#I’ll just start coughing and look like death for a min | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lemonjoonah · 5 years ago

Text

Level of Restraint (M)

Pairings: Jimin x Reader, Namjoon x Reader, Taehyung x Reader Word Count: 13K Rating: M Genre: Thriller, smut, office AU, BDSM AU Warnings(contains spoilers): This story contains very dark themes and may not be suited to all readers, protected sex (vag+anal), threesome, double penetration, bondage (including partial suspension), dom/sub roles (reader is a sub), praise kink, mild degration, sensory deprivation, spanking, fingering, cum feeding, mild breathplay, sex toys, exhibitionism, voyeurism, discussion of safe word, Namjoon is a professional dom/sex worker, referenced discrimination of sex workers and those who participate in BDSM, public outing of sexual practices, inappropriate workplace relationships, referenced death of minor character, yandere character, misidentified sexual partner, manipulation, bribery, blackmail, implied stalking, violence.

Summary: As a co-founder of a consulting firm you can’t afford to be caught in a scandal. So flirting with your secretary, Jimin, would be out of the question. Giving your client’s son, Taehyung, a reference for a sexual partner would be reprehensible. And having regular paid BDSM sessions with your dominant, Namjoon? That would be a career ending disgrace. It’s too bad the only restraints in life you approve of are the cuffs that bind you to the bed, because there are those hiding in the dark waiting to take advantage.

A/N: A huge thank you to everyone who supported me while writing this story. It was hard not to question the level of darkness this tale descends to. In the end your assurances and aid are the only reason this fic made it to fruition. Upon reading you might notice several thematic references to the ‘Fall of the House of Usher,’ by Edgar Allan Poe and the Greek myth of Tantalus. They are two of my favourite tales, and together they greatly represent the darkened desires depicted in this oneshot.

...

8:55 am KNJ: Good girl.

Your heart races upon receiving the response you’ve been waiting for all morning. The sender had requested proof that you were wearing his last minute gift, and you were happy to oblige with the lewd photo. Finally seeing his simple praise for your efforts makes you grin from ear to ear, as you enter the front door to your workplace’s building. The message will be enough to get you through the day, high on the thought of his praise while his present is wrapped tightly around your ribs. Though the garment may be confining, you’ll endure anything to receive those two simple words.

Reluctantly glancing up from your phone you look ahead to see the elevator closing.

“Hold the door!” You call out, making a run for it. Mercifully the gap between the doors widens allowing you to climb in before it begins the long haul up. Glancing over to your savoir, you find your secretary standing at the panel. “Thanks Jimin.”

“No problem,” he responds with a warm smile. “What floor do you need?” Joking as he pushes the button labelled 14.

You playfully shove his arm while trying to catch your breath. Had he left you down on the first floor there's no telling how long it would be before the elevator returned. The building in which you work has been down to one lift for a couple days, with no promise of when the other will be fixed. It’s not a surprise really, ever since you moved into this complex three years ago you’ve been plagued with breakdowns and shotty utilities. Considering how opulent the tower is, with it’s gilded elevators and halls adorned in finery you expected better, but people often overlook flaws when they have something pleasant to stare at. Allowing the management to slack on some of the failings of the structure.

“Do you think you could send maintenance another message?” You ask your hand clutching your waist to comfort the stitch in your side, no doubt a result of the corset concealed beneath your clothes.

“Consider it done.” Jimin replies, pulling out his phone. “Are you okay Miss?” He asks, your heavy breathing failing to go unnoticed judging from the concern in his voice.

“Fine.” You quickly change the subject, not wanting to linger on your current state. “What’s on my schedule for today?”

“You have a consultation with Mr. Kim of HOC Industries in an hour-”

“Really?” You cut in, confused about the sudden change. “But I just saw him a few weeks ago. Why is he coming in?”

“He didn’t say, I just got a message last night from him stating he required an appointment immediately.”

“That’s not a good sign...” You groan, wondering what information had dropped to spur a need for such an urgent response.

“Afterwards you have an early lunch with journalist Min. Followed by a one o’clock appointment with Jeon Jungkook to go over the new web layout. And the rest of office hours are slated as admin.”

You cringe over the prospect of bookkeeping. Your accountant’s involvement in a recent accident, placed him on an extended leave of absence. Since you are the only other member of your small staff qualified to balance the books, this leaves you burdened with his duties. “Remind me later to make a posting for a temp position.”

“Noted,” Jimin remarks as he continues to scroll through his phone. “Oh and don’t forget, you also have your monthly massage appointment with Kim Namjoon tonight.”

You smile at the thought, you would never forget a booking with him, especially since he’s the reason for your current state of breathlessness. You’ve been counting down the days until you get to see him, with only a few hours left you can barely contain yourself. To everyone who asks he’s a masseur, but the services he provides are far more aggressively intimate than a standard massage. You force a small cough to cover the involuntary moan starting to escape.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, just tired. I didn’t sleep well last night.” It’s not a complete lie, with the stress from work there have been a lot of restless nights recently, your appointment tonight should help to relieve a bit of that tension. There’s a loud groan as the elevator comes to a stop at your floor. You look up to the top of the lift and over to Jimin with worry, both of you stepping off with haste once the doors open.

Your entire office space consists of only a few rooms. You and Hoseok had started this company only a few years ago, focusing on corporate consultations regarding public image and approval. All things considered you’re doing rather well. With your negotiation tactics, Hoseok's philanthropy efforts, and Yoongi on retainer as your media source, you’ve been able to take on several giant corporations.

As you walk down the hall you find the temperature starting to rise, and upon stepping into your’s and Jimin’s shared office, you’re hit with a wave of heat. You whisper your curses as you check the thermostat which has been jacked to its highest setting and refuses to shift back down.

Giving up on the system you turn to the windows, but even those are a struggle after being neglected for so long. You call out to Jimin for assistance, waiting no more than a second before he is by your side. But even with his help you only manage to open them to the grand extent of a sliver before you’re forced to give in. At least with your office door open there’s now a small draft pervading the space.

“I guess I’ll send maintenance another message,” Jimin chuckles.

“You don’t think he’s trying to push us out do you?” You inquire about the building owner, and one of your own clients. You don’t usually make such bold claims, but with Jimin’s ties to the dubious man, it’s hard not to ask.

“I wouldn’t put it past him. Though I think this is more likely due to his lack of regard for the workmanship going into his properties.”

You nod overlooking the now stuffy room which holds both your desks. It serves its purpose with a sufficient amount of daylight from the large windows, and a partial wall giving you each a bit of privacy. You’d rather not have to leave this building and the status that comes with it, but there seems to be no end with these faulty appliances. “So much for being the height of sophistication.”

While you settle into your workspace you’re already dying from the heat, a sweater and camisole overtop your corset was not the best choice for today, but you didn’t want to risk anyone noticing the garment beneath. As you shuffling through your newsite tabs Jimin readies the coffee maker, returning to you with the first dose of your daily caffeine needs.

“You’re a saint.”

Jimin smiles brightly at your compliment, living for the praise as always. “Do you want some ice on the side?” He laughs as you tug on your sweater to stop it from sticking to your skin.

“Only if I can rub it all over.” You sigh jokingly as you take a sip of the hot beverage.

“I’d be happy to assist.” His smirk and piercing gaze look to be downright serious, his flirtation hitting a new high today.

“Sorry Jimin, I already have a massage appointment later. I think Namjoon would be very upset if you took his job from him.”

“That’s too bad.” He mutters, his lip still curled into a smile before stepping away from your desk. “Let me know if you change your mind. I’d be more than willing to compensate him for his loss.” Jimin has never been shy about his attraction to you, a desire which you most certainly reciprocate, but your own company policies keep the both of you tied to flirtatious word play. With Jimin winning more often than not when it comes to provocative sentiments.

He hangs around on your side of the room, straightening the chairs and stray flies, while you continue your search for whatever prompted the need for your haste meeting. At last you find it, on the featured articles of a prominent celeb news site, with the headline reading, ‘The Dark Desires of the Kim Family Heir.’

Much to your chagrin the issue isn’t regarding your client, but his son. As much as you try to stay out of personal family matters, sometimes they are unavoidable, and this looks to be one of those cases.

‘Kim Taehyung has long been considered one of the most eligible bachelors. He has it all, money, power, and a spot on every top ten most attractive list, but those who have been with him more intimately say he craves something more...’

Your mouth falls open in horror as one of Taehyung's former partners exposes their most intimate moments with him. ‘The Gucci suits and custom cologne are just an expensive mask for the darkness beneath. He would ask to be tied, bound to the bed and struck. He wanted pain and pleasure...’ The further you read the more your chest tightens. You’d rather not jump to conclusions, but you wouldn’t be surprised if it’s true. A fact which must make it all the more painful for Taehyung. You can only imagine what he must be going through, to have such private details exposed and exploited. He’s currently living your worst nightmare, a societal judgement over one's deepest desires. For professional reasons it would probably be best to stay out of this private matter, but you can’t in good consciousness let him suffer alone.

“That bad?” Jimin asks.

“Yeah...” You cover your mouth to hide your shuddering breath, blinking away the tears that threaten to spill on Taehyung's behalf.

Jimin shuffles in behind your desk with you. By lowering himself to read off your screen, his face falls next to yours. His hands come to rest on your shoulders as he leans in to eye the article in question. You should shoo him away, but you can’t help but be curious of his response to those who engage in such practices. As his eyes scan the page his grip on you tightens, his breathing erratic just like yours, with a whispered “‘Fuck,” escaping his lips.

“Are we interrupting something?” A voice calls out from your open door.

Your head snaps over in shock to find your next appointment waiting for you, with his son in tow. You jump up pushing Jimin back so you can greet your guests properly. “Mr. Kim! No not at all, please come in. This must be-”

“Taehyung...” The younger man mutters as he walks in, slumping down in one of the chairs in front of your desk. His sunglasses are still in place, the smell of spirits wafts over you along with the spicy scent of what must be his referenced cologne. He’s a sight to behold, a person of his caliber could make a fortune off his looks alone; he wouldn’t even need a drop of his father's fortune. But of course, that would have been before this public outing of his bedroom tendencies. Now he’s more likely to be seen as a pariah rather than an asset.

Directing the elder to the seat next to him, you take your own once again as Jimin retreats to his desk. You don’t even have the chance to exchange pleasantries before Mr. Kim launches into the purpose of their visit. “I assume you saw the article about my son?”

“I did, but-”

“And? What can we do about it? How can we spin it? Our stocks have already taken a hit.”

“Your son just had a serious breach in personal privacy...” You pause hoping that he’ll have some semblance of a realization that he is not the victim here, instead he simply waits for you to continue. Attempt to hold in your dismay, you give him the only answer you can, “Sue for defamation if you’d like, but whether they are printing fact or fiction the damage is done. The press is still focusing on your family due to your early misdealings in your company. I would argue that if you turn the view of operations around then there is a very good chance that the media will start to back off personal affairs.”

“You can’t expect me to twiddle my thumbs and wait. My shareholders are currently questioning his ability to lead, they might seek to replace him.”

“Good.” Taehyung mutters. “If those prudes have a problem with me, I’d rather not have to work with them.”

You bite your lip to conceal a snort of laughter. Mr. Kim fails to notice but his son seems to have caught your slip, taking off his glasses, he pierces you with a strong gaze.

Kim senior starts up again looking for sympathy and a way out, “Do you know how many of his flings I’ve had to pay off in the past-”

“Maybe you should just stick to your own business.” Taehyung eyes his father darkly.

“They made it my business when they started squealing to the press about what kind of man you are.”

You try to rein the situation in, this battle between father and son having no place in your office. “Mr. Kim! I would actually like to speak to your son for a moment. We can see if there’s a possible remedy for this... exposure.” You stand up, calling over the wall for your secretary "Jimin? Would you mind taking Mr. Kim to see Hoseok?” You turn back to your elder client, practically pushing him out the door into your secretaries’s care. “Jung Hoseok has been continuing his work on your company's philanthropic efforts. I’m sure he would love to show you what he has done with your portfolio.”

“Do you need me to come right back Miss?” Jimin asks with a pleading stare, his eyes flicker over to the young man still slumped in his seat.

“No I think we’ll be okay for a bit.” You mutter to him quietly as Mr. Kim proceeds down the hall. “Just keep him away for a few minutes.”

Once they're both gone you sit back down across from Taehyung with a sigh.

“So are your going to talk some sense into me?” He drawls with disdain.

“Fuck no,” you scoff, rummaging through your drawer. “Can I get you anything coffee, water... advil?” You finally pull out the bottle of pain relievers and offer one to him as you take one yourself, your head ready to explode in frustration over his father.

He tilts his head looking somewhat surprised, “So why did you send him away then?”

“I thought you could use a break. I’ve worked with many people like your father, they all want things done their way, and you’ll never be able to tell them otherwise. He’ll never admit to his faults, and the fact that he’s the real reason the media is all over you. So as long as you don’t tattle on me, we both can make it through this meeting with him thinking that he’s won.”

“Deal,” Taehyung agrees while he chuckles at your ploy.

“Are you sure you don’t want anything?” You offer once again.

“Actually I’ll take some advil.”

“I thought you might.” You poor him glass from the cooler and offer up the pill. When his sleeve pulls back to reach for the cup you can’t help but notice the glaring red evidence of a rope abrasion on his wrist. While he throws back the pain killer, you take another sip of your coffee rolling the bitterness over your tongue before breaching the difficult subject. “It can’t be easy to have the press prying into every aspect of your private life.”

“It’s not so much that they pry, but...” Taehyung hesitates, his brow furrows as his fingers run through his hair tugging on the strands between his fingers. “People know that they can go to them with a story and make money off any relations I have with them. And the press will gladly pay top dollar for what they have to offer.”

“The story is not a complete fabrication then?” You already know it’s not judging from his father's response and the marks on his arm, you just need to hear him say it.

“No, it’s mostly true.” He admits, watching your reaction.

“Then it would seem that your desires might be thought unconventional by many of your past partners?”

Taehyung nods, taking another sip of his water.

“From one unconventional individual to another,” you pause waiting for your own admission to sink in. To your delight Taehyung immediately perks up listening attentively as you continue. “There are more discreet ways to fill those needs.”

“Are you offering?” He asks, raising a brown along with the corner of his lips.

“No, I doubt that I would be very good at meeting your cravings, since we both hunger the same type of... attention.” You smile back at him, rejoicing in your mutual secret. “But I do have a friend who will take very good care of you. I’m going to give you a name and phone number, it’s up to you if you want to contact them, but I can assure you any conversations or actions between you and them will be kept strictly confidential. It’s not cheap,” you explain, but doubt that’ll be a problem for him. “But I assure you it’s safe and private.”

Taehyung can barely get the information from you fast enough once you jot it down. His hands, reaching for the sheet, accidentally knock over your coffee instead, sending the drink in your direction and staining your sweater. “I’m so sorry, here let me help you.” Taehyung jumps up and runs and grabs napkins from the coffee station.

“It’s fine really.” You assure him, making an attempt to stop him as he starts to blot the saturated material.

Unfortunately it’s at this moment that Jimin walks in to see your precarious state. He stands there for a moment in silence before explaining the reason for his return. “Mr. Kim said he needs to leave soon, Miss. He wanted to see if you two were... finished.” There’s glare set in his eyes for Taehyung's forwardness.

“Yeah, be right there, just one second.” You turn back to Taehyung, exchanging the damp napkin in his hand for the paper you had just written on. “Think about it, I hope you’ll give him a call. I don’t give out his information unless I think it will be of help to someone.”

“Kim Namjoon,” Taehyung mutters quietly while reading the slip. “If I were to go see him, would I find you there too?” He looks back up at you, biting his lip after posing his query.

“Likely not, he keeps his sessions very private, but you can always discuss your...” You glance over to Jimin who is still waiting, and well within earshot. “Preferences with him.”

“Then I’ll consider it, thank you.”

After seeing Mr. Kim and his son off, you're left to deal with the stain on your sweater, with only fifteen minutes before you have to leave for your lunch appointment. “Jimin could you call Yoongi and let him know I’m running a little late? I need to stop by my apartment on the way.”

“No need, I’ve got an extra shirt here.” He pulls out one of his own from his desk. “ I know it’s a men’s fit, but I think we can make it work.”

“Why do you keep that here?” You laugh. He only looks at you and the stain with a raised brow, no words needed to prove his point. “Never mind, stupid question, but I can’t take your shirt Jimin.”

“I insist, go put it on.” He forces it into your hands as you double check your watch, your time constraints leaving you with little choice.

Stepping behind the dividing wall, you strip down to your camisole, breathing a sigh of relief that the beverage hadn’t seeped into the fabric of the corset. Quickly throwing his button up over top and tucking it in, you check to ensure your intimate garment is still hidden relatively beneath the shirt before coming back out for his opinion “Does it look okay?”

Jimin nods, but when he reaches out to touch the shirt you recoil, fearing that he will discover what you wear beneath. He chuckles and persists, “I’m just fixing your collar.” He moves in closer standing just a couple inches away. Pinching the two seams of the fabric together, he considers the change. “I think it would look better like this.” You nod, keeping silent as he follows through. Pulling the fabric tight around your throat, your breathing is forced to pause for a moment as he fastens the top button. “Better?” He asks, while his hands linger around your neck.

“Much.” You whisper, as his fingers drift up to hold your chin, with the tip of his thumb dragging along the edge of your bottom lip. You stand there confused as to why your flirtatious game has taken such a physical turn. Although his actions are prohibited and should be censured, you can’t fully condemn them, deciding instead to remove yourself, rather than reprimand him. “I-I should go. I don’t want to be late meeting Yoongi.”

...

It was a productive lunch to say the least, but that was by no means thanks to you. Your focus was distinctly elsewhere. While you toyed with your bottom lip, thinking of how Jimin had touched it just moments before, Yoongi gave you everything you needed to secure several new clients. Even now as you return, disembarking the elevator on to your floor, you still can’t concentrate on the day ahead.

On the walk back to your office Hoseok catches you, quickly pulling you into his own and closing the door behind. “You need to do something about Jimin.”

“Wh-what do you mean?” You ask, nervous that he had seen you two together before you left for your meeting.

“Your client earlier, Mr. Kim, he said that he caught you two acting rather close, making suggestions that you two are involved in a sexual relationship. Usually I would disregard a comment like his but-”

“It’s not true, you know I wouldn’t!” As much as you might want to act on Jimin’s advances you’ve never crossed that line. You know it must have been bad for Hoseok to bring it up, for him to take this serious tone is evidence of his deep concern.

“I know that, but this isn’t the first time someone has thought you two might be a little too intimate. Some of the staff have also considered the notion. And I can see why, the way he looks at you, talks to you...” Hoseok trails off as his eyes linger on your apparel in confusion. “You weren’t wearing that earlier were you?”

“No, I had some coffee spill on me earlier. Jimin was nice enough to loan me his.”

Hoseok tilts his head as he raises his brow as if this validates his concerns.

“He was just being helpful!” You offer, but Hoseok doesn’t look to be swayed, and he’s right, this is a workplace not a morning after situation. “Fine, I see your point. So what do you suggest?”

“Redistribute him, send him my way if you have to, god knows that I could use the extra hand. You could even play it off as a promotion, just get him out of your office.” Your heart drops at the thought, not wanting to give him up. Hoseok seeing this takes a softer tone. “Listen I can see that you like him too. I’m sure it feels good to have his attention, but you need to get this out of your system. You have to put a stop to it. We can’t afford a scandal and you know it.”

With the assurance that you’ll think on the issue, and giving Hoseok your solution by tomorrow, you return to your office. But the problem is far from easy, though you did not lie about your physical relationship to Hoseok, you have been keeping something from him. From all of them. Jimin will never accept a promotion if it takes him away from you. He’s never worked here for the money, he doesn’t need to when his father owns half of the city, this building included.

...

-3 years ago-

“Mr. Lee, thank you so much for agreeing to meet with me.” You pull out the chair to sit across from him. The massive mahogany desk of his placing a rather large distance between the two of you.

“Yes well, my building manager said you were very persistent.” There’s a small roll in his eyes as he looks from you down to the computer in front of him.

“I wanted to discuss one of your properties, an office space in the Madeline Suites.”

He takes a swift glance at your modest appearance with narrowing eyes. “Forgive me, but I believe that location might be out of your price range.”

“Monetarily yes,” You agree. “But we offer services which might be helpful to you.”

“I do not deal in favours. I can see that this meeting was a waste of time, you may go.” He waves the back of his hand to shoo you out, while his secretary grabs the door from the outside.

“I am not asking for a favour, but offering you my services. I’m the co-founder of a corporate image consulting firm. And come this time tomorrow, I believe you’ll be looking for someone within our realm of dealings.”

“And what makes you say that?” Lee asks, his words laced with cynicism.

You lay out the first page of the article which Yoongi had sent you, stretching it across the wooden surface to place it in Mr. Lee’s view. ‘Real Estate Developer Lee Gungsang Faced Prior Allegations of Unlawful Evictions and Price Hiking.’ “This is slated for tomorrow morning’s front page.”

Mr. Lee is quick to send his secretary off, the door shutting once again. “How do you know about this? These cases were settled before they made it anywhere near the courts.”

“I have my sources.”

“Then stop this! I will pay whomever needs to be paid to prevent this from leaching out. You want the office space, it's yours.” He’s voice is desperate, you have him on the hook, the question now is, how long will he let you drag him for?

“That’s very generous of you, but nothing will stop this from going out tomorrow. My offer is simply to help you get ahead of it and lessen the damage.” You explain, revelling in the fact that money can’t hide everything.

“And how do you propose to do that?”

You pull out a contract for your serves. “I will need you to sign off on my services first. A small fee plus a far more reasonable price for a three year lease of the offices on the 14th floor of the Madeline Suites”

“Without knowing your plan, I think not.”

You give him a bright smile before mimicking his earlier statement. “I do not deal in favours Mr. Lee.”

He grumbles while taking the pen, eyeing you with a dark gaze as he signs on the dotted line.

With the ink still drying you hand over another small document. “Here are a few of my suggestions. Twenty percent of the commercial residences that you have just vacated will be handed over to non-profits for a drastically reduced monthly lease. I’ll even let you pick which you want to support.”

He looks up at you mortified. “This is excessive.”

“No this is necessary. I’ve seen corporations do far more than this when they are not dealing with a scandal. Your accountants will agree with me that this is the best move, it can be seen as a donation and therefore tax deductible. For the evicted private residences, I was thinking of partnering with a refugee resettlement program but we can discuss that more in depth later.”

You carefully tuck away your contract in Lee’s file before dragging another concern to the forefront. “I do have one more request, before I leave today.”

“What more could you possibly want?” He scoffs.

You lean in to deliver your short but important demand. “A heads up.”

“I don’t know what you mean...”

“I mean if there are any other past dealings or actions which might impact your company I need to be aware of them.” There’s always more hidden in the dark, you have one of those secrets on hand now. You need to see if he’s willing to be upfront with you on every dealing of his past, otherwise you might be forced to dig him out from another grave a couple weeks from now.

“There’s nothing else.”

“Nothing?” You ask again as you pull out your phone ready to bring forward more evidence.

“No.”

“So the knowledge of you having and hiding an illegitimate son... you don’t think that’s important? The existence of the only child of the Lee empire, isn’t newsworthy?”

“How did you-” The terror in his face looks to be even greater than the prior accusation.

“You attempted to evict all of the residents who stayed in your residential apartment for over 10 years if they refused to agree with a massive lease hike. Park Jimin was the only one who wasn’t touched. He has no record of a job, living off what must be money given to him by his parents, so I looked into them. His father wasn’t listed but his late mother, Park Haesoon, used to work for your company, and 22 years ago she signed a NDA issued by your lawyer.”

You open to Jimin’s public instagram page turning it around for his father to see. “He may take mostly after his mother, but I can still see a few clues to your family resemblance.”

“When does this one drop?” Lee asks in dismay.

“It’s not going to, at least, not from me or my source. We try not to deal in personal life consulting, but I am going to give you some advice in this matter. Get ahead of it.”

“My wife won’t hear of it.” Mr. Lee mutters through clenched teeth, it’s easy to see that this conversation has him very much on edge.

You nod seeing the crux of his dilemma. “I looked into the approximate date of his conception, you were newly married at the time, were you not?”

“Yes. She knows, but her family does not, they have a large political presence and we cannot afford to lose all support from them. Trust me, the boy is not worth the risk.”

“He’s your child!” You berate the CEO, your anger getting the better of you as you think of the emotional toll on Jimin. Not only did he lose his mother but his father won't even publicly acknowledge him.

“I won’t be swayed on this matter. If you have nothing else to say you may leave.” Mr. Lee rises from his desk and once again gestures towards the door. “I’ll have keys to your new office space delivered to you tomorrow along with the lease. But I should warn you, if there is even a whisper of his name in public in conjunction with mine, I can assure you, your so-called firm won’t last another week.”

...

Less than a month later you and Hoseok have moved your entire enterprise to the new office space. You’re holding an open house for several different staff positions, when the most unlikely of applicants walks in your door, Park Jimin.

He hands you a piece of paper which you can only guess is his resume, because your eyes fail to leave his face, your mouth unable to form words in your state of shock. Closing the door behind him, he gives you a nervous smile. “Judging from your expression, I take it you know who I am?”

You manage a single nod, still confused as to why he’s here, now, with you. It’s lucky you’re conducting the interviews alone, otherwise it would be difficult to explain your shock to Hoseok without exposing Jimin’s lineage.

“I’ve been wanting to meet with you,” Jimin confesses, adding sheepishly, “My father told me of your meeting. He said you took a bit of an interest in me, even found my social media accounts.”

“Oh, oh no.” You finally manage to sputter out, far more anxious with the younger man than his father. You never intended to meet Jimin, let alone have him find out you dug into some very personal aspects of his past and present. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t intend to invade your privacy. I was only trying to figure out what was going on. And when I learned the truth, I wanted him to own up to his mistake of hiding you.”

Jimin chuckles lightly, sitting down in front of you, “I didn’t come here looking for an apology Miss, I know why you did it. I merely wanted to meet one of the few people to ever successfully scare the shit out of my father.”

The wide beaming smile accompanying his statement spurs a laugh from you, while also allowing you to relax in his presence. “Sometimes you have to intimidate these people to get them to do the right thing. But I’m sorry I wasn’t able to convince him to go public regarding everything.”

“That’s not your fault. In the end it was just nice to hear that there's someone who thinks I deserve better.” Jimin adds, with a look of sorrow leaching into his smile.

“Of course you do, but I must ask, why come here now?” You take a moment to confirm that it is in fact his resume that he’s handed you. ”I can’t imagine that you need a job.” He’s appearance alone is enough to tell you he’s buried in wealth, though his father has not given him the family name, it looks as if Jimin has gained some of the assets.

“Actually that’s exactly what I was looking for.”

“Your father didn’t pressure you to come here to keep an eye on me did he?” You ask with scepticism. Keeping watch over possible threats wouldn’t be a completely off brand for those of his status. And with you knowing some of his deepest secrets you could likely be considered one of the biggest risks.

“No.” Jimin chuckles, briefly raising his hands in surrender. “I promise I’m here of my own volition. Money isn’t my biggest concern, I’ve been hoping to build connections. I want to use my time wisely and work with someone who is worthy of my focus, and that just so happens to be you.” He finishes with a suggestive smirk, making you wonder if you’ve won his affection too.

“And what does your focus get me?” You ask, trying to weigh the benefits versus the risk. You doubt that Mr. Lee will respond kindly to you hiring his son, but if he continues to deny his son’s existence then what right does he have to disagree?

“Anything you require. I was interested in the posting for your secretary, but any position beneath you would suit me nicely.”

...

There’s no way you’ll be able to convince Jimin to willingly change roles and work for Hoseok instead. But you can’t deny that your co-founder’s points are valid.

Jimin greets you warmly as you enter your office. “Did you have a nice lunch?”

“Yeah, it was good.” You respond, forcing out a smile.

“Really? Because you look upset.”

You curse Jimin’s ability to read you at a time like this. “I promise, lunch was fine. Yoongi gave me some substantial leads.” You sigh sliding back in your seat. With your values shaken and morals questioned by Hoseok, you are deeply in need of someone to brace yourself on. Wanting to step out of the realm of responsibility and control even if it’s just for a moment, you make a request to Jimin. “Would you go fetch Jungkook for our meeting?”

“I can just call him in.” He makes the case looking reluctant to leave your side.

“Please Jimin just go get him. I need a few minutes for a personal call.”

Jimin looks at you crestfallen before finally leaving. It’s not often you keep things from him, he can scope you out too well for that. But Kim Namjoon’s actual role in your life is the one secret you feel is the most imperative to hide from him.

You pull out your cell, not wanting to use his number on your work phone. After two rings he picks up. “Couldn’t wait a few more hours to hear my voice baby girl?”

You're too embarrassed to admit he’s right, settling on another excuse for your call. “N-no I just wanted to let you know that I’ve sent someone your way... sir.”

“Don’t lie to me I can hear the need in your voice.” He chuckles lightly as he taunts you. “Your reference already reached out to me. I’m excited to play with him, is he just as handsome as he sounds?”

“More so.”

Namjoon hums on the line in gratification. “My babygirl, giving me another pet to play with.”

You blush from the praise. Taehyung makes the sixth person you’ve suggested following the charity ball you met Namjoon at a couple years ago. Where he, much like you, was secretly scoping out potential clients. Every one of those patrons you’ve given him since then has been his pet, but you, you’re his babygirl.

��I was wondering...” Namjoon’s carries on, in a tone far more hesitant than usual. “Tonight would you be willing to try something a little unconventional? Would you like to share him?”

“W-would that be okay?” He’s never suggested adding another to your sessions before, but you can’t deny you’re intrigued by the prospect.

“He mentioned an interest in you, and after discussing his needs I feel that I require someone other than myself to pin his desires on. You’ll be the carrot while I’ll be the stick. Do you think you could do that for me?” Namjoon proposes in a low purr dragging every heated thought and possibility to the forefront of your mind.

“Yes sir.” Your response is instant, with little thought required. Helping Namjoon with Taehyung? You’d be a fool to turn down the opportunity. There’s a small knock on your office door with the return of Jimin and Jungkook trailing behind him. You start to panic while still on the phone with Namjoon. “I’ll see you later then?”

Namjoon can of course detect the change in your tone, but instead of letting you off the hook he pulls you further. “Did someone walk in on you babygirl? I take it they don’t know about this side of you?”

“No they don’t.”

“No sir.” He calls out your lack of decorum, an error which you know you’ll pay for later. “Such a shame they’re missing out. What do you think they would say if they knew of my plans for you tonight? How I intend to hang you like forbidden fruit above another man. Do you think they would approve?”

Your eyes widen as Namjoon continues and Jungkook takes the seat in front of you with Jimin standing behind him. You clear your throat and hold up your finger to them, gesturing for another minute. Turning away to hide your face as you continue to try and end the call. But hanging up on one’s dom is never advisable, condemning you to listen for as long as he wishes to torment.

“I bet you would like them watch, wouldn’t you?” Namjoon asks, egging on your sinful thoughts, transferring them from Taehyung over to your co-workers.

You shift your thighs trying to dispel the building need as you consider the notation of them watching. Imagining Jungkook’s wide eyes taking in the sight, likely with a hand on his cock, he’s an innocent man with strong desires. You’ve known others like him before, they act with naivete but when confronted with an opportunity for more, they don’t hesitate to gorge on what is presented to them.

And Jimin, would he accept your darker needs? You wish he would, desperately wanting him to play along, to help mould you into submission. Your head now filled with thoughts of kneeling before him taking him in your mouth while he christens you a good girl. If only you could be sure that he wouldn’t react like most people, like those who condemned Taehyung. Your eyes flutter back over to your secretary who is looking at you with deep suspicion. You desperately need to end the call or risk giving yourself away. “I should probably-”

“Am I embarrassing you baby girl?” Namjoon teases with an amused laugh. “Does that mean I’m right?”

“Yes...”

“Yes sir.” Namjoon reminds you once again. “I’ll release you for now, but I better see you here at seven o’clock sharp. Is that understood?”

You breathe a sigh of relief at the release. “Yes sir.” After finally hanging up, you offer up an apology. “Sorry about that.”

“Who was it?” Jimin inquires with a soft tone, but a quick lick to his lips shows his intentions to be far from innocent. His clenched fists and hovering nature further pointing towards jealousy.

“No one important.” You smile through the lie, careful in your attempt to comfort him. It’s pointless to keep acting in this way, but you still can’t bear the thought of disheartening his feelings or pushing him away.

...

After your meeting with Jungkook, you're left with a stack of paperwork and your ever persistent lack of concentration as you try to figure out what can be done with Jimin. Should you just tell him the issue, would it help or would it make the situation worse? If he knows how he is perceived then will the affection stop, and if it does, will you struggle with that loss?

“Can I walk you to your car Miss?” Jimin asks with his jacket in hand. You check the time, reading just after five. So lost in thought you had accomplished almost nothing in the last few hours of the day.

“I think I might just stay here until I have to leave for my appointment, I still have a bit more work to do.” You explain rubbing your hands over your face as you pull yourself from your daze.

“Do you want me to stay too then?”

“No, I couldn’t ask that of you. But before you go I’d like to discuss something” You gesture to the seat across from you which he takes with hesitation. You’re usually not so formal and he can clearly spot the difference. You open your mouth and pause trying to find the right words as his eyes shine in your direction. The evening sun pouring into the room bathing his skin in with golden light makes it so much harder to stick to the issue at hand. You eventually resort to staring at the irrelevant papers on your desk as you open with your concern.

“I’m worried that our actions towards each other imply that our relationship is not strictly professional.” You blurt it out quickly, hating every word that crosses your lips.

“Have I been making you uncomfortable Miss?” Jimin’s expression falls along with his question, the heartbreak ringing out clear in his voice.

“No, no. It’s just, I’m concerned about how others see our interactions.”

“Oh, so someone said something to you then?”

“Hoseok mentioned that a few people think we appear to be a bit more than boss and secretary.” You know it cowardly to bring Hoseok into this, but the information is second hand. You can’t be sure what others have said exactly.

“Well you do know more about me than most.” Jimin laughs lightly.

“That’s not what they are implying. They think we are engaged in a sexual relationship.”

“And...” He draws the word out as if the implication is nothing, implying there should be a better reason for your concerns.

“We aren’t Jimin!”

“Well, there's only one way to fix that.” He stands up leaning towards you over your desk. “You can’t say you haven’t thought about it. We could keep it a secret if you’d like, no one has to know.”

You doubt Jimin could keep a relationship between the two of you hidden, with the way he dotes on you already, you’re one passionate night away from finding three dozen roses on your desk. “Someone would find out, and the fall out-”

“Fuck the fall out,” Jimin states with resolve, reaching out his fingers tucking back a strand of your hair before curling beneath your chin. “I’m tired of this charade. Hoseok only said something because he’s jealous. He’s jealous that you want me as much as I want you.”

“Jimin,” You whisper. “Even if that was the case, that still doesn’t make it right.” You pull back from his touch. “You should go. Think about what I said, because if we can’t maintain at least some level of restraint and professionalism... then you might be better off working for someone else in the office.”

“So you’d rather keep your social image than be happy with me?” Jimin accuses, the usual warmth having completely vanished from his face.

“It’s not like that. My standing is my life, it’s my career, any blemish would destroy everything I have.” You attempt to express the fear inside you, the weight that bears on you every day. You already have so many secrets and liabilities, but one as close and extensive as a relationship with him might finally crush you and everything you’ve built. “I like you, I really do, but I can’t take the risk. You have to understand, I’m not like you. I don’t have a secret trust fund to fall back on.”

Jimin looks as though you’ve stabbed him, pulling away he heads to the exit. “I’m sorry I’m not worth the risk. You know, I thought you were better than that, but it would seem you’re just like everyone else.”

The door slamming between you echoes through the office as you sag in your chair. Never in all your years have you ever sunk so low. By taking him on you wanted to ensure Jimin’s happiness, to show him his value despite the lack of acknowledgement from his father, but now it seems you’ve fallen into the same role as those who have hurt him before.

...

You type your code into Namjoon’s door, stepping into his hall quickly and shutting the door behind you. It’s just before seven and usually you find him in his living room already waiting, but today it’s empty. Not wanting to disturb him, you take a seat on the couch and wait patiently for him to join you.

You feel ready to fold in on yourself as you continue to dwell on your argument with Jimin. If you laid out boundaries earlier you likely wouldn’t be where you are now. Hating yourself over his confession, and your inability to accept it.

There’s movement from the bedroom door as Namjoon’s partner Seokjin comes out to greet you. You look up in bewilderment as he takes your hand, pulling you off the couch. “Namjoon has already started with the other client, so he sent me to fetch you.”

You nod understanding Namjoon’s divergence from the norm, it wouldn’t be safe practice for him to leave Taehyung alone in a precarious position. Now looking to the door with curiosity, you’re excited by what lustful visions will greet you on the other side. But when Seokjin presents something to you it’s clear that you won’t get to see those sights.

“You’ve been asked to wear this.” He holds out a wide silken strip, one that Namjoon has used as a blindfold in the past. You allow Seokjin to cover your eyes, with a touch far more gentle than you know Namjoon’s to be. You don’t want kindness, craving instead to be broken in by the man in the other room, especially after the damage you’ve done today. The loss of your vision will have to be punishment enough for the time being.

“Does he want me to undress too?” You ask, touching the silk over your eyes, you're completely blind and already longing for the next step.

“No he wishes to save that pleasure for himself.”

You smirk thinking he might, you’ve been wearing his gift all day it’s only right that he gets to see it first.

There’s a knock and a click of the door before Seokjin takes you in hand again, leading you in. The air is warmer and heavier than that of the living room, making it impossible to draw a fresh breath.

Seokjin pushes down on your shoulder, a wordless order to kneel. The plush carpet meeting your knees as you lower yourself, if only you could reach out to get a better sense of what’s in front of you, but form dictates that you keep your hands on your lap.

The bedroom door closes, signalling Seokjin's departure. Sending one last wave of clean air before you're smothered once again. Locked away for the night with your master and his new pet. There’s a small creek from the mattress and the familiar rattle of restraints against the bedpost. You can just barely make out the tone of Namjoon’s low whisper as he speaks to the current tenant of the bed.

Footsteps land to your left, muffled by the wall to wall but still sending vibrations through the floor. As Namjoon approaches, your heart pounds wondering what his first move against you will be. He takes his sweet time letting the anticipation build as your chest continues to heave in its attempts to take in the thick air. You keep your posture, maintaining your stance with the knowledge that he will inspect you. Head lowered, hands on thighs, perched on your toes as your knees dig into the ground. Your legs soon start to tremble as your feet strain to bear the weight.

Namjoon settles right in front of you, the slow draw of his breath reaches your ears, while the heat of his exhale hits your face. A hand trails up the outside of your thigh stilling the tremor in your legs with a forceful grip. You freeze wondering if your jitters will cost you, you can’t let him find fault not if you want him to reward you with his presence.

But as he takes your chin tightly between his index and his thumb, you know you're in the clear. He tilts your head up as you breathe a sigh of relief. “Such a good girl, setting the perfect example.” His fingers slide down petting the column of your throat with a firm touch. “I was so happy to receive your picture this morning, did you wear the gift all day as ordered?”

“Yes sir.” You pant back, eager for him to see for himself.

“It wasn’t too hard for you then, to go so long in such a confined state?”

“No sir.”

“Good girl,” He purrs in your ear as he starts unfastening your shirt. He hesitates on the buttons for a moment. “Babygirl, would you care to tell me why you're wearing a men’s shirt?”

You swallow not wanting to admit that it’s the fault of the man currently lying in his bed. You plan to take the fall, wanting Namjoon’s undivided attention even if it’s in the form of a punishment. “I spilled something on mine sir.”

“So clumsy.” He has the shirt completely off now revealing the corset for him and likely Taehyung to see. Namjoon helps you to stand, unzipping your skirt he pushes it to the floor. You feel so helpless without your sight but Namjoon doesn’t seem to mind assisting. He uses the soft fabric of the shirt to dab at the sweat beading on your skin. “Who, may I ask, clothed you in theirs? Such an expensive label, he must think highly of you.”

You shift in place, made uncomfortable by your inability to answer. Knowing if you say his name thoughts of him will be summoned to your mind. You don’t deserve to think of him at such a time, not after you led him on and left him dry.

“You don’t wish to tell me?” The feel of Namjoon’s breath leaves you, the sounds of his feet indicating he’s moved to the right of you. Heading to a space you know to be occupied by a table and closet full of his tools. There’s a scrap of metal and what sounds like the jingle of buckles.

“No sir.”

“And why is that?” Fingers trail up your arm as Namjoon signals his return to your side.

“Because I’m not allowed to have him sir.”

“A noble response.” Namjoon reasons while he wraps the leather strap of a familiar collar around your neck. “But I still plan to get that name from you before we’re done.” He buckles it swiftly checking the tightness with two fingers. You thought him finished but he progresses to cuff your wrists in leather too, tethering them together in front of you.

He leans in again with a hushed request, “Still know your safe word?” You nod repeating is back to him before he leads you on towards the bed.

Namjoon stands behind you as he presents you to his new pet. When you gave Taehyung Namjoon’s number you hadn’t been expecting this but you can’t deny enjoying the prospect. But you find the silence and lack of reaction from him unnerving. “I asked him not to make a sound,” Namjoon explains, “And he’s abiding by my rules so well it’s he?”

Namjoon takes your hands helping you to feel the current state in which Taehyung is interned. A Leather cuff just like yours binds one of his wrists with a short chain leading to bedpost. You imagine that his other limbs are restricted to the other corners of the bed, for Namjoon has bound you in the same state before.

“Can he see?” You ask Namjoon wondering if he has been left blind too, or if he’s eyes are watching you now.

“Can he see you? He can babygirl, in fact, he hasn’t looked away once, and why would he?” Namjoon sits you down on the large bed to join Taehyung before pulling down the matching underwear to your corset. “They’re so wet, have you been soaking these all day?”

You nod in response. A delighted Namjoon makes an offer to Taehyung. “Would you like a taste pet? A reward for being so good.” Namjoon revels in his situation with a chuckle, the man beneath you must have nodded. “Then open up.” You know what a taste means for Namjoon, those panties of yours are most certainly shoved into Taehyung's mouth. He lets out a groan of satisfaction at the welcome intrusion.

Namjoon’s hands find your waist dragging you up further on to the bed with your knees now resting on the mattress. “You’re going to straddle him for me babygirl.” He shifts you over pulling up one of your legs to settle them on either side of the man beneath you. Your knees bent with your calves coming to rest against his bare hips. Without his billowy clothes he is far more slight than you expected, but his skin feels firm and toned.

You slowly move to lower yourself knowing what you will come down on top of as you sit, but Namjoon seems to have other plans in mind. He takes your bound wrist, lifting them above your head and latching the cuffs to a chain in the rafters of the canopy bed. Once fixed in place he tests your limitations, a quick tug to show you even with your arms fully extended you are only able to lower yourself to half a kneel. You groan in frustration with the realization you can’t move any closer to the cock that rests below you. It’s just as he promised, hung like forbidden fruit above another man. Your dominant’s flare for the poetic never failing to surprise you.

“Problem babygirl?” Namjoon cooes in your ear. “Do you have something you want to say?”

“No sir.”

“Good, because if I recall you still need to be punished for your lack of formality on the phone earlier today.”

Your stomach drops as you realize he’s going to discipline you right now, in full view of Taehyung. The heat rises to your face at the thought of being demeaned in front of another. Namjoon’s hand cups your bare ass, readying it for the assault. “You failed to call me sir twice, three for each lapse should do it.”

While the first strike eases you in, those that follow are not so gentle. The ring of his index biting your flesh with each impact. The third strike is so strong you pivot forward on your knees, your back arching as you bare forward still confined to the corset and chains. The weight of your body pulls painfully on your shoulders for a brief second, but Namjoon is there to catch you. Stopping you before you can slip and more, and propping you back in place before continuing.

One hand lays firmly on your stomach to prevent the shift from happening again, while the other rubs the curve of your ass mapping where he should strike next. You can feel the warmth in your skin as the blood rises to the surface in reaction to his beating. Your nerves are caught in the struggle between pain and pleasure, even as the sixth and final blow lands.

“Good girl.” Namjoon whispers his touch disappearing, as you ease down against your restraints. You hang completely by your wrists while your legs quake from the shock. Every nerve in your body feels as though it’s been left on fire with nothing to quench the flames. Leaving you to hang there for what seems like eternity.

“Sir?” You whisper in the dark as the heat continues to build inside you. Wondering where he has gone your body reacts, begging for the return of his attention with a dripping cunt. And with Taehyung below that can only mean the steady drip of your arousal is left to fall on him.

“Babygirl you’re making such a mess.” Namjoon confirms along with a groan from the man beneath you. “But he appears to be leaking too. Do you want some?” You nod eager for a taste.

Namjoon obliges, grabbing your throat in one hand, he presses a damp finger to your lips for you to take. Your mouth latches over the offered digit, allowing the bitter fluid to sweep over your tongue. You're forced to let it sit there unable to swallow as the grip on your throat tightens, with the strap of the collar digging into your skin. Your mouth fills with saliva prompting you to close it despite your desperate need for air.

“Does he taste good?” Namjoon wickedly possesses knowing you can barely even nod. It’s when you start to tremble that he finally releases your airway.

You swallow quickly before letting your mouth hang open in a pant. With your lungs still restricted by the corset your breathing comes in short shuddering waves. “Yes sir, so good.”

“I think he likes having you drench him, shall we give him more?”

“Please.” You beg but Namjoon suddenly delivers a staggering blow to your backside, indicating your misstep. You’re left gasping from the sudden impact, swinging in the restraints as you try to recoil. “Please sir.” Your plea comes again this time with the proper decorum.

There’s a crinkle of what sounds like a condom wrapper as Namjoon readies himself behind you. His fingers damp with lubrication find your back entrance, your tight hole giving way to a single finger. “You’ve been training for me like I asked?”

“Yes sir.” You almost come at the thought of it along with pleasure with the swirling digit. You’ve dabbled in anal before testing out a few toys, but a few weeks ago he sent you a plug with a tapered t-shaped end, giving you strict orders to wear it to work the following day. Unfortunately that was the date you had scheduled a meeting with your whole team. You were a flustered mess as you fought through your presentation, Jimin’s presence by your side making it so much more difficult to maintain control of your arousal . But the full day of public and torturous stimulation was worth it, for the reward that night was a call from Namjoon. His orders led you through every action of self pleasure. Telling you when and where to touch before finally directing you to come. You’ve used the item several times on your own since, knowing your practice would help you in this moment. You wanted to make Namjoon proud and take him with little resistance. That desire now intensified with having Taehyung as an audience.

“Then you're ready to take me in front of him?”

You nod gripping chains of the restraints as Namjoon eases into you. “Just relax.” His hands glide down your shoulders and back, coming to rest splayed across your hips, the tips of his finger root under the corset and dig into your stomach. Your grip eases as you lean back into him. “That’s it.” He mutters quietly as you stretch to accommodate him. “Good girl.”

After taking a few inches Namjoon pushes down on the front of your corset bowing the metal latches back to so they release, with a few clicks and swift presses the garment is off allowing you to breathe deeper than you have all day.

“God you should see him babygirl, he’s so ruined by the sight of you. You have him panting for you.” You wish you could curse Namjoon for his choice to blindfold you and silence Taehyung, you would take any punishment that came of it, but all you can muster is a gasp while he continues to fill you more. “I wonder how he’ll react,” One of Namjoon’s hands leaves your hips coming to rest with something soft against your aching clit. “When he sees you come.” With a click the object vibrates, throwing you back completely onto Namjoons cock from the shock.

You catch Namjoon’s lustful groan between your cries. He starts to thrust inside of you one hand gripping your chest while the other holds the vibrate down in place despite your bucking hips. It doesn’t take long for you to completely fold. As the heat inside you finally reaches its peak you shatter, your head falling back on Namjoon’s shoulder as you convulse and moan. With nothing for your cunt to clench your legs grip the trussed man between them. He too lets out a sinful groan as the fluids from your fold continue to drip down your legs meet his adjoining skin.

Namjoon turns the device off and slips out, the bed shifts as he moves in front of you. When his hand cups your face you lean into his touch. “You okay?”

You nod hoping he’ll be lenient with your lack of speech. You hear him whisper as he checks in with Taehyung too. “I’m going to take these now.” Namjoon must finally be freeing him from the waded underwear of yours.

Namjoon’s hands find you again, playing with the arousal dripping down your legs as he drags his fingers up to the source. A finger grazes your folds slipping between without penetrating. You pull desperately against your restraints hoping that it might find its way inside.

“So are you going to tell me who you’re not allowed to have?” Namjoon asks again. “Or do I have to let you hang here all night?”

“My secretary...” You give in with a whisper, hoping that Taehyung won’t hear.

“And what’s his name? Say it and I’ll give you what you want.”

The deal is too good for you to resist, you last only a couple more seconds before finally giving in. Crying out, “Jimin,” as two of Namjoon’s fingers breach you. Your sopping slit squelching as he curls his fingers.

“There it is.” Namjoon sighs, his other hand brushing your cheek. “Is he the reason you’re so worked up tonight babygirl?”

“Y-yes sir.” You stutter as his fingers continue. He gives you another minute of bliss before removing his digits.

“You’re going to do something for me, okay?” Namjoon asks. You nod as he continues to hold your face. “That man between your legs, you are going to fuck him and imagine Jimin as you do so, is that clear?”

“Yes sir.”

“Is that okay with you pet?” He asks the other occupant, who still remains silent with his answers. The sound of another condom wrapper, comes as your confirmation. Taehyung lets out an unexpected high pitched whine, likely due to the pressure that comes with the latex being rubbed down his shaft. You’re already so invested in the lie that he’s even starting to sound like Jimin.

Namjoon is once again behind you. You can hear the rattle of the length of chain that holds you up and as he sinks back into you, his cock slipping in far easier this time, your body gladly welcomes the fullness of his intrusion. He then lowers you inch by inch, with little strength left in your legs you are relying only on the restraints and Namjoon to hold you up. After gaining a bit more freedom you can feel the tip of a cock brushing up against you. Namjoon’s arm comes to rest on your thigh as he lines the erection up for you to take it inside. It’s a slow descent, as you stretch to accommodate both of them. Your thankful Namjoon’s mercy for easing you down gradually.

When you bottom out Namjoon pulls the chain down from the rafters he releases the length from your cuffs, but rather than discarding it he attaches it to your collar, tugging on it as if it’s a leash. Though your hands are still bound together you have the freedom to rest them on the man laying down in front of you. You take pleasure in dragging the tips of your fingers across his skin, feeling his abs flex and his cock twitch inside you as you do so.

Namjoon starts to thrust, keeping a close hold on your collar. While he pushes you are sent up and down on what you desperately want to be Jimin’s thick cock. After a few thrusts you are shoved forward entirely by Namjoon, colliding with the man beneath you. Your chest is pushed into his, as your bound hands are pinned between the two of you. While your head is left to rest on his shoulder, the tip of your nose is able to graze his neck. As you breathe in your mind continues to play tricks, the smell coming off him mimics that of the cologne your secretary wears, rather than the scent of Taehyung.

Namjoon must have unbound his legs as they bend up to cradle your own from behind his hips bucking into yours, with both men taking you at a steady pace.

You move in closer to his neck, with a lick you taste the salt of his skin showing your intentions. Biting down on the spot, you suck in deeply as your teeth dig in even harder. The carnal groans you receive from him sending shivers to your spine. There’s the sound of a soft slap, Namjoon didn’t hit you, but the man beneath you returns to his ordered silence.

Namjoon thrusts even harder, pushing you into his chest repeatedly. The thought of being fucked into Jimin’s embrace is too much to bear. Your cunt clenches as you continue envisioning your secretary, and how you're grinding your clit against his pelvis.

You cry out over the swelling girths inside you, knowing their both likely to come soon. Clenching down one last time you dissolve in the pleasure and contentment. Namjoon finishes first remaining inside while his pet comes too. He leaves you there laying upon your imagined Jimin, in your daze you can barely move let alone focus on reality. With a wave of exhaustion you start to slip from consciousness, but not before one last praise reaches your ears. Your delirium grants you the satisfaction of hearing the voice of Jimin whisper, “Good girl.”

...

You can’t remember the last time you slept so well. You woke early to find Namjoon had taken care of you in the night, he released your wrist cuffs, and removed your blindfold, after you had passed out from the physical exertion. The only restraint to remain was your collar which he asked you to wear today. Taehyung was sadly already gone, but you can’t deny it was nice to have Namjoon to yourself before you left.

Now as you head off to work, showered and freshly dressed, with a turtleneck hiding your gift, you check your phone for the first time. Finding a string of apologetic messages sent from Jimin in the early hours of the morning. You reply apologizing too and asking to revisit the subject as soon as you get into work. Thankfully he agrees, the smiling emoji he ends his text on sends a wave of relief through you.

You step in the front entrance of your building ready to handle and objectively listen to Jimin’s thoughts and concerns. While you wait for the elevator your phone vibrates listing a call from an unknown number. “Hello?”

“Hey it’s Taehyung. Hope you don’t mind, I stole your personal number from my father.”

“Taehyung...” Heat starts to rise in your face at the thought of last night. The elevator arrives and you quickly step in. “No, not at all, to what do I owe the honour of this call.”

“No need to be so formal,” He giggles at you.

“Sorry, habit,” You respond. “What can I do for you?”

“I wanted to thank you for yesterday...” Taehyung starts off.

But his words are soon interrupted by someone shouting, “Hold the door.” You comply, pushing the button to keep them open, while trying to keep your focus on your conversation with Taehyung.

“...It’s not often that I meet someone who I can be so open with. I called the man you recommended and I’ve scheduled my first session with him tomorrow.”

You freeze, unable to fully comprehend what he’s saying, surely he misspoke. It can’t be his first session. “W-what do you mean your first session is tomorrow? You were there-” The collar hidden beneath your turtleneck feels as though it’s tightening around your throat. “Last night, I saw you-” The line goes dead as the elevator closes and starts to ascend. It was Taehyung in the bed with you and Namjoon last night. You saw... nothing you saw nothing because of the blindfolded that you were asked to wear.

“Everything okay?” You jump at the sound of the other voice, forgetting that some else had gotten into the elevator. Looking up you find Jimin there beaming at you, his head tilted from his query.

“Namjoon,” You flutter with your phone, too panicked to even greet your secretary properly. “I need to call Namjoon.” But the line won’t connect, not with you in the elevator. “Fuck...” You try again your patience not willing to wait the minute it’ll take to disembark on your floor.

You are almost there when the elevator shudders and stops. The sudden halt sends you off balance, but Jimin’s there to grab hold of you before you can fall. You thank him before stepping back and putting a bit of distance between the two of you again.

Jimin turns his attention to the panel, pushing the call button, he waits for someone to answer, but the call remains silent.

While he continues in his attempt to make contact, every scene of the night before floods back to your memory as you try to piece everything together. It was Taehyung, it had to be. He must just be playing a stupid joke. He was surely going to shout ‘gotcha’ before the phone disconnected, but you won’t know for certain until someone can get you off this blasted lift. You sink to the floor and Jimin follows, unable to reach anyone on the outside.

Despite your best efforts to rationalize what happened, your panicked breaths fail to slow, Spots start appearing in your vision as the elevator sways around you. Your breakfast threatens to make another appearance on the polished marble floor.

“It’ll be fine. Someone will notice soon.” Jimin attempts to comfort you but even that won’t quash the fear raging inside you.

“It’s not just that...” You whisper. “Something happened last night. I need to call Namjoon, I need to figure out...” Who was actually in that bed with you. Your confusion and panic break free sending you into a fit of tears as you hug your knees to your chest.

“Hush, it’s okay.” Jimin readjusts, moving in front of you and taking your hands in his. He leans towards you as he whispers in your ear. “Don’t cry babygirl.”

Your eyes snap to look at Jimin in alarm. Your prior worries are nothing compared to the terror which takes hold now. “H-how do you know that name?” Your stuttered words barely make their way past your lips.

“I think you know the answer to that question.” He pulls at the collar of his shirt allowing you to spot a large red mark on his neck, right where you had bitten the man you once thought to be Taehyung. “I wanted to wait a bit longer, I wanted more moments like we had last night but it would seem that someone had to go and ruin it.” You pull back but Jimin’s hands shift to take hold of your wrists, mimicking the manacles that embraced you the night before. “Are you not happy babygirl? You got your wish. And I... I got what I’ve always wanted.”

“This is so wrong Jimin! You knew I thought you were someone else! You knew that I wouldn’t have done that last night if I knew the truth.”

“Even though I was the one you really wanted babygirl?”

“Stop calling me that! Just because of what happened last night does not make me yours. You lied to Namjoon. You said that I sent you. You told him you were Taehyung!”

Jimin gives a wicked laugh in response to your accusations. “Oh, but you are mine. Namjoon is the one who’s been keeping things from you. He’s been in my employ far longer than yours.” He coos as his fingers tighten their grip on you. “I was the reason you were introduced to him, and I was the one who bestowed you with that name shortly after.”

“No, that’s not possible, Namjoon and I, we met at a charity event.”

“Hosted by my father. Where I told him to make himself known to you, to entice you to become one of his pets. I may have acted the sub last night but I am the one who holds Namjoon’s reins, I always have.”

“No he would never do that! He’s considerate and-”

“Had so much to gain by dominating you on my behalf. Money, power, and an assurance of safety, he would’ve been a fool to turn my offer down. Especially since you were so willing to play along with him. I dare say he enjoyed his time with you, but I was the one who permitted him to touch you. I was there to listen, to read, and to direct every conversation. Those gifts he told you to wear to the office, they were all from me.” He lets go of one of your wrists to pull down the neck of your shirt. Revealing the leather band strapped around your neck. “Today it’s the collar, yesterday it was the corset, and a few weeks ago...” Jimin smirks as he recalls the memory to your mind. “You barely made it through that meeting thanks to my gift.”

It’s impossible to swallow the admissions coming from him, but regardless of what may be true or false, you won’t stand for any of it. “You’ve had your fun, but this ends now.” You reach up attempting to remove the collar but Jimin pushes you to the floor pinning your arms above you as he straddles you. The elevator wavers from the struggle, teetering as you lay captive beneath him.

“I don’t think you understand the situation you’ve placed yourself in. I hold in my possession your darkest secrets. One’s that will ruin you if they make their way out. Your illegal activity with a sex worker, your inappropriate sexual conduct with your secretary. Not to mention the names and dubious activities of every client you’ve recommended to Namjoon’s services.”

“Why... why are you doing this?”

“Because you found me. I worked so hard to exploit my father from the outside, getting everything I wanted without the threat of public exposure. I couldn’t let you ruin it all. When we first met I considered you a threat, but then I saw how easy and enjoyable it was to mould to my will. The more intimate you become with someone the more power you give them over you. Simply being your secretary isn’t enough, not if I want you in a more pliable state.” Jimin hushed whisper mixes with a haunting giggle as his lips come to your ear. “I plan to bend you to fit every one of my needs.”

“You’re psychotic!” You lash out trying to throw him off but he stems your revolt by planting himself further down on to you, sitting on your chest as the elevator sways.

“Psychotic? No, I am simply a man who found his passion amidst his revenge. I know what I desire, and vengeance has taught me how best to take it. So if you want to keep yourself and everything else around you from falling, I suggest you play along like a good girl. Or I promise you, my punishments won’t be as kind as what you’ve experienced before.”

“What is it that you want?” You ask, already fearing his answer. He has you trapped in a gilded cage with him, where one misstep will send you plummeting to meet your end. Nothing that comes accompanied by such threats can be palatable.

“At work? To keep the status quo, I’ll remain your secretary, only so I can keep a better hold on you.”

“Hoseok won’t agree to that. He already thinks I should ditch you. I should have listened to him.”

“Then you will make him agree or he might have an accident, much like your accountant did. He too thought we were too close, even threatened to say something. Don’t worry I saved us from him, just as I’ll save us from Hoseok if you can’t convince him to back off. Do you think you can get him to agree now?”

You give a solemn nod, with Hoseok on the line you have no choice.

“After hours, we’ll drop the middleman.” Jimin lowers himself further on to you, laying down on top, his weight flattening you to the floor. With his head coming to rest on your restrained arm as he whispers further plans. “Every night you’ll come to me instead, and every morning you’ll have a new gift to wear. When we step off this elevator you’ll act as if nothing is wrong. You will go about business as usual, is that clear babygirl?”

You stifle a sob staring directly up and away from his eyes, not daring to give him the satisfaction of your fear. With little else to cling to, all you can do is agree for the time being, as much as it pains you, you choke out your compliance. “Yes...”

“Yes what?” Jimin purrs, his lips faintly touching your ear. “Address me properly, or I will find ways to discipline you right here on this lift.” His fingers tighten and nails bite into your skin.

“Yes sir,” you whine as a plea for him to stop.

Jimin mercifully lessens his hold on your wrists, hitting you instead with a smirk and befouled praise. “Good girl. I knew you’d finally see that I’m worth the risk.”

...

4K notes · View notes

ppersonna · 5 years ago

Text

i’ll float away - myg | m

they show you how to swim, then they throw you in the deep end. what if I don’t float? - float, the neighborhood.

↳ summary- years after the breakup, yoongi, a successful award-winning rapper with an unhealthy addiction, finds your wedding invite on Facebook.

↳ rating- explicit/18+

↳ word count- 12.6k

↳ pairing- yoongi x reader

↳ genre- idol!au, postbreakup!au, very heavy angst, smut, fluff

↳ warnings- discussions of drugs and death, penetrative sex, oral sex (m/f receiving), creampie, dirty talk, min yoongi being a mental health king

↳ a.n- hi everyone! some of you may recognize this fic. this fic is my baby. i went through and edited it a little more and put all the chapters together to make it a one shot. i think it flows better that way! i hope you enjoy this. this fic means so so so much to me and while it’s heavy, i hope you enjoy the ride it will take you on. this fic got me back into writing and i will forever be thankful for that.

↳ this fic contains adult content, such as drug use, discussions of suicide, accidental overdose, discussions of drugs and addictions. while this is not romanticized, or idolized, it is discussed. please take care of yourself and proceed with caution. 18+ | discretion is advised.

‘We cordially invite you to the wedding of…’

Min Yoongi felt numb.

Yoongi always felt numb, but this felt different, wrong. Like he was falling and had no ledge to grip.

It felt as if the world had stopped on its axis, and at any moment, gravity would turn off and he would just float, float away to nothingness.

There was no sound. Everything existed in silence.

His fingers couldn’t move. Eyes were glued to his phone screen where he stared at the wedding invite on fucking Facebook.

He wasn’t even sure why he was seeing it, considering you had blocked him on nearly every form of social media. Likely it was from your family, someone that still kept him around despite a million reasons not to.

It felt like centuries before Yoongi noticed his heartbeat again. And when it did, it hurt. It threatened to break his ribs, tear through muscle and sinew, erupt from the skin to go, get away, run run run from this.

The numbness was gone. Now all he felt was the pain.

Yoongi felt like his every cell, every fiber, was burning. Perhaps, they were mourning.

Perhaps, they were dying.

Water dripped onto his phone and it took him a few stunted breaths to realize the water was coming from him, pouring from his eyes like open wounds.

The numb silence surrounding him left him, and now he was too alert, too aware. The sounds hit him like a tidal wave.

His body was reacting years before his brain could catch up. He could hear himself crying, choking on his sobs, and at first, it didn’t register as his own voice wailing your name.

And then emotion erupted and smashed into his psyche, nothing standing in his way to protect him.

He was heartbroken.

He had felt nothing in years, refused to face the sorrowful demons lurking around him. It was easier to hide, to run. It terrified him to think of what would happen if he allowed himself a chance to feel again. He didn’t think he would make it out alive.

Alive.

Was he? Had he been living since that day? He wasn’t sure. He breathed, ate, drank, fucked, but he wasn’t positive he was alive at all.

Living? Sure. Existing? Yes. But alive, he couldn’t determine.

Now that he could feel every ounce of pain, his body accepted it tenfold. His throat felt angry and raw. He must be screaming—he thought. His fingers pricked with pins and needles as if they hadn’t moved an inch since the day he last touched you, refusing to believe you were gone. His arms wrapped around his own chest as his body wracked with sobs.

Yoongi hadn’t cried in years. He hadn’t allowed himself to cry, hadn’t given permission to his mind to even think about it. Surely, once he started, he was confident he would never stop.

His mind reeled. He was only half aware of where he was, what he was doing. It wasn’t until he felt his legs moving, feet shuffling to his nightstand, that he realized what was happening.

He didn’t want to feel. His mind, in an effort to protect, to avoid, was doing the only thing Yoongi knew to do.

He grabbed the bottle of Oxy’s, poured out a handful and contemplated swallowing them.

He didn’t think he wanted to die. To be frank, he felt he was already living in purgatory. He just wanted it to stop, to end, to retreat into nothingness and stop fucking crying.

Swallowing them wouldn’t do. He would fall asleep, and likely stop breathing. Too much. He couldn’t die. He knew in his mind he would feel too guilty to die. He didn’t want death; he merely wanted respite, sanctuary.

He could continue surviving as long as his nerves dulled and frayed, mind sticky and hazy. Exist. Don’t feel.

With skilled hands and tools, Yoongi crushed some pills into a fine powder and sat on his bed to arrange the drug into 4 lines.

He always felt better this way.

He would add a line of coke had his situation been different. It was his go-to, enough to keep himself present, to do what he needed to get through the day while still feeling dissolved. Sing, dance, record, smile for the cameras, sign for the screaming girls, plaster on that boyish smile, repeat.

He just wanted to sleep.

His body worked on auto-pilot. Yoongi was sure he was still heaving with sobs. He could feel his chest shaking, and his hands were unsteady.

You were getting married.

One bump. Inhale. Hold it. Don’t think. Breathe.

Someone else was holding you, smiling as bright as your future. Handsome. Kind. Family man.

Alive.

Second bump. Inhale. Don’t let it go. Breathe.

He imagined your hands on someone else’s body, your voice crying out in throes of passion in someone else’s ear. Whispering someone else’s name as you succumbed to your climax.

Third bump, then straight to the fourth without stopping. It burned as it passed through his nostrils, straight to his bloodstream.

Children, a home and a dog. Family dinner. Movies, laughter. All of them without him. An outsider staring in through the window, wondering what it could feel like to be within; wondered what it was like to get what he wanted.

Yoongi leaned back on his bed, feeling the slow, syrupy wave wash over him.

‘Please, take it away’ he pleaded silently as if the drug were his doctor, his therapist. It was, in many ways. ‘I’m not strong enough.’

His eyes drooped and felt like lead. He was tired. So tired. He could feel his sobs slow, before ending in quiet little whimpers and sighs. His breathing mellowed, and he felt his chest deflate for what felt like hours before his lungs pulled in harshly more air.

He ached but felt as if someone had pulled a blanket over him, over his tortured heart and crumbling brain. No more thinking, just sleep. Can’t feel, can’t cry, don’t want to face it.

Sleep.

Warmth.

Warmth surrounded him. It felt as if he were napping in the shady grass during summer. Warm and comforting.

You were there, in the meadow of his imagination. You were walking to him, a white dress and pretty flowers. Yoongi felt his heart tug at every artery in his body, as if begging him to stop, heel, resist, don’t go.

“Yoongi,” You called across the valley. Your dulcet voice rang through his head as if you spoke directly to his mind.

“Where are you?” You asked.

In a blink, you were in front of him. Your eyes were searching for him, even though he stood inches away.

He opened his mouth to beckon you, but no words came out. He was desperate to call out to you, embrace you. He strained to move his hand. He wanted to touch your cheek, feel real and alive again. His body would not respond.

“Yoongi, go!” You pleaded, eyes filling with tears, still seeking the male. “You can’t be here!”

His body stung, wincing at your words and aching at your distress.

“Yoongi, you need to wake up!”

The warmth faded.

It felt as if something had ripped his comfort blanket from him, exposing his body to the harsh chill of reality.

He could sense he was in a bed, and the lights were bright, so bright. He tried to open his eyes and groaned as the halogen pierced through his skull.

“Yoongi?! Oh my god, he’s waking up!” Distressed voices were too loud all around him, and he felt pokes and prods and beeping of machines.

“Ow-… loud.” His voice was rough as if he hadn’t used it in days.

Yoongi felt more acutely aware of his body as he struggled to wake up. He was so nauseated, stomach churning ferociously, even though he hadn’t eaten since… how long? He wasn’t sure. He wanted to vomit.

He wanted to sleep.

He lifted his eyes again and peered through the harsh lighting. His best friend Hoseok stood over him, along with Namjoon, his manager, and Jimin, his assistant.

Hoseok had tears in his eyes, and the sight made Yoongi wince with grief. Hobi hadn’t cried since high school when he got cut from the dance team. Something awful must have happened.

“Hobi…,” he murmured, coughing to clear his throat. “What happened? What’s going on?”

Adjusted to the light, Yoongi finally glanced at his surroundings and took stock of his environment.

He was in a hospital; he was the patient. An IV was stuck in the crook of his arm, his skin ghostly pale, enormous bags of saline attached overhead. He felt faint.

How had this happened? Did he hurt himself at practice? Was there a car accident? Yoongi could remember driving home from the dance studio but felt foggy about anything else. He didn’t even know what day it was.

His friends blanched at Yoongi’s questioning, side-eying each other. Who would have to be the one to tell him?

Hoseok’s eyes flooded with tears again as he looked at the rapper and spoke. “Yoongi… you-… you OD’d.”

The words hit him like an oncoming train.

Overdose.

It had never happened to him before.

He nearly died.

He had, unfortunately, been in the game long enough to watch it happen to others. Some were lucky to make it out okay, most weren’t.

It all flashed painfully in his mind as it all flooded back.

You. Marriage. OxyContin.

Inhale. Don’t breathe. Don’t feel.

“Oh, my god.”

Hoseok let out a soft sob. “Jimin found you in your bed. Thank god you keep Narcan.”

Yoongi turned to glance at the gentle, pink-haired boy who had already done so much for him. Yoongi felt wrecked, utterly guilty for putting him in such a situation. How many times had Yoongi had to force a needle into a friend’s thigh, watch as their pinpoint pupils widened and lungs gasped for air as their synapses released? Too many. Each time kept him awake all night and petrified for months. He regularly kept the overdose reversal drug on him, in the studio, in his home.

“Jimin,” he croaked, his own eyes filling with tears. “I’m s-so fucking sorry.”

Jimin couldn’t hold back the tears in his eyes anymore. “It’s okay, Yoongs.” Jimin’s voice was quiet, trembling.

Yoongi felt the tears slip down his cheeks at his best friends and team. He had put so much on them. So much.

“You saved my life, Jimin.” Yoongi’s quiet voice made the assistant cry more.

“You’d do it for me.” He whispered through tears as he pushed forward and fell into Yoongi’s chest, holding the rapper close. “Let’s just… get better, y-yeah?”

The rapper’s heart seized up.

Better.

What was better? Surely, Jimin meant rehab. Sobriety. Meetings and sponsors.

To Yoongi, it meant feeling. It screamed hurting. It oozed heartbreak.

When Yoongi had been introduced to drugs at the beginning of his rap career, it had been fun and sexy. They used coke at the hottest parties, weed at all the clubs, acid at the raves. Yoongi sampled each like a buffet, found out which made him feel lightheaded and loose, which made him dizzy, which made him ache.

The drugs led to the girls. So many women begging for him. The cloudy haze of his mind found it hard to resist, even knowing you were still his, still waiting for him as you and he promised with thin silver bands symbolizing your shared devotion and dedication.

Therefore, drugs led to regret.

He left you. Days before your wedding. He exposed all of his misdeeds, his infidelity, his vices. He had promised you after he was famous, rich, well known that he would come back to you, start a family with you.

Instead, he turned away and left.

It was easier to avoid it all and leave; he rationalized. Seeing your heartbreak had been his undoing.

After the breakup, Yoongi self-medicated daily. He stuck with opiates and cocaine, finding it just the right combination to get him pleasantly numb from the guilt and loss of you while giving him the euphoric high he needed as a rising star rapper.

He had tried to keep it to himself as long as he could. Hoseok knew about the recreational use but hadn’t realized the extent of the problem until he found Yoongi too high to function, slumped in a chair in the recording studio.

Hoseok told Namjoon, his manager, who interrogated Yoongi’s assistant, Jimin. None had known quite how far Yoongi had spiraled down. And none had an idea to pull him out.

Yoongi didn’t want to go to rehab. He didn’t want the forced positivity. Group therapy. Social workers discussing ‘goals’ and ‘treatment plans’. He would risk his reputation. He was now a top-earning Grammy-winning artist. He was fucking Agust D. He couldn’t be just another celebrity who ended up in rehab. It would ruin everything he built. He could do it himself, fix his problems alone as he always had.

“Yeah.” Yoongi croaked to his assistant. “I’ll get better.” His smile was weak, and probably unconvincing to the three men who knew him best.

As Namjoon opened his mouth to speak, a knock sounded at the door of his room. Yoongi’s brow furrowed in confusion. He did not know who it could be, the three people he interacted with most already present. His accountant? Wouldn’t seem likely. A fan? Definitely unlikely, Jimin and Namjoon had likely taken major strides to ensure his privacy and ask the hospital to provide security. Was it… you? Yoongi stopped breathing at the thought.

Namjoon strode to the door and opened it a crack, peering out. Yoongi couldn’t see who the manager was whispering too, but moments later watched as the door swung open.

It wasn’t you. He felt relief. He wouldn’t have been able to look at you. But the guest was only slightly better.

Your mother.

The matronly woman’s eyes were full of tears. Yoongi’s mother had been your mother’s best friend from childhood, to the very day Yoongi’s mother passed away from breast cancer. Yoongi had been 17, void of any motherly contact at such an impressionable age.

Your mother had stepped in, no doubt or worry in her mind about caring for the teen. He was already such good friends with you and she even encouraged and supported the underlying feelings the two had for each other. Yoongi became family and nearly a son-in-law.

Even after the breakup, after breaking your heart and leaving you at the altar, your mom still kept in contact with him. She still reached out, celebrated his achievements and ensured he was well. She was the picture of forgiveness and compassion.

Yoongi crumbled at the sight of her, suddenly feeling like a teenager again, and sobbed as she moved forward quickly to embrace him. Namjoon, Hoseok, and Jimin stepped outside to allow privacy and Yoongi clung to the only mother figure he had.

“I’m sorry. I’m so s-sorry.” He bawled.

He didn’t know exactly what he was apologizing for. For hurting you? For avoiding her and the entire realm of anything concerning you? For almost killing himself? Maybe a mix of it all.

His chest hurt, god it hurt so bad. It felt as if all ribs snapped from the crushing weight of his sorrow and guilt.

Her hand smoothed his hair, mint-colored now, and held his face to her neck and cried with him.

“Shh,” She soothed. “It’s okay, little lion.”

Yoongi cried harder at the childhood nickname from his deceased mother that followed him to adulthood with the woman holding him.

Yoongi couldn’t stop crying. It wouldn’t end. It felt like an endless river, a torrential storm that never passed. He felt raw, ripped from the inside out.

“You’re alive, Yoongi.” She whispered and kissed his forehead. “You’re still here. I love you.”

He wasn’t sure what he had done in a past life to deserve this kindness and unconditional love. Yoongi knew he didn’t deserve it, especially not from the mother of the girl he loved and broke completely. Not from the woman who he promised to make a grandmother, only to turn away and leave destruction in his wake.

“She’s getting married,” He choked out, the pain in his chest overwhelming him at his own words, so consuming he felt devoid of air. He gasped, struggling to breathe at all. “T-that should be me.”

She sensed this and squeezed her eyes tighter, hugging the boy closer to her as sobs wrecked his tired, thin body.

“I know, love.” She whispered. “I know.” She had no words to quell the heartbreak, just as she had many years ago when you laid across her lap, crying over the boy you loved completely. Words wouldn’t fix the wounds. She could only provide comfort; a band-aid on a bullet hole.

Yoongi allowed himself to sob, fully cry until he felt he might pass out. She held him, rocked him like a child, whispered words of comfort as his breathing eventually slowed and even out. His sobs turned to sniffles, and though he stopped crying, his eyes remained glassy and broken.

He had stopped crying; he noticed. The tears had stopped flowing, the thick pleas escaping his throat dried. But he hadn’t stopped the hurt. It felt as though the hurt was a gaping, infected, open sore that would never heal. He could hide it from the world, cover it up for none to see, but he couldn’t ignore the sting or the pain with every breath.

Yoongi steeled himself to look into the eyes of his comforter, preparing himself for the look of pity or disappointment in her look.

He bit back another cry as he only found compassion, comfort and unconditional love in her gaze. He didn’t deserve her.

“Please, don’t tell her,” he pleaded. “I can’t…,” he gulped. “I can’t let her know about this.”

She grimaced. “I’m afraid it’s too late for that.” She sighed, stroking her fingers through his mint colored hair. “She wanted to come to see you, too.” Yoongi groaned and felt his heart clench. “I told her it wasn’t the best idea.” She murmured. Yoongi was suddenly comforted and struck by how very much he did not deserve the grace of this woman.

“Fuck,” he sighed. “She thought I was clean. That was the last thing I told her.”

He recalled the last time you two had spoken when he promised to get clean. Instead, he had left and spent the next few years in a haze.

“I think you should talk to her,” she admitted. “Not now. Not until you feel better, but she was distraught at the news.”

The idea of seeing you again plowed through him like a freight train.

“Sure,” he whispered. He couldn’t understand why you’d be concerned. You had swung choice words at him as he left, insults he deserved. “Maybe.”

Yoongi spent more time with his mother figure, comforting him and whispering sweet revelations and promises to keep in touch before his doctor interrupted and encouraged Yoongi to get rest without distraction.

Soon enough, he was alone again. Stuck in the too bright, too white, sterile room he had landed himself in because of his grief.

His attention diverted between the discomfort of his withdrawal and the gaping wound of having to see you again.

Even if he made it out sober, withdrawal free, he wasn’t sure he would make it out for long.

He tried to stay away, stay clean. He managed for a few weeks, immersing himself in writing an album and using his creative expression to medicate his wounds. And it worked.

Until it didn’t.

It started with the marijuana. He couldn’t resist the way it helped soothe everything. Not just the pain, but the world around him. He could sink into his bed, write away his feelings and worries, and relish in the sensation of absolutely nothing.

That lasted for a few weeks. He’d try to smoke every day, but the darkness continued to creep up, wrapping around his throat like a vice.

He demanded his schedule to get busier, to get tighter, despite the warnings from Namjoon. He insisted on shows, award dinners, radio interviews, everything. If he was busy, he wouldn’t think about you. He could survive another day if you weren’t the first thing on his mind.

That’s when the cocaine started again.

It helped him muster the energy he needed to plaster on Agust D, rapper extraordinaire. He could sing, rap, dance, wink at the girls, sign the scantily clad flesh, throw back a shot of vodka and charm the press.

A few lines of coke every few hours pushed him forward, and towards his end.

But he was handling it. Wasn’t he? Wasn’t he working, being successful, making money? He was rich. He was famous. He was beloved. He was shining.

Did it even fucking matter?

The shine made his shadow darker. It made his fall from grace longer, more painful.

It didn’t fucking matter.

Yoongi found himself at the corner of the park, the same one you two had grown up playing in. It was in the center of the neighborhood you two lived. It was where he first chased you around the swings, laughed with you over comics at the picnic table, and fucked you for the first time in the parking lot in the backseat of his car.

He couldn’t stop the memories rolling over him like a boulder, crushing his lungs and threatening to snap his bones into nothing more than dust.

It stunted his breath. He felt as if pulling in a full intake of air was impossible.

He finally sucked up his faux courage and scheduled a time to meet you here at this park. The park that held such significance to both of you.

If he thought it was hard to breathe at the memories of the park, it was even worse when you walked towards him, and planted your feet in front of him.

There was nothing. Stillness. Absolute silence as you both felt as if the barometric pressure dropped around your vicinity. A vacuum. Nothing but you two, and so much hurt it was palpable.

“Y-You’re getting married-..” Yoongi broke the silence, voice dry and quiet. He wanted to say more, but couldn’t. He couldn’t look anywhere but his feet. Didn’t want to see a ring around your finger that wasn’t from him.

You nodded, tears welling in your eyes. “Yeah, I am.”

Yoongi couldn’t look at you, couldn’t look you in your eyes. It was too much. Too painful. Those eyes used to look at him with so much love, so much pride. He couldn’t bear to see what you held in them now.

“Great, that is great,” his voice was flat. “Happy for you. I hope it goes well.”

You cringed and turned your face up to stare at the mint-haired boy. The man of your dreams. The one who took so much and left you with nothing.

“Hoseok told me what happened.”

Yoongi closed his eyes, as if blocking out the words. Fuck. Of course. You and Hoseok were still close; it was bound to happen.

His world now was so dark, so ugly. Yoongi couldn’t bear ruining you any more. You had been the iron rod and lamplight that led him through the darkness. You were his lifeline. Without you, all stability, all light, gone.

“Yeah,” was all he could muster, flickering up to look at you. You were staring back, eyes full of unshed tears.

Yoongi inhaled sharply, feeling each tear from your eyes as a knife to his chest. He hadn’t seen your eyes in so long. Staring at you was like leaving a hand on a burning stove.

“Are you still using?” You asked. Your words weren’t callous or cruel. You asked to gather information, to determine an opinion, not to pass judgement. Yoongi knew you meant no harm and found himself powerless to lie to you, anyway.

“Just…,” he let out a puff of air anxiously. “Yeah, sort of. Weed and some coke, I guess. Nothing else.” He rubbed his neck anxiously.

Your lips set in a line, and your eyes flicked back down, sadness washing over your features. He could feel it rolling off of you in waves, lumps building in his throat.

“I miss you,” He admitted, words tumbling out before he could catch himself. “So fucking much. I know this isn’t fair, and I know that I fucked up. I just miss you more than anything else in the world.”

At first, you laughed. Yoongi felt as if someone had punched him.

Then you cried. Yoongi felt as if he had been shot, point blank in the chest.

“You’re right, Yoongi. It isn’t fair,” You walked closer to him, a mix of grief and anger. “You ruined my fucking life.”

You pushed against his shoulder. “You left me at the fucking altar. You cheated on me.” The tears came faster down your cheeks. “Then, you almost fucking died. And my mom won’t stop crying. And I can’t stop crying, I fucking cry my eyes out because my wedding is in 2 months and I realize I will never get over you.”

Yoongi felt another shot, execution style, to the head. He couldn’t speak and watched your anger, accepting the jabs to his chest.

“I thought I was happy, Yoongi. I really thought I would get the wedding and life I wanted so badly, and you took it away from me. Twice!” You were sobbing, pushed even closer against him. “You almost fucking dying made me realize I don’t want that life with him. I want it with you, you fucking inconsiderate asshole!”

Yoongi couldn’t bring himself to speak. Any elation he might have had about hearing your revelation was quickly quelled by the fire of your anguish.

“And, now you’re still using and there’s no way I could even think about seeing you high. I love you so much and it fucking hurts me knowing you do that to yourself, accepting no sort of fucking help. You can’t do it all yourself, Min Yoongi, no matter how fucking great you think you are!”

He couldn’t reply. He had no words, nothing of value to add. You were right. He couldn’t find a single argument. Your body pressed so close to him and his body ached. It yearned to close the distance and feel your shape against his, slotting together so easily as you always had. It was magnetic. He could almost weep at how badly he needed to hold you, to feel you, to touch you again.

You watched him, unable to stop the flow of tears you promised you would never shed for him again. “Look at me.” You asked quietly.

Yoongi’s own red-rimmed eyes lifted to yours. He looked so broken. So raw. He was crying, years of built up sorrow pouring down his pale cheeks.

You closed the distance and pushed together your bodies, wrapping your arms around his neck and resting your face against his neck. He smelled as he always did. Dove shampoo, Old Spice, laundry detergent. You knew Yoongi nearly down to his DNA.

You lifted your face level to his and pressed a kiss to his lips. He felt no heat in the kiss, no desire.

It felt final, resolute.

“Goodbye, Yoongi.” You whispered, pressing your forehead to his.

And you turned. And you left.

And another piece of Yoongi’s broken heart slipped away with you.

Yoongi avoided any semblance of routine. He couldn’t focus. He couldn’t feel anything but ache. He saw you in everything he did.

He tried to stay away from the drugs. He sincerely did. He knew the risks. He knew he had nearly died.

But he could not bear to take the pain anymore. He could not continue fighting his very breath, forcing himself to breathe even though it hurt too much.

He was still standing on the outside of your world, so far away from you. It was so cold. He didn’t remember what warmth was. He didn’t think he deserved to remember, either.

It was easy to score a baggie of smack. Yoongi had plenty of money and connections. But Yoongi had never done heroin intravenously. He had smoked it with his old dealer, the first man he ever had to revive with Narcan. IV use scared him. But it was what he could get a hold of, and what he needed.

Tie off. Fill up. Inject. Hold it. Breathe. Don’t feel. Release.

It washed over him quickly, the same fuzzy warmth that started at his toes and slithered up to his head. It felt headier than snorting it, less of a slow rush, more of an instant dive into warmth. Comfort.

The knot in his stomach loosened. Yoongi relaxed against his pillows and inhaled deeply before exhaling. He could breathe again.

He was so sleepy. So tired. He could sleep again without the torment of his dreams. He could live again without feeling his shattered heart. No hurt. Only comfort.

His only love.

He wasn’t sure how long he slept for. He didn’t dream. He couldn’t recall if five minutes had passed or five days. His head pounded him back to reality as he woke, and he realized it was dark outside his bedroom.

His phone was still on his bedside table. He checked it and groaned. It was the next day, next evening really. He had slept over 24 hours. He felt like shit.

The nausea and the chills came soon after. He felt as if he was burning. He couldn’t stop puking, even with minimal content in his stomach to begin with. Sips of water would come back up. His fever got worse. He became so drenched in sweat he stripped his clothes and sat in a bath, hoping to sweat the fever out. It chilled him to the bone. He was so hot, and so fucking cold at the same time.

Yoongi cried as he held himself in the tub. He was alone. He was withdrawing. He wanted more, god he wanted to sleep and feel good again, didn’t want the sickness or the grief. It was so much. So fucking much.

His fingers danced along his phone, dialing your number out of habit, out of a need to hear you.

“Why are you calling me, Yoongi?” Your voice, flat, asked through the phone.

Yoongi croaked. His voice was hoarse due to disuse for over a day. “I fucked up, baby.”

Your heart clenched at the sound of the pet name. It had been so long. God, you had missed it so much. You missed him. You fucking hated him for it.

“Are you okay?” You asked, concern edging out the anger at his call.

“No,” he sighed, shivering and holding his knees to his chest. “I sh-shot up.”

He could not stop the whimper leaving his mouth. “I’m withdrawing. I w-want to keep using it, but I can’t!” Yoongi sobbed, openly weeping at the physical and emotional pain. “I’ll fucking die again. I don’t want to die. I love you.”

Tears poured down your face, heartbroken at his words and actions.

“Yoongi, where are you?”

Yoongi quickly replied. “I’m at home, in the bathtub. The front door is locked,” He whispered. “I don’t think I can stand.”

“I still uh… have my key.” You admitted. Yoongi felt his heart clench, unsure of what to make of that idea.

Yoongi remained in the bathtub, holding himself and shivering violently when you arrived on scene. Your heart, already so broken, shattered at the impact of seeing the love of your life and the cause of your heartbreak, suffering.

“Fuck,” you whispered, quickly grabbing towels and kneeling by the tub at his side. “Yoongs, let’s get you dry, okay? Can you stand with me?” You grasped his clammy arms and allowed him to use your weight to balance himself on shaky legs.

You were so gentle. So compassionate. Yoongi felt his resolve breaking, wanting nothing but to wrap you up and never let you go again, tell your future husband to fuck off and allow the rapper to take his rightful place.

With your help, Yoongi stood and allowed himself to be dried. He normally would have felt the stirrings of arousal at such an intimate gesture, but all he felt now was unbridled affection and overpowering guilt.

You led Yoongi to his bed, settling him on the soft surface while you moved to dig through his drawers for clothes.

“Don’t make me go to the hospital,” he pleaded softly. You stole a look back at him, at his words.

“Yoongi, you need to see someone. You’re not okay.”

He shook his head. “No, I’m… I’ll be okay. I’ve gone through the worst of it already.” He rubbed at his sweaty forehead. “Will you just stay with me? I’m so cold.” He shivered.

You glanced at the man on the bed. He was thin, so sickly thin. While he had always maintained a lean physique, it looked as if the rapper hadn’t eaten in weeks. His skin was sallow, paper white with bruises on his arms and legs that seemed onyx against his alabaster skin.

You weren’t sure you could argue with him, but he definitely appeared less ill for wear now that he was out of the bath and dry.

“Yoongs,…” you breathed, dropping the clothing in your hands. “Let me hold you.” All reservations were held back. The anger dissipated. You couldn’t fight the need to help him, to nurture and hold him.

You moved to tear your thick jacket off your frame and toe out of your shoes before making towards the bed. Together, you took hands and slid gently in between his sheets. Yoongi’s body was trembling. He didn’t know if it was from the withdrawal or his proximity to you.

You pulled the blanket up and over your bodies, pressing yours against his thin body. His skin was freezing, forcing out a shiver of your own.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, forehead leaning to press against yours. You didn’t reply, not sure you’d be able to form words.

You laid in a long, comfortable silence as your warm hands rubbed along Yoongi’s arms and back, willing the blood vessels in his body to expand and return his heat. His breathing was even now, but occasionally let out a groan. He couldn’t tell if it was a groan of pain, or of pleasure. Your hands on his skin felt like heaven and hell, wrapped in one.

Everything he loved and lost in one package.

Bringing him to life and sentencing him to death.

“I love you,” his voice was shaky, quiet.

You nodded, tears now easily slipping past your cheeks. “I love you too.” There was no use denying it. It was clear in the way you ran to him, in the way you held him tightly, as if he would disappear without you pressed up against him.

His lips found yours easily, as if magnetized. The kiss was slow, gentle. You felt your own tears slide down your cheeks and meet his own. Yoongi couldn’t help them, couldn’t help the simultaneous ache and burn of your touch again.

His hand slid to rest on your hip, underneath your shirt, pulling you even closer. The kiss deepened, tongues swirling in each other’s mouth, searching for each other in the only place you knew.

It didn’t take long for your shirt to come off, and Yoongi’s hands to slide down your hips to push at your jeans. This wasn’t passionate or steamy. It was broken, desperately seeking comfort in the solace of each other.

Once your clothing laid strewn across the floor, Yoongi wrapped his thin arms around your waist, pulling you as close to him as he could. He could feel your breasts press up against his chest and was positive you could feel his hardness pressing into your thighs.

He didn’t want to fuck you. He wanted to love you, to feel you again. He wanted to hide inside you. He wanted the security that being buried deep within you once gave him. He wanted to feel alive, feel you. It seemed he could no longer separate the difference.

His tears wouldn’t stop flowing, neither would yours.

There was no foreplay, no teasing or edging. Yoongi laid you back against the pillows and kissed at your tears, eyes boring into yours to seek consent. You nodded, opening up your legs as a response. You needed to feel him too, fill the ache inside of you that widened each day without him. Yoongi lined himself up and slid into the familiar, inviting heat.

You muffled a cry, thrilled at the feeling of him filling you completely. You missed him. You loved him. You hated him. You never felt more complete. The thought made you cry more, both in pleasure and in sorrow. The man bringing you so much pleasure had wrought so much sadness and pain.

Yoongi kept a slow pace, uncaring about orgasms or getting off. His desire to be within you was void of sensuality at this point. Yoongi only wanted to be within you, to feel safe, to feel anything again. He felt alive.

Alive.

His thrusting moved quicker as your lips met and danced together, pouring out emotion through unspoken gestures. He didn’t have the words, couldn’t tell you every single thought ran through his brain. He hoped he could convey them to you here, in each roll of his hips.

Yoongi felt his release quickly approaching, unsure of how to proceed. He wasn’t sure what the moral code for cumming inside your ex fiancé was. He groaned as he kissed you.

“I love you, I’m close. Where…?” He hoped you would understand his broken question.

You sighed with relief, feeling yours coming quickly too. While there had been no fire, no passion, the unadulterated emotion coursing between the two of you was enough to bring you close to completion.

“Inside me, please,” you sniffed, gasping at the tendrils of orgasm beginning to wrap around you.

Yoongi pressed his face against your neck, leaving salty kisses as he felt your channel pulse around him in completion, triggering his own end. He momentarily thrilled at his cum coating your cunt again, but the thought quickly left him. Not that kind of night, nor that kind of fucking. Your moans were quiet, and he merely breathed a soft sigh into your neck.

It only took a moment for the reality of it all to hit you.

You had just fucked your ex. Who was in the middle of a withdrawal. While you were engaged to another man. Who you had no desire to ever see again.

Fuck.

Yoongi pulled himself out of you, but pressed you close against him. Despite the agony in his head and his stomach from the pain of withdrawing, he felt secure again. He felt, for a minute, like he was finally on the inside of his dream, no longer looking in from the outside.

It was quickly wrenched away as you slithered out from under him, your tears quickening.

“I need to go,” you murmured. “I can’t believe I-we…,” you shook your head as you pulled your clothes on quickly. “I’m engaged.”

Yoongi winced and sat up as he watched you. “Yeah,” he felt his own tears slip down his cheeks. “I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

“You’re always sorry, Yoongi,” you snapped. It felt like a dagger to his heart.

He was. Always so sorry. He rarely felt anything other than sorry.

You felt guilty at the look that crossed his features. Fuck.

“I’ll-… I’ll call Hoseok to come check on you. Okay?”

Yoongi remained solid and didn’t move, only tracked you with his eyes as you shoved yourself into your coat and cried as you put on your shoes.

“Goodbye, Yoongi,” you whispered. He wondered if it was the last time he’d see you.

The door closed; all that was left of his weak heart left with you.

Fuck.

Sorry. Always so sorry.

Yoongi mulled that phrase through his mind since you left.

He was sure at this point sorrow and grief fueled his body alone.

He stopped caring, only subsisted on weed and whatever cans of food he found in his kitchen, or what Jimin would leave out for him. He stopped caring. The minuscule amount of care inside him evaporated.

He felt like he was wandering an empty, dark pathway with no light. No end in sight.

He hid from the world, stopped all the press conferences, the interviews, the shows. He dropped out of a three-month tour of Europe, one that would have brought him significant money and status. He wasn’t sure he could even perform anymore, drugs or not.

The tabloids started running about him then, too. Tales of drug addiction, of his deep and dark secrets he tried to keep away. They spun false tales of illicit sex, arrests, gang connections, violence. His career was on the precipice of crumbling around him.

He shined, he burned bright and fast.

Now, he was ashes on the ground.

He burned through his money, ate nothing but packaged ramen and beer, and cried himself to sleep at night.

His life was fucking pathetic.

Namjoon avoided him, only talking to him about business-related concerns and the press. Jimin remained steadfast and loyal, constantly checking in, but only looked at him with pity and sadness. Hoseok refused to spend time with him, citing his concerns about watching his best friend die in front of him.

Losing everything eventually broke him.

He stayed up all night, every night, so drugged out his mind, and cried. He looked at old pictures of you and him, of his best friends, memories of a time much easier and happier.

He had lost all of it.

For something that was going to fucking kill him.

He let you get away. He lost his friends. All for trying to be rich and famous. And that was quickly slipping through his fingers too.

It was time to stop. It was time to stop fucking around.

It was time to end it all.

With one last jab of the needle, Yoongi slid away.

Far, far away.

Rehab wasn’t as bad as Yoongi had painted it out to be.

There were group meetings, individual therapy, social workers and their treatment goals. There was crying. There was pain, so much it felt overwhelming. There were the withdrawals, likely the worst aspect of it all. The nausea, the fever, the stomach churning. He wanted so badly to end it, just use one more time to stop being sick.

But there he found healing. He found each time he cried, a piece of his heart built back up, sturdier this time. Each dry heave of sickness brought him one step closer to never feeling it again.

He found camaraderie. He found wellness. He found his muse and his passion again.

He met new friends, Taehyung and Jungkook, both fellow opioid addicts. Through them, they formed a bond of sobriety and perseverance. They held each other accountable and held each other close through their subsequent relapses and returns to rehab.

Yoongi started working out, started putting weight back on in places it was meant to be: his cheeks, his arms and thighs, around his ribs. Jungkook was a personal trainer and guided him through personalized workouts and a nutrition plan. Yoongi found peace in each 60 minute cardio or weight-lifting session with his new best friend. He realized he could pour out all his pent-up emotions through his sweat, his hard work.

Taehyung was an artist, a phenomenally gifted and talented man. Yoongi felt inspired by him. Yoongi wrote and wrote. He wrote songs, poems, stories, rap lines. He found that what he couldn’t release physically through his training, he could release through his gift of creative writing.

Yoongi released his album from rehab, with the help of Namjoon. He merely titled it ‘goodbye’. Taehyung’s creative muse helped him finish the lyrics to all his songs. Yoongi felt cathartic, releasing his last record, an ode to Agust D and a goodbye to the live fast, die young lifestyle he no longer wished to partake of.

Yoongi’s therapist, Kim Seokjin, likely made the biggest impact on him. Yoongi learned about love, actual love. Loving yourself, respecting yourself, allowing yourself to feel the entire scope and range of emotions.

It was amid a therapy session with Jin that Yoongi decided he wanted to be a therapist.

Yoongi stepped out of the spotlight, out of the lifestyle of the rich and famous, and Yoongi returned to school in the fall for his Master’s in Social Work, with Jungkook at his side working towards a degree in exercise science and Taehyung working towards a Master’s in Fine Arts.

Yoongi followed the Narcotics Anonymous guidelines to a T. He admitted to himself his faults, his addiction. He attended all meetings, called his sponsor regularly and in emergency situations where the need to use was so overpowering he felt he might give in. He apologized to Hoseok, Namjoon, and Jimin. It was important to him to mend those relationships. He felt it was important to right the wrongs he brought upon them over the last five years.

He apologized to your mother. He visited her weekly, checking in on her and surprising her with her favorite foods and flowers. She bought 6 copies of his newest album, and together they wept over the lyrics, the intricately weaved storyline, and the stunning change the boy made.

She attended his graduation, too. She cried when Yoongi slid the tassel on his cap to the right, to the left. Yoongi felt a rush that drugs never compared to as he shook the hand of the president of his university and held that thick roll of paper.

He had accomplished something. He had done something; he had worked through incredible odds stacked against him and achieved it. No longer was Yoongi content with watching his life slip by in a haze.

Yoongi became a therapist, a social worker. The same people he thought would drag him down and ruin his career and reputation were the same people who lifted him out of his darkest place.

Min Yoongi, social worker.

He liked that better than Agust D, dead rapper, anyway.

Yoongi was leaving work, a group home for adolescent men suffering from addiction, when he ran into you.

His horn-rimmed glasses framed his face and newly bleached blonde hair fell around his forehead.

His heart stuttered at the sight of you. It all came rushing back.

Pain. Sadness. Drugs. Addiction.

You smiled at him, surprised to see him looking so healthy. You had heard all about his progress from your mother, eagerness and pride in her voice. But seeing him was as if walking into another dimension. He looked fit, strong, healthy, intelligent. Frankly, he looked sexy.

“Hi,” you meekly croaked, a blush floating to your cheeks at the thought of finding your ex so dashing.

“Hi,” he replied, a soft smile filling his lips as he practiced his mindfulness to allow the self-sabotaging thoughts to work themselves out, replaced with hopeful and insightful ones. Min Yoongi wasn’t afraid to feel anymore.

He wanted to talk to you. He wanted to ask you out. He wanted to kiss you. He wanted to fuck you.

He felt mildly guilty about wanting to fuck another man’s wife, but shook the thought away. He would settle for talking. You may have been his ex fiancé, but you were also his childhood best friend. He craved to just settle back into that role, alone.

“Do-…” he faltered for a moment, then swallowed harshly and summoned courage. “Do you wanna grab a coffee with me? I was just headed to get one.” He pulled his backpack tighter to his back, unable to part with the bag that guided him through school and into a real-life job.

You nodded, finding it hard to speak. “Yes.”

Yoongi couldn’t stop staring at you. You looked so beautiful, so different while still so similar. Your hair was longer, healthier. Your clothes fit well to your body, accentuating your curves and sliding down elegantly and conservatively. Your eyes glistened with something. Maybe it was hope. Maybe it was desire.

“I heard you’re a therapist now,” you murmured as you clutched the hot matcha latte in your hands, sitting across the tiny wood table from the ex-rapper.

Yoongi blushed and nodded. “Yeah, I am.” You didn’t miss the way his voice sounded so confident, so proud. “I work at a group home for young men with substance abuse addictions.” He smiled, poised and content. The pride clear on his face had never been there when he was a musician.

You couldn’t help the hard beat of your heart. “Wow,” you sighed. “That’s incredible, Yoongs. Mom said she’s proud of you,” you gulped. “I’m proud of you, too.”

Yoongi took a moment to nod graciously, feeling a swell within him. You were proud. Of him.

“How’s errr…” he faltered, not remembering the name of your fiancé, or husband now, he supposed. “Your husband?”

You blanched at the words. “Oh, we, umm, didn’t get married. It didn’t work out.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I had no idea.”

You looked at the blonde boy, a smile reappearing on your features.

“It’s okay. It was for the best,” you surmised. “Everything happens for a reason.”

Yoongi caught the look you sent and smiled. “You’re right.”

You two fell into easy conversation. He told you all about his new best friends from rehab, Jungkook and Taehyung, and how seamlessly they fit into the friendships he already had. He discussed stories of their escapades in graduate school and how Namjoon, his manager, quickly fell in love with Seokjin, his therapist, and how Yoongi had played matchmaker for the couple. He discussed concepts he learned in therapy, in school, and now in his practice as a therapist.

You were enthralled and captivated. You were so unabashedly in love with Yoongi and realized you had never stopped.

“Care if I walk you home?” He asked, standing suddenly as he finished his chai, holding out his hand.

Your heart leaped, and you nodded, chugging down the rest of your drink and slipping your hand into his. He felt warm, strong. So much different from the pale, thin, clammy man you slept with years ago as he suffered through withdrawal.

This wasn’t the Yoongi of your childhood, who wanted to be famous. This wasn’t the Yoongi who broke your heart, who wanted to hide away in his substances. This was a culmination of all the Yoongi’s he had been and became. A strong, broken, healed, confident, loving man.

“I would love that.”

This was the Yoongi you were meant to be with. The man who you loved more than life itself.

Yoongi had courted you again since that initial coffee date. He sent flowers to your workplace, asked you out to lunch, kept things simple, proper and conservative. Yoongi was in this now, for the long haul, and wanted to prove his devotion to you.

While in rehab, they had forced Yoongi to face the fact that everything he did in relation to you was self-sabotaging, self-deprecating; a self-defeating prophecy. Facing that was his greatest struggle through his entire treatment process. He fought against it, even relapsed a few times because of it, and refused to accept that as a possibility.

Yoongi, with the help of Seokjin and his new friends, found that a world that didn’t revolve around you was finally a world he could live in, possibly thrive in. While you could exist in his world, making you his sole singular reason for breathing was dangerous. In that mindset, being without you meant dying.

Yoongi had finally lived for himself. Not for the money, the fame., the status, the reputation, or even you. Yoongi loved himself, as he was. Broken and healing. Addicted and sober. Yoongi lived for Min Yoongi, alone.

When he started seeing you again, he reached out to Seokjin. He was terrified that diving back in to you would be his undoing. Seokjin, in all his wisdom, spoke words of comfort.

“She is not your entire world, Yoongi. You are your entire world,” he spoke gently through the phone. “She can be part of your world, an enormous part of your world, but she cannot be the entirety. Life does not stop without her. Life is better with her, but does not end without her.”

Yoongi had been so obsessed with the idea of never having you, that he lost you. He stopped loving himself, stopped caring about anything but you and the pain he caused you.

“You hurt her, yes. But, it appears she is ready to forgive you now. Are you ready to forgive yourself and allow yourself to be vulnerable?” He asked the blonde boy.

Yoongi rolled the idea through his mind. “Yeah, I think I am.”

“You are allowed to love and be loved by who you want, Yoongi, but do not make your entire existence rely on that. Loving yourself will extend into all other relationships. And do not allow yourself to be consumed with the mistakes you made a long time ago. Focus on what you can do today. Living in the past causes us the most pain. Do not run from the pain, allow it to sit within you and give yourself permission to hurt, and then move through it.”

Yoongi allowed it all. Every emotion, every feeling. He cried. Jesus, he cried so much. He remembered that he used to think if he started crying he would never stop.

It was true, mostly.

But what Yoongi didn’t know was that within all the crying, all the pain, was a high unmatched by any substance that could be snorted or injected or smoked.

Yoongi no longer hid himself from feeling the darkness, but he allowed himself to remain in it until the light came back. And it came back ten thousand times stronger.

Yoongi felt encouraged to continue seeing you and progressed in his career and treatment. He took you on dinner dates, movie dates, picnics and theme parks. The only reservation was the lack of physical intimacy. He would hold your hand, kiss you, rub your back, but he always left your apartment without lingering. He wanted you to get to know him again, all of him, before he took that step. He wanted to do this right.

It was at the most recent date where things changed. It was a relaxing picnic in the park, the two of you laid in the soft sun-warmed grass, your head resting on his chest.

Yoongi felt content at the feeling of holding you against him. He thought of the dream he had when he was overdosing, nearly dying. Being so warm in the valley and meadows of his imagination, brain synapses firing off as his body shut down. You had been there, pretty white dress, telling him to go back, to wake up.

He admitted this to you, spoke out what he had told no one before. While he knows Jimin, with the help of Narcan, saved you, his subconscious attributed his revival to you.

“I’m in love with you, Yoongi,” you admitted, gently and easily with tears clouding your eyes, as you both watched the clouds roll by.

Neither of you had uttered those words since you held him in your arms and within you as he came down from his high so long ago.

Yoongi let the words soak over him. If he thought drugs had been like a warm blanket wrapping him up, this was like an absolute inferno of satisfaction and comfort.

The arm he wrapped around your shoulder pulled you close.

“I’m in love with you, too.”

Yoongi pressed you up against his wall, lips crashing into yours as his hands desperately sought the skin of your waist.

After the picnic, Yoongi suggested taking you back to his place for a movie. The charged energy in his car on the way there spoke volumes, knowing you wouldn’t be watching a movie by a long shot. A giddy grin lit up your features.

“God, I missed this,” he mumbled against your lips as his hands lifted your white sundress you bought specifically for the date with your ex-fiancé, now-boyfriend.

You moaned an affirmative reply, gasping as his hands rolled over your breasts, encased in creamy satin.

“I missed you,” he mumbled over your lips, hands tugging down the cups of your bra to rub against hardened nipples. “You’re so pretty, so warm.”

You couldn’t hold back any sound, gasping and keening at his touch. You were soaked, absolutely dripping, from his ministrations against your neck and breasts. You missed him too. Your short-lived engagement had ended without a wedding, for the second time in your life, and you pined after the boy who stole and broke your heart completely.

Yoongi pulled away from you, using the separation to tug the dress up and over your head and to gaze at you. Your breasts were haphazardly pulled out of the bra, your panties becoming slick against your core. Yoongi was sure he had never felt a pleasure this strong in any high.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he murmured. Your cheeks heated, you couldn’t help it. Hearing him speak so gently, so lovingly, after so long and after so much pain flooded your senses pleasantly. His words wrapped around you like cashmere, warming and smoothing every inch of you.

“I need you, Yoongi,” you whispered, hand reaching towards his erection tenting his jeans. “Want to please you.”

Yoongi hissed at the feeling of your hand against his length. He nearly came right then. He hadn’t slept with anyone since your last time, the most heartbreaking sex he had ever had.

The feeling of you both crying as he entered you kept him turned off of it for over a year. And now you were back, pliant in his arms, and most of all, happy. He never wanted to see your anguished grief during sex again, or ever, if he could help it.

Your eyes looked so determined to please him, how could Yoongi say no? He nodded and leaned forward to kiss you, before switching positions and resting his back against the wall.

You thrilled at the switch and quickly dropped to your knees. Being on your knees in front of Yoongi was so familiar, so comforting and so incredibly hot. He looked so good. You could tell he had been working out. Muscles shone through his skin, and detailed lines appeared at his obliques and hip flexors. He was mouth watering. You missed him.

You loved him.

You made quick work of his jeans, unbuttoning the black denim and pushing down the zip and sliding the tight pants down and off his legs. He stood in his tight underwear and shirt, eyes so full of love and grace, staring down at you. He couldn’t believe it was happening again, and on such better terms.

Yoongi knew he had so much to make up to you, so much trust to build and apologies to promise you daily. Yoongi was grateful you were giving him that chance again.

Within moments, Yoongi’s boxers laid on the floor next to his jeans and his thick, heavy cock laid hot in your delicate hand.

Yoongi nearly cried at the sensation. Not only had it been long since any stimulation, it had been so long since he had been with you. The fact it was you again after all this time held the most significance to him.

Your eyes flicked between Yoongi’s thick and delicious cock, and his own face. No longer was the selfish, uncaring man present from so long ago. No longer was the drugged out, sorrowful, too thin addict in front of you.

As you pressed a gentle kiss to the tip of his cock and swirled your tongue around the tip, you felt amazed that you now had the confident, lovely, compassionate Yoongi you were in love with.

Yoongi groaned out loud, uncaring if Jungkook or Taehyung heard from their respective rooms in his shared apartment.

“Oh fuck, baby,” he whined, sucking air in through his teeth harshly. “So good.”

A smile danced upon your features as you stroked each vein and ridge of his cock with your tongue, flicking at the space he liked most. The resulting gasp encouraged you more. With a quick, deep breath, you lowered your mouth and fully encompassed his length in the hollow of your throat.

Yoongi nearly screamed, pleasure coursing through his veins as you allowed him to fuck your throat, a mix of gentle and rough. Your moans spurred him on and the visage of you with your lips wrapped around his cock and saliva streaming down the sides of your mouth nearly forced his undoing.

“Shit, C-Christ, baby,” he gasped. “I’m gonna cum if you keep that up… fuck.” He grabbed at your hair to gently pull your mouth away from him.

You pouted for a split second, already missing the luscious heat and weight of his hard cock gagging you. The pout was quickly wiped away as he wrapped his arms around your waist and carried you to the bed, unable to stop the giggles escaping.

“My turn then,” he grinned as he pushed you down to lie on the pillows. He quickly disrobed you of your bra, tits now fully on display. He sucked one into his mouth, tongue swirling over the bud, while his other hand pinched and tugged at the opposite. He remembered how much you enjoyed the pain of nipple stimulation. The thought made you wetter.

“Yoongi, holy shit,” you cried, dazzled at the pain in your nipples as he bit down gently at the one in his mouth. “Yes!”

Yoongi couldn’t help the smirk on his face as he switched hands and nipples, sucking the other harshly now and twisting at the wet and red nub he released.

“So good, princess,” he cooed. “So good for me.”

His mouth moved south, kisses burning up your skin as he trailed. He suckled at skin here and there, leaving delicious marks on your abdomen and thighs. You loved being marked by him, even more so now.

Yoongi groaned as he pulled your satin panties down your legs. Your cunt was slick and sticking to the fabric. His mouth watered at the sight.

“My sweet, you’re so wet for me. All from sucking my cock?” He murmured, teasing you by kissing at your thighs. “My dirty little princess.”

You mewled in response, aching to feel him where you needed it most. Words escaped you, unable to speak except in moans and sighs.

Yoongi looked up at you, watched your cheeks turn pink, your nipples hard and moistened from his mouth, marks of him all down your body. His cock throbbed, and he rubbed himself against the bed once to relieve some tension. He could hold himself back for now, but he knew as time passed he would be absolutely aching to plunge into your depths.

“I missed this cunt,” he pressed a kiss to the mound. “I’m sure you taste just as perfect as you always have. I’m drooling for you, baby.”

“P-please, Yoongi, I need you,” you begged, squeezing your eyes closed in desperation. “So wet.”

“I love hearing you say please, little princess. So sweet.” He kissed the outside of your lips, between your thighs. He loved teasing you, getting you absolutely fucked out before he even touched you.

“Please, oh god Yoongi! I need you so badly!” You were desperate now, nearly tearing up at the ache in your pussy.

“I can’t resist you when you put it like that,” he teased, before finally descending on your cunt. His mouth swirled around, sucking on your clit. You gasped your satisfaction at his touch, finally satisfying that burning desire.

Yoongi took his time, ensured pleasure at each twist and flick of his tongue. He fucked into your cunt with his tongue, groaning at the sweet taste of your channel. His mouth suckled at your clit, transitioning between harsh sucks, and tongue flicks. As he flicked up against your bundle of nerves, he slid two fingers into your pussy, hissing at the tightness.

“So tight, my sweet,” he whispered. “Can’t wait to feel you on my cock.”

You groaned in reply, nodding quickly. Your fingers tugged at your nipples, relishing in the painful stimulation there and hot mouth coaxing an orgasm out of you.

“Close, Yoongi!” You gasped, unable to complete a sentence. “Right there! So close!”

His fingers thrusted faster, slipping a third to stretch you out. His tongue fired rapidly against your clit, suckling and swirling as he went.

“Yes, baby, cum for me. Cum on my fingers, my love.” He encouraged, panting with excitement, to watch your undoing.

It only took Yoongi’s salacious words and skilled mouth and fingers toying a few more moments for the orgasm to completely take over. It rolled over you like an avalanche. You screamed in delight, gasping as you felt your channel grip his fingers and milk them as if it were his cock.

Yoongi believed he was watching heaven, itself. You looked divine, radiant. The feeling of your convulsions around his fingers made him whine, cock head oozing pre-cum and begging to be stuffed inside your heat.

“Fuck, my love. You came so good, you did so well for me,” he praised. “I love this cunt. I love watching you scream for me.”

Your breath was heavy, chest heaving with exertion. Every nerve, every synapse felt alive, alight with ecstasy.

“I’m going to fuck you, my sweet. I will fuck you and love you, all fucking night.” He sucked at the wetness on his fingers as he pulled out of you, before he kissed back up your body to your lips. The kiss was hot and messy, all teeth and no grace or finesse.

“Please, Yoongi, I need to feel your cock,” you gasped.

Yoongi could not delay any longer. His cock felt as if it might implode if it wasn’t buried into you. He pulled your legs up to his shoulders and gazed at your open slit.

“Mine,” he whispered as he lined himself up and allowed your pussy to swallow his length.

There were no words, no accurate description or way to describe how being inside you again felt. He couldn’t put into words the feeling of your slick heat hugging his cock close, your body heaving with ecstasy, your mouth crying his name in joy and pleasure. Yoongi would go through hell a million times over again to feel this again, to feel the physical and emotional love and pleasure he felt here.

You were his, again. He could work to make it right.

Yoongi started a slow pace, transfixed at the vision of you taking his cock so well. Your gasps and whines encouraged him.

“You were made for me,” he whispered as he quickened. “This tight little pussy was made for me, to love and to fuck and to ruin.” His words left his mouth without thought, acting on instinct alone. “You’re all mine. Only mine.”

You clutched at his arms, lifting your hips to meet his harsh thrusts. “Yes, baby, yours!” Your voice was five octaves higher. “All yours!”

Yoongi turned feral, his dominating internal narrative spewing from his lips. His cock thrusted into you quick and fast.

“That’s right, my love. All fucking mine. Gonna fuck you so good every fucking day,” he promised through gritted teeth. His thumb ran down to the apex of your thighs and rubbed at your clit. “Gonna fuck all my cum into you, baby. You’re mine.”

He continued his ministrations and your pussy felt like the definition of pleasure, itself. Sparks felt as if they erupted from your coupling. You cried his name, gasping at his possessive promises.

“Gonna marry you, baby,” he intoned. “Gonna make you my wife.” He felt his end coming close, your shattered cries and impossibly tight cunt bringing him soaring to the edge.

“Gonna fill you with my cum, gonna make you nice and fucking pregnant with our children,” the idea thrilled both of you. “My fucking perfect wife all swollen with our children.”

You agreed loudly. “Yes! Fuck me! Fuck, I want your baby!”

“That’s right, my little love. Your greedy cunt takes me so well. I know you want all my cum, wanna be nice and full for me.”

The end was nigh, you could feel the burning in your stomach blaze higher and higher. You begged him for more, harder, deeper, which he was more than happy to oblige.

“Fuck, babe, I’m gonna cum, gonna coat your tight little pussy.”

It only took a few more rough poundings before Yoongi crushed your lips together. Your orgasm washed over you with the power of the sun. Your eyes nearly rolled back into their sockets, gasping for air against his lips as your body convulsed. You moaned loudly as your walls pulsed around him, as if begging him to give you more and more.

Yoongi closed his eyes and soaked in the feeling, biting your bottom lip as he spilled into you, moaning your name with each pulse. The feeling of emptying himself into you rivaled the highest emotion he had ever felt. It felt like the ultimate expression of his love, his devotion.

He held you close as you both breathed heavily, allowing the afterglow of intense orgasm to bathe you in serenity. He carefully slid his cock from within you, groaning at the sight of a slow drip of seed following out your lips.

“I love you,” he murmured, leaning to kiss your lips tenderly this time. “I meant what I said. I want you to be mine again, forever.”

Tears sparked at your eyes, feeling more full, more loved, more warm than you had ever felt before.

“I love you, Min Yoongi.”

Yoongi held you in his arms as he showered you, kissed your body in the warm water, dried you gently with soft towels, and pulled you close in his bed. You melted against his body perfectly, two puzzle pieces who had been trying to force themselves into the wrong spot, finally coming together.

‘We cordially invite you to the wedding of…’

Min Yoongi felt anxious.

His stomach flipped. His palms were sweaty. His breathing was faster.

A warm hand landed on his back as the ex-rapper stared at himself in the mirror.

“You did it,” a gentle voice spoke. Yoongi looked at the male through the mirror.

“Jimin,” he breathed, feeling a bit of his anxiousness float away with his friend’s words.

Jimin smiled, pink lips puffy and sweet as always.

Yoongi felt his heart clench slightly. Jimin was the one who saved his life, who stuck a needle in his thigh and revived him when Yoongi was on the verge of death. He choked up at the idea that being here wouldn’t have been possible without the pink-haired boy.

He gazed at his trusted friend, no longer an assistant but a constant companion in the tight group of 7. He wanted to tell Jimin so much, thank him for saving his life, for pressuring him to check into rehab, for feeding him when he was too drugged out to care.

Yoongi didn’t need to say anything. Jimin understood at the tears pricking Yoongi’s eyes. Jimin’s cheeks turned pink, and he nodded slowly.

“You deserve this and more, Min Yoongi,” his voice was full of such care and sincerity. “I may have revived you, but you saved your own life. I just gave you the spark to continue it.”

Yoongi had started his adult life as an addict, as an award-winning musical artist with platinum albums and money, status, reputation. Grief had consumed Yoongi, along with regret, sorrow, loneliness.

Yoongi fought back, pushed against the odds.

Yoongi was beginning a fresh life—as a recovering addict, a therapist, a best friend, a husband.

He smiled at himself in the mirror as his groomsmen surrounded him and joined in the moment of happiness. It was peaceful. It was joyful. Yoongi smiled at each of the 6 men who affected him.

Hoseok, from childhood who allowed him to face the ugly fact that he was killing himself. Namjoon, his nurturing manager, who protected him at all costs and stood by his side through each dirt-dredging tabloid. Taehyung, his creative muse, his inspiration. Jungkook, his reason for health and wellness, his comedic relief. Seokjin, the therapist that changed his life and course of his future. Jimin, the man who saved his life, who accepted and expected nothing in return except Yoongi’s sobriety and happiness.

Together, the men walked out of the dressing room and orderly into the reception hall.

Yoongi took his place at the altar, the very one he left you at, and inhaled a breath.

The piano played gently, a soft and light version of the traditional song. It sounded ethereal. Yoongi felt as if he was flying.

The large, oak double doors swung open and the parade of flower girls and bridesmaids walked down the aisle to stand opposite the groomsmen.

Yoongi stopped breathing as the music played louder, more intently, more beautiful.

You appeared.

You looked like an angel.

Your mother flanked you to give you away. You both looked more beautiful than he could have ever recalled.

Yoongi couldn’t stifle the tears that poured out of his eyes. He couldn’t pull his gaze from anywhere but you.

There you were. Walking towards him, as if a dream. The loveliest of dreams. Wrapped in silk and chiffon and lace, delicate pearls around your neck.

Yoongi would endure it all again, feel every ounce, to have this moment.

It was complete as you stood next to him, hands clasped in each other, tears sliding down each other’s face.

At the word of the pastor, Yoongi leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours, sealing you as husband and wife, finally.

Yoongi was on the inside of your orbit now, basking in the warmth he had desired before on the outside. Yoongi simmered in the sweet, gentle glow of you and your encompassing love.

Now, Yoongi knew what it felt like to be the one on the inside of your world, instead of looking in from the darkness. Yoongi knew it now, and knew, with all his heart, that he deserved to remember it for the rest of his long, healthy life.

Yoongi was living.

Yoongi was finally, truly,

alive.

#bangtanarmynet #ficswithluv #ksmutclub #hyungsmutsociety #btswriterscollective #minthlynet #heartsforbts #bts fic #bts smut #bts angst #bts yoongi #yoongi smut #yoongi angst #agust d #bts agust d #bts suga #suga

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tobiotetsu · 3 years ago

Text

the lovers

reversed (prequel)

chapter two: ten of cups

miya atsumu x f!reader

description: the lovers card was a blessing in tarot if pulled up right, with the meaning of true love, prosperity and unity. however, if pulled in reversed, it signified disappointment, foolishness and failure. if he was destined to be your soulmate, why was his presence accompanied by chaos and destruction? if miya atsumu was your fatal flaw, how could he possibly be your fate?

genre: soulmate au, 18+, angst, enimes-to-lovers

cw: family issues, mentions of death, grammar errors

a/n: SO excited to write the next chp!! feedback & reblogs are truly appreciated<3 (wc: 4.4k)

prequel masterlist ♕ chp three

From the outside, the Miya’s were a very well-known family with a prestigious family. Miya Kaito was a well-known businessman in Japan who took over his father’s Marketing company. Miya Izumi, the twins’ mother was much lesser known than their father but was still in the public eye. She was an author of a best-selling novel who lived in Sendai but moved to Kasai when she married Kaito. They had two twin sons who excelled in volleyball and were sure to go professional straight after high school.

They were picture-perfect. But to your eyes, they were everything but.

Atsumu’s prediction of his father's absence at dinner two weeks ago had turned out to be correct. You, Osamu and his mother had waited at the table for almost 40 minutes before coming to the conclusion that once again, he was not coming home.

The lavish mansion was a veil for a broken home.

A father who worked more than he saw his family, a mother who went on trips weekly to resorts to escape her life and two children who had to suffer at the hands of their parents’ actions.

You couldn’t help but think of their family dynamic as you were in the kitchen scouring through the fridge for breakfast, a day before your 18th birthday. Mr. and Mrs. Miya weren’t soulmates but they seemed like they didn’t even like each other. It seemed like their public reputation was the only thing keeping them together.

That was the last thing that you wanted with your soulmate. You were less than 24 hours away from turning eighteen and you couldn’t help but think about who they might be.

Do they live in the Huygo prefecture? Are they the same age as you? Are they kind? A romantic? Were they just as excited to know your identity? Would we have a physical or emotional connection?

Questions like these ran through your mind ever since you woke up.

Usually, your breakfasts were something solid to fuel you for the rest of the day, but you were so nervous for tomorrow that you could barely keep anything down. You decide that some fruit would be enough for now. You stack clear contains which green grapes, strawberries and cherries in one arm as you use your free one to close the fridge door.

Maybe they’re in California? You’d meet them there when studying for school perhaps?

The questions continued to flow as you sat down at the counter in the kitchen on a bar stool as you munched on the grapes. You were so wrapped up in your questions that you barely even noticed that someone had walked in.

You almost choke on the grape when you realize who she was. It was the same girl who was making out with Atsumu in the cafeteria two weeks ago. She also must have been the owner of those over-exaggerated moans that still made you sick to your stomach.

Even though you took a while to acknowledge her, she still hadn’t noticed you. Confused laced your eyes are you stare at her half-naked figure opening the fridge in front of you. The only thing covering her was a large white button shirt with two buttons together at her chest, which you assumed was Atsumu’s.

As you were studying her in slight disgust, she finally noticed your presence.

“Oh hi, I’m Yui,” she said as she tucked her dirty blonde hair behind her hair.

“Yeah, I know, we’re in the same calculus class,” you say before you place mother grape in your mouth. Judging by her reaction to your words, she hadn’t even acknowledged you, but you couldn’t care less.

She stood there in a slight shock before hesitantly speaking again.

“So, are you dating ‘Samu?” she asked as she leaned her body on the side of the fridge door. Her words caused you to choke on the grape that laid on your tongue.

“Samu? No!” You manage to squeak out between your violent coughs. “He’s just my friend”

She seems to be confused by your statement. You never had thought about Osamu in that way and you weren’t sure why she would think that.

“Well, then why are you around here all the time?” Now it was your turn to look confused at her words.

“Excuse me?” You raise an eyebrow as you reply.

“You were the one who knocked on Atsumu’s door, right? The one he called princess?” she said as she crossed her arms in front of her half-exposed chest.

Ah, now you understood. Was she jealous?

“Yeah, I was.” your tone changes as your patience was slowly seeping through your fingers like grains of sand.

She nodded her head before stepping closer to the opposite of the table. “‘Tsumu’s mine, so don’t come around here anymore if it's for him.” she spits out with a grin as if she had accomplished something.

You take a moment to respond to her. In one swift movement, you stand from your stool and start to close the container of grapes in front of you.

“One, I live here, I’ve been living here since I was 6,” you said as you snapped the containers louder than you usually did. “Two, the last thing I want is to be around Atsumu.”

You gather the containers and make your way in front of Yui. She said nothing as she stood and watched you place the fruits back into its assigned tray.

“And three, he’s not yours. You’ll be gone by the end of the week, sweetheart.” that was the last thing you said to her as you exited the kitchen. You didn’t stick around the see her jaw hang slack, appalled at the words that came out of your mouth.

You knew she attacked you because of Atsumu but was she that oblivious that she couldn’t see what laid between the two of you?

pure annoyance and animosity

“The audacity!” Stephanie exclaimed as you retold the events from this morning as you two sat outside the school waiting for the boys' volleyball practice to conclude.

“I don’t even want to think about it anymore, it gives me a headache.” you shook your head to the side as you try to forget the whole meeting. “Thanks again for giving me a ride today too, Steph.”

Your usual ride had to stay later than usual to make up his missed chemistry test and you rather walk the 30 mins than ask Atsumu to join him home. Stephanie was more than happy to drive you home after akaashi came out from practice. Because of Mara’s feelings for Atsumu, you never felt comfortable discussing him with her. You didn’t want her to feel bad for liking someone she despised. One can not control whom they love, so you spared her feelings and confided in Stephanie when it came to Atsumu.

“Don’t mention it!” she said as a smile pulled at her lips. “You excited for tomorrow? Finally going to be 18 and find your person!”

Your birthday completely slipped your mind as you focused on the Yui situation.

“I’m so nervous! hopefully, I can find him,” you said as you looked down at your hands. Stephanie could recognize your worry and placed her hand on your shoulder.

“Try not to worry y/n. You’ll find them. I remember the same feeling right before my birthday. The anxiety was eating at my soul but, in the end, everything was perfect. It’ll be like that for you too.” She empathized.

Akaashi and her were your only pair of soulmates to admire; They were the only two you knew. Your parents were also soulmates but you couldn’t see their love blossom due to his passing. You saw how much your mother loved and grieved him, but you weren’t old enough at the time to remember him loving her as much.

“I think they’re done,” Stephanie said as she held her hand. “I felt his signal.”

Akaashi and her shared physical touch. If in 500 meters of her, whatever Akaashi felt physically, so would Stephanie.

And as if it was timed, right after her statement the team came through the school's entrance doors.

“Hey!” Akaashi said as he waived at the two of you. He situated himself right behind his girlfriend. He muttered a small ‘hello’ as he kissed the top of her head and held her hand and rubbed small circles with his thumb against the back of it.

so that must have been their signal.

You could only wish your soulmate was as kind and loving as Akaashi.

You unknowingly stare at the couple in front of you as your phone starts to ring with your mother's picture displayed on the screen.

“Hi, mom” you answer.

“y/n! I need you to run to the store for me. I forgot a few ingredients for dinner today, could you get Osamu to drive you to the market?” Your mother said urgently.

“Uh, I would but ‘Samu’s taking a test right now, he won't be done any time soon.”

“Then can you ask Atsumu to take you?” Her words made you cringe at the thought of being in such close proximity to him for that long.

“Mom, I-” but before you could finish your refusal she interrupts.

“Please, y/n. I’m desperate.” she pleaded.

You wanted to protest. You wanted to tell her that going with Atsumu would be impossible, that he wouldn’t even take you in the first place but then you remembered how hard she works. She worked this hard for you, so this was the least you could do for her.

“Okay, I’ll ask him,” you say in a slightly sombre tone as you accept your defeat.

“Thank you!! I’ll send you the list, love you!” those were the last words you heard before she hung up.

“Ready to go?” Stephanie asked as she swung her bag over her shoulder.

“Change of plans. You guys go without me, I gotta find Atsumu.” Both their faces synchronously scrunched together in confusion.

“Are you going to be okay?” akaashi asked, clearly concerned.

You vigorously nod your head and send them on their way, thanking them for offering the ride home.

A deep sigh escapes your mouth as you make your way inside the school to find Atsumu. Luckily, or unluckily, you found him immediately standing at his locker as he was laughing at something Suna said.

You debated turning back twice but decided to suck it up. With strong strides, you walk up to Atsumu’s figure.

“Atsumu” even though you aimed for your voice to come off strong, even you could hear the strain in it.

He wore his usual volleyball attire, identical to Osamu. White joggers with a vertical black stripe doing down the side of each leg accompanied by a black t-shirt, which clung to his body due to the aftermath of an hour-long practice.

You approaching him for a change, took him by surprise a bit, but even surprise he still managed to wear that smirk to antagonize you.

“What’cha want, princess?” he said as he placed his hands in the pockets of his pants.

There was that damn nickname again.

“Um, I need you to take me to the market,” you say bluntly. Sugarcoating with Atsumu would only lead to his enjoyment but, somehow your words managed to do so anyway.

His smirk grew as he leaned back on the lockers behind him.

“And where’s the person who ya wanted to take you?” he knew he wasn’t your first choice. Hell, he wasn’t even your third or fourth choice.

“‘Samu can’t, so can you or not?” you probably shouldn’t have given him an ultimatum, especially because you had the lower ground.

“Sorry princess, can’t,” he said without a care as he slid his arm through his maroon Inarizaki jacket. “Meetin’ with Yui”

Just her name was enough to remember this morning. Your face contorts in disgust at the thought of her roaming the house barely clothed.

“Oh, you don’t have to be jealous, princess.” atsumu says after witnessing your reaction and assuming it was because of him. You can't help but snort at his response.

“I think you’re telling the wrong girl that.” you can't help but laugh as you speak. Your words earn a slight head tilt from a confused Atsumu and an amused whistle from Suna.

You turn to take your leave from his presence, but before you walk out the school entrance you turn back one more.

“Tell your girlfriend to watch what she says to me next time.” Your voice was much stronger than before. You didn’t stay behind to see the distraught faces of the two men you left behind.

You couldn’t even hear the way Atsumu slammed his locker and Suna’s voice calling him as he rushed off.

You should have eaten more today.

That was the only thing that you could think while you scurried through the food aisles slowly compiling the ingredients your mother needed. Her listen was all over the place; enoki mushrooms, powdered sugar, sesame seeds, fatty tuna, vanilla extract, rice. The list went on longer than you expected.

All the feelings you were being put through today managed to stop you from eating lunch as well. The only thing that was in your stomach was five grapes that you managed to get down before your encounter with the unexpected visitor.

The last thing on the list was a jar of raspberry preserves, which of course was located on the highest shelf of the aisle. As you stare at it, debating if you should make a fool of yourself to jump while flailing your arms to reach, a voice came from behind you.

“Need a boost, princess?” His voice started you causing you to move backwards and stumble into his chest but quickly move away from him. Before you could respond Atsumu reaches up and grabs the jar that you were eyeing.

You turn around to him with wide eyes as he hands you the jar without his usual banter. Silently, you nod your head and take the preserves from him.

“Why’d you come? Weren’t you going to hang out with your girlfriend?” you asked as you placed the jar into the cart.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he said firmly as he placed a hand on the cart to halt you from moving.

Why was he acting this way over this? It actually seemed like he was bothered by the situation.

You opened your mouth to respond but the voice that danced on your ears did not belong to you.

“Well, this is a sight I never thought I’d see.” A deep voice sounded from behind Atsumu. Both you and Atsumu whipped your heads in the voice's direction only to be met with two faces that put a smile on your face instantly.

“Aran!” Atsumu bellowed loudly, as he embraced his friend while you exchange greetings with Kita.

“What are you guys doing here?” you asked.

“We came back from college today, decided to go shoppin’,” Kita said as he lifted up the small basket in his hand.

“Now, the more important question is, what are you two doing here?” Aran asked as his eyes bounced between you and Atsumu. Aran was a friend of the twins ever since they were 9, therefore he was your friend as well. He knew exactly how you felt about Atsumu, so that would explain the way he was looking at the two of you, alone at a grocery store as the sky was enveloped by darkness.

“My mom asked me to pick some things and uh, ‘Samu was busy,” you said quickly, hoping that he didn’t think differently.

Aran nodded his head while pressing his lips together.

“Say, aren’t you guys graduatin’ soon?” Kita said as he shifted his basket from one hand to the other. “D’ya know where you’re going for school y/n?”

Now, this was the first thing that put a smile on your face throughout the entire day. “Yeah, UCI, California!” you said with a proud girn.

“America? What program?” Kita inquired with wide eyes.

“Journalism!” the one word made everyone’s eyes widened.

“Of course it’s journalism. She's the one-woman team that runs the Inarizaki newspaper.” Aran said with a wide smile.

You continued the conversation with Aran and Kita as Atsumu wandered off somewhere in the store. You weren’t sure where he had gone but you didn’t care enough to worry.

As you and Kita conversed, Aran spotted Atsumu at the opposite end of the aisle and slips away from the conversation.

“Bro, where d’ya go?” Aran asked slightly concerned.

“Just walkin’ round,” Atsumu said as he swung his keys around his index finger.

“So, y/n’s leaving Japan?” Atsumu had an idea of where Arans questioning was leading to as he slowly nodded his head in agreement.

“How does ‘Samu feel about that?”

ding ding ding

“Probably not too good,” Atsumu asked knowing exactly how his brother feels about your pretending departure. “I wouldn’t feel too good if the girl I loved since I was 6 was leavin’ the country either”

“So is he gonna tell her?” Aran whispered.

Atsumu let out a soft snort at Aran’s words. “He had 12 years to tell her, ya think he’s gonna now?”

Atsumu knew his twin brother loved you since before they even started playing volleyball. And ever since then, Osamu has never once attempted to tell you of his feelings. It drove Atsumu mad, but he never interfered between you and him.

Before the conversion could further between him and Aran, they both see Kita waving them down.

“Let’s go Aran, y/n has to get this stuff home before dinner!” Kita said as the two large men approached you.

“Happy early birthday, y/n,” Kita said as he gave you a small hug.

At Kita’s words, Aran checked the date on his phone in a panic. “It’s tomorrow!”

“Yeah, the only reason why Kita knew was it came up in conversation” you replied. You were never one to flaunt your birthday. It wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy big parties and multiple guests but, to you birthdays meant something else.

Your fifth birthday was the only one that you could remember before your father’s death. It was celebrated by only your mother, father and you, but it seemed like the most fun a five-year-old could have. Your mother always mentioned how your father enjoyed small birthdays and how they were sacred. he would say to “only share them with people who brought you pure happiness and expected nothing in return”. And that was now how you chose to live, just like him.

“Actually, I'm having a small dinner tomorrow, do you two want to join? ‘Samu will be there, so you could catch up with him.” Your invitation earned a smile from Kita and Aran but a deep frown by the blonde beside them.

You hadn’t invited Atsumu to your birthday dinner for obvious reasons and weren’t planning to.

The two men looked at each other debating whether to accept or decline but ultimately accepted.

You were expecting Atsumu to chime in but, he hadn’t. He only looked at you with narrow eyes and a frown.

His eyes were laced with an emotion that you couldn’t quite decipher. Anger? Annoyance?

It was only then that you missed Atsumu’s stupid banter because this Atsumu,

This Atsumu seemed to be a thousand times worse

Ten minutes had passed since you last left the market and about twenty minutes since you last spoke to each other.

You two sat in complete silence as Atsumu drove to the Miya mansion in Atsumu’s Red Lamborghini. Mr. Miya bought both the twins a car of their choice for their 18th. Osamu had gone with a black Benz jeep while Atsumu went for the most flashy option.

You debated speaking to him, to break the awkward silence that filled the space between the two of you but Atsumu had already gotten ahead of you.

“Not going to extend the invitation for yer dinner?” His tone returned to its usually annoying self.

You look at him with a blank face and tired eyes. “Are you joking? It’s not like you’d come anyways.”

It was hard to believe that you two were once friends. Now you two could barely be in a car together without it imploding. He was the one that left you out of things, he was the one that no longer wanted to be your friend when you two were 8 years old. So why was antagonizing you over an invitation he wouldn’t even accept in the first place?

He just wanted to pester you in every way possible.

Minutes passed and once again the car was quiet as a mouse. Till Atsumu, once again sparked up a conversation.

“Yui,” You whipped to face Atsumu in the diver seat.

“Excuse me?”

“Yui. What did she say to ya?” He spoke without taking his eyes off the road, foot shifting between the gas and the break.

You were too tired to lie or ask why he cared, so you answered truthfully. “Your girlfriend didn’t like your nickname.”

“Not my girlfriend,” he said curtly while turning the wheel to turn on to your street.

“Fuck buddy, whatever.” you aimlessly correct yourself.

“Not anymore,” Before you could even comprehend his response, you two passed through the white gate lining the mansion.

It was far later than you thought you’d be home. The moon sat brightly in the sky as it was surrounded by small stars. it was basically night You only hoped that your mother wouldn’t be mad.

Unexpectedly, Atsumu helped you carry the grocery bags into the house. He strung 4 bags on his arms as you were left to carry one. You insisted that you can carry half his load but he was already through the door.

“‘Tsumu! y/n! Bless your hearts, thank you kids so much.” your mother said as you two placed the grocery bags on the counter in the kitchen. “Thank you for taking her, ‘Tsumu.”

“Of course, Obasa-” before atsumu could finish speaking to your mother something had caught his attention from the dining room.

Or perhaps, someone.

Before you knew it, Atsumu ran to the dining room and stood in front of the table. Instinctively, you follow him to the scene in front of you.

Sitting at the table was Osamu across from Mrs. Miya, and in between them, at the head of the table, sat a man you had not seen in a long time.

Miya Kaito, the twins’ father

“Atsumu” his father's voice sounded cold and hard as it said his son's name. Atsumu must have thought the same thing as you could see him wince at the sound of his name rolling off his father's tongue.

“So now ya decide to come home? What, finally got tired of sleeping at the office?” Atsumu’s voice was blaring, anger coursed through his veins, the only thing he could see was red.

“‘Tsumu! Stop it!” Osamu shouted from his seat in hopes to stop his brother.

“I wanted to have a meal with my family, so just sit down, Atsu-” Atsumu cut his father off not wanting to hear what he wanted to say.

“Cut the bullshit dad! Yer too busy for us and yer too busy for ma. so don’t even fucking try to fix this family, ya broke it a long time ago!” Atsumu’s voice raised in volume.

“Atsumu!” Mrs. Miya shrieked for her son to stop.

“I’m here now, okay? So sit down!” Mr. Miya’s voice matched Atsumu’s in volume as he urged his son to stop.

“You’re a fucking idiot if you think I’m gonna sit down and play house with ya.” was the last thing Atsumu said before storming up the stairs. You stood there in complete shock at what just happened.

Your eyes scanned the room around you. Mrs. Miya held her head in her hands as Osamu's face grew in irritation. Their father stood there with distraught painting his face. Your mom was still in the kitchen, but she still glanced with worry with her hand over her mouth.

Everyone in this house was shaken because of him.

Osamu stood from his seat to go after his brother but you decided to instead. Osamu shouldn’t have to worry about his brother when he's going through the same thing.

You ran up with stairs faster than you ever have to catch up to him.

“Atsumu!” you called from him as you followed him up the stairs. He ignored you as he reached the top of the stairs and walked towards his room's door.

“Atsum-” Your second attempt was deemed successful in getting his attention as he turned around and pushed you against the wall, caging you in his arms.

“What do you fuckin’ want, y/n?” His voice dripped with pure anger. He looks distraught. His eyes were red and glassy and his skin was turning an unnatural shade of red.

“Atsumu, I know you’re mad at him but just go downstairs and talk to him! Everyone’s upset. Just give him a chance.”

“What the fuck do you know about how I feel? Ya got a good mom, yer going to a good school in America and ya live in a big house, which is mine by the way. Yer miss perfect! So don’t you fucking dare tell me what to do. This isn’t your place to speak.” He yelled inches away from your face.

You parted your lips to say something but he left before you could. The slam of this door was deafening to your ears. You stood there, in front of his door in utter shock.

You knew he had a right to be angry, and in no way you were denying that right. But Osamu had every right as well, and he was sitting downstairs beside his father.

Why was it different for Atsumu? Why should he be allowed to create this mess and let everyone drown in his actions?

Why couldn’t he just try?

Atsumu’s words about you left a burden heavier than any weight that has been placed on your shoulders. If you could not speak about his family, why could he speak so thoughtlessly about yours?

Broken families came in all sorts of shapes and sizes; he out of all people should have known that the best.

[ the lovers taglist: @meepmoop12w @okkotsoo @quirklessidiots-trashdump @luna-mothii @unstaaableaf @lilith412426 @sunasbabie @thepsychicartist @gojoussunglasses @encrytpta @yamaguchis-17th-freckle @mavrintarou ]

unable to tag bolded blogs <\3

#miya atsumu angst #atsumu x y/n #miya atsumu x reader #hq atsumu #haikyuu angst #atsumu angst #atsumu x you #miya atsumu smut #atsumu series #atsumu x reader #haikyuu atsumu #atsumu #haikyuu #hq #haikyuu fanfiction #miya atsumu #the lovers.series #tw.family issues

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binniesthighs · 4 years ago

Text

call me babydoll | reader x chan

a/n: chapter threeeee here it is!!! hehe thank you all for being patient for this update and thank you as always for giving this fic your love!! i start out the first part of this chapter in 3rd person which is a lil different, but i wanted to try it out! hehe i love hearing what ya thought of the chapter too! 😊

Pairing: self insert, female reader x bang chan

Genre: action, mystery and suspense, fluff, smut, angst

Tags: (of this part) bodyguard au, secret agent au, royal au, moderndayprince!chan, secretagent!reader, secretagent!jeongin, secretagent!jisung, collegestudent!seungmin, skz side characters, 3rd person for the first section, adventure and mystery, action and peril, plot driven, running out of time, slow-ish burn, growing feelings, sexual tension, explicit language, mentions of food, brief talk of gaining weight while travelling, there’s a few spoilers hidden in this one...can ya find them? ;)

CWs: blood and other wounds, shooting at a convenience store, thoughts about death and dying when in peril

Word count: 5.6k

Parts

ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR

Two years of pocket change and Seungmin had finally saved up enough money to afford to study abroad. It had nearly taken him life and limb, and he might’ve suffered (1) concussion from a bowl of soup being thrown at his head, but, he had done it.

With grease stains on his sneakers Seungmin traversed the long and stretching corridor of the airport terminal with his backpack strapped onto him tightly. The air smelled different here. It was fresher than he was used to--coming from a large city center--everything here felt more pristine. Outside of the tall glass windows, airplanes lifted off into the sky like massive metal giants. He couldn’t remember properly, but the last time that he must’ve been on a plane, it likely had been when his mother...

Seungmin shook the dusty and cobwebbed ideas out from his head.

No more sad thoughts.

I’m gonna like it here. He thought to himself, then clipped the little buckle to his backpack straps over his chest with a determined huff.

I’m really going to like it here.

With his phone in hand, he tried his best to decipher what the signs said above him. Mostly, they looked like a jumbled mess of symbols, but luckily he had spent some time trying to learn the language between shifts and sneaking peeks at his little dictionary under the diner counter. The whole terminal buzzed with a lovely kind of energy, and he was thrilled to get to know it better. The first wonderful thing about travelling abroad was that no one knew who he was, and he could be whoever he wanted. In this new land, no one knew him or anything about the dingy little apartment that he had lived in. No one knew about his less than honorable roommates or the debt that he had put himself under to go to college in the first place.

I could be a prince for all they know.

Seungmin liked that idea a lot.

His stomach grumbled as he passed by food stands, however he hadn’t had the chance yet to change his currency, so he knew that he would have to wait just a minute longer. Seungmin had been assigned a host family by his college, and he hoped like crazy that they would be the kind to cook for him. Seungmin had heard somewhere that kids who go on study abroad gain a ton of weight at first...but he didn’t mind. Where else would he get the chance?

There had been a host father that had sent him an email a couple weeks ago--that he promptly had to run through Google Translate--who told him that he would meet him outside the main luggage claim area after his flight landed. Seungmin had tried to look up and see if his host family were on social media, but he could find no such profile of theirs. He decided it probably was better that it was a surprise.

Seungmin lugged his two large suitcases out to the summer air of the new and strange land, and it finally hit him. Standing on the solid ground of another land thousands of miles away from his home, it was really all happening.

The landscape outside was like that of a movie scene: rolling hills and jagged mountains capped with snow, adorable little homes built into the countryside and tiny cars with horizonal license plates. The sun was warm in the cerulean sky that puffed with perfectly white clouds. On the air, the scent of flowers wafted, and he was certain that there was a lake nearby too--he had researched it. There were old men in their caps with a crook in their back, and ladies with long floral skirts and dresses with Mary Janes. Each of them had smile lines on their faces and under their eyes as if they had all lived lives well lived. There were pretty girls too with slender legs and delicate arms swaddled in light scarves.

Seungmin wouldn’t have minded getting a girlfriend on this trip. While he kept the fact to himself, Seungmin had never really done anything with a girl before outside of some awkwardly handsy kissing in middle school. Maybe this time around, he would finally get his chance: he had read somewhere that girls often like foreigners.

“Seung Min! Seung Min?” A man’s voice called.

The young college student whipped his head around in the direction of the sound, finally finding a middle aged man with salt-and-pepper hair with whiskers of the same color. He had red cheeks and a large nose, and looked a bit like a character from a comic. Seungmin waved back, greeting his new father. When they met, the older man threw him into a large hug with a chuckle. He smelled a bit like Tabaco and old leather. He had a couple missing teeth, but that didn’t lessen his bright smile.

“English?” Seungmin’s host father asked.

“Yeah! I can speak English.” He returned with a welcoming grin.

“I thought it would be good for us to speak English since I don’t know your tongue and you don’t know mine...meet in the middle?”

“Thank you for coming to get me!” He said, handing the man his suitcases which were just a bit too big for the tiny trunk of the car that looked as if it had come from the 80′s. In the end, they decided to put his bags in the backseat.

The man beamed with smiling eyes. “Of course...son!”

Seungmin gave him a little bow, “Heh, thank you.”

“Get in the car! You must be hungry right? Long flight?”

“Oh yes, it was really long.”

“You will eat well here! Mother knows how to feed well. She will put meat on your bones. She did with me!” He guffawed out with hearty laughter, and Seungmin already knew that he would really like this man.

“We have a room ready for you back at home, and I will show you tomorrow how to use the buses. Okay?”

Seungmin nodded with a bit of rose to his cheeks. He found his hand wandering down to his arm which he pinched at lightly--cliché as it was. His host father coughed and the engine sputtered, then they took off away from the sounds of jet engines to the countryside which was scattered with churches with protruding steeples and all kinds of homes with red-orange roofs and perfectly symmetrical windows. Seungmin couldn’t help but keep his eyes glued to the window as they drove on to take in the whole scene. Never had he seen a place so beautiful or magical looking. They drove on past a crystal clear lake that stretched on and on to the base of a mountain appearing to claw at the heavens, and adorned in emerald green pines and other deciduous trees. If it was even possible, he had never seen greener grass in all his life.

“Beautiful, eh?” His host father said while tuning the radio.

“It’s amazing.” The young student said in his amazement. “Oh, do you know if there is somewhere I can change my money? I don’t have any of your money yet.”

“Ah!” The older man said with a wink. “I know of a place. I can take you there first.”

The radio hummed with a static fuzz as Seungmin’s host father messed with it, skipping over the channels, blurring the music and the talk radio all together.

Seungmin tried out the best he could to make out the words he knew, but even then he didn’t focus too hard, not when he had all this to take in.

Mad....crime....joke...violence in the South...drugs...unknown...information...hiding...red...

“Ah!” His host father called out after changing the channel once more, “I love this song!” He held his chest with an affectionate grasp. “The song of my homeland!”

Seungmin whipped his attention back, trying to listen to the song that sounded anthem-like, and was sung by what sounded like several men harmonizing. Seungmin tried to focus on the melody--it was nothing like he head heard before. It sounded very...honorable.

The small car whipped up to what looked to be a gas station on the edge of the town with one single pump and a little convenience store attached to it. In the window he read the yellow and black sign saying Currency Exchange.

“This is what you need?”

Seungmin nodded in his thanks then stretched his legs out once he exited, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Are you coming too?”

The older man shook his head and took out a pack of cigarettes. “I’ll gas the car, you go in.”

The young man gave his host father one more nod, then set fourth inhaling the immaculate summer air into his lungs. It was as if the very oxygen there held the vitality of life; he almost felt bad wasting it on himself.

The door swung open with the tiny tinkling of bells and he entered to the smell of cured meats hanging on hooks along side the dry scent of the refrigerators holding their display of soft drinks with labels that he had never seen before. He chuckled a little seeing the giant slab of meat with twine hanging from the ceiling as such.

“Free sample?” The attendant said while he picked his teeth with a toothpick. “Foreigner?” He added after looking Seungmin up and down.

“Yes, and no thank you. But, can I exchange my currency here?”

The unamused man nodded in the direction of the little kiosk in the corner of the shop. He went back to reading his tabloid where he slumped in a stool surrounded by an assortment of candy and cookies.

Seungmin picked his mother tongue first on the little screen, robotic and green, thankful to see Korean for the first time in this new place. He navigated to the options screen. Behind him, the little bells tinkled to the shop door again, followed by the sound of the attendant scrambling out of his stool, metal legs scraping the floor.

The student turned his head around in the commotion, taking in four very strange looking customers. Firstly, they were all covered in blood in one way or another, and each of them wore clothes--pajamas from the looks of it--which were shredded, torn, and blackened by something that might’ve been soot. Three men and one woman, and they all had a bit of a crazed look to their eyes. Clearly, none of them cared that they had walked into the store looking as such.

Seungmin pressed his body to the corner of the shop, as if this could make him invisible. The attendant cowered behind the counter with a series of scared sounding whimpers.

“Wh-what do you want?” He asked in his native tongue with quaking breaths.

One of the men in the group wearing a flannel with chocolate brown hair threw open one of the fridges, took out a water bottle, cracked it open, then greedily slugged the liquid down his throat.

“Pay the man, Fox.” He said to a man with pure white hair and shattered glasses.

The man with white hair and glasses nodded, digging through his pockets. The man with the flannel then proceeded to revenge the place, opening up snacks and shoving the cheesy dust into his mouth with gluttonous moans and crunching loudly with an open mouth. Had he not been doing something as unsavory as such, Seungmin thought that he was pretty handsome, and somewhat familiar. The other three simply stood and watched as he did so calmly, and surveyed the shelves themselves after a moment.

The attendant clocked Seungmin with fearful and confused eyes and Seungmin truly didn’t know what to do besides melt into the corner with the currency exchange kiosk.

A man in running clothes ran a hand through his deep brown hair, then turned to grab several first-aid supplies in his hand. Seungmin noticed that he had a horrible gash over his eye that crusted and bled into the white of his sclera. The woman approached the attendant with arms crossed over her thin camisole that was stained a number of different colors which Seungmin didn’t want to identify. He noticed that she was only wearing white socks that were nearly stained green.

“You do currency exchange right?” She said with a bold kind of confidence. “EGP?”

The attendant shook in his boots, then pointed a trembling finger at Seungmin. The young man nearly felt his heart stop. The woman had stern eyes that were bagged with exhaustion, but that didn’t make her any less intimating. While she too looked a wreck, there was something about her so cold and threatening that Seungmin felt like crumpling up into a ball. Over it all, she was startlingly beautiful too.

“Are you done?” She asked him kindly, and Seungmin struggled to get out a feeble “yes.” Of course, he hadn’t actually drawn any money out yet, but this seemed to be the best answer.

The man in running clothes dumped a large arrangement of goods on the counter with an emotionless expression: coffee drinks, shooters of alcohol, gauze and tape, Band-Aids, anti-bacterial ointment, gum, a couple lighters and toothpaste with four tooth brushes, combs, several bottles of water, sour candy, and, oddly, condoms.

The man with white hair came behind him to provide the cash to pay, and the attendant rang the odd group up with nervous glances to the man in the flannel who destroyed the store further. That man laughed maniacally as he popped open the plastic packaging to a pastry, then shoved in as of much of it as he could, smearing white cream over his lips.

“Bee!! You have to try this!! A day driving through the woods and this is fucking fantastic!” He jumped up and down like an ecstatic toddler--but this was a strange juxtaposition to all the blood staining his arms and the fabric of his flannel.

“Have some decency, Your Highness.” The woman chided, then held out her hand as the bills dispensed from the little machine.

“Your Highness?” Seungmin muttered, not really understanding why he was still in there in the first place.

“Fucking scam.” She muttered. “Is this all that you have??” She growled at the attendant.

“It’s a little thing!! What do you expect??” He stammered with hands thrown in the air as if she had pointed a gun at his head.

“F, tell Carroll to wire us when we get to Egypt. This’ll barely get us a place to stay.”

“When I get internet access, sure, I’ll try my best.” The man with white hair said with an edge to his voice, sarcasm clearly giving it a type of bite. He then took to shoving all of their goods into plastic bags since the attendant had been too fearful to do so. He slid a few spare bills onto the countertop. “This is for everything that he ate.”

“Do you have a bathroom?” The woman demanded, and the shopkeeper nodded, giving one more fearful glance to the college student.

“Is there somewhere around here to get clothes?” The man with running clothes asked.

“I-In town, a couple minutes in--”

Outside of the little store, the sound of tires screeching on cement screamed, and all four of the strangers whipped their heads in the direction. Seungmin jumped too at the sound, and held his backpack to his chest tightly as if it were some kind of safety vest.

The four strangers gravely exchanged terrified glances before throwing their bodies to the floor without a word.

“GET DOWN!” The woman screamed, and in milliseconds, the rapid-fire crack of machine gun bullets came shattering the glass of the convenience store.

Seungmin too threw all of his weight to land on his stomach on the cold linoleum floors and pressed his cheek against it while his ears rang. Tiny shards of glass pricked at his hands, but this adrenaline didn’t even let him feel the pain. He was certain that he must’ve been hyperventilating, because the room had started to spin among the relentless sounds of metal shells hitting the ground and metal shelves being upended from the force. The room filled with the smell of dozen different kinds of foods as packaging was ripped open and food and drink came spilling to the ground. The shopkeeper whimpered out loud prayers in his native tongue while he hid behind the counter.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as three of the strangers whipped out hand guns from their waistbands and knelt down behind the remaining shelves to shoot back at the black van outside.

Seungmin pinched his arm with eyes shut.

He wished he hadn’t.

oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck. He bit the words into his lip.

“Hey kid!” The man with white hair growled at him. “You okay?”

While the two of them looked nearly to be the same age, this other man with snow white hair seemed to know what he was doing, so Seungmin decided to take the smallest bit of solace in that over the deafening sound of bullets.

“I-I think so?!”

“Keep your head down!” He said with gritted teeth, then angled his gun with a squinted eye.

“Bee??? Bee?” The fourth man with the flannel cried.

“Head. Down.” She said while firing more shots.

The room filled with a thin haze, and Seungmin covered his ears with bloody fingers.

The strangers fired their guns until there was nothing left, then escaped hiding behind the shelves with heaving chests. The young man had curled up into the fetal position, mouth feeling deathly dry with hot tears streaming down his cheeks.

Seungmin didn’t know that he had gone on this trip for his life to end.

How fucking cruel fate was.

His body shook, and he clung to his bag for dear life, waiting for it all to end, and for his time to come. Seungmin would’ve thought that in the moments before he had died, he wanted to think of all the good things that had happened in his life, but, he was disappointed to find that all he could come up with was fear.

“Did you get a look at him?” One of the strangers yelled on the other side of Seungmin’s muffled ears.

“NO!” One of them barked back.

“He was wearing the crest!! The red!!” The woman called out.

The world was black behind his eyelids, but anything was better than the scene that was actually unfolding before the terrified college student. Soon, the sounds faded, and Seungmin was then really convinced that it had finally happened. This was it. He was even still scared to open his eyes.

A grip at his arm pulled him up.

“You okay? They’re gone. You kinda blacked out there for a second.” It was the woman had pulled him up to his feet.

His head spun seeing the carnage of the destroyed store, and the student became dizzier by the second.

“I-I think I’m about to black out again--” His knees felt week and his vision blurred.

“Hey! Hey!” One of the other strangers, the one with the running clothes scooped him back up and gave a light pat to his face. “You’re alright! See?”

Miraculously, Seungmin really was unscathed.

“Who-who are you? Who...who the hell were they? What the FUCK was that?”

The four of them exchanged glances once more, communicating some kind of silent understanding between all of them.

“What’s your name kid?” The white-haired one said as he put his gun back into his waistband.

“S-Seungmin?”

“Ok Seungmin, there’s a lot going on here that you really shouldn’t be aware of, and there's a lot of answers that I can’t give you, I just need to to trust me, alright?”

“O-okay?”

Now that the shop was devoid of windows, the summer breeze came blowing into the store--an odd contrast to the mess that was made all over the glass shards and food.

“You’re safe now. They’ve gone. No one can hurt you.”

“A-are you sure about that?”

“We need to get going. I don’t know why the hell they leaved when they had us cornered, but we can’t be here for long.” The man in running clothes said with a tentative bite to his lip.

The woman nodded. “You’re right Two.”

“What do we do with him though?” The man supposedly named Two said, motioning to Seungmin.

“D-do?” His eyes widened to frightful full moons. “D-do????”

“We take him with?” The man in the flannel suggested and shrugged.

The woman rolled her eyes. “You don’t call the shots on stuff like this, Your Highness.”

“H-Highness? What??” Seungmin blabbered.

The man with white hair snatched the young student’s bag from his hands. “You got a laptop in that bag of yours?”

“--H-HEY!”

He man pulled out Seungmin’s dismal Chromebook that he had also saved several months for.

“Hm. This will do.”

“I guess we don’t have any other choice...” The woman rolled her eyes. “Introductions later. They could be coming back.”

“Hey, HEY!” The shopkeeper yelled, then rose from his hiding place to look in despair at his destroyed shop, and his aging cured meat slab stuck with bullet holes on the floor.

“We’ll take care of it all. We apologize.” The man in the flannel bowed deeply.

Sunlight stung Seungmin’s strained eyes, and he realized that he had completely forgotten about his host father in his little car from the 80′s. To his surprise, the little car was nowhere to be seen.

“M-my dad??” He said under his breath, also realizing that all of his belongings had gone with the man too. All he now had left to his name was his passport, a spare set of clothes, his laptop, and a couple school journals.

“Get in.” The man named Two said while throwing open the door, but then gave him squinted wink. “Been to Egypt before?”

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

“This mission is fucked.” Jeongin muttered to you, voice echoing slightly in the cobblestone alley.

“Yeah, it certainly seems like it.”

You fiddled with you new blouse. It was two times as itchy as you had expected and two times as expensive, but you had been desperate. With all of the spare supplies destroyed in the bombing, you and your partner had found yourselves hopelessly empty handed.

“Carroll is gonna have our asses. Fuck...” Jeongin slicked a hand through his hair with a bandaged arm. “We can’t take that kid to Egypt with us!! We already have to be on high alert for the prince...and now this??”

Your partner threw his head back incredulously against the brick wall, then stopped to watch the rest of the group sitting outside of the café and garnering odd glances from passerby's.

“Well what the hell else to do we do??”

Jeongin shrugged, then looking to the side shamefully. “You...know what the protocol is. We can’t stay here to watch over him until someone from the agency comes...and, we’re running out of time...White Rabbit is waiting for our correspondence..”

“Absolutely not.”

The poor young kid, naïve as he was, you couldn’t but help but feel bad for him. Not only was he all alone out there as he had explained, it appeared as if his host father had made off with all of his things too. It was hard to not pity the kid.

“Y/n, you know that he’ll only drag us down. If we take him with, his life becomes our problem. If he dies, we’ll have to answer to whoever his family is and we both know that could get messy. We already have a mission: get the intel, then get the prince home. Not take that kid along with us for the joyride.”

“You’re forgetting that they’ve seen him with us now. He’s associated with us. If we leave him in the dust, there’s gonna be an innocent kid dead in a foreign land, and it’ll be our fault for letting that happen. Do you want that to happen?”

Your partner sucked at his teeth in thought for a moment, then groaned out.

“I really fucking hate this babysitting thing.”

“It’s the three of us and the two of them. The odds are still pretty much in our favor.”

“It’s still dangerous odds.” Jeongin threw his hands onto his hips, then paced the length of the alley for a small stretch. “As of now, you’re assigned to the prince. Forget about the kid, Two and I will worry about him. The prince is the priority. If shit hits the fan, don’t even think twice, take the prince and get out. Okay? You should never leave his side.”

You nodded in agreement, feeling a sneaky sense of pride. After all of the chaos and the uncertainty, Jeongin was really coming into his own.

From the little patio where the others were, it looked as if Chan and Seungmin were getting a long swimmingly. You assumed that it had something to do with shared trauma. Weirdly, Chan had taken to the young man like a bit of a pet. Knowing all that the prince was going through, it made sense...perhaps this also could’ve explained why he had kissed you more than once. Anyone in his position would’ve acted as frantic as such--at least, this was what you had convinced yourself.

Two sat with the two men wearing thick black sunglasses to hide his gnarly eye wound, sipping espresso. Jeongin started walking back towards the group when you grabbed at his arm.

“--Wait, I need to talk to you about one more thing?”

Your partner’s rather gaudy Hawaiian-themed shirt flapped in the breeze. “What’s that?”

You drew him in closer. “What do you make of Two? He doesn’t strike you as suspicious?”

“Suspicious? Why?”

“I-I don’t know...it’s just a feeling that I’m getting. We know next to nothing about him--”

“--But isn’t that how this goes? We’re not supposed to know things about each other? That’s the point? He’s stuck with us this far...and...”

A couple passed by the two of you with linked arms, and Jeongin stopped his thought out of distrust of the two of them listening in.

His voice lowered even further, “If Carroll trusts him, so should we.” The young man nodded, then patted your scratched shoulder. You winced, and he quickly apologized. “It’s...fine that you’re suspicious. Its best for us to be, you know?”

“Expect the unexpected?”

Your partner dished out a little eyeroll, “Yeah. Something like that.”

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

It was as if His Royal Highness Prince Chan had never seen the inside of a public airport before. Everything was just so novel to him, and he gasped out at all the little trinkets and tchotchkes.

As excited as he was, he still tried his best to keep a solid composure under his disguise: a cap, a hoodie, and thick framed sunglasses. The royal didn’t look the most non-descript, but you figured that it was better than nothing.

The young kid sulked seeing the inside of the airport once more, as he had claimed that he had just left from there. You still didn’t know what to make of him all the way, but at least you could tell that he had a good heart. While in the car he told you and your companions how he had saved up all this money to travel, studied the language and arranged to go to school here too. While all of his plans had been thwarted, at least the kid was still getting to travel...with a price on his head...but still...he was getting to travel.

Now that Jeongin had been able to contact HQ thanks to the kid’s computer, everything was arranged. Flight tickets, sleeping arrangements, supplies and Bun even knew that you were on your way. You had little desire to see that man considering how you had heard that he was one to live up to his eccentric reputation, but there was little other choice. Jeongin’s words ran through and through your head, “If Carroll trusts him, so should we.”

Over it all, it was the prince who had worried you most. He was out in the open, and undoubtedly whoever those bastards were with the red crests would be close on your tail. Your neck strained with a pain that only seemed to grow stronger with every corner that you turned to ensure that no one was there. While the handsome prince liked to joke about how his life was on your hands, it was much more serious than that.

You had seen the fear in his eyes that night--it was so tangible that you could practically hold in your hands. He was a man terrified of death, and he knew that he had little control over it. You had control over it, but you knew that you could only stretch yourself so far.

Your group of five neared your gate in the international terminal lined with several dozen different kinds of multi-colored flags. You situated yourself between Two and the Prince on one of the thin teal chairs with flattened cushions. Chan tapped his hands on this knees impatiently as he inspected the place.

“Kind of exciting isn’t it?” He said with a tiny grin.

“What?” You moved to look at him with his obscured features. “Exciting?”

“Yeah, you know, travelling together. It kind of feels like an adventure. I mean, they’ve got a gun to our heads, but at least we’re together right?”

You scoffed, simply amused at how he had taken the severity out of the situation. It was clear that this prince knew little about the concept of perspective.

“I’m not following.”

“I get that...we need to be careful, but who said that we can’t, say, enjoy the journey?”

“You’re saying that you want us to have fun while we’re running for our lives?”

The prince smiled. “You know that I like having fun. That and...I’m just trying to be optimistic.” Under his cap, he slicked his brown strands back. “The three of you seem to be so tense all the time. Obviously, that can’t be good for your health--”

You cracked out with laughter. “You’re being ludicrous, Your Highness. We have to be on high alert at all times--”

“I said, that you could call me Chan, remember?” He rather languidly spread out his legs in his seat, removing his glasses for moment. “How about, when we go to Egypt, I take you out somewhere nice to eat? We can relax, talk, get to know eachother more--”

You raised your hand up to silence him. “--If this is just a ploy to get me alone, I politely rescind the offer. Here I was thinking that you were concerned about all three of us...”

“--I am!” Chan quickly piped, “I-I’ll take you all out for dinner! But...but...you’ll have to allow me to take you out for drink then. Just the two of us. I still hold to my word of wanting to get to know you.”

The prince’s face was puffed and bloated, and scraped with little pink and red cuts, but nothing stopped him from pulling out his signature charming and persuasive grin.

“Try to kiss me again, and I won’t hesitate. You might be royalty but I don’t ca--”

“--Hmmm no promises.” Chan then cut in, his grin turned even more indulgent while you watched him inspect your frame in that god-awful scratchy blouse.

Next to you, Two let out a particularly amused sounding scoff of a laugh.

“Forward as ever, Your Highness.” Jeongin deadpanned, then buried his nose in his coffee and newspaper once again. He hadn’t gotten to finish doing so earlier.

Seungmin, the young student stifled his own laughter which then gradually got louder and louder. “I can’t fucking believe this. Me. Kim Seungmin, the most normal-ass person in the whole world with you four: a fucking prince, secret agents...and now we’re going to Egypt??? Egypt???”

“Why does that sound like the set up to a shitty joke?” Two popped a bubble he had blown with the gum from the convenience store. Turns out he actually had a bit of a “gum habit” as he called it.

“Settle down kid.” Jeongin said without his eyes leaving his paper. “You’ll make a scene.”

The prince yawned, sliding his sunglasses back on.

“I never really did end up getting as much sleep as I would’ve liked.” If you could’ve seen his eyes, you would’ve then seen him eye your shoulder. “May I?” he politely asked.

Rather than giving him an answer, you rolled your head around as if to say do I need to?

Chan let out a happy little hum after resting his head on your shoulder, nuzzling in slightly.

You met your partner’s side eye, and he repeated for you, I really fucking hate this babysitting thing.

“Thank you Bee.” Chan softly muttered, almost too quiet for you to hear. “I really do owe you everything.” He was careful at first, but he reached out his hand to rest it atop of yours. While the action made you twitch at first, you remembered how the same action had calmed him in the van when you had escaped the gala.

You told yourself that you were just being nice.

The young kid pulled out a journal from his backpack and started scribbling something, Two popped a bubble, snapping it on his unnaturally white teeth, and Jeongin sipped at his coffee.

This really was the set up to a shitty joke.

A woman cleared her throat over the intercom and announced, Flight C1180 to Cairo will be boarding in one hour. Thank you for flying with us today.

~🌹~

Bunch of (Ro)ses!

@minaamhh @dazzlehoseok @synnocence @jjewibeans @hyunsluvv @unexceptional-h @bobawithchaitea @lechanters @sailorhyunjinz @silencefavarchive @eunaeiekim @lunarskzzz

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sparkbeast20 · 3 years ago

Text

Brutally Honest

Obey Me! Fanfic

"It's hard to forgive others, especially yourself"

Warning: Spoilers from Lesson 1-39, mention of death, violence, attempted Murder, and so much angst.

“Guilt”

RAD Council Room

Diavolo: And that conclude are meeting, I hope you all have an eventful weekend. *He and Barbatos walked out the room*

Mammon: ah finally we’re free.

Leviathan: I still have 30 mins before the event start.

Beelzebub: Come on Belphie. *He grabs Belphegor and throw over his shoulder*

Belphegor: Zzzz…

Asmodeus: Satan and I are going Shopping-

Satan: I’m only accompanying you until we get to the book store, then you’re on your own.

Asmodeus: Be honest, you just want to spade time with your favorite brother.

(New Voice): Yes…, everything could be better when Everybody is honest with each other.

*All the brothers look at the open door*

Mammon: Oi, ya can’t talk to us like that especially the Great Mammon!

(New Voice): Oh, My apologies O Great and powerful Lords of Devildom.

Mammon: ah see, and that how you get respect-

(New Voice): or should I say “once” great and powerful Lords of Devildom?

*All of the brothers released an aura of anger*

Lucifer: you better chose you next words Carefully!

(New Voice): Oh My, Lord Lucifer watch your anger, you’re losing you’re Façade.

Lucifer: Are you asking for Death or are just as stupid as Mammon.

Mammon: Hey!

(New Voice): So, what if I am.

Lucifer: Your death will not be swift-

(New Voice): Good, show me the true horrors of the Sin of pride!

(New Voice): But before that, I just want to voice my Opinion on the human you are looking after-

Before he could finish his sentence, Belphegor jump off Beelzebub shoulder and grab the demon by neck and pin him to nearest wall.

Belphegor: DON’T BRING THEM INTO YOUR DEATH!

(New Voice): Ah, Lord Belphegor you’re finally awake, tell me this how you Kill them!

Belphegor: *His entire body stiff for a moment and the let go of the demon* HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT!

(New Voice): *cough* I know everything they when through.

(New Voice): In fact, 5 out 7 of you try to kill them, but Lord Belphegor manage to pull it off.

Belphegor: *He was trembling as he looks down at his hands* Shut Up! *Then his knees gave in*

Beelzebub rush over to his twin and try to comfort him.

(New Voice): oh look, Lord Beelzebub only jumping when it’s all over.

Beelzebub: What?

(New Voice): answer me this, when did you form a pact with the human?

Beelzebub: I …

(New Voice): Is it before or after they almost die by the hands of your sweet older brother in order to protect you and a little angle?

Beelzebub: *his heart started beating fast* I-I will always protect them.

(New Voice): Remember, I said 5 of you Tried to kill them, your one of them.

(New Voice): if hadn’t for their sacrifice by hands of your brother, you’ll just Eaten them like anything you touch.

Beelzebub crumble down in the floor and started to cry a long side Belphegor, at that moment Satan is at his boiling point, he tackled the demon to the ground and started to dig his claws to the demon’s chest as he talks.

Satan: I’LL ENJOY TEARING YOUR ENTIRE FUCKING BODY IN PIECES!

(New Voice): Really now, always with the violence with you Lord Satan, what if they see you right now? Going back to your creation.

Satan: *his eyes widen* I’M NOT FALLING FOR YOUR-

(New Voice): honesty, after they hear about your birth from your “brothers”, they came to you and wanted to talk and comfort you.

(New Voice): but once they decline your offer of a pact because they wanted to earn it and not to piss of Lucifer.

(New Voice): *let out a small chuckle* you when ballistic!

Satan: *jump off the demon* H-how you-

(New Voice): Like I said, I know what they when through.

The demon was about to recover from Satan attack, then all of a sudden, a foot pin them down back to ground.

(New Voice): Ah, LORD Lucifer, finally giving me my death?

Lucifer: NO…. now the tell us, how do you about MC?

(New Voice): *Started to laugh* I’m their inner demon!

Mammon, Leviathan, and Asmodeus: WHAT!

Before anyone could respond to his answer Asmodeus’s D.D.D started to ring.

Asmodeus: Solomon, now not the time for your call-

Solomon: Asmo it’s MC, they’re not waking up… Luke stays calm, and Simeon make sure that their body is warm… Come quick!

Asmodeus: Lucifer, It’s MC something happened to them!

*All the brothers whip their heads toward Asmodeus*

(New Voice): and, that’s your que to save their lives-

Before he could finish sentence, Mammon knocked him out with one punch in the head.

Mammon: We don’t have time for his shit, WE NEED TO GET HOME NOW!

Lucifer: *nodded* Everyone pull yourself together…… Beel?

Beelzebub: I’m okay….

Lucifer: Good, because we need someone to carry him.

Leviathan: Huh… Lucifer we can’t bring him-

Mammon: AHH… WE DON’T TIME FOR THIS, we’ll deal with the asshole once MC is okay, just tie him up at the house.

Lucifer: His right, every let’s go.

All the brothers turn into their demon forms, Beelzebub, Belphegor and Satan stood up from the ground. Beelzebub walks toward Lucifer and the unconscious demon, as Lucifer lifted his foot off the demon, Beelzebub grab ahold throw him over his shoulder, once everyone set, Lucifer flew out of the room, followed by Mammon with Leviathan, then Asmodeus with Satan, then finally Beelzebub with Belphegor and the mysterious Demon.

End of Part 1

#obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphie

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imnotwolverine · 3 years ago

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The Wolves Return - Part 4

Summary: Evil is looming and old memories are blooming in the keep of Kaer Morhen.

Word count: 2005 (7 min read)

Disclaimer: old and brittle Jaskier, dementia, blood and gore, a melancholic Geralt (but also a touch of fluff stuff)

Author’s note: Sorry for being MIA my loves! Life’s been crazy busy with long workdays and social events (FINALLY). So writing was kinda pushed on the backburner. Hope you enjoy this one ❤

‘Remember that time in Velen, Geralt?’ Jaskier’s voice sounded brittle with age.

Geralt looked up at Jaskier. His friend no longer talked as much like he used to. With thoughtful blue eyes the bard looked out over the vines that outstretched the autumnal valley of Corvo Bianco. Their shared home for some time now.

Geralt sighed.

‘Which time is that? The one when I saved your ass from the Duchess?’

Jaskier squinted, as if thinking. ‘No no. The time..The..’ He started to fling about his hands as if searching for words. ‘The one time I had nearly eloped with the butcher’s daughter, remember that? The one in..’

‘You mean the time you told me you’d be a father?’

‘Yes..’ Jaskier's voice quieted. ‘Oh Geralt!’

‘What’s that, Jaskier?’

Jaskier remained silent until yet another of his bloody coughs came up. With a bony hand he raised a kerchief to catch the red stains that had parted from his lungs.

Geralt gritted his teeth. It was all going so fast all of a sudden. His lifelong friend whom he had travelled up and down the Trail with, would soon be no more. Jaskier’s hair had gone grey years ago. And his once nimble fingers no longer played the songs they used to. Which, for a time, had been pleasant, Geralt had to admit that.

Looking at the slumped form that was his friend, the Witcher felt his heart crumple with fear. He didn’t like goodbye’s. Never had. But he knew that with the falling leaves and the arrival of winter, the days were growing shorter for his friend, too.

It felt too soon.

‘I’m a father.’ Jaskier let the bloodied kerchief fall to his lap. ‘Ha..’ Jaskier’s lips turned into a little smile. ‘She must be nearly grown now.’

Geralt tried to smile along. The unsteady motion of his heart was however difficult to contain. Jaskier had been with his daughter for years, but the way he spoke of her made it feel like his friend could no longer remember. Like he couldn’t remember many things now.

‘Well, let's hope she’s not as talented at getting herself into trouble as her father was.’

Jaskier sucked in his lips, breathing deeply. His blue eyes had watered up as he watched two swallows duck down from the trees. They remained low, meaning cooler weather or perhaps even a storm would come.

‘I should’ve been there for her.’ Jaskier said, sitting back up stiffly.

‘Jaskier..’

‘No Geralt. I mean even you. In fact YOU. You’ve raised a kid. And what type of vivacious, vibrant young woman that has become!’

It made Geralt think. As the day came to an end, the bugs drew out from their sanctuaries, though today they didn’t fly high like usual. Geralt’s eyes followed the swirls and dives of the swallows as they feasted on their bounty. Swallows.. Hmm.. Ciri. Cirilla. Zireael. His little swallow. He wasn’t sure what to say in that moment as his friend slowly pushed himself up from the stone bench they’d been sitting on. With cracking bones Jaskier hoisted himself up by his walking stick. Should he tell Jaskier he had been a good father? Geralt couldn’t know. He had not been there at that time. Not for many years. He had not even met Jaskier’s daughter.

In a swift move Geralt stood up as well, arm reaching out to support Jaskier where he could. And then yes..Ciri. Watching the swallows up above, he thought of his own adoptive daughter. He had not heard of Ciri in some years now, either. Nor had he heard of Yen.

Looking at Jaskier beside him, he wondered how well he’d do all alone.

‘Well Jaskier. We both are fathers. And we have tried our best every day.’

Jaskier looked up, blue eyes lighting up with curiosity. ‘Me? Goodness Geralt..-’ Jaskier halted as his body started to rack up another bloody cough. The white kerchief was hit with a dark red gob of spit, before it was duly returned to a pocket.

Geralt watched and silently inhaled the scent. The scent of looming death. As if it would help, he held onto Jaskier a little more tightly.

Jaskier sighed wearily and tapped at Geralt’s paw, that was just about death gripping his arm. ‘Geralt..Geralt..Promise me one thing Geralt.’

Geralt released his grip.

‘Treat her like you would have me.’

Palewhite was Isabella’s face as her finger pointed at the other side of the room. High up above, where the dark wilderness loomed through narrow windows, fluttered a crowd of dark shadows. Crows. Bats. Or something of the like.

With little thuds the animalistic shadows started bumping into the glass panes, willing the windows to break.

‘What the..’ Eskel gripped for his sword, and not far behind was Geralt who swivelled around with an awkward stagger, hand gripping for the nearest sword rack where some old swords were hung for decoration.

‘Speak Isabella.’ Geralt growled beneath his breath. ‘Did you bring these?’

‘WHAT? No!’ Isabella started to furiously shake her head, eyes wild. ‘No, no..I..’ She pressed herself into a wall. ‘It wasn’t me I swear!’

Eskel squinted his eyes. ‘Transmutation you think?’ Eskel asked, studying the beasts that were now flying larger bouts so they could drive themselves with more force into the windows.

‘Like fuck..’ Geralt sighed, feet shuffling to find a more comfortable stance. Above them the windows started to groan with the pressure. Dust was falling down. And not long after the inevitable break of one, became the breaking of many. Like crystal rain the windows shattered, shortly followed by a cloud of flapping wings.

Behind the witchers, Isabella cried louder. ‘Not again!’ She cried.

‘Again?’ Eskel slashed into the air, trying to keep the bat-like creatures at bay. ‘You best not be --’ He swiped right. ‘telling us you have ANYTHING to do with--’ He caught one with his hand and squeezed it to mush between his thick fingers. ‘this.’

On his left, Geralt was slashing with less grace, but more annoyance. Short, jagged motions hit and killed and before long a pile of beady eyed creatures had piled up on the keep’s stone floor.

Outside the windows a strange voice called, but no more than two of the creatures managed to escape the Witchers’ assault. Flapping furiously they raced until there was nothing left but the carcasses of those that had been slain.

Eskel tipped one of the leathery black creatures around with his shoe. It was shin-length and beneath all the black blood that was spouting from its innards, it looked like a regular, though slightly too large, bat.

‘Start talking young lady.’ Geralt snarled.

Isabella shuffled uneasily, eyes looking for the exits that were too far away to escape to. ‘I …’ She inhaled sharply. ‘There was this man at the inn. I thought he was one of youse. You know. Big ol’ armor, some Witcher-y necklaces on, swords on his back. We drank..and..’ She cleared her throat. ‘spoke of nothing special really. The weather and such.’

‘Necklaces? Plural?’ Eskel asked.

‘Yes.’

Eskel started to wipe the blood off his sword, frowning. ‘And they looked like Witcher necklaces?’

‘I think so. One of them looked like yours.’

Eskel shot her a warning glance, to which Isabella scowled even further back up into the wall.

‘So he’s not one of yours then.’ She mumbled.

‘Did he follow?’

‘Of course not. I..I got too drunk. I slept for the whole day after, then the inn keeper warned me about the weather. That I best be on my way. So then I went..and..but..there was nobody. I swear. There was nobody else out.’ Isabella looked at Geralt, who had folded his arms in silent judgement.

‘I swear! It was raining cats and dogs! I wasn’t followed!’

‘Hmm.’

Eskel cleared his throat. ‘I’m going to check out what’s going on. You stay here with this one.’ He pointed at Geralt before leaving the hall.

Geralt clicked his tongue, yellow eyes looking out into the broken windows. ‘You’re not telling us everything little bird.’

Isabella looked down at her feet. ‘I’m sorry. I really didn’t think I was followed..’ She brushed away a tear. ‘My father’s maps weren’t really clear anyway. Got lost and all.’

Geralt kept his eyes up and out to the windows, so Isabella continued with another sniffle.

‘I’m sorry Geralt. I really am.’

Finally his gaze lowered. He looked disappointed.

‘I’ll leave -’ Isabella said, sighing and sniffling.

‘Did this man have a name?’

‘The man? Eh. Something..’ She searched for the words, but they didn’t come. ‘Mm..can’t remember. He was Redanian though. Quite odd so far up North.’

‘Redanian.’

‘Yea.’

‘The paths are blocked off. And can’t have you knowing any more of our..secret..pathways. Which by the way are NOT on our maps.’ Geralt raised an unamused eyebrow. ‘So we’ll see to this in the morning.’

Isabella sighed in quiet relief. ‘Thank you.’

‘Oh and Isabella. We’d like ALL our maps back.’

Isabella blinked up at him, cheeks blushing a deep red.

‘Now.’ Geralt reached out a hand.

‘Really see it all, huh?’

Geralt stepped in closer, forcing her to flatten herself to the wall. ‘I see..’ He looked deep into her eyes - cornflower blue, just like her father’s. He wanted, in that moment, to teach her a lesson. To perhaps frighten her. But his resolve melted away with the hue of her blush and the rise of her bossom.

Argh.

Growling inwardly he turned away, pointing at the table, where she could place the “borrowed” map she was keeping in her skirts. ‘Right there. Just put it there.’

It took a long night of waiting before Eskel returned. With blood caking to his rugged clothes, he spoke of a number of monsters that had run rampant around the keep. A short magical imbalance, it seemed. Though Eskel and Geralt both continued to be wary. Not in a long time had unwelcome visitors come ‘round. The last time actually having been the Night Hunt, who had come to look for Ciri.

Ciri. Geralt wondered where she was right now. If ever she’d return to Kaer Morhen, even if just for a day or so. Was she even alive still?

Holding guard in the hall, he watched out into the night where stars sparkled like the glass they had swept to a side of the hall. The bat bodies were burning in the fire, all purple and gooey and obviously not quite natural.

In the corner two of the old cots had been returned to their function of beds. Both Eskel and Isabella were out cold after the eventful night. Geralt, however, did not feel the least bit tired. He could feel something else. Melancholy. Loneliness. Immortality. The ever grinding passing of time. The ticking of the clock on the wall behind him. The washing and waning of the moon in the sky. The drifting by of clouds and birds and before long it was another day, followed by another night. Though hopefully, by that night, the fuss that was Isabella would be gone. He was thinking of blindfolding her. Getting her out through the crypts. But even then it would be a difficult thing to get out.

With half an eye he looked at the two sleeping forms in the corner. Eskel, though terribly annoyed with the young woman, had hushed Geralt when he had made another attempt of showing her who’s boss. Geralt didn’t know why he did that. Lashing out to Isabella the way he did. Perhaps the lack of grip on the situation had bested him. Perhaps it was because she reminded him of..

He felt his eyes water and just like that all the frustration he felt slipped down his cheek in the shape of a tear. Gods he missed Jaskier so much. He’d take it all back. The mischief. The saving the bard’s arse over and over. Even the annoying songs. Yes, even the songs. His stiff lips turned into a melancholic smile.

‘Treat her like I would you, hmm?’ He sniffled. ‘Fine.’

Part 5 >

General Tagsquad: @harrysthiccthighss @tumblnewby @magdelen69 @thereisa8ella @mary-ann84 @darkbooksarwin @summersong69 @madbaddic7ed @luclittlepond @maroonmolly @just-a-normal-fangirl18 @hell1129-blog @agniavateira @tillthelandslide @elinesama @maddyreads14 @aletheladyinred @moonlacebeam @kebabgirl67

#geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia fanfiction #the witcher fanfiction #eskel #geralt x oc #jaskier

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missskzbiased · 4 years ago

Text

I Hate That I’m Afraid to Love You (10)

Genre: Romance, Friendship, Angst, Hurt /Confort , Suggestive, Fluff, College Au, Enemies to Friends to Lovers Au, REALLY Slow burn, Love Square (?)

Pairing: Hyunjin X Fem!Reader X Han X OC

WC: ~ 4,7K

[Previous] [Chap] [Next]

Masterlist

Warnings (general*): Language, Mentions of (Physical abuse, Death/ Loss of Loved One, Child Abandonment/Neglect, Divorce, Toxic Parents, Cancer, Mental disorder, Anxiety Attack, Alcohol, Food), Suggestiveness (?)

Updates: Tuesdays [Today I’m posting it a little bit earlier just because] [Also, I have up to chap 12 written but I’ve been blocked/busy to write. I already started chap 13 but the updates may be changed in the future]

Tagging: @aliceu @thatrandomoneinthecorner @channiewoo

/////

“Holy Shit!” You sputtered, stumbling over your feet.

Chan’s arm immediately wrapped around your waist, steading you as you tried to support yourself on the wall; eyes wide like saucers and mouth agape, utterly surprised by the scene you ran into so early in the morning. Hyunjin rubbed his eyes, dragged steps trying to bring him to the living room to check what startled you and Chan that much.

“Holy shit!” He blurted out, suddenly looking awake. You would have laughed at him in other circumstances but right now you could only focus on Paris and Han sleeping together on the couch. Their bodies were covered with a thick blanket, and you could only hope for them to be fully dressed under there.

Actually, that was kind of cute.

As soon as the shock dissolved, you took in the scene. Though the blanket didn’t allow you to see much, you assumed Paris was lying right on top of Han, head resting on the crook of his neck. She nuzzled him, nose rubbing against his neck, which made him squirm a little bit, humming as he adjusted himself, probably hugging her under the sheets. You gave them a small smile, looking at Chan and Hyunjin with soft eyes.

“Don’t look at me like this, you’re going to clean that couch if his butt touched my cushion” Chan hissed, arms untangling from your waist. He made his way to the kitchen, looking for something to eat “We don’t have anything for breakfast…” He sighed, looking at Hyunjin.

“I didn’t think about it” He shrugged, and Chan pursed his lips, nodding in disappointment.

“Of course you didn’t” He rolled his eyes, straightening himself and closing the refrigerator “I guess I’ll order something before we wake them up” He looked at you in doubt, wondering if it was a good plan. You frowned, looking at him in shock.

“Why the fuck you’re going to order breakfast? Are you nuts?” You scoffed, studying your outfit. Sweatpants and an oversized T-shirt. Good enough to go get some stuff “I’m going to buy something real quick” You offered, heading to the door.

“By yourself?” Hyunjin asked surprised. You arched your brow, looking at him in question “No, I mean… Shouldn’t one of us go with you? Actually, just let us order something, it’ll be way easier” He rambled. You sighed, rolling your eyes before looking at Chan.

“I’ll be back in a min—“ Your answer was abruptly cut off by a startled Paris. She shrieked, floundering to lift her body, completely embarrassed by the situation. You assumed her attempt to lift her body wasn’t really gentle to Han’s torso, because he shut his eyes open, coughing and trying to move, startled by whatever was happening, which just served to drop Paris to the ground.

She ended up dragging the blanket with her, uncovering Han to display a fully dressed boy with a damn hangover. He shoots his hand to his eyes, covering them in an attempt to make the light less painful, uncovering the next second to check what was the soft thud followed by a whine that reached his ears. He lifted himself just a little bit, looking to the ground, being greeted by a huge blanket covering something unknown to him.

“What the actual fuck?” He muttered, covering his eyes again, trying to sit up. The whine came right away. He curled himself on the couch, bringing his knees closer to his chest and holding his head as he rested his forehead on his knee, utterly done with the day.

Paris wasn’t much better.

She got rid of the blankets, upset by her fall, a frown carved on her face. She cupped her temples, lips quirking down, another whine leaving her lips as she probably realized she had a hangover. She mimicked Han, curling up and shielding her eyes from the light.

“Everything good?” You checked, and both of them hissed at you, complaining you were too loud. You sighed, looking at Chan “Do you happen to have some med?” You asked, feeling too young to be the mother of both of your friends. You glanced over at them, snorting as you studied their exact same antics, finding it kind of amusing.

Chan made his way back to his room, going to look for some pills, and you stood there watching Han and Paris whining like kids. You chuckled before looking at Hyunjin, who seemed quite amused at the situation himself. You approached him, nudging his side.

“They’re so gonna die of embarrassment later” You grinned, and this time he giggled, nodding and crossing his arm.

“I’m not going to let them live it down” He promised.

////

“Well, that’s all for today” Mr.Lee announced, standing up before looking around the class. You closed your notebook, shoving it into your bag like everybody else, hoisting your bag over your shoulder to get up but sitting back as Mr.Lee raised his hand, asking silently for all of you to stay a little bit more “Before you all go, I want to ask for feedback about your essay. As you may know, it was the first time I gave you an essay like this, so… Well, I guess I want to hear you out”

“I think it was pretty invasive” Someone raised their hand, stiffly exposing their opinion “Also, we could have more time… It’s not exactly easy to put all your life in someone’s hand when you don’t know them” You nodded in agreement. Although you had ended up with Paris and Hyunjin, you could imagine how hard it was for the groups who didn’t know each other.

Embarrassing, to say the least.

“I agree” Someone else raised their hand, boldly crossing their arms right after, a challenging look across their face “How were we supposed to give all our lives to someone to discuss when we didn’t even know this person? We had two weeks to know one another… It’s not like we can just trust people like this” It was a good point. You looked at Mr.Lee, who hummed, nodding at the input.

“I’ll admit that this was one of my goals” He said, thoughtfully grabbing his chin “The whole point was to put all of you on the spot, just like a patient feels when they go to therapy. I understand it’s hard… Also, in therapy, you have the law beside you stating the psychologist can’t spread your life around… But the vulnerability itself was my point” He seemed pleased with their discomfort, and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

You never felt as vulnerable as you felt talking about yourself and your family issues with Paris. If that was the whole point, he did an amazing job embarrassing you all. You looked at Paris, narrowing your eyes as you pondered his arguments. Indeed, even if she was a “psychologist” to the project, she also had to put her story in both your hand and Hyunjin’s, so she was on spot too, even if she didn’t need to discuss it with you.

There was no one to be saved there.

“Let me ask you this… How many of our fake psychologists think they had a positive impact on your group?” He looked around and so did you. Some people raised their hands, including Paris, who smiled proudly, chest puffed out “Now, how many of you think that impact could replace a real therapy?” You looked around again.

Not one hand raised.

“Good, good” He said softly, nodding in approval “You aren’t psychologists and therapy is way different than this activity. I want you guys to understand that it’s hard to open up and you, as a psychologist, won’t be the only one studying what is right in front of you… Patients are logical and judging human beings like all of us. They can and will study you” He walked around, hands to his back, watching all of you “They know you are analyzing them and they will choose you based on something. It can be your empathy, it can be your responsiveness to them, it can be the apparent lack of judgment… It doesn’t matter. What does matter is that none of you are better than them, and the sooner you realize it, the better”

You took in everything he said.

He was good.

“Lastly, who would consider going to a therapist after all the debates you guys did for this project?” You raised your hand immediately, looking around to see if anyone else would raise their hands. To your surprise, a lot of people did, such as Hyunjin, who didn’t seem too comfortable to raise it fully in the air, shyly letting his hand hover over his lowered head.

Your eyes met Paris, hands rested on her lap.

Really?

Mr.Lee finally waved his hands dismissively, allowing all of you to go. You got up again, followed by Paris and Hyunjin – and all of your classmates, eager to just go anywhere else –, hoisting your bag over your shoulder and heading to the stairs. You risked a glance at Paris before clearing your throat.

“No therapist?” You asked curiously, and she gave you an amused look, chuckling.

“Why? Do you think I need it or something? I think I’m pretty well by myself” She sounded placid, her face totally at ease, as if she didn’t give much thought to your question. You shrugged casually studying your surroundings before returning your gaze to her.

“Well, we all need someone to talk to” You said hesitantly, and she eyed you weirdly, ready to confront you. Before she could say anything, though, Hyunjin joined the conversation. He had a teasing smirk adorning his lips, a mischievous glint on his eyes warned both of you about his intentions.

“She already has someone, right, Paris?” She rolled her eyes, groaning and throwing her head back as if she could ask God to take him away at any moment now “I just don’t know if they talk much… I’m sure as hell they cuddle a lot, though” You chuckled, shaking your head amused by him. Paris blushed, gaze fixed on the ground.

“She won’t even say anything! I guess she just fell like this” You joked, getting an approving nod from Hyunjin. He looked proudly at you, glad to know you were going to join him in annoying her “I’ve heard you and Han have a project together this week” You grinned, making her scoff and push you lightly, holding the strap of her bag tightly before looking at you.

“Yeah, I kinda told you that yesterday” She pointed out sarcastically “Really, guys… Will you ever let it go? I was drunk” She gave you her puppy eyes, which normally would have some effect on you but not today. You chuckled, nudging her too, smirking as you saw her pointed look at you, grumpily waiting for whatever you had to say.

“Please!” You rolled your eyes “Even in your drunkest days you never woke up on top of me!” You accused, and she groaned again, clutching her cheeks and pulling them down. Hyunjin chuckled at her reaction before nudging her, pointing ahead to the stairs.

“Oh, look! Boyfriend is waiting for you” He teased, pointing to Han, who waited for you on the stairs, nervously gripping his backpack’s straps. Paris shouted to get his attention out of habit, which just intensified your teasing until you got next to him. You and Hyunjin smirked at him as soon as you reached him, throwing him a suggestive look.

“What’s up?” He tried to break the ice, blushing as his eyes darted between you and Paris before setting on Hyunjin “Is he going to stick with us from now on?” He asked displeased, and you were prepared to send Hyunjin away so you could head to the dining hall but Hyunjin interrupted you before you could say it.

“Rude” He pointed out “As far as I remember, you came along to my house, and I even let you sleep on my couch with my girl” He joked. You and Paris chuckled, though she whined right after, knowing she wouldn’t be able to live it down so soon. Han seemed to blush harder─ which didn’t seem even possible─ and cleared his throat before grimacing at Hyunjin.

“First of all, She’s not your girl” His tone was kinda threatening, and you had to fight back a smile as you glanced at a blushing Paris beside you “And what was I supposed to do? Let them with a dick like you?” He challenged, puffing his chest and trying to look more intimidating. Hyunjin scoffed at him, looking down at his eyes and grimacing.

“I wasn’t the one who woke up drunk with someone on the couch” He sneered, stepping ahead to approach him, getting just a few inches away from Han “I don’t think you’re in any position to call me a dick” You darted your eyes between the two boys, worried. The tension built up to the point the four of you got silent, looking warily to each other, swallowing dry and clearing your throats once in a while.

“You know what? We’re getting late to our lunch with Chan” You blurted out, locking your arm with Hyunjin’s, who gave you an astonished look. You gave a tight smile to your friends, ignoring the distressed look you got from Han and the confused frown Paris shot your way “See you guys later! Bye!” You waved your hand, dragging Hyunjin along with you hurriedly.

“I’m sorry but what the fuck?!” Hyunjin looked at your arms locked, brows knitting together as he looked at them incredulously “I don’t recall Chan saying anything about a lun—“ You glanced back to make sure Paris and Han wouldn’t be looking at you, dropping his arm and interrupting him immediately.

“I don’t want you guys to fight” You waved dismissively “Also, it’s better if they got some alone time together, don’t you think?” You snorted. He hummed in agreement, straightening up and peeking at you.

“So… Where are we going to eat?” He asked curiously, shoving his hands on his pockets casually, tilting his head to observe you.

“What do you mean?” You scoffed, arching your brows amused. He rolled his eyes, gesturing to the dining hall impatiently.

“Well, Chan didn’t invite us to eat so I’m assuming you’ll eat somewhere else since your friends will be there” He wagged his hand, looking at you as if you were dumb. You nodded slowly, realizing he was right.

“I didn’t really think it through” You admitted “I can go anywhere else, that’s not a problem… One day won’t make such a difference to my final budget” You shrugged, and he nodded back, uncomfortable. You arched your brow, nodding your head in question.

“So… That’s it” He raised his hand to wave you goodbye, stiffly standing in front of you “See you around” And that being said, both of you parted your ways.

////

Wednesday was a lonely day.

By now, you were used to having lunch by yourself and go back home to enjoy your few hours before your shift. You always treasured these two hours. It was the time you had to stay in silence, peacefully laid down on your bed, or stressfully trying to put up with your assignments.

Usually, you didn’t open the door to find Paris and Han on the couch, though.

“Oh?” You let out, clearly confused. Han held the guitar to his torso, looking down to the strings as he thought about something, humming as he heard Paris mumble. They raised their heads slowly, looking at you froze on the doorframe “I didn’t know you were going to be here… I just came to…” Your eyes wandered around the room, spotting your book on the table “To pick this up” You walked over to the table, smiling awkwardly before getting your book.

“You’re going out?” Paris asked surprised. Of course, she did. She knew you liked to stay in your room at this time, even if she wasn’t home. You always beamed about your alone time on Wednesdays. You took quick steps to the door, nodding before your eyes roamed around the room, struggling to focus on them and hide your nervousness.

“Hm… Yeah! I’m actually… I’m meeting up a friend” You stumbled around your words, letting out a fake giggle “To… Lend him this!” You raised your book, finally finding something to say “He asked me this book and I totally forgot to take it with me! Yep! That’s right” You smiled proudly, waving at them “Bye! Take your time together! See you later” You said as you closed the door behind you.

You stood there in front of the door, blinking a few times before letting a sigh out. God, you were horrible at lying! You glanced at the door, holding the book close to your chest and ready to go to the only place you could go now that you expelled yourself from your room: The garden. You absolutely loved to lay there on the grass, watching as squirrels and birds passed by, afraid to get close to you.

You let out a sigh.

Definitely not your plan for the day but it would work.

You made your way to your destination, calmly walking through the halls ─looking at the garden as you walked beside the arches, hand sliding through the baluster as you felt the soothing breeze huff your face ─, watching the green grass and the yellow flowers that you liked so much. You smiled as you watched a squirrel pick up something from the ground, quickly moving to hide it somewhere else. When it reached the tree it was aiming at, your eyes fell upon the guy who was resting there.

It was Hyunjin.

He seemed absorbed in his book, which was pretty surprising as you never pictured him as the reader type. Especially not an under-the-tree-reader kind of a guy. He was laid down on the grass, earbuds on and backpack supporting his head; one leg bent while the other one was straight, giving him a relaxed and composed look. As the treetop danced around with the wind, the filtered sunbeam danced around him too, making it look like there was the perfect spot to read a book.

You averted your eyes to look around the place, noticing a few more people than usual hanging there. It wasn’t hard to notice most of them were girls simply admiring him while he was reading, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. As soon as you went down the stairs, finally getting to the grass, you made your way to him, ignoring the few pointed looks you received.

“Hey, Hyunjin” You called but he didn’t answer.

He must be really focused on his reading to not listen to your calling. You shadowed him, which appeared to get his attention, his startled eyes raising from the book to look at you. He took one of his earbuds out, hand hovering beside his ear as he held it, looking confused at you.

“What are you doing here?” He asked surprised, raising his torso and sitting on the grass. He lifts his chin to look straight into your eyes, and you chuckled at his response.

“Should I send you a warning every time I come to a public place?” You asked jokingly, and he let out a chuckle of his own, shaking his head in amusement. He closed his book mindlessly and you couldn’t help but be in stitches as you realized what happened right before your eyes.

His phone slid from the book, and even though you couldn’t hear it, you could see the Drama playing on his screen. You covered your mouth, trying to muffle your laugh, and his eyes shot to his phone, cursing under his breath as he quickly took the phone from the ground, shoving it into his pocket. You pinched the bridge of your nose, squatting as you tried to recompose yourself, pointing out to his pockets.

“I can’t…” You had to stop, gasping for air as you let another fit of laughter slip from your lips “… Believe you’re pretendi—“ Before you could end your sentence his hand shot to your mouth, cupping it. He jolted forwards, his other hand reaching for your nape so you wouldn’t go away from his grip and keep talking.

“Shhh” He hissed, widening his eyes in a silent warning. You looked into his eyes, studying them until he realized what he was doing, letting go of you immediately. He looked away for a moment, seeming embarrassed before he shot you a smug look “Did you miss me or something?” He teased, and you rolled your eyes before sitting on the grass, legs crossed.

“Yeah, that must be it” You scoffed, bracing yourself on your thighs “So…” You drew out, smirking as he looked at you annoyed, sensing you would mock him “Why are you here pretending to read… Political Science stuff?” You ended up confused, fixing the book so you could read its title.

“Well, I’m a Political Science student” He pointed out as if it was obvious. You grimaced, flicking his book before nodding.

“So you kinda should read it for real, hm?” You gave him a tight smile, and he snorted, nodding in agreement.

“Okay, that’s fair enough” He shrugged “Just in case some Professor goes by… You know, I have to look smart to keep up my better-than-you facade” He smirked, expecting you to retort him or something but you just rolled your eyes again and pushed him lightly.

“If you have the time to look like you’re better than me, you should start studying for real” You suggested, and this time he was the one who scoffed, tilting his head to the side before grinning obnoxiously.

“Then I’d be way better than you and it would be too easy” He teased, grinning dissolving when you threw your head back groaning, making mention to get up. He grabbed your wrist, laughing “No, no, no! I’m kidding! I’m kidding!” He giggled, and you looked at him with narrowed eyes before settling back on the grass.

“Well, what are you doing here after all?” You asked curiously, waving dismissively to his apologetic eyes. You liked to spend your time in the garden, so you’d know if he hung around your garden like this… You didn’t recall seeing him even once.

“I come here on Wednesdays… I’m just waiting for my classes” He shrugged “What about you? I never saw you around here” He eyes you curiously, and you chuckled, hands going to the ground as you leaned slightly back, supporting yourself, straightening your legs.

“I was going to rest before work but Paris and Han are at the dorms, so I figured I should leave them alone” You said, looking at him with a small smile. Hyunjin furrowed his brows, tilting his head to the side, confused. He waited for you to continue but you didn’t, so he frowned, deciding to speak up.

“Okay?” He said warily “What about it?” You looked at him as if he needed a new brain, snorting before nudging him with your foot.

“Well, They like each other so –“ Hyunjin interrupted you by chortling, looking at you as if you were a confused kid, fondly mocking you without a word. You tilted your head, confused by his reaction, waiting for his explanation.

“You’re kidding, right?” He chuckled, looking at any signs of amusement on your face, which he didn’t find “No! Seriously?! It’s so damn obvious he likes you!” He seemed surprised by your obliviousness, and you laughed at his delusional self, shaking your head in amusement.

“You’re crazy! He likes Paris for like… Years!” You retorted, rolling your eyes “Where did you even get that from?” You scoffed, and this time he leaned forward, legs crossed and hands fisting the grass lightly.

“No, look… I’m sorry to break it to you but he likes you” He repeated himself, and you looked away in disbelief “No! Really! He doesn’t like Paris! Just think for a moment, Y/N! Why would he even come to punch me for thinking I made you cry?” He looked distressed, totally taken aback by the fact that you didn’t agree with him.

“He’s my friend! Of course, he would get upset if he thought someone made me cry!” You rolled your eyes “He stands up for me and Paris all the time. It’s called friendship, Hyunjin” He scoffed, looking away before grimacing at you.

“Okay, and why was he all riled up when we ate the hot dog that night?” He challenged. You frowned. Well… Apart from his worries about Hyunjin in general, Han didn’t really have a reason to get so upset “See? Deep down you know I’m right” He smiled triumphantly.

“He acts differently when he’s around Paris” You retorted, crossing your arms. He rolled his eyes, sighing “I mean it! Did you see how he acts beside her?” You insisted eagerly.

“Please… He acts differently when he’s around you” He arched his brows, as if to make his point, “That’s how he acts around you! Have you ever seen how he act around her when you’re not around? I mean it. He likes you.” He was serious, and for a moment you couldn’t take his words out of your mind.

Was that how he acts around you not her?

“Anyway… I don’t even know why I’m trying to make you understand it” He shrugged “It’s none of my business” He sighed, arching one brow, studying your flabbergasted expression “Though I think I made my point” He chuckled, and you shook your head.

“No, you didn’t!” You blurted out; too eager “He likes her! He has to” You decided, settling with your previous beliefs “She likes him, you heard it yourself! And I’m sure he likes her back… They just need some alone time to get together” He sighed in defeat, giving up on the idea. As you prepared to get up, wondering where you should go to rest, he tilted his head, grabbing your wrist again. You looked down at him, and he bit his lips in doubt before speaking up.

“Do you want to watch it together?” He asked, taking his phone out of his pocket “You can read your book too if you prefer… The tree is big enough for both of us” He smiled friendly, and you had to smile back. It was the first time he was being friendly without any suggestive or teasing remarks attached.

“I’d love to” You nodded, crawling to the tree trunk, leaning against it. He laid down again, resting his head on his backpack and giving up on pretending to be studying, raising his phone right up his eyes, so he would be watching it in peace. You opened your book, prepared to re-read it since you had actually read it over the weekend, noticing as he glanced at you.

“Is that book this good for you to prefer reading it instead of watching something?” He asked cautiously, and you smirked at him.

“Yes, it is… I think you should try it” You offered, and he scoffed.

“No way, I’m going to watch my Drama” He rolled his eyes.

“We watch it together and then you read my book” You suggested “Then you have to be sincere about it! You can’t just decide your drama was better without trying to read it!” You looked at him accusingly, and he chuckled.

“What is on for me?” He asked smugly, and this time you rolled your eyes to him.

“The shame of being so wrong throughout your life that you should hide under a rock” You grimaced, making him laugh “Or maybe I’m the one who should hide under a rock…” You let the sentence hanging in the air, and he smiled confidently.

“Deal” He agreed. You closed the book, resting it on his stomach as you laid down, resting your head on your hand, elbowing the grass.

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missgarnet · 4 years ago

Text

Stay

pairing: king taehyung x reader

word count: 5.4k

Genre:royal au/fluff/angst

Summary: There are boundaries and rules for interacting with royals, Y/N's been around long enough to figure them out for herself. But what happens when the widdowed king returns to the palace and she begins to see him as more of a person than a ruler. Can the two of them stay to put back the broken pieces left from their pasts, or will everything go wrong when the truth comes out?

Warnings: brief mentions of blood, brief mentions of death, brief mentions of child loss

Link to ao3

The sweat seeped into her nightgown, making the fabric cling to her shivering body. Her chest rattled with cough as her breath grew labored. Taehyung sat in the rocking chair by her side, studying the small crack in the arm rest as he tried to avoid seeing how small and frail she’d grown over the last few weeks. The pains started all too soon, the king grew worried as her hands pressed against her swollen stomach. It was too soon for both of them, and he was pulled away before the labor had truly even started.

He paced in the hallways as her pained cries sounded out from behind closed doors. It pained him to see the pale faced nurses carrying armfuls of bloodied sheets away from where she layed, scared and alone without the one person who was supposed to be with her no matter what. They wouldn’t let him in the room, even after she was gone. Neither of them lived long, she was too young, too lively to go this soon. And the king’s child had barely even taken his first breath when things started going downhill. The physicians tried everything, but they couldn’t save either one.

When you joined the palace staff, everything was in a state of mourning. The halls felt so empty without the queen, and chests of her belongings being sent away only made it worse. You knew that the king had requested you to take this position, but he had refused to see you or anyone that he didn’t have to. Soon after the palace grew even emptier as the king began preparing for a trip to the Southern Palace, where he would be staying with the Parks and one of the lesser Kim families. His absence and lack of greeting toward you was unusual compared to your previous experience, but you didn’t mind. Oftentimes you found it better to avoid meeting with nobles, especially those employing you.

Your job was difficult enough without the added stress of having to interact with them. Most nobles had no clue how to run their staff, it was much easier for them to pay someone else to make sure their manors ran smoothly. It was your job to make sure the kitchens were stocked and well staffed, as well as seeing to the gardens, art collections, and countless rooms to be cared for. You’d been hesitant at accepting this offer but as soon as Duchess Min heard, she demanded you take this opportunity. She was a force to be reckoned with, and yet the duchess was your favourite household to work in. It was one of the more unusual places you’d worked, normally a duchess would be reserved and follow her husband's lead. However, she was more intimidating than him and that’s saying a lot. You’re half convinced she would have murdered you herself if you didn’t take her advice on going to the palace. If only she could see you now.

In the years since you joined the palace you were sure to make one thing very clear. Even though the king had not returned, your standards would be just as if he were in that very room. You had made it a point to keep every room spotless, and a constant rotation of culinary experts for when there were guests. Unfortunately, there were certain rooms you were unable to access and the annoyance of a couple locked doors that not one of the staff could find keys for. Which was why it struck you as quite unusual that one of those damn doors had found itself slightly ajar, as if someone had found the key. You nearly had a heart attack when you saw the man curled up on the floor.

“Excuse me. What in the hell do you think-” you freeze mid sentence as you take in the man before you, he wore no crown and looked different from the portraits you had seen but it was impossible not to recognise him. The man sitting there before you was none other than the king. You dropped into a curtsy as you frantically attempted to make up for your mistake, “Your majesty, I am so so sorry. I was not made aware of your arrival and the open door just gave me a bit of a fright. No one’s been able to open most of this wing and seeing you here startled me.”

The king sniffles, looking so small for a man of his importance, “I- I didn’t want to be announced. I thought it would be best if I had time to adjust, being here it’s just a little much. And besides I’d rather not have people seeing me like this. It’s shameful really. Kings don’t cry.”

You carefully take a step forward, watching for him to react or ask you to leave but instead he stays still as you seat yourself on the floor across from him. “Maybe not, I don’t know enough about kings to say one way or the other. But I know people, and people need to cry sometimes, and yell, and laugh, and just express whatever it is that they’ve got trapped inside of their heads.”

“I’m not just a person though, there’s too many expectations for me to do that.”

“Maybe not,”you pause for a moment trying to think of the right words. “What if even just for a moment, you and I sit here and just be a normal person for a little while. We can talk or just sit in silence, but without all the pressures and responsibilities of everything else.”

“One condition, I don’t want anyone to know you found me like this. I just needed a minute, please don’t tell anyone.”

“Your Majesty, it’s my job to notice everything and nothing at the same time. Trust me, your secret’s safe with me. I’ll do my best to make sure the staff allows you to have as much privacy as you need.”

“Thank you.”

Mina’s feet were pressing against your spine when you woke up before sunrise the next morning, for such a small child she really had a talent for taking the entire bed. As you slipped out from the covers, you couldn’t help but notice how sweet she looked as she curled herself into a little ball the second you got up. Getting dressed without waking her up was usually difficult but you had years of practice with this. You’d found it was easiest to start your day by being the among the first to be up and about in the palace. It gave you enough time to brew coffee for the other staff about to start their days, and a time and place where you didn’t have to worry about anyone else. That was before today of course.

One thing you’d learned early on and come to rely on was the fact that most royalty did not know where anything was, and they made it a point to avoid the servants' side of everything. This was why you found it so surprising when you walked into the kitchen to find a certain king attempting to figure out how to brew a cup of coffee.

“Good morning,” he said, looking up at you with a boxy smile.

“Good morning, Your Majesty. Please forgive me for asking, but are you lost?”

He seems to find something entertaining in your response and proceeds to start laughing at this. “No, I’m pretty sure I was still in my palace last time I checked. I just thought it’d be easier for us to talk in your office, but you’re not using it.”

“I’ve found it’s easier to run everything if I’m the one going to them, so I never even opened the door to the staff office. This way I can move around and see what’s going on at all times. I can’t be in charge if I don’t know what is going on around me. I could start using it if that would make things easier on you, Your Majesty”

“No, I like the way you’ve been handling things. It's just that you’re quite a difficult person to keep track of. And I wish you wouldn’t call me that all the time, it’s exhausting having to hear your majesty this and your majesty that. I just get sick of hearing it so much.”

“It’s your title, what else would you have me call you?”

“Taehyung,” he grins. “Or Tae if you want. I think I’d rather just be myself around you, it’s one less person I have to worry about impressing.”

“Very well, Your- Taehyung.” You found your eyes wandering from the soft curls framing his face to his warm smile and lips that were begging to be- No, absolutely not he was your boss and a king, you could not start thinking of him like that. But maybe he wasn’t so bad, maybe the two of you could be… friends.

“Do you want breakfast?”

“You can cook?”

“A little, I’m not very good at it but Jin’s been teaching me.” He seemed confident, so you figured what’s the worst that could happen and left the young king to attempt cooking on his own.

Turns out you were right to be concerned with him being in the kitchen, despite Jin’s lessons he had a long way to go before making anything unsupervised. Apparently the worst thing that could happen was not him breaking the eggs and leaving the shells in, but rather forgetting what he was making and almost setting the kitchen on fire.

A few weeks later Taehyung had started meeting with various ladies of the court. You were aware of the arrangement but something bothered you about the sour attitude he had every time he returned from being with one of them. It was a peculiar feeling that made you want to reach out and comfort him. Even as you told yourself that this was just a platonic feeling, something innocent between friends, you couldn’t help but noticing a growing jealousy for these women.

The door slammed behind the king as he returned from his meeting with Lady Nam. “Y/N, I’ll be in my office. Could you bring dinner up when you have the time?”

“Of course, I’ll have it finished immediately.” By the time you got to the office, you found the door half open like it was the first time you met. “Taehyung, I brought food, and I asked them to make a couple desserts just in case. I don’t mean to overstep, but what’s going on? You seemed upset.”

“It’s nothing, I just didn’t think they’d be so forward with their intentions. I know I’m supposed to be meeting with the noble ladies as a way to find another wife, but I didn’t think they’d be presenting me with a marriage contract the first time I ever meet her.”

“I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine someone having the audacity to do that, especially under the circumstances.”

“It’s not your fault, most nobles don’t get to marry someone they already care for. My wife and I didn’t really get along in the beginning, but I cared for her. We ended up becoming friends as time went on. It’s not much but it’s better than most. I feel a little bad for admitting this, but I wanted more this time.”

“It’s not wrong to want something more. I don’t know if this will help but I don’t think loving someone else doesn’t mean you cared for her any less.” The two of you sat in silence for a moment, what you said was true but it also wasn’t your place. You were there to serve and manage the household affairs, advice was overstepping and you had learned better.

“I know. It’s just so much harder than I thought it would be, moving on. She used to make jokes about how something wasn’t her problem, that it was something for my next wife to deal with. Sometimes I wonder if she knew, especially towards the end. She was just so small.” He lowered his head, curls falling before his saddened eyes. “I just want someone to love me, I want someone to stay.”

“Tae, I can’t promise much but please know you have my unwavering loyalty. I’m here to stay however long you’ll want me for.” You were falling and you just couldn’t stop. There were boundaries kept in place for a reason, but somehow you just kept crossing them for the young king. It felt like he was a little broken too, and maybe just maybe you could be the one to put each other back together. You couldn't stop yourself from pushing the hair out of his face and meeting his eyes with yours. This is the closest the two of you have been, barely a breath apart.

The two of you were so focused on each other that neither noticed the door opening. That was until a certain small child came tugging at your sleeve. “Y/N, it’s snowing! There’s really snow outside! Can we go? Please!”

A panic snapped you out of whatever strange feeling had come over you just moments before. You grabbed Mina by the hand and began guiding her towards the door, “Mina! What did I tell you about wandering around? You could have gotten lost or hurt, and you know there’s places that are off limits for a reason.” You turn back to the king, trying your best to repair the situation. “Your Majesty, I am so sorry. I didn’t expect-”

“Please don’t worry about it, I actually like kids but there’s not many around here.” He walks over to where you’re still holding on to Mina and kneels so that the two of them are almost the same height. “Hi, I’m Taehyung. And you know, I think we might have some extra winter coats around here if you want to go and see the snow up close. I think I might take a break and join the two of you, if that’s alright with Y/N.”

“Please Y/N, please? I’ve never got to see it in person.” Mina says turning around and begins tugging on your skirts this time, to your surprise Taehyung joins in her pleas asking you to join them.

“Fine you can go,” you tell them as you try to hold in your laughter. “But you have to put on coats and gloves first, both of you. It’s too cold out and I don’t want either of you getting frostbite.”

“Y/N, you’re coming with right? It wouldn’t be the same without you.”

“Why not? I don’t see the harm in a little snow.” The three of you dug through the little storage closet, tossing gloves and hats around at each other until you had matching sets. Coats were much easier to find, they were already organized by size to make things easier for staff.

For most places a first snow was barely enough to dust the ground and disappeared within a few hours at the most. However, this palace was unlike anywhere else you’d been. Somehow the snow had already formed a thick blanket across the grounds despite it’s unusually early arrival. It looked like something out of a fairytale and there was a certain kind of magic in the air as the three of you stepped into the gardens that day.

You couldn’t help but feel a warmth in your heart as you watched the two of them playing together in the snow. He looked carefree and unburdened for the first time since you’d met, and Mina finally got the chance to play like most kids her age. The two of them were running circles around the snow, chasing each other in a game of tag. It came as quite the shock when you felt the cold ball of ice striking you in the side, especially when you took in the king’s laughter and his reddened cheeks from the cold. Without even thinking you sunk your hands into the snow and packed it into a dense little sphere, chucking it in his direction as hard as you could.

Mina laughed as she watched your snowball glide directly over her head and strike Taehyung hard enough to make him lose his balance. Tae flopped back in the snow, and you began to worry you’d hit him too hard. Getting closer you notice Mina throwing herself down in the snow next to him, the two of them flapping their arms as they lay on their backs.

“Y/N, come help us. We’re making snow angels!” Mina calls from her spot on the ground. You sigh as you plop down between them, trying to ignore the cold ice seeping into your gloves as you wave your arms through the snow.

Mina and Tae hop up from their spots and each hold out a hand to help you up. The mischievous look in their eyes should have given their little plan away, but somehow you took their offer anyway. Sure enough they started to help you up right before letting go and laughing as you fell back into the snow.

You ended up having to find a way out of the snow on your own and turned to look at the little figures left in the snow. Three little angels laid out side by side, the bigger ones were messy and rough around the edges but the littlest one was perfect. “Mina, how do you make a perfect snow angel your first time?”

“Because I am an angel.” She says with a smug little grin.

“Sure you are,” you add. “Speaking of Angel, your favourite person is going to be here pretty soon.”

“Who’s coming here?”

“Angel, it’s a nickname we have for Duchess Min. A bit ironic really, but you’re supposed to be meeting with her sister-in-law and they’re all coming with.”

You’d gotten used to the duchess dropping in whenever she felt like it, but with the king finally back it seemed as though she’d finally have to announce her arrival like everyone else. It was always exciting to see her, but she made it a point to see you on as little short of notice as possible. This time you’d been in the kitchens planning menus for their stay at the palace when you were given the news.

“Excuse me Miss,” one of the younger maids interrupts “The Duke and his family have arrived.”

She had barely gotten the warning out when Duchess Min burst through the door and practically launched herself into your embrace. “Y/N darling, I’ve missed you so much! The manor has been positively dreadful without you. I swear they’re trying to drive me completely and utterly insane.”

“Angel, I’m pretty sure you were already that way when we got married,” the duke jokes from across the room.

“Oh please, I’ve had about enough of that nickname. I am a delight compared to you. Thank you very much. And besides I’ve missed my best friend, Y/N it's bad enough that you left me there all alone but now I have to deal with his bore of a sister.”

Yoongi sighed heavily at his wife’s remarks, “My Love, how many times do I have to ask you to stop calling my family whor-”

“Bore Yoongi, BORE with a B. I am quite aware of the fact that you wish to turn a blind eye to your sister’s recent flings. I however enjoy being able to express myself in the way that I see fit, so I would advise you to stop trying to censor the language I use. It’s bad enough I have to deal with your sister, I don’t need this too.”

“You’re just saying that because you want to have the manor to yourself again.”

“Yes, exactly! Because when we have the manor to ourselves we can,” she pulls her husband down by his collar and begins whispering something in his ear that makes the confident duke grow flustered.

You made it a point to clear your throat at this moment, drawing their attention away from each other for the time being. “I just wanted to remind you that I’m still here. And you’re supposed to be meeting the king to chaperone your sister and him, not planning whatever it is the two of you can’t wait to get home and tear each other's clothes off for.”

“There’s where you’re wrong, A few of our guards are serving as chaperones. We’re here to visit you because my wife is insistent on proving another one of her theories.”

“Oh, please it’s not a theory,” the duchess scoffs. “I received very reliable information about a certain situation within the palace, and I wanted to verify it for myself. And now that we’re here it’s obvious that I was right once again.”

You can’t help but sigh at your friend once again interfering in other people’s personal lives, “What is your brilliant discovery this time?”

She beams at your choice of words, ignoring the sarcasm surrounding them, “He’s not going to take an interest in Yoonji.”

“You don’t know that, Yoonji can be sweet and charming when she wants to be. And you’ve seen how great she is at negotiating for whatever she wants. It’s a little amusing how similar the two of you are.”

She made a horrible gagging noise at this, “No I am nothing like my sister-in-law. Why would you even- Yoongi stop laughing, it’s not funny. I would not care if you compared me to anyone else, but her.”

“Very well, Angel.” you say with a smirk. “If you don’t mind me asking why do you think you’re right about this.”

“Trust me, I know how to read people and there’s something there that’s…” your friend sighed for a moment in thought. ”He’s already got someone else in mind.”

“So, how did things go with Yoonji?” You asked later that night, passing a pastry to Taehyung.

“Better, I suppose. At least this one didn’t send a marriage contract during our first meeting. I just don’t think that any of these women are what I want.”

“Tae, you have to give her a chance. At least try, maybe we could ask them to stay with us for the holidays.”

“Us?”

“Yes, there’s only a few days til Christmas and I usually take Mina to spend it with the Mins. But I was thinking maybe I could stay here this year, spend Christmas with you.”

Before you knew it, Christmas eve had arrived and the three of you had set out to mark trees for the staff to bring in. Each of you held a little red ribbon to be tied around a Christmas tree of your choice. The Mins were supposed to join, but Angel had sent a note this morning that they had all been feeling under the weather and were exhausted from last night’s festivities.

“I think this one’s my favourite so far.”Tae announced, already choosing a tree within moments of entering the tiny forest. “I can just see us sitting around this tree drinking cocoa and unwrapping gifts in the morning.”

“Not in the Great Hall, it’s too small,” you felt bad the second you spotted the disappointment in his eyes and began to take the ribbon in your hand to tie around the tree. “But I haven’t picked mine yet, and maybe we can have a smaller Christmas tree just for us.”

Mina came running up to grab your hand, practically dragging you off in the opposite direction. “Y/N, look at this one! It’s small like me, I want this one!”

You take a quick lap around the miniature tree, there was no denying it’s lack of size nor it’s lack of branches. It’s top was barely past your knee, and the few branches it had were either short or nearly broken off. “Mina, I don’t know about this one.”

Tae seemed to notice the child’s disappointment from afar and rushed to make things right again. “Maybe we could put it in a planter and bring it with, so it can get even bigger and stronger.”

Mina smiled as the two of them tied the little ribbon around the tree. It became sort of a game between them at that point, trying to pick trees that were too small, large, or misshapen for the great hall. In the end the three of you had to choose quickly because it was starting to grow dark outside.

The next morning you found that Angel and Duke Min had miraculously recovered from any ailment and were waiting in one of the parlors around the Christmas trees you had stayed up decorating the night before. They were seated as close as possible, each of them resting an arm or leg against the other. Hot cocoa steamed in the mugs on the table before them, but that was meant to be shared between the five of you.

“Where’s Yoonji?” you ask, eyeing your best friend.

“Why are you looking at me like that? I didn’t do anything to her.” Angel looked back at Yoongi and elbowed him as if trying to remind him of something.

“She actually didn’t meddle this time, Yoonji’s not much of a morning person and she’s lucky enough to not have someone dragging her out of bed at the crack of dawn.” Despite the tone of his voice, you could tell that he wasn’t cross with his wife. You knew from experience that he would do anything if it meant making her happy.

Angel laughs at his complaints, “Oh please, I mentioned presents and he came running down the stairs.”

“Did someone say presents?” You looked up to see Tae rounding the corner with Mina shyly trailing behind. The two of them were dragging velvety red bags filled to the brim with boxes and bags for everyone.

Tae sat in the armchair across from all of you as Mina nestled in beside you. Reaching in the bag, Tae began to pull out gifts calling out names from the miniature tags tied to each. The room buzzed with joy as each of you began tearing open the wrappings, even Tae was overjoyed as the Min’s surprised him with the presents they had snuck in the night before.

Finally it was your turn to surprise them, getting up to reach around the back of the tree you retrieved the four little packages you’d hidden when the decorations were brought in. “It’s not much, but I wanted to get each of you something special.”

The room filled with little gasps of joy as they each saw the personal touch you’d put into each of their gifts. The Min’s had a strict no weapons for Christmas rule after an incident years before, but there wasn’t a rule to stop you from getting Yoongi cuff links in the shape of his sword. Admittedly you had bent the rule just a little when it came to Duchess Min’s gift, the necklace of angel wings surrounding a dagger was beautiful and the matching blade was hidden in the false bottom of the jewelry box for her to find the next day.

Tae looked at the little glass case in confusion. “It’s a snowflake, sealed and preserved between the glass. I had it made that day we were in the gardens, it was the first sign of winter at the palace and the first snow we spent together. Something about it was too perfect to let go, so I wanted to keep even a small part of that day and give it to you.”

“It’s perfect,” he took your hand in his as he lowered himself onto one knee and pulled out a small jewelry box. “If I’m being honest there was one last present I was looking forward to for a very long time. Y/N, these past months I’ve spent with you have been the happiest I’ve been in my life. You make me feel loved, and I want nothing more than to do the same for you. So please Y/N will you marry me?”

“Your majesty,” you say as you pull yourself away from him.

“Taehyung, please,” he corrected with a hushed whisper.

“No, your majesty. I can’t do this. I’ve grown to love you over these last months, but my feelings don’t matter.”

“Then what does? If we both want this, who's to tell us any differently? I don’t care about you not being a noble or any other reason you don’t feel like you aren’t enough. Because you are more than enough, I love you and that’s all that matters” he remained there on his knees as if begging you to give him a chance.

Your voice raised barely above a broken whisper, “I’m not fit to marry you, because I’m not fit to be a queen.”

“Y/N,” he said cupping your face between his hands. “You are brilliant, self-assured, and unbelievably kind. If anyone’s qualified for this it’s you.”

“That’s not what I meant, it’s more than just being good at something.”

“Then what do you mean Y/N, you can tell me anything. Just please let me in, give me a chance because I’m not just going to give up when things get difficult.”

You take his hand in yours, “Tae, it’s a long story and trust me when I say it’s better off if you don’t know. I don’t want you to think of me any differently.”

“It’s okay, nothing you say will ever change the way I see you right now. You are my world, and if you have a story you need to tell, I’m here to listen.”

“I can’t be queen because of something that happened years back, when I had first taken over the management of a noble house. One of the first things I learned was that you never say no to the baron. Anything he wanted, he got whether it was another drink, playing cards, or providing company for him and his guests. The baron I worked for took a very one sided interest in many of the women that worked for him, myself included. I’ll spare you the details, but I had my daughter nine months after he acted on this… interest.” you paused for a moment looking at his face for signs of the horror or pity you had seen in others who’d found out before him. But none of it was there, instead he held out his hand and waited for you to hold it.

With your hand in his, he gave a reassuring squeeze as if to remind you that he’s still there, “I’m alright, you can keep going if you want.”

“I had to leave the estate long before I had her, and when I returned I had to tell everyone that she wasn’t mine. We weren’t allowed to run a noble’s household if we were married or had kids, they thought it would be too much of a distraction. So I told them that she was my sister’s, she knows the truth but it’s still hard. I tried to hide it, but there’s still rumors and I can’t do that to you. This is my burden and I can deal with it, but I will not make it yours.”

“Y/N, you were right. I do see you differently now. I can see that you are more resilient than I ever thought. And I know that you would do whatever it takes to protect those you love, even if it means holding back part of your story to avoid upsetting them. You may not want to talk about what happened now, but you might someday. I want to be the person you can tell everything to… So I am asking you, forget I’m a king for a moment and please, will you marry me?”

“Taehyung I-”

From across you hear your best friend’s voice interject, “Y/N, if you don’t get it together and say yes already, I will leave my husband and marry him myself.”

“Angel, you know just as well as I do that’s not possible.”

“They didn’t need to know that,” the duchess pouts as she leans back against her husband’s chest. You chuckle at seeing them so relaxed around each other.

Tae clears his throat as if to remind you of the question still hanging heavily in the air. “Yes, a million times yes.”

As the five of you sat around the fire basking in the joy and warmth of the new engagement, the sound of carollers began to echo throughout the halls. Tae pulled you closer and the two of stayed curled up together as the Min’s began passing the cocoa around along with the flask Angel had hidden in a secret pocket. “Merry Christmas Y/N”

“Merry Christmas Tae Tae.”

#bts fluff #bts angst #king taehyung #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #taehyung x reader #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts ff #bts christmas fic #taehyung christmas fic #taehyung fanfic

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finleyfray · 3 years ago

Text

Black Lungs

aka I watch too much Chicago Fire

Tw: angst, death, swear words

It was late in the evening and Finley was sitting on her bed. She was halfway through her shift and so far there have been no accidents. Luckily for her she could just relax.

Fin looks at her phone and sees a text from her girlfriend Alex in their group chat.

‘Done with my shift, can I come to the fire-station? Mags, will you come too? I wanted to ask you something.’ – Alex

‘Yea, babe, you can come to the depot. What do you want to talk about? It Makes me anxious.’ – Fin

‘Okay, I’ll be there in 10 mins.’ – Mags

‘Promise it’s nothing bad! Don’t worry!’ – Alex

Finley pouted thinking about what Alex wanted to ask them. They’ve been together for 4 months now. It was hard to find time to meet with her being a firefighter working 12 hours shifts, Alex being a doctor and Maggie being a detective.

There were times when they would be chilling watching some movie and Alex would be called in to perform a surgery. Or there was a large fire and needed more units and Fin being a lieutenant had to gather her unit and go help.

There was a knock on the door and Finley smiled as she saw her girlfriends. She went to the door and opened it for them.

“Hi.” She greeted her girlfriend and let them in. She quickly embraced them both in a hug and led them to sit on her bed.

“Hey.” Maggie smiled. “So, Alex, what’s up?” They both looked at their redhead girlfriend.

“My mom’s in town with her man J’onn, and they’re staying with Sam and Ruby and Sam wanted to do a family meeting so they invited me, Maggie, Kara and Lena and their kids too. So they know I’m officially with Maggie but I thought maybe it would be a good time…” Alex hesitated.

“No.” Finley cut her off.

“Why?” the redhead looked at her in disbelief.

“I think that it’s a good idea.” The raven haired woman looked at them fidgeting with her fingers. Finley always got defensive when they were talking about coming out to Alex’s family. It always ended with an argument between them.

“If you think that’s a good idea you can go with Alex and see them. I am not ready to do that.” The black haired woman growled and stood up from her bed.

“You always do that! Every time I mention...”

“Exactly! Because we do this almost every fucking week. I want you to meet my sister! I want you to meet my sister in law! My niece and my nephew! There’s a reason I keep saying no. You might not see the pressure, but let me sum it up for you! Your mother aka bioengineer, her boyfriend the head of FBI, your sister Sam, aka the lawyer, your other sister Kara, who is the second best reporter in the entire city, her wife, CEO of the biggest company in the entire city...”

“I don’t see where you’re going.” Alex interrupted her.

“When we break up, I’ll have to move to the fucking Alaska, cause my life here will be destroyed!”

“Finley!” Maggie growled at her. “What’s this nonsense!?”

“So you don’t want to meet my family because if we break up they're going to, what, bully you!? That’s the most stupid thing I’ve ever heard! When we break up!? What are you already planning to? This is a joke!” By now Alex was shouting angrily.

“I mean IF.”

“Yes, sure, you meant IF. That’s bullshit and you know it. We might as well...” There was a loud alarm and Finley sprang to the door.

“We’ll do it later, there’s a fire alarm.”

The firefighter dressed up quickly in her uniform and they drove to the place. Their chief was already there giving out orders.

The fire came out from the huge garage and it was spreading fast. On the street stood a woman holding a 3 years old boy in her hands. Finley went to her.

“We woke up to the fire alarm, so I grabbed Liam and ran while my wife, Kara went out to get Kim, she was in another room. Now they aren’t out yet!” She spoke fast, panicking. “Please go get them!”

“Don’t worry madam, we’ll get them out.” The firefighter said calmly and she led her team to the house.

“You go get the woman, I'll get the kid. When we go, open the roof and start putting out the fire.”

“Got it lieutenant!” her team went inside and she followed. Going upstairs she heard a crying kid. She kicked the door, and searched for the girl.

“Hey kid, I’m here to help you, can you tell me where you are?” The child said nothing, but out of instinct Finley looked under the bed. “Come on, your mommy is waiting outside.” The girl began coughing and Finley cursed mentally. She helped the kid out under the bed and took off her mask putting it on the kid to help her breathe. “I want you to breathe easy, in and out.” The firefighter instructed the kid and the blue eyed girl looked at her following her orders. “We’re going out of here.” Finley took the kid and they began going outside. “I’ve got you kid, I’ve got you." Just as they went downstairs, the wooden stairs shook and broke under them. Fin hugged the kid close as she fell on the ground losing her breath for a minute. She heard her “firefighter down" alarm going on.

“You good?” she grasped looking at the blonde girl.

“I want mommy...” Girl cried.

“I know baby girl, I know...” Finley tried to move but she couldn’t. Her body hurt and she wanted to close her eyes. The firefighter coughed feeling her lungs hurt. There was too much smoke. She really needed the rescue squad.

The black-haired woman looked around her. There it was, the clear escape route for the kid. By now, every second matters, the building won’t hold on for very long.

“Hey kid? The door is not so far away, you think you could run there for me? Your mommy is right behind them waiting for you.”

“I’m scared...” the girl looked at her terrified.

“I know baby girl, but you can do it! You’re a big girl, and your mommy needs you to be brave.” Finley tried to smile to encourage the kid.

“What about you?”

“I’ll follow you right after.”

The girl stood up and began running for the door.

“See you in a minute...” Finley whispered as she closed her eyes.

***

Alex ran to hug her sister.

“Kara, what happened?” She asked, worrying, looking at her sister. “You okay? Where’s Kim?”

“We were sleeping when the alarm went off, and Liam slept with us so I went to go get her but there was fire everywhere, and next thing I know firefighters are leading me out. They said another one of them will go get Kim. But they aren’t out yet Alex!”

“It’s okay, they’ll get her out.” The redhead hugged her sister and looked around.

Maggie was standing next to a tall man who had jacked on with ‘Chief' written on it. Alex led Kara to Lena and went in their direction. Just as she was walking a man ran past her and began speaking.

“Chief, we need to send the rescue squad in!”

“No. The building is old, if someone goes in, it will collapse.”

“I’ll go in, just let me! I’ll get Finley and the kid!” The man yelled, becoming more frustrated.

“No one goes in, that’s an order Jay! They’ll go out. ”

The redhead went to Maggie.

“This is terrifying. I’m scared.” She whispered.

“I know, me too” The raven-haired woman hugged her as they looked at the building with worried expressions.

They watched the front door for what seemed like hours, but it’s only been a minute. They heard an alarm going on inside and the man called Jay put on his mask. “I’m going in!” but they all froze when they saw some small figure running out of the house. Kara rushed to pick up her baby, she quickly grabbed her and took off her breathing mask. The girl cried and Alex felt relieved. Her niece was safe.

Jay didn’t even reach the front door when the building shuddered and they saw the floor collapsing. Everyone stopped breathing for a minute just looking there, not believing their eyes.

“Finley!” Alex cried and collapsed in Maggie’s arms.

#sanvers x oc #maggie sawyer x oc #alex danvers x maggie sawyer #alex danvers x oc #Alex Danvers x Original Character #Maggie Sawyer x Original Character

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yandere-society · 5 years ago

Text

First, Do No Harm

Sypnosis: Dr. Kim is well known as the most skilled heart surgeon in the hospital, but when you notice his mortality statistics seem skewered, you discover all is not what it seems. Now, Dr. Kim is offering you a choice: will you join him? Or become yet another broken heart beneath his scalpel?

Pairing: Namjoon x Female Reader

Word Count: 7.2k

Admin: @psycho-slytherin

Valentine’s Day Event Masterlist

Trigger warnings: yandere-themes, mentions/descriptions of death and dying, blood, murder?

You stand back, holding your breath as Dr. Kim Namjoon removes the camera from his young patient’s chest and smiles. “Another day, another Tetralogy of Fallot.”

The nurses and residents clap politely, and you join in. Dr. Kim is a legend within the hospital and across the country. You have nothing but admiration for the greatest pediatric cardiologist of your generation. And you, as a senior anesthesiologist, have gotten to witness some of his greatest achievements.

“Great work, everyone. He’s going to be just fine,” Dr Kim says, catching your eye and grinning. You can’t see his smile through his mask, but his trademark dimples appear below his eyes.

Those dimples have done nothing but enthrall just about every hospital employee since day one, and sometimes even you have to wonder if you’re truly immune to his mesmerizing gaze.

As you replace the equipment on the anesthesia cart and switch off the many machines that kept your patient asleep for the duration of his surgery, your attention turns to tomorrow’s patient– a fifty-two year old liver transplant recipient named Mr. Lim. You’ve already prepared his plan, and it should be pretty straightforward.

You’ve always loved the art of anesthesiology– it turned surgery from a lowly last resort to a tolerable option, from screaming and bloody struggles to a quiet and hyper-focused operating room. Anesthesia set the stage for the advancement of medicine, and you’ve never thought twice about your choice of specialty.

Plus, it means you get to see Dr. Kim, the handsome cardiologist, whenever you’re working on a surgery with him. You smile at the thought. That’s great, too.

As you scrub out, your thoughts drift to your plans. Valentine’s Day is next week and you promised your newly-engaged coworker you would be on call. Dr. Jung asked you days ago to take over for him so that he could spend the evening with his fiancé. With your reputation for being perpetually single, you were happy to help. Besides, you like helping people.

“Dr. L/n.” You see Dr. Kim slide in beside you as he, too, scrubs his hands and arms up to the elbow. It seems you two were the last to file out of the OR.

“Dr. Kim,” you reply. “Great work on the Tetralogy of Fallot today.” It’s a relatively common, but sometimes deadly, combination of birth defects. The patient today was a five-year-old boy, and when you explained to him that you would insert a breathing tube to help him during the surgery, he looked at you with such trust in his eyes that for a second, it was you who couldn’t breathe.

“It was a collaborative effort,” the cardiologist says smoothly. “Definitely wouldn’t be possible without you.”

You feel a blush warm your cheeks when he turns to you. Dr. Kim has one of those faces whose every line reveals a particular grace– each worried wrinkle seems to have a meaning, and every controlled movement tries to say or hide something which you can never decipher. Despite working together for years, you’ve never had a real conversation with him. Maybe now’s a good time to start?

“Doing anything fun for Valentine’s Day?” You ask casually. Dr. Kim coughs and you realize your mistake, your blood running cold: “Oh, god, no, I’m not hitting on you!”

Dr. Kim chuckles as he dries his hands. “Don’t worry about it, Dr. L/n. No, I don’t have plans– I believe I have a surgery scheduled.”

“Yeah? Anything interesting?”

“Some teenagers got drunk and messed with fireworks during New Year’s Eve. One of the explosions caught a kid in the chest, she got some shrapnel embedded in her interventricular septum. She’s got a leak between ventricles, small enough that I guess they didn’t notice until now. Any bigger…” he pauses. “It wouldn’t be pretty.”

“Oh, geez.” You wince. You can’t imagine the young girl’s terror and pain. You hate suffering, despise violence. It’s one of the reasons you chose your specialty.

Dr. Kim shrugs. “It’s a tough job. Kids are so healthy and able to bounce back, we can’t always tell when something’s wrong– their bodies just try to adapt to it. And the heart has a direct line to our psychological state; when they get scared, when they feel trauma or pain…” Dr. Kim meets your eyes. “It damages them even more.”

You stare at him, a rush of sympathy enveloping you. You’re used to turning off your emotions; numbing yourself to suffering is another part of the job. But where your responsibility is to keep patients safe and calm, relaxed and unfeeling, Dr. Kim’s hands hold within them the lifeblood of each person on the operating table. He, too, is only human, and every life lost must surely weigh on him.

“Right, well…” Dr. Kim chuckles quietly. “I’ll see you around, Dr. L/n.”

“Hey, Dr. Kim.” You hurry after him while shaking your hands dry. Dr. Kim stops, eyeing you curiously. “If you ever need to talk to someone, my therapist is pretty good.”

“Your… therapist?” Dr. Kim adjusts his glasses, his tone questioning.

You take a breath. You’re always the first to promote therapy to people in your profession. “Our jobs can get tough. I started seeing someone years ago, and I probably wouldn’t still have my job if I hadn’t. And you, with your responsibilities–” you fidget. “I can get you some recommendations if that might help you.” You hope you’re not overstepping your bounds.

Dr. Kim smiles cooly, his dimples remaining hidden. “Thank you for the offer, Dr. L/n. I appreciate it.”

“Ah, call me Y/n,” you reply automatically. All your friends in the hospital refer to you by your first name anyways. Hopefully an esteemed professional like Dr. Kim won’t find such a suggestion inappropriate.

The cardiology surgeon raises a brow. “Then I’m Namjoon.”

“I- oh.” You smile briefly. “Alright. Well, I have to get to my rounds– I’ll see you later.”

With that, you turn, reaching for your pager. You don’t notice the surgeon’s eyes follow you down the hall. You don’t see him smile widely, his dimples at last appearing in earnest beneath his glasses.

»»————-　♔　————-««

After you return from your lunch break later that day, Dr. Min, your favorite diagnostician, waves you down. “Y/n!”

You smile, approaching. “Hey– what’s with all the stuff?” Dr. Min’s arms are full of stacks of files, so high his face is obstructed.

“Some bug in the system deleted a bunch of the digital archives from the last couple months,” Dr. Min grumbles. “Luckily we have physical copies of the hospital records, but now we have to reinput the data. I made the mistake of offering to help the hapless interns assigned to fix it.”

You laugh, grabbing a stack of paper out of Dr. Min’s arms. “I’m finished with my rounds today– I’ll help.”

“Ah, Y/n, you’re an angel,” Dr. Min sighs with relief. “It shouldn’t take more than a few hours and if you get paged, I’ll just add another intern to the roster.”

You shift the papers in your grip. “I’ve got a conference call in a couple hours, but I should be fine until then.” After Dr. Kim’s– Namjoon’s– cold cordiality, a friendly face like Yoongi’s is a welcome relief.

Still, Dr. Kim has certainly earned the right to whatever behavior he wants to express; it was his groundbreaking paper that led to the testing of a new surgical procedure to more effectively repair a patent ductus arteriosus and a number of other birth defects. He was the keynote speaker for the recent cardiologists’ convention in the city, and his surgeries are always well-attended; you’ve heard of interns competing for the chance to scrub in and witness him in action. Dr. Kim’s name alone is enough to add a layer of intellect to any conversation. Patients have traveled across the country for his advice.

You follow Dr. Min to the records room, where five interns are already typing away, recording and inputting patient data and medical records.

“How big an operation is this?” You wonder aloud, setting down your files.

Dr. Min sighs. “Big. It’s a disaster, and the hospital board wants to keep it quiet. Everything’s online these days; this fuckup will make it look like we’re behind the times.”

You laugh. “God forbid. Okay, I’ll input the surgery data and you can take diagnostics.”

Dr. Min nods, and you get to work, grabbing files off the pile and settling down in front of a computer.

Patient name: Jeon, Jeongguk.

Diagnosis: Heart arrhythmias. You wince. Heart arrhythmias are a tell of potential cardiac arrest, and the patient would probably benefit from a defib implant.

Procedure: ICD. ICD stands for implantable cardioverter defibrillator– you were right!

Attending: Dr. Kim Namjoon.

“Oh?” you murmur aloud, staring at the familiar name. Today’s full of Namjoon, isn’t it?

When you type in the report, the computer dings, automatically redirecting you to the patient’s file. A big red word greets you next to his name: DECEASED.

You wince. The patient was a young man, and it’s a shame that people die when they should be at the pinnacle of health. You glance briefly at the remainder of the patient’s file, looking for the autopsy report– but you find none.

Still, you quickly shake yourself out of a fog. You want to finish as many as possible before your conference call. Patient name. Diagnosis. Procedure. Attending. Medical history. Additional notes. You try not to pay attention to how many of the patients have the red DECEASED mark on their charts. No surgery, no matter how small, is without risks. If they’re on the operating table, something is already wrong. But why do people have to suffer? Why do they have to die?

Dr. Kim’s– Namjoon’s– name pops up several more times, often following some impressive procedure.

“Kim’s been busy,” you say after an hour of inputting data.

“Hm?” Dr. Min’s eyes are trained on his screen.

“There’s like… hundreds of surgical procedures in these files. Dr. Kim’s responsible for a lot of them.”

“Psh, that’s just ‘cause Dr. Park has been slacking,” Dr. Min snorts, stretching. “I caught him napping in the call room the other day.”

“We’ve all been there.”

Dr. Min laughs. “Sure, but I’ve never been there while my pager was going crazy!”

“No. Was it?” You gasp, scandalized. You sense the interns leaning in, desperate for the attendings’ scraps of gossip.

“Heh, yeah. Anyways, Y/n, why don’t you head out? I can handle the rest–” Dr. Min’s voice turns loud and deep. “And anyone who cares more about Dr. Park’s naps than the work right in front of them can stay here until we’re finished.”

You grin at seeing the interns scramble back to their stations. You remember your years as a medical intern and later, resident– spending so long at the bottom of the food chain humbles a person permanently.

You check your watch– you have just enough time to check on tomorrow’s patient before your conference call. You want to make sure none of his vitals have changed enough to warrant adjustments to his anesthesia plan.

You stroll through the corridors, eventually coming up to the liver transplant recipient’s room. It was a hastily scheduled surgery; the donor liver is being flown overnight to reach him in the morning.

“Good afternoon, Mr- oh.” Standing at the patient’s bedside, examining his chart, is… “Dr. Kim?”

Dr. Kim slides his hands into his pockets and straightens up. You’re reminded of how much taller than you he is. “Ah, Y/n, hello.”

“Hi. I wasn’t aware you were involved with this patient,” you say carefully. What would a childrens’ cardiologist be doing for an adult transplant patient? Still, Dr. Kim must have his reasons. He’s too brilliant a surgeon not to.

“Oh, I was just looking,” Namjoon replies. “I’ll be on my way now, if you don’t mind.”

“Just loo- uh, okay, I guess?” You step aside, allowing him to brush past you. That’s weird, but he’s Dr. Kim Namjoon. He can do whatever he wants.

“So, Mr. Lim…” You look down at your chart before double checking his heart monitor. “How are you feeling?”

“Sleepy,” the patient mumbles. “And grateful. My stomach hurts a bit.”

You smile. Donor organs are hard to come across, and so many patients need them. “Tomorrow’s the start of the rest of your life, huh?”

Mr. Lim smiles, his eyes fluttering closed. “The start of the rest of my life…”

Looks like he’s fallen asleep. You close the door behind you– the surgery is scheduled for 4 in the morning, so you’ll see him soon. Still, you wonder what Namjoon was doing in the room.

After your conference call and hours of reviewing charts from your apartment, you fall into a deep sleep, your pager at your fingertips.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

“Ah!” Your eyes fly open and you automatically grab for your pager, checking the time. 1:30AM? Your alarm isn’t set to ring for another hour. It’s a message from Dr. Kim Taehyung, Mr. Lim’s transplant surgeon: Call me.

Now fully awake, you’re quick to obey. The phone barely has time to ring before–

“Y/n?”

“Yeah. Taehyung, what’s up? Did the surgery get rescheduled?”

“No. Uh, sleep in today, okay, Y/n?”

“What?” You straighten up, already stepping into your shoes. “Of course not. What’s going on?”

Taehyung’s voice is hardened, but you can hear an exhausted kind of grief leak through. “We were too late. This morning’s liver recipient just passed.”

Your heart stutters. “Huh? That’s ridiculous– I checked on him yesterday!”

“Acute liver failure, most likely. The nurses must have given him too many pain meds, which probably accelerated the damage. Time of death was an hour ago.”

“Ah, shit. Shit.” You run your hand through your hair. The start of the rest of your life, you’d said to him… You were too late. “Okay, thanks for letting me know.”

“Hey, Y/n, it’s no one’s fault, understand?” Taehyung says sharply. He knows you too well.

“Yeah.” Your therapist loves to say the same thing. “I’ll see you later. Send me the autopsy report?”

“Yep. See ya.”

Unable to sleep, you fall back onto your bed. Mr. Lim was so close to lifesaving surgery– how could it have been too late? My stomach hurts, he’d said. You should have taken him more seriously. Where were the nurses? One should have been present. And you, as the damn anesthesiologist, should at least have noticed he had too many analgesics in his system. Shit.

After several more restless hours, you throw on your white coat and drive to the hospital. Even if the surgery was called off, there’s still plenty to do. Dr. Min is probably still reinputting records into the hospital database– surely he could use some help.

Besides, if you don’t help anyone today, you think your heart might explode.

Luckily, Dr. Min is more than happy to have an extra pair of hands typing away.

“Did you hear about the patient that got his left arm amputated?” Dr. Min says while you scan another report.

“If you say they’re all right now, I’m going to amputate your arm,” you reply dryly, checking out the next file. Oh, another operation by Namjoon. Some sort of emergency reparative surgery? The patient is listed as a nine-year-old girl.

“Yes, ma’am,” Dr. Min says jovially.

DECEASED. A dark monster wells up inside you at the word.

“Fuck!” You yell, slamming your hands on the table and probably traumatizing two interns. For once, you don’t care. You’re so sick of pain, of suffering, and… “Why do people keep dying?”

“Woah! Hey, Y/n, c’mon…” Dr. Min takes the paper from you. “Deep breaths. This has always been part of the job– you know that.”

“It’s not fair,” you whisper, that monster in your chest weighing you down. “She was nine. Nine, Yoongi.”

Yoongi inhales sharply, glancing at the report in his hand. “Son of a bitch. Yeah, that’s… well, it’s part of the– what?”

“What?”

“It says the surgery was successful. Why’d she die?”

You purse your lips, forcing yourself to calm. “The cause of death should be listed. Or there should be an autopsy report attached.”

Yoongi’s eyes narrow. “I’m not seeing anything. Huh. And the attending surgeon…?”

“Namjoon.”

Yoongi hands you back the report. “Hold up. You’re on a first-name basis with Dr. Kim Namjoon?”

You stare at the surgeon’s printed name on the sheet, and all the power and reputation attached to it. “I guess.” Something’s bothering you– and you can’t quite put your finger on it.

“Hey, Yoongi, I’m going to run down to the morgue, okay?”

Dr. Min shrugs. “Go ahead, I hate that place. See you later.”

Yeah, you hate it too. You definitely hate it too. But some irksome curiosity won’t let this go– Mr. Lim’s body would be in the morgue right now, if he passed away last night. What you’re hoping to find, you don’t know. But you know one thing– Mr. Lim shouldn’t have died, and neither should have that nine-year-old girl.

And their only connection is Dr. Kim Namjoon.

As you take the elevator down to the morgue attached to the hospital, you try to make sense of your thoughts. Why was Namjoon in Mr. Lim’s room before his death?

Before long, you’re greeting Dr. Kim Seokjin, your favorite medical examiner.

“Ey, Y/n, how’s it going?” Seokjin asks happily, removing his face mask as he steps out of the autopsy suite. “You never come for a visit down here.”

“Yeah, I had enough of brain cutting in medical school,” you offer with a dry smile. “Listen, Seokjin, I need a favor– can I check out the body of the liver failure patient from last night?”

“For you, babe? Anything. He’s right up front.” Seokjin walks back to the many refrigerated doors, each housing or awaiting a body.

You’re quick to grab some gloves, and Seokjin rolls out Mr. Lim’s body. Your breath catches– there he is, the same man you spoke to only yesterday. When you first entered the medical field, you had thought dead bodies simply looked asleep. Now, with years of experience under your belt, you’ve learned to recognize that extra layer of weight, the particular stiffness in one’s limbs, the complete lack of motion in one who’s passed.

“I just want to check him for liver failure symptoms,” you say. If Mr. Lim really did die from acute liver failure, his eyes would be yellow from jaundice and his belly would be comically swollen and…

And it’s not. What?

“Seokjin,” you murmur, eyeing the man’s body. He’s no more bloated than he was last night. “In… In your professional opinion, did this man die of acute liver failure?”

“I can’t really say this early, but…” Seokjin shines a flashlight into Mr. Lim’s open, unseeing eyes. You notice only a slight yellow tinge, hardly at the extreme of acute liver failure. “He’s certainly missing the external symptoms typical of liver failure. Unless I see a lot of internal evidence pointing to the contrary during autopsy, I’d have to wager on another manner of death. Judging from the position of the hands and state of his muscles, he was in a lot of pain. Why do you ask?”

Your heart sinks. “No reason. Hey, can you pull the autopsy report for the girl who died last month? I didn’t find it on her file.”

“I know exactly who you’re talking about.” Seokjin frowns, grief temporarily clouding his gaze. “In all my experience, I’ve only had five children on the table– and she was the youngest. But the report should have been attached to her file.”

You shrug. “A lot of the digital archives were lost recently.”

“Let me find the physical copy.” Seokjin returns Mr. Lim to the fridge and strides into the morgue office, sifting through files. “Ah, here. Cause of death is listed as unknown.”

“Unknown?” You wrinkle your brow. How, in a hospital full of doctors, medical examiners, and expert diagnosticians, how can they not be certain of how this child died? “What’s the manner of death?”

“Dunno. There was evidence of myocardial contusions, but simple bruises on her heart like the ones she had shouldn’t have killed her. It’s probably a combination of the stress from the original injury as well as the operation itself– but it’s not enough evidence to call it natural.”

You take the autopsy report, feeling oddly numb. Two inexplicable deaths, and both with a connection to the famed surgeon.

You know there’s probably nothing wrong. Sometimes people die when they shouldn’t, it’s a fact of medicine. And Dr. Kim is brilliant, popular, well-known. It’s not possible for a man like him to… what, deliberately harm a patient? No, no way. He took the same oath you did, made the same promises: To help a patient to the best of your ability; to share knowledge; to admit, if necessary, ignorance, and… first, do no harm.

You take a deep breath. You’re going to look over some more files in between surgeries. And… you’re going to keep an eye on Dr. Kim Namjoon.

With a quick thanks to Seokjin, you once more join the land of the living. You barely turn the corner before bumping into–

“Dr. Kim!”

The surgeon chuckles, his eyes dark behind his glasses. “I thought we were doing first names now?”

“Uh…” You gulp. Does he know what’s on your mind? “Right, forgot.”

“How are you, Y/n?” Namjoon doesn’t seem to be in any hurry, instead choosing to lean against the wall as you stand, frozen, before him.

“Good. Yeah.” You clear your throat. For some reason, his eyes suddenly remind you of Mr. Lim’s– cold, unseeing, dead. “I was helping Dr. Min with the data loss, since my surgery this morning was canceled.”

“I heard about that. Liver failure, right? It happens.” Namjoon sighs and frowns with the same kind of expression as you saw before you recommended therapy to him– a kind of sympathy that you can now only see as fake. Was it all a lie, or are you just being paranoid?

“Actually, I just checked on his body in the morgue,” you say carefully. Is it your imagination, or did Namjoon stiffen slightly? “And his symptoms weren’t characteristic of liver failure. It was strange.”

“Really?” Namjoon’s eyes don’t quite meet yours, as though they’re looking through you– it’s unnerving, but some instinct tells you to continue.

“Yes. A-and I was wondering… what were you doing in his room yesterday?” It really doesn’t make sense– nothing short of a personal connection to the man would explain Namjoon’s presence in his room.

“What was I doing to your patient?” Namjoon repeats, a smile appearing on his face– dimples and all. You nod, and he leans closer, closer. “That’s easy. I was killing him.”

»»————-　♔　————-««

You take a deep breath, smoothing down your slacks before looking over your shoulder. You still haven’t decided whether he’s following you or not, but you don’t want to take any chances.

For the past four days, you’ve called in every favor you can to keep from coming in to the hospital, instead reviewing charts, designing plans and taking calls from home. But now it’s the morning of February 14– Valentine’s Day– and you got what you wanted: a meeting with the hospital’s board of directors. You’re back in the hospital for the first time since Namjoon spoke those dreadful words, and you’re scared; what if he hurts you for what you’re about to say?

Be brave, Y/n.

You walk in at 9:00 precisely, your stacks of files landing heavily on the table. “Hello.”

“Ah, Doctor.” The president of the hospital, Dr. Haden, says calmly. “You called this meeting to address some concerns?”

“Yes.” You grit your teeth. “My name is Dr. Y/n L/n, and I believe Dr. Kim Namjoon is deliberately harming patients.”

»»————-　♔　————-««

Two hours later, you leave the conference room, walk across the hall to the restroom, check to make sure the restroom is empty, lock yourself in a stall, and…

“AAAAAAAAAAAH!”

»»————-　♔　————-««

The board of executives was dead silent while you spoke: you had gone back through three years of patient records to find that while Dr. Kim’s success rate in surgery was high, a higher-than-average portion of his patients were dying within weeks of finding themselves on his table. You can’t prove that he’s hurting patients who aren’t his, like Mr. Lim, but you have to assume it’s true.

“These are children and teenagers,” you’d said, voice breaking. After all, he’s a pediatric surgeon. “I’ve done the math, and you may check these figures: Dr. Kim’s post-op mortality statistics are unethically high.”

“Perhaps, but–”

You weren’t done. In your digging over the last several days, you discovered something else. “Additionally, during the data breach last week, it appears that the autopsy reports of Dr. Kim’s deceased patients were almost entirely deleted. All that remain would be the physical reports, a number of which I have here.” After you explained your suspicions to Seokjin, he… well, he didn’t quite believe you, but he was happy to provide you with the reports. “Every single one of the deleted autopsy reports has the cause of death listed as unknown, as in, there wasn’t enough evidence to declare it a completely natural death!”

“Dr. L/n!” Dr. Haden says, raising his voice. “You’re talking about an esteemed fellow–”

“I am well aware of Dr. Kim’s stellar reputation. I wouldn’t be making such a weighty accusation without absolute certainty in my statistics. Additionally, a patient of mine died prematurely after I saw Dr. Kim visiting their room– you can check the camera footage to see. When I asked Dr. Kim what he was doing in the room, he said, quote, ‘I was killing him.’”

When you heard Namjoon say those words, you felt your blood run cold. Was he lying? Was it a joke? If it wasn’t a joke, why would he just admit his crime to you? He had followed it up with something somehow scarier–

“And guess what?” Namjoon had said, the smile never leaving his face. “I’ll never get caught.”

You swallow through your nerves. “It is my opinion that Dr. Kim should immediately be suspended from his duties pending investigation.”

There, you’d done all you could. And yet…

“We appreciate your efforts, Dr. L/n.” Dr. Haden had said after the board deliberated for not-long-enough. “But what you have presented is circumstantial. We have not found sufficient evidence to open such a serious investigation into a respected medical professional such as Dr. Kim.”

»»————-　♔　————-««

Which is why you’re screaming in the bathroom. Dr. Kim is harming, maybe killing, his patients. He admitted it! The board was so enamored with his name and reputation that they weren’t able to see through to what you’ve come to realize must be a twisted interior. How can you feel safe ever again if Kim Namjoon walks these same halls? Your well of favors has dried up, and you promised Dr. Jung you’d be on call in the hospital tonight for Valentine’s Day.

Namjoon will be here too. A night for lovers…

And I’m spending it with a killer, you think with a shudder. Seokjin had told you that Mr. Lim had died in great pain; even though you don’t have evidence, you’re certain Namjoon must have had a hand in his suffering. Why would he want anyone to suffer?

And for goodness’ sake, why would he admit it to you?

“Seokjin, you believe me, right?” You ask the medical examiner later as you return the files to the morgue. Since you’re back to work, you’ve changed from your suit into the more appropriate hospital scrubs and white coat.

“You really cannot tell me Dr. Kim Namjoon is a serial killer and expect me to believe you, babes,” Seokjin replies. “That’s like saying Mother Theresa stole from the poor.”

“Which she like… maybe did?”

“It’s Kim Namjoon, Y/n! He’s a genius– everyone idolizes the guy! Serial killers aren’t that hot and smart!”

“Seokjin, I don’t. Feel. Safe.” You hiss. “Not around him!”

“Around who?”

You swivel around to see… ah, beans. “Dr. Kim.”

He smiles. “Y/n. I’m starting to think you don’t want to call me Namjoon.” He nods at Seokjin. “Dr. Kim.”

Seokjin smiles. “Back atcha. What can I do for you?”

“I was wondering if you had the toxicology report for that nineteen-year-old with the blunt trauma?”

“You’ll have to be more specific.”

“The one from the car accident, with the naked Jennifer Lopez tattoo?”

“Ohh, yeah, Lopez Guy. Let me grab that for you.” Seokjin strides into his office, shutting the door behind him.

“No, wait-” Shit. You and Namjoon are left alone, surrounded by dead bodies. Fantastic.

“Haven’t seen you around lately, Y/n,” Namjoon says, an icy smile painting his handsome face.

“Y-Yeah, I was sick,” you reply. “Came down with something I must’ve picked up in the infectious diseases ward.” I was avoiding you, your untouchable reputation, your killing hands.

“That’s a shame. I’m glad to see you’re back and feeling better, just in time for Valentine’s Day.”

“You–” you’re evil.

“Here ya go, Dr. Kim.” Seokjin returns, handing Namjoon a file. “I also emailed it to you.”

“Thanks. Hey, mind if I borrow Y/n for a second?” Namjoon says, a strong hand gripping your shoulder. Shitshitshitshit.

“Uh…” Seokjin must see the panic in your eyes. “Y’know, I think I needed her down here…”

Yes, thank you.

“Oh, it’ll only be a second. Call it an urgent matter.” Namjoon turns the full force of his dimpled smile onto Seokjin. “You know how it is.”

“Ah, alright, sure.” Seokjin says faintly, his voice enchanted. Namjoon steers you into the elevator, and your only solace is that the entire hospital is monitored. But those eyes…

He’s going to kill me.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Y/n.” Namjoon says eventually, breaking the elevator’s silence.

Your heart pounding in your chest, you turn to him. “Why not? You hurt Mr. Lim. He died in pain– how could you?”

Namjoon shrugs casually as the elevator door opens. “We all have our vices. C’mon, this way.”

He admitted it. He just admitted it– how can he not have been caught?

Namjoon stops so suddenly you almost run into him. “We’re here.”

“Where?”

The surgeon taps the door beside him. “Your new friend��s room.” With an iron grip, he pulls you into the room and shuts the door behind him.

It’s a regular hospital room– complete with a patient, a sleeping young woman attached to an IV drip, bandages decorating her limbs.

“What happened to her?” you whisper.

“Got hit by a drunk driver. Broken ribs, internal bleeding, and a severe concussion.”

You examine her, overtaken by habit built over the years. “All survivable.”

Namjoon shrugs. “Sure. But that’s what I like– people who could survive.”

You take a step back. “W-what?”

Namjoon reaches down, caressing the patient’s cheek. “People in the prime of their lives. People who have years and years ahead of them. Cutting those years short– stealing their lives away–” Namjoon groans, a low, almost erotic, rumble from deep in his throat. “I love it.”

“I–” you stare wildly around the room, looking for the security camera.

“Don’t bother,” Namjoon says without turning. “The camera’s been broken for months. So was the one in Mr. Lim’s room.”

“You… you just admitted it.” Your throat is bone-dry, and although every cell in your body is screaming for you to reach for the door, you’re rooted to the floor. “You killed Mr. Lim, you’re killing your patients!”

“Yes.”

On hearing that one word, that confirmation of the fears that have been growing within you for the past week, it takes everything you have simply to remain standing upright. “Why am I here? Are you going to kill me too?”

The surgeon chuckles. “Of course not. I told you, I’ll never hurt you. The hospital needs you.”

“Then why…?”

Namjoon shrugs. “My… methods are painful. The patients can be loud– they’re suffering, after all.”

You wince. It’s like he knows exactly what to say to push your buttons. “W-why don’t you knock them out first?” Oh god, are you actually making suggestions to a serial killer? You need to leave, need to call the police. Would they even believe you without concrete evidence? And why does Namjoon have to cause them pain?

“It’s not my expertise. Now,” Namjoon says, turning to you with a smirk. “If only I knew someone who was a specialist in anesthesia, who could keep a patient asleep and unfeeling, and who could completely eliminate their suffering?”

You stare at him, realization dawning. “You’re insane.”

“That’s the first I’ve heard of it.”

“You think I’ll help you? We swore an oath, Namjoon!”

“You swore to help a patient to the best of your ability.” Namjoon advances until he’s only inches away. “She is going to die. That is a fact. You can report me to whoever you want, but like I told you– I’ll never get caught, and I always get what I want.”

“I–”

“She is going to die in great pain. I will make certain of that. And when she’s looking up at me, asking me why, begging me to let her live…” he leans down, his voice an emotionless whisper in your ear. “I will tell her exactly who is forcing her to suffer. And she will die with your name on her lips.”

You feel your knees go weak, and before you know it you’ve collapsed, catching yourself hard on the cold floor. “I-I–”

Namjoon crouches down next to you. “Think it over. You’re here on call all night, and besides, it’s Valentine’s Day.” He chuckles humorlessly. “We can make this our first date. Romantic, right?”

You still can’t bring yourself to speak, your head swimming with the cries and screams of all the suffering this man has caused. You would never help a psycho, never allow a murderer to continue. But… What can you do, if no one will believe you?

Namjoon cocks his head, clearly waiting for you to speak. When you can offer him only silence, he sighs. “Well, I have that kid’s reparative surgery coming up soon. I should be done in six or so hours, and after that, I’ll be back here. I hope you’ll be joining me.”

“How do you kill post-op?” You ask abruptly. You have to know, have to figure out how so many of his surgeries which were deemed successful were leading to DECEASED stamps days or weeks after the fact. If only they would die on the operating table, directly under his hand, maybe your statistics would be more compelling.

Namjoon pauses. “It’s pretty simple, actually.” He mimics holding a scalpel, and you shudder. How many lives had those hands cut short? “Depends on my mood, but usually during surgery, I make a hole in between ventricles– small enough that no one notices until the patient is discharged, but big enough to…” he winks. “You know. Achieve my goals.”

“Were you the one that caused that data breach?”

“Of course,” Namjoon says matter-of-factly. “Most people aren’t willing to look further than computers; if a piece of information isn’t online, it’s easy to forget about it, and assume it doesn’t exist.”

You bite your lip. “Why me?” He’s in between you and the door. Maybe if you keep him talking, some other doctor will come in and save you. Or will they only see the great Dr. Kim Namjoon and leave you alone?

“Why you? Well, Y/n, you found me out. You’re a brilliant anesthesiologist. And you hate to see people in pain.” He stands, stretching. “I’ll see you after the surgery, Y/n. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

And with that he leaves you shivering on the floor, accompanied only by the steady beeps from the EKG, indicating a strong heartbeat– a heartbeat soon to cease. You stand on shaky legs, staring at the woman; she can’t be older than twenty-five, and despite dark bruises coloring her face, you can see she’s beautiful.

She will die with your name on her lips, his voice echoes in your head. The police won’t arrest him without more evidence; the hospital board is too busy singing Namjoon praises to see his bloodthirst.

As you walk out of the room, carefully closing the door behind you, you think about your oath to help patients to the best of your ability. If your ability won’t save her life… What could you do to help?

You could take her pain away, a very small voice inside you whispers. You quickly shake your head, guilty that you would even consider such an awful choice. You grab your laptop and bring it with you to the on-call room. You try to spend the time designing anesthesia plans for upcoming patients. It used to always calm you down to imagine your patients asleep, calm, unfeeling. During surgery, you manage a ventilator in order to breathe for your patients, making constant adjustments to their dosage, and generally allowing the surgeons a calm OR. You’re supposed to help, to ease suffering, to save their lives by allowing for complex, invasive surgeries.

Could you live with yourself if you used your knowledge to go against your oath? To help kill a patient?

You wouldn’t be killing them, that same voice argues, louder now. She’s going to die anyways. You’re saving her from suffering and feeling the pain of whatever he’s going to do to her.

And then what? How could you continue to call yourself a doctor, knowing what you had contributed to?

Forget about it. Forget about him. There were no cameras– as far as any jury knows, you were never aware of that girl in the first place. There are hundreds of patients passing through the hospital– you have no reason to know her. If the board opens an investigation– and you’re amazed they haven’t yet opened one into Namjoon’s crimes– you’re certainly not guilty. Right?

But you’ll know. You’ll know she died and that you did nothing to stop him.

Still, you don’t know what Namjoon is capable of. Sure, he said he wouldn’t hurt you, but what about your friends? Your family? Are they safe?

After several hours, you check the clock. It’s 8:00 at night, just around the time Dr. Jung must be sitting down to a Valentine’s Day dinner with his fiancé. When you agreed to cover his shift last week, you didn’t exactly expect this to be where you would end up.

You stare down at your glowing screen, your charts and lists doing nothing to ease the inescapable knowledge that in only a few hours’ time, Dr. Kim Namjoon will kill a patient. What can you do?

Stop him.

Help her sleep.

Risk your loved ones.

Save yourself.

“Gah!” You shove your chair out, unable to sit still for a moment longer. Already you feel like a fraud in your white coat– do you even deserve to wear it, for how much you’ve been considering Namjoon’s offer? He could hurt you in retaliation if you refused, hurt your friends, cause you to lose your job– after all, his influence is wide and his reputation spotless. He could easily blacklist you from working at another hospital. But would he?

If he’s willing to kill… You’re certain he’d do anything to get his way.

But, and you can’t stop yourself from returning to this point– he’s also willing to harm. You’ve witnessed patients die, both with and without anesthetic. The former is peaceful, simply a breath of air and then no more. The latter can be full of tears and pain, with muscles seized up even after death, a homage to the suffering that could always be avoided.

What the hell. How could you be considering this?

Silently, you stand up and navigate once more to the patient’s room, just catching a nurse as he exits. He brightens when he sees you, and you vaguely recognize him.

“Hey, Dr. L/n! How are you doing?”

“Ah- fine,” you reply distractedly.

The nurse seems to notice, eyeing you carefully. “Well, that’s good.. Are you here to check on Eve?”

Eve. Of course, she has a name– Eve.

“Yes.”

“Unfortunately, she’s just fallen back asleep, but all her vitals are looking good.”

“Thanks for letting me know,” you manage before entering. You’re greeted by the sleeping young woman, breathing calmly, the monitors and machines surrounding her reassuring you that she’s as healthy as her body will let her be. Your anesthesia cart is right down the hall. It wouldn’t be difficult, or even strange, to bring it in here. Dr. Kim will be out of the OR soon. Should you do it?

“Mm… Doctor?”

You jump and turn. “O-Oh, you’re awake.”

Eve blinks sleepily. “Who are you?”

You swallow. “My name is Dr. L/n. I’m going to make you feel better, okay?”

The girl nods, then grimaces. “Thanks– my chest really hurts.”

You feel your heart breaking. How can you stand by, knowing how badly she’ll suffer under Namjoon’s hand? “You know what, let me get my cart over here, we can take care of that pain for you.”

“Thanks, Dr. L/n.” She said your name.

You pad down the hall to retrieve your cart. Even though nighttimes can be busy for the hospital, to you it feels deserted, as though the nurses and interns passing by are nothing more than ghosts. Or perhaps you’re the ghost?

You’re soon to return, wheeling cart which bears the mask, gas containers, breathing tubes, and other supplies to ensure a seamless operation. Eve has already fallen asleep again, her meds surely contributing to her exhaustion. It isn’t long before, as promised, Dr. Kim shows up.

“You came,” he says cooly, his voice void of surprise. Did he know?

You swallow. “I don’t want anyone to have to suffer,” you say simply.

Namjoon smiles, his dimples making an appearance. “I know.”

You can’t look at him as you expertly attach the mask to Eve’s face. Usually you would measure the dosage of nitrous oxide and Isoflurane to ensure she wakes up healthily and on time, but in this case… it’s not necessary. The woman barely stirs, and soon enough the EKG indicates she’s down for the count. Next, you insert a breathing tube into her trachea and attach it to a ventilator, letting the machine take over for Eve’s now-incapacitated lungs. She can’t feel, won’t cry out, and…

She won’t wake up. You step back, blinking tears out of your eyes. Your heart is pounding loudly in your ears, drowning out all common sense. “She’s all yours.” She’s innocent. You’re helping her, right? Easing her pain, holding off the terror, the suffering. If she’s going to die anyways, this is the best way that you, as a doctor, can help her.

Namjoon’s breathing hitches audibly, and you see his dark eyes trained on Eve’s face. “Usually they can see me…” he murmurs. “They look at me, and they’re so scared. Some people need to feel that fear, but I don’t.” He raises a clear syringe. “I just need to feel them go.”

It’s as though you don’t exist. “What’s in the syringe?”

He turns to you, his eyes as blown out and wild as you’ve ever seen them. “Oh, nothing.”

“N-nothing?”

Namjoon smiles, rubbing Eve’s arm fondly. “A little bit of air into a pulmonary vein–” he taps the empty syringe– “or as close to one as I can get, and her pretty little heart won’t know what to do. It’ll just look like the trauma caused her to go into cardiac arrest.”

“And she won’t feel a thing?” You whisper, watching as Namjoon inserts the needle into Eve’s arm, barely a milliliter of air entering her vein.

“That’s right. Thanks to you, she’s safe from harm.” Namjoon sets aside the syringe and presses a hand to Eve’s chest, over her heart. You spot his dimples make a cameo once more. “Isn’t that beautiful?”

You watch in silence for several moments before the EKG fibrillates wildly, beeping in alarm before flatlining– Eve is dead, without moving a muscle, without a single shout of pain.

She’s safe from harm. “Yeah,” you reply, staring down at your hands. Did you kill her, or save her? And what is this smile growing on your face? “Yeah. Beautiful.”

#bts #namjoon #kim namjoon #surgeon!namjoon #doctor!namjoon #namjoon x reader #yandere #yandere namjoon #yandere namjoon x reader #yandere!namjoon #bts event #bts fanfiction #yandere bts

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chocolatemin · 4 years ago

Text

word count: 7k

contains: fluff, angst, mentions of death, fantasy, historical au

note: i took so long in this one as the story line kind of changed over time, let’s just say that the change was for the better and that i stopped listening to cardigan halfway… anyway, enjoy!

Whenever someone dies, a new star is born and that’s because their souls vanish off to the galaxy.

“Long ago, there weren’t as many stars as we have to the present day. The human population is still small, therefore there are only a few stars up in the sky, until the Great War came, many soldiers died during the day and when the night fell upon it was the first time people saw the skies filled with stars.”

That’s what your grandmother told you.

You reminisce about your moments with your grandmother as you gaze upon the night sky, searching for the stars. It is a cloudy night so you are having quite a hard time finding your grandmother’s star. You inhale the earthly scent of the grass you are currently sitting on; finding solace amidst the darkness isn’t new for you as it has been your routine every night– except for rainy days, you really won’t find any star during those days.

“I told you not to stay too long outside alone at night.” You whipped your head towards the direction of the voice and saw your brother with his arms crossed over his chest standing near the fence.

“Oh, sorry, the sky is not that clear tonight so I took longer than usual.” You say as you stand up from your seat, dusting off your clothes before walking up to him. He shakes his head at you before offering his hand to help you cross over the fence.

“Let’s go home. It’s getting late.” You nod and follow along with him to your way home.

“Thank you, Chan.” You feel thankful having him as your brother, he never gets mad at you and he always tries his best to understand and support you.

“For what?” He turns to you confused.

“For being the best brother.” You said grinning at him widely and he just laughs at you.

The sun is shining brightly and you decided that it is a good time to trim the plants in front of your house. You are trimming the leaves of your flowers when you are interrupted by a cough followed by a sweet voice of a young man.

“A pleasant day to you, Mademoiselle, may I ask if Sir Chris lives in this area?” You spun your heels around and met with the prettiest eyes you’ve ever seen. And to be honest, you do not trust the man in front of you despite his calm aura. Who knows the evil behind that mask?

“Yes, Sir…” You trailed off.

“Seungmin Kim, please call me Seungmin.”

“Yes, Sir Seungmin, do you have any business with him?” You asked, you can’t let that charming smile fool you; you’ve met enough of those people.

“Please drop the formality, I am not that old yet. And yes, I’ve heard that he plays instruments during occasions, my parents would like to invite him to play at my brother’s wedding.” He handed you a rolled up letter and tied using a light blue ribbon. The moment your fingers brushed against his, your vision turned white and a scene flashes in front of your eyes, sending chills and goosebumps all over your body. You immediately pull your hand back, grabbing the letter carefully and your vision returns.

“Thank you, Seungmin. I’ll give this to him as soon as he returns.” You gave him a faint smile, trying to hide the fear and shock whilst he looks confused by your actions.

“Alright, see you. Have a nice day.” With that, he quickly leaves, heading west, leaving you dumbfounded, still shocked.

You sighed. You’ve seen it again, that is why you absolutely loathed interactions with strangers.

Seungmin, on the other side regrets not asking your name nor your relation with Chan. He shook his head, knowing fully that his parents will scold him later, they’ll think that he gave it to the wrong person. However, he immediately shut his longing for your name with the thought that it wouldn’t matter if he knows your name or not because he won’t be able to see you again anyway.

The moment Chan arrives at your home, he is welcomed by a suspicious glare from you, with your arms crossed over your chest, sitting on the couch. Chan was surprised by you.

“Thank goodness you’re home, Chris.” You see him flinch at the name you called him, “I didn’t know I have a brother named Chris who plays instruments during special occasions.”

You are not mad, you just thought of this wonderful confrontation with your brother so that you can tease him. To be honest, you are proud of him. If he isn’t that good at playing instruments, no one will try to invite him to play, especially at a wedding, where everything about it would be the talk of the town for a long time. You enjoyed seeing his flustered reaction, as if he got caught picking your flowers. You almost laughed but you bit your lip to prevent the laugher slip out.

“Let me explain,” Chan sighed, “where did you get that information– no, it doesn’t matter, I, uh… Why are you doing this to me?” Chan fake cries, having his other hand on his chest while the other wipes off his invisible tears. You erupted in a fit of laughter, your brother looks really amusing.

“But, why didn’t you tell me about this?” You stand up from your seat, heading to the kitchen.

“You see… I don’t really have a stable job, I do what I think I can to earn a living for the us.” Chan sat on one of the chairs on the dining table, his hands placed together on the top of the table. You went over to him and placed your hand on his shoulder.

“You don’t have to overwork yourself, I am here to help you earn for the both of us. You know I work part time at Changbin’s bakehouse and at times I work at the palace whenever they need extra laundress. Is that not enough?” Your eyes soften as you feel your heart ache from the newfound information.

“Wait, I remembered something,” you straighten up your body and head to the living room, picking up the letter on the table across the fireplace, “Here’s an invitation for you.” You handed him the letter.

“A wedding?” Chan asks as his eyes skimmed through the content of the letter.

“They want you to sing for them.” You replied shortly.

“Lee Minho? The businessman?” Chan looks at you, confused.

“Aren’t they.. kind of.. wealthy?” You ask, you don’t really know them, but they are known for having fields and cows, having a large stall at the market. Chan nodded to your question and you brought up another question out of curiosity, “What does the letter say?”

“I will be playing two songs and woah- xx pounds?” Chan’s eyes widen and so do your eyes, “Wow, that’s a lot.”

“So, when is the wedding taking place?” You ask, pursing your lips.

“Tomorrow.” Chan looks at you, “Are you gonna come?”

“I don’t think I’m invited, besides, Changbin asked for assistance, we have to deliver a bunch of pastries tomorrow.” You turn your back to get two plates and utensils, placing them on the table while Chan placed the dinner on the middle of the table.

“Oh, alright.”

“Shall we eat now?” You ask as you take a seat across your brother, you look up to him and see him flash a smile.

“Of course.”

“Chan, I’m leaving!” You shout from the doorstep, slipping on your boots, ready to leave for your work.

“This early?” Chan shouted from his room.

“I’m helping Changbin bake!” You turned the knob and opened the door, “See you later!”

You arrived at Chanbin’s bakehouse slightly earlier than you agreed to so upon knocking on the door, you were greeted by him with his bedhead, “Morning, Changbin.”

“It’s literally 6 am, I thought 7 am was clear?” Changbin glares at you before stepping aside so you can get inside.

“Oops, I forgot~” You pull the sleeves of your working clothes up and fix your hair before stepping into the kitchen, trailing behind Changbin’s back, “Hey, I think you should get your sleep back and I will start preparing all the things we need for baking today. If I finish that early, I will start right away.” You turn to face him.

“Nah, it’s better to start early so that we can deliver the pastries early too. And after, I’ll drop you off to your home and you may take the day off.” Changbin waves his hand before carrying the sack of flour near the table, “I’ll take charge of the bread and kneading, you can make the mini pies and the cake batter.”

“Are you sure you don’t need help?” You ask as you carefully take the baking equipment from the cupboard, placing it on the working area.

“Then what are these muscles for?” Changbin raises his brow, patting his toned and muscular biceps.

“Ego boost, I must say.” You deadpanned as soon as you dropped the ingredients you took from the shelves on the table, earning another glare from Changbin.

“Sure, whatever. Just make the pastries and the rest are on me.” Changbin shook his head in defeat causing you to chuckle.

The both of you are too focused on your tasks that you didn’t notice the time passing, you exchanged short conversations to avoid the atmosphere turning dull as you both work. While preparing another set of mini fruit pie, you realize that you don’t really know what occasion you are making these pastries for.

“Changbin,” you muttered softly in which Changbin hummed in response, “I realized that you’ve never told me what these pastries are for.”

“Oh, yeah, these are for the wedding later.” He says as he takes out another set of bread from the oven.

“Who was it again? Min- Minho’s wedding?” You ask, quite unsure.

“Yeah, it is a bit odd that the wedding will take place in the late afternoon,” Changbin pauses, “I mean, most wedding ceremonies take place around mid afternoon and celebration in the evening.”

“So, how much time do we have left?” You ask, not sparing a glance to him, concentrating on the cake frosting.

“We’ve still got plenty of that.”

The moment you arrive at the hall, you are welcomed by the scent of fresh flowers but it is immediately replaced by the smell of pastries and bread you and Changbin baked. Getting off the carriage first, you carefully helped Changbin carry every serving cart that contains the pastries you baked and took out the four-layered cake last. A familiar face walked towards your direction with long strides, causing you to be flustered. He looks heavenly despite the formed sweat on his forehead and his wrinkled brows.

“You just arrived exactly at the time, let me help you bring these inside.” The young lad grabbed on one of the serving carts, accommodating you and Changbin inside the hall, each pushing a serving cart.

“You are Seungmin, right?” You try to strike a conversation, disliking the awkwardness surrounding the three of you.

“I’m surprised you remembered my name.” Seungmin glanced towards you but still kept his straight face.

“Well, you are quite the straightforward.” But that’s not the truth, of course, you remember him, after seeing that vision of yours, how can you forget him?

“I was in a hurry.” Seungmin timidly replies and you did not bother to ask anymore questions sensing that he must be already exhausted and stressed about the wedding.

Seungmin helped you take all the pastries inside the hall but you and Changbin told him that he can rest for a bit or work on something else since the two of you will be arranging the pastries according to a design. You saw that a three tier, large circular ceramic pastry stand is prepared on the table. Without further ado, you and Changbin started placing the mini fruit pies carefully in an assorted manner but in an enticing pattern. Another pastry stand is prepared for the bread and a white elegant cake stand with dangling crystals. You carefully placed the cake, not wanting to destroy it and which you successfully did, and the two of you high fived each other, giving a thumbs up for accomplishing the work.

“Oh! What a lovely cake!” You hear a high-pitched voice of an old woman, you immediately shoot your head towards her, you are guessing she is already in her late forties but her beauty is truly undeniable.

“Thank you, Madame.” You bow courtly as a sign of respect and accepting her compliment, “we just finished and we are on our way to leave.”

“I think I forgot to tell you two that you are invited to the wedding.” Mrs. Lee spoke in a soft tone, “Why don’t you wait at the chambers?”

Changbin spoke, “Thank you for the offer, Madame, but we still have to bring back the equipment, we will just return later, and make ourselves presentable too,” flashing a smile.

“Oh, alright. I’ll be waiting for you two.” Mrs. Lee smiles in return before leaving you and Changbin.

“You know what? We should hurry.”

By the time you make it to the wedding, the hall is already filled with guests and their relatives. It is a bit crowded but not to the point that it is suffocating.

“Fancy seeing you here, huh.” You turn to see Chan dressed in semi-formal clothes and you are not used to seeing Chan looking all good. He has his hair fixed, not a single strand is sticking out and he has the first button of his shirt open. Wow, is this really my brother?

“I thought you won’t come?” Chan asks.

“Mrs. Lee invited us last minute.” Changbin replies to Chan as they do their “friendship” greeting gesture.

“Do you have seats?” Chan raised his brow, causing you and Changbin to throw a glance to each other, basing off to the empty response, Chan spoke, “There are still available seats on my table, come.”

You follow Chan pass through the crowd, heading to a table quite near the orchestra.

The wedding is very simple but heartwarming and it is the time for everyone to dance while Chan is playing the piano, Changbin went over to a lady across your table to ask her to dance with him, leaving you alone at the table so you signalled Chan that you will be heading to the garden for a bit.

“Aren’t you afraid of being alone at night?” Your ears perk up at the familiar voice but you don’t move. Instead you heave a sigh and look up to the night sky.

“I think it ’s better than sitting alone at the table.” You hear the footsteps stop beside you, and you finally glance at him, “What are you doing here?”

“I really should be the one asking you that but fine,” Seungmin shakes his head, “I was just thinking of something.”

“Do you want to share what’s bothering you?” You don’t know why you are concerned and you hope that your question will not make him uncomfortable.

“Maybe telling a complete stranger wouldn’t be so bad, eh?” Seungmin turns his head to look at you, chuckling, and you find his question quite funny but not offensive.

“That’s not true.” You shake your head, “You probably know my name by now, and I already know yours.”

“Alright.” Seungmin chuckles to himself but it is cut short by a scoff, “You see, my brother just got wedded to his long-time lover, but…” He takes a pause, making you look at him, “they will soon marry me off to someone.”

“Oh.”

“I don’t like the sound of it, I’m still young and I want to be free. I want to explore the world.” You can’t help but feel bad for him, he must not want to get married and tied up to someone he barely knows. Seungmin diverts his eyes from the sky to you and catches you staring at him but you nod, telling him that you understand his feelings.

“It’s just unfair…” Seungmin looks down, sliding his hands to his pocket as he kicks a stone.

“Can I ask you something? Promise me you won’t get offended.” You moved closer to him.

“Go ahead.”

“Are you perhaps from a different family?” You try not to sound very rude.

“What do you mean by different family?”

“Aren’t you a legitimate child of them?” You catch Seungmin hitch a breath from your peripheral vision.

“How did you know about that?” Seungmin steps in front of you, a stern look on his face gave you chills. You didn’t mean to offend him.

“I-I’m sorry, it’s just that, y-you introduced yourself as a Kim instead of Lee…” You try to look away so you just stare at your feet.

“You are really different from everyone.” You cannot read his expression from the tone of his voice.

“I-I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, but you have to tell me who you really are.” Seungmin places his arms in front of his chest.

“I don’t think this is the right time.” You try to reason out, “it will just give you a headache, I swear.”

Before he could speak, a voice interrupted the two of you, “I was looking for you!” You look over and see Chan waving his hand, the moon illuminating him so you can see his hand waving to you. “What are you doing outside?”

“I think, I should leave now,” You dusted off your clothes, “but I promise to tell you the next time we see each other.” Without sparing a glance to the young lad, you head to Chan, giving your brother an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, I was getting bored seeing people dance, but I didn’t know you could play something cool like that!” You smack his arms while you walk back inside the hall.

Since that encounter, your words haven’t left Seungmin’s mind. He is frustrated. He needs an answer, he can feel that you are hiding a lot of things you know about him, from him. How come it is possible for you to know a lot despite meeting only twice? He can still remember the surprised look on your face on your first meeting. As if you had seen a ghost.

“The Feys do exist, they are scattered all around the world, but there are only a few of them.” Seungmin’s grandmother spoke softly, sitting comfortably on her rocking chair, holding Seungmin’s hand.

“Do you know someone, Nana?” Seungmin asked, his eyes sparkled with curiosity, his grandmother couldn’t blame him though, he was only ten– full of youth, energy, and curiosity.

“Your grandfather was.” Seungmin’s grandmother stared at the sun setting oh so slowly, “They do not harm anyone, but people are afraid of them,”

“But why are you not afraid of Grandpa?”

“He was the sweetest man I’ve ever met. He was gentle and he has a pure heart. I wasn’t scared the time he told me,” Seungmin’s grandmother paused, “but I was scared for him, I know it hurt him seeing his loved ones’ deaths.”

“But how do they do it?” Seungmin seemed like he would never run out of questions sooner. He was very eager to know more about his grandfather.

“The first time we met, we bumped into each other and I remember him passing out right there at the town square, so I brought him home, and the moment he woke up, he had a shocked look on his face and his hands were shaking. I asked him what was wrong but he said he has to go somewhere else and quickly left.”

“That is embarrassing…” Seungmin chuckled imagining the look on his grandfather’s face, he must have looked really weird in front of his grandmother.

“The visions happen in a matter of seconds, but to them, it’s like the time stopped for a moment.” Seungmin’s grandmother gently ruffled Seungmin’s dark locks.

“And oh, my dear, they can only see visions upon having physical contact with that person.”

Seungmin wondered why his memory with her grandmother suddenly replayed in his head. However his mind was too preoccupied by the thoughts and questions for you. It has been exactly a bothersome three months since he last saw you that night, during his step-brother’s wedding. His mind was filled with the thought of you during that three months, he was always reminded at night, how breathtaking you were as the moon shone brightly on the two of you, it felt like that moment was made only for him to see. But he shook the thought every time.

His mind was an utter mess.

As Seungmin wandered around the town plaza, his sight caught a glimpse of a silhouette sitting on the grass field, it was already dark so he couldn’t see properly. He didn’t know why, but his heart started to beat faster as he neared the fence.

“Sorry to interrupt you, but why are you alone here?” Seungmin’s voice resonates loudly in the midst of the quiet night but gained no response. Before he could think, his body was moving on its own– he jumped over the fence and walked towards the silhouette.

“Aren’t you afraid of being alone? Besides it’s already dark.” Seungmin asks calmly.

The moment you heard Seungmin’s loud voice from behind, you immediately freeze in your spot. To be honest, you were avoiding him. You never left your house except going to the bakehouse, skipped the stargazing, you didn’t go to the market, even deliver pastries when Changbin asked you to, and you admit, it was stubborn, but you really couldn’t risk seeing him again. You are too afraid of what might happen next. It is the first time you left your house for a long time since the wedding, and here you are, caught red-handed.

You hear his footsteps stop but you can’t look up to him, instead you lower your head down, “I don’t mind.”

“I-It’s you–”

Yes. And you promised to tell him the next time you meet.

“Would you like to keep me a company then?” You turn around to look at him, he is still as handsome as ever, but you notice that he has his hair styled up, and you thought he couldn’t get anymore gorgeous but you are wrong. You hope that he wouldn’t be able to see the blush creeping up your cheeks so you quickly turned your head away from him.

“What are you doing here alone?” Seungmin plopped himself about a ruler beside you, his legs in front of his chest while he placed his hand beside him to support his body

“I am finding my grandmother.” You faintly smile as you look up to the vast night sky causing Seungmin to find whatever you are talking about.

“What do you mean?” He tried squinting at the night sky but he still couldn’t understand you.

“Didn’t you know that whenever a person dies, a star is born?” You glance at him and you swear he gets more gorgeous every time you look at him.

“Where did that come from?” It is Seungmin’s turn to look at you and gaze with you for a while before you break it as you pointed at a bright star.

“See that star on the right side of the moon?”

“But there are so many stars.”

You quickly get up and sit closer to him, you feel him flinch as your arm brushes against his but you didn’t even budge and pointed again at the same star.

“That star, is my grandmother.” He could see the light smile forming on your face, “do you see it now?”

“Yes, but how did you know?” You return to your spot.

“I am not normal.” You are shocked that the words slip out from your mouth but you cannot lie, “it’s okay if you don’t believe me- I don’t expect but please never call me lunatic.”

“Can you tell me where my father is then?” You did not expect his answer but you see his serious face from your peripheral vision so you know you had to.

“Can you give me his name and date of passing?”

“Jiyoon, February twenty-sixth.” You can hear him sigh. “Should I tell you the year?”

“You don’t have to, I just need the month and day.” You close your eyes and you feel the night breeze blow against your bare skin, giving you light chills as you inhale deeply. You hear a ‘ding’ and you finally open your eyes.

Seungmin is shocked to see your eyes glowing amber and blinked a few times to see if it is just his mind playing tricks but your eyes are still glowing amber while you glance at the night sky in which he just assumes you’re locating his father.

Your eyes hastily searched for the star of Seungmin’s father until the familiar name caught your eye.

S-02J26Y

“I found him.” You turn your head to face him and Seungmin feels the goosebumps rise from his skin the way you looked at him, he finds it creepy yet you still look breathtaking despite your glowing eyes that soon returned to their normal color.

“Where?”

You point at the star beneath Regulus, “that’s him.”

What shocked Seungmin the most is that the moment he saw the star you are pointing at, he saw his favorite memory with his father flash before his eyes, his hands twitch beside him causing his back to collide with the ground.

“Oh my stars, are you okay?” You sat up from your spot and crouched beside him.

“Is it really like that?” Seungmin covered his eyes using the back of his hand.

“I’m sorry, I forgot to warn you.”

“That makes sense why you seem different from others, because you really are.” Seungmin removed his hand from his face and stared at you. There is a long silence as you look deeply into each other’s eyes and you feel more drawn to him.

“I think that’s enough for today. You should rest now. I’ll walk you home.” You stand up, offering your hand to him but he gets up on his own instead.

“No, I’ll walk you home.”

You hear a cough not too far from where the two of you stood and you immediately knew who it was.

“Chan.” you mutter under your breath.

The both of you turned your head at the same time.

“I don’t see the need to walk you home now.” Seungmin looks back to you.

“I have to go, but what about you?”

“Minho is waiting for me at the shop.”

“Alright, take care and head home safely.” You waved at him and he watched you jog up to the good-looking man standing behind the fence. Seungmin felt slight envy towards the man but he shook off the thought.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’re meeting up with that guy?” Chan opens the door and steps aside, letting you in first.

“No, it just so happened that he saw me there.” You hear the doorknob softly click.

“But you were avoiding him, right?”

“Yeah…”

“I understand if you still don’t want to tell me why, just tell me whenever you are comfortable, a'ight?” Chan gives you a pat on the shoulder before walking past you.

The next day, as you are busy mixing all the ingredients, you hear the bell ring, a signal that someone entered the bakehouse so you quickly fixed your hair before heading to the counter.

“Seungmin?” Your mouth slightly falls agape as soon as you see the man.

“What are you doing here?” Seungmin tilts his head.

“I work here, have you forgotten?” You walk over to the counter, taking the list, ready to jot down his order, “What will you have?”

“Oh right, I almost forgot.” He looks like he was not really himself, “Mother asked me to get these.” Seungmin handed you a piece of paper containing a list of bread.

“Alright, give me a moment.” You held your hand up before turning your back to him. He watches you swiftly place all the bread on the list, and he would be lying if he says that his heart didn’t make tiny jumps. Even with your hair looking a bit messy, your apron and elbow smudged with flour and the tiny sweat that formed on your forehead, Seungmin cannot hide the fact that you still look pretty, even more captivating. You look different from that night, and he can’t help but imagine seeing you like that again this time as his spouse. Seungmin blushes at the thought, he never saw himself going this far over a girl he just met twice.

“All for a shilling.” You drop the basket on the top of the counter causing Seungmin to snap back to reality.

“How much is it again?” Seunin grabs ahold of his pouch.

“Twenty pence in total.” Seungmin clumsily grabs the coins from his pouch and hands you the coins.

“Are you perhaps free on Saturday?” You are taken aback by the sudden question but decided to play it cool.

“Why? Are you going to take me on a date?” You wink at him.

“Don’t let confidence get in your head, that’s not good for you.” Seungmin shakes his head but you laugh at his comment.

“Where are we meeting up then?” You are not afraid anymore, there is no point in hiding when he literally knows your house and where you work.

“The place where you stargaze.”

“See you.” He nods and you just smile in return as you watch him leave the bakehouse. Thank goodness. You sigh in relief.

Days after days, you keep seeing each other but he never visits your house. He always asks you to meet at the usual spot you’ve always sat on during the second time he met you. You definitely have gotten closer and a lot comfortable with each other but you are aware that if you keep meeting him, you’re going to catch feelings anytime soon which is not the best thing. You two would end up getting hurt, not because you are assuming things, but because it is bound to happen if you fail to control your feelings.

The future is up to you.

You are walking side by side with Seungmin as he walks you home but instead of enjoying the silence of the night, the both of you keep talking about the mystique of the world. It isn’t really the mystique you want to talk about but it is a way for you to keep talking. You craved to hear more of his voice and so does Seungmin. To him, your voice is like a sweet melody to his ears that lulls him to the hypnotic trance of your neverending symphony. You stop on your tracks as soon as you reach your house. However, you didn’t really feel like going inside, you fiddle on your fingers as you look down. There is something you want to say but you feel something caught up in your throat.

“Seungmin-”

“Y/N-”

You turn your heels to face Seungmin but instead you meet with his lips, capturing your own in a short moment of bliss. Your eyes widened and you quickly pulled away, flustered.

“Holy stars, I-I’m sorry.” You tilt your head and look over to the street. You prayed to the stars that Seungmin won’t notice the change of color of your face, “I should head inside now.”

“I was going to tell you that I wouldn’t be able to continue our nightly meet-ups til Saturday.” Seungmin says as if nothing happened. You feel your chest tighten.

“Important m-matters?” You trip on your own words and you mentally smack your forehead.

“We are going on a trip starting tomorrow.”

Great. You have all the time to recover from that.

“Uh, sure. Have a safe trip.” You try not to sound like you want him away from you.

“It won’t be for too long.” You place your hand over his shoulder, “It’s just a week and days pass by quickly, you won’t even notice that you’re about to go home.”

“I’ll miss you.” Seungmin whispers and your heart skips a beat. You got this. Just speak casually as if your lips didn’t accidentally ‘collide’ minutes ago.

“Yeah, you’re right.” Seungmin tries his best for the words not to slip out from his mouth, “I’ll get going now.”

You nod your head and smile.

“See you soon.”

Your days were spent feeling empty without Seungmin’s presence, but that didn’t help you at all to forget the kiss the night before he went on the trip. You didn’t have any contact at all. You spent your nights alone at the spot you usually sat on whenever you gaze at your grandmother’s beautiful star until one night.

You are peacefully enjoying the quiet night, lying down on the grass when you feel your hands burning, a shiver ran down your spine along with the cold sweat slowly forming on your forehead. You feel your body unable to move. It’s happening. Someone is dying at this moment. You thought to yourself. Your heart started beating erratically, you feel the inside of your stomach twist and it’s getting hard for you to breathe. You gathered your strength, pushing yourself to stand up. Your knees are trembling and you feel like you were hit by a train. It took you minutes to take a step, followed by another until you are only about a meter away from the fence. You feel the veins on your head pulsating and you remember the latest vision you had.

Seungmin.

You have to go to him.

With all your strength you try to walk faster, not minding the feverish feeling of your body, burning hands and jiggling legs. It’s either you have to save him or you have to find Chan, but there’s no way Chan will be fetching you tonight. You see a silhouette of a man running towards you, you squint your eyes trying to figure out who it is. You hear the man shout but all you can hear is the pulsating of your head and erratic heartbeat. You are nearing the fence and the man’s figure is becoming more visible to you, but before you make it to the fence, the last thing you see is pitch black void and the yelling of your name.

Seungmin, on the other hand, just got back. On the way to his room, carrying his luggage, he stops on his tracks when his vision suddenly swirls. He feels his heart slowly picking up its pace and his mind suddenly flooded with memories of you. He feels dizzy and unstable but God knows all he cares for. He has to see you. And so he dropped his luggage, frantically sprinted outside despite his legs feeling clammy. Minho and his spouse are left dumbfounded at the living room. Seungmin didn’t know your location but he has one thing in his mind– the field. He ran all the way to the field as if his life depended upon it. He was already halfway through the field when he tripped, causing him to stumble on the ground. He groaned in pain but that didn’t stop him from making his way. As he neared the location, he saw a silhouette not so far from the fence. He yells your name despite the burning of his throat and throbbing pain in his body, but as soon as he reaches the fence his body collapses on the ground.

Seungmin jolts up from his position and observes his surroundings.

“Oh, you’re awake.” He whips his head towards the voice and sees Minho seated not-so-comfortably on the couch.

“Where is Y/N? I have to see them.” Seungmin asks nervously.

“Huh? Y/N? Who is Y/N?” Minho furrows his brows and stands up from his seat, “Do you want to drink water first or are you going to eat?”

“The field, Y/N is there.” Seungmin doesn’t feel weak at all but his body isn’t just cooperating with him.

“I didn’t see anyone there. And why the hell are you running outside in the middle of the night?” Minho comes back carrying a tray in his hands, placing it on the top of the table near Seungmin’s bed, “Do you know how long have you been sleeping there? Five days.”

“What?” Seungmin is surprised, “You must be joking.”

“Just eat your food. You must have hit your head really hard.” Minho shakes his head at the younger’s response.

“Yeah, thanks.” Seungmin is hurt, he tried his best to find you but what if it was just him hallucinating that night? What if you really weren’t there just like Minho said.

That night, Seungmin couldn’t sleep so he got up from his bed and slipped on a nice pair of clothes topped with a coat. He quietly heads out from his room and sneakily goes over to the front door, slipping on his boots. He steps outside and closes the door behind him without making any sound, making sure to lock it, he has the spare key in his pocket after all. He took his time walking and his feet brought him to your special place. His heart swells as soon as he crosses over the fence. He couldn’t bring himself to look at the stars but the moment he did, he saw a new star, near your grandmother’s and he couldn’t believe his sight. Flashes before his eyes is the night you kissed, which is his favorite memory with you and he felt a pang in his chest. His hands are shaking and tears are forming in his pretty eyes. He closes his eyes as the tears start making its way to his cheeks. It is a moment of silence and melancholy, his heart is swelling with regret and despair. The cold wind blew and he couldn’t feel anymore lonely.

“There you are.” Seungmin wipes his tears before turning to the origin of the voice, and he sees you there, holding out a star in your hand.

“I am just imagining things, right?” Seungmin rubs his eyes, blinking a few times before looking again at your direction, “Am I dreaming?”

You take a few steps, stopping right in front of him with quite a distance. You lovingly gaze at his orbs as you let go of the star you are holding, “No, it’s me.”

The star floats to the sky and changes color as it goes higher, it stops just below the crescent moon before glowing amber, a line connecting forming a large constellation of stars, but the star only connects to the stars of other Feys. The fated to see deaths, the fated to die disgusted and avoided by people. It was the most beautiful night sky you’ve ever seen.

“I’m alive,” you smile at Seungmin, “I’m here.” You step closer to him and your hand reaches for the side of his face, wiping away the stray tears.

“Thank goodness, you are fine.” A tear escaped from your eye.

“What do you mean?” Seungmin places his hand on top of yours.

“I saw it, I was supposed to die that night.” You choked on your own words, this time you are telling him, “the day we first met, I saw myself dying beside you, and that was the first time I saw my death.”

“What does that mean?” Seungmin intertwined his fingers with yours.

“Your memories with me will fade and you will forget me as if I didn’t exist in the first place.” You mumbles lightly, hating the thought of him forgetting you.

“But you didn’t, right?”

“My lifespan is short and the universe should’ve taken my soul that night .” You cried, “But we weren’t together that night, and I completely forgot about it, by the time I remember it, I was so afraid that I won’t be able to say goodbye.”

Seungmin pulls you in a warm embrace, you can feel his body trembling as you nuzzle your head further on his chest, “but I saw you that night- I felt something strange and so I ran to the first place that came into my mind, but I collapsed before I can go to you. Minho said he didn’t see anyone.”

“That is the reason why I am still alive, because we were supposed to be together, but we weren’t.” You lace your arms around his slim waist, reciprocating the hug, “And I’ve never been thankful in my life. You prevented me from fading.”

“But why did I see your star?” You look up to him and see him staring at the star beside your grandmother’s.

“Consider this my second life, and that star has all my memories before I was about to die.” He lowers down his face to meet yours, gazing lovingly at your orbs. He doesn’t know what to say, his emotions are all messed up, despair, regret, anger, joy, bliss- all those in one night.

“But what about the star you are holding earlier?”

“That… I am not a Fey anymore… because I survived my own death.” You gently smile at him.

“Promise me to never leave my side.” Seungmin’s eyes are red and raw from crying so much, “we’ll forever gaze at the night skies, for as long as you want, just please stay with me.”

You nod at him and he presses his soft lips for a chaste kiss on your forehead.

“But Seungmin,” He hums and you removed your other arm from his waist, reaching to cup the left side of his face, your thumb gently grazing on his cheek, “You already have the galaxies in your eyes.”

And all he needed to know were answered with that.

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