You didn’t realize you were holding your breath, his thumb ran across your bottom lip as you exhaled.

He kissed your neck again, lying his body down onto yours. “Breathe in, y/n.” You closed your eyes and leaned your head against his, enjoying the way he kissed and tasted your skin. Your hand reached for his, interlacing your fingers together. He squeezed your hand in reassurance, holding your against bedsheets, his mouth traveling down your body, searching for more to taste.

You moaned for the first time at his caresses, gripping his hand tighter. He takes his time to savour you, your breath rapidly escalating. You felt him move between your legs, the warm wet muscle of his tongue licking all over you, fingers massaging your most intimate parts, slowly, moving from outside to inside. You no longer felt cold, you felt feverish instead, overwhelmed, overstimulated, ready to burst.

Jimin slowly built up the pleasure inside you, and then with skill and preciseness, unraveled the tension away. You panted, in a trance, pleasure coursing throughout your body.

Jimin looked at you, hungry and eager, a vision of seduction you’ve longed to experience. You traced his muscles, reaching for him, legs angling over his hips.

You kissed him fervently, riding high on ecstasy, whimpering for more, insatiable until you felt his hardness meet your core, sliding against your entrance.

You shuddered, stopping, looking into his eyes. He smirked, pleased you weren’t shying away from him no longer, enthralled with the way your desires took over. He held your head and devoured your lips, entering you with one swift rolling movement that took your breath away.

You moaned louder, rolling your hips to meet his, forgetting your goal, what you wanted, crying out for him, unable to speak his name.

—

Jimin was not only learning of your customs. You were, slowly, learning too. As a group of Faefolk left his quarters, you recognized one and he winked at you, bowing his head as he retreated.

You frowned, pursing your lips, looking inside at the mess.

Jimin rolled his neck, pulling a shimmering robe over his body. “Y/n, come,” he holds out his hand, calling you over to his bed.

“Aren’t you tired?” you resist the urge to roll your eyes. Jimin rolls his eyes instead at your judgement.

“I’m never tired for you.” He tugs on your arm playfully. You fall next to him. He smells good, he smells of vanilla and wildflower and sex.

“I want to make a deal,” you roll your body over his, straddling his lap, pulling at his clothes. He sighs softly, canting his hips, pushing up against you. “I want to know your name…” He raises an eyebrow, “…wait…and listen…I want to know your name when we make love.”

He tilts his head, staring at you, smiling, intrigued. “Then you can take it away. Deal?”

“And what do I get out of this deal?”

You kiss his exposed chest, and then you kiss lower, and lower. “Me…screaming your name…as yours.” You look up at him, challenging him to deny you.

The Fae Prince widened his legs, pleased your infatuation had given him such a truly wonderful gift. He could hear his name leave your pretty lips and let you fall back into his spell. “Okay, y/n. Deal.”

He watched your lips part over his hardening length, sucking him into your mouth eagerly. You perched yourself back onto his lap, settling yourself onto his cock. So perfect, fitting around him tight and warm. You rolled your hips and moaned freely. “Y-Yes.”

He holds your hips, thrusting up into you, “Tell me, y/n, who is your prince?”

You heard a whisper materialize inside you, becoming louder and clearer the faster you bounced on his lap.

“Y-Yes-Jimin, yes!”

You woke up, kissing his chest lazily, already forgotten his name.

—

“What do you wish of me, your highness?” You murmur against Jimin, tired, sleepy, why were you so tired?

Jimin sighs, “It’s time.”

“Time? W-What’s time?”

“Your world corrupts the balance of nature. Humans will destroy every realm of earth with their greed, even mine.”

You hum, agreeing.

“It’s time…to wage war. And you! You are my most beautiful weapon.”

But Jimin underestimated you. He saw your beauty, yes, but did not fully grasp the strength, the fearlessness, that to this day, you’ve never forgotten.

—

“Wake up, y/n.” A hand caresses your jaw, waking you from your slumber. “Today a debt needs to be paid.”

“Where are we?” Jimin holds you in his arms, placing your feet on the ground tenderly.

“You don’t recognize this?” 

You follow his gaze towards the ground, where a neat ring of mushrooms lie growing in a perfect circle.

He steps inside, offering his hand. “The priceis this.” 

Once you stepped inside, everything seemed to grow duller, heavier, grayer. You…hated it. You hated everything except the man beside you. That was until you stepped outside the mushroom circle, feet landing onto wet cold earth.

Then the glamour fully wore away and you were faced with the harsh dark reality of what happened to you. Everything rushed into your memory so clearly and vividly you fell forward, pulling away from the Fae Prince.

“Get up, we have things to do.”

“You! You kept me prisoner!”

Jimin laughs. “Did I? I did not chain you or force you to stay.”

“You did, you- Leave! Leave me alone!”

“We are connected, y/n. It’s the price you paid. I cannot leave you as much as you cannot leave me.”

“Stay away!” you scream.

“I can’t do that.”

You wanted to hate him, but you felt your heart break the more you resisted. It made you cry. He was right. It made you scream.

Jimin pulled you up harshly, “Oh y/n, what’s happened? I thought we were in agreement.” Jimin didn’t understand why you suddenly resisted so vehemently.

“You…you t-tricked me, you used me!” You looked down at the crime scene at you feet, the blood was long gone, the bodies have since decomposed, been found, and taken away. But you smelled the iron still, you could still feel the blood dripping down your body as if it only happened moments prior.

Jimin pulls your chin to face him instead. “I gave you a gift, a weapon, I did not make you kill him. I did not make you do anything. It was yourwill,yourdecision.”

“All I wanted was freedom,” you cry bitterly. “But in the end I never had it, did I, your highness? I was your tool, I was your pet!”

Jimins fingers dug into your chin. “You wanted me, you ached for it, you loved it!” 

The knife, you remembered, was still hidden beneath your clothes. You now pulled it out, pointing it at the Fae Prince.

He look at the knife, then lifts his head, looking at you. “You will use my own weapon against me? Do you think that’s wise, y/n?” His tone was dangerously low.

“It’s my dagger, is it not?” you question, “to do what I please?”

“You are not scared, y/n?” Jimin stalks towards you.

“I…I was never scared. Only lost.”

“Then let me help you find yourself again.” He breathes out, eyes glistening in the darkness.

“And what’s the price?” you mock.

“This time, no price from you. We’ll take it together.”

“Take what?”

“Everything.”

You let the dagger go, let it fall into the dirt, where you touched it first, decades ago.

A man marked your body one last time, but by your own hands, by your own will, for power you took all by yourself. Jimin never noticed the small stains of blood soaked into your fabric. As you pushed away your sleeve, revealing the scarred letters you had carved into you over so many many nights, you wondered if he really noticed you at all. 

“And why should I share it with you, Jimin?” 

—

You know, even though this story was not a story for me or about me (though in some small ways, about me), I found myself crying so much for her.

Next story up, Seokjin being a ghostie.

Spring Fling Masterlist